A/N: Your responses to the last chapter have been beyond inspiring. We are truly touched by your support.

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

~Chapter XXXVII~

Belle skidded to a stop behind Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire, her long hair windswept and her heart pounding excitedly from their race through the forest. They had been running so fast, she had been certain they were about to leave the ground and fly the rest of the distance to the shoreline! But Neverland had kept them safely on its forest floor, and now her exhilaration was only amplified as she took in the marvelous sight before her.

At least twelve merpeople were gathered at the half-submerged rocks peppering the southern stretch of the shore, their long, willowy arms stretching and basking in the warmth of the morning sunlight. Several were still singing, their voices high and breathy, mingling with the lazy hush of the tide. Dazed by her own wonder, Belle slowly followed her true love and his son as they cautiously drew closer to the creatures, who turned their heads and watched them warily. She glimpsed the Lost Boys surpassing them along the beach, running eagerly to swim with the merboys waving to them from farther down the shore.

Baelfire approached the nearest mermaid, a thin, older one wearing what appeared to be a crown of pearls and glassy, obsidian stones. His presence seemed to assuage the ancient mermaid's fears, and after she nodded silently to her surrounding companions, their expressions became far more open and welcoming. Some of the younger ones even swam nearer, allowing Belle to fully take in their mystical appearances.

Their eyes were wide with eager curiosity, and their pupils did not seem to respond to light the same way humans' did, remaining large pools of black surrounded by pale blue irises. Everything about them seemed to shimmer delicately, from their unblemished ivory skin to their long, sea-foam yellow tresses. But perhaps the most enchanting features of the merpeople were their long, lithe fins. Tiny silver scales coated them, reflecting the blues and greens of the ocean and sky and glittering in the sunlight like thousands of crystals. It was probably the splendor of these fins which drew the treasure-lusting pirates' attention in the first place, Belle thought sadly, before continuing her inspection.

The scales gradually tapered off at the creatures' slender midsections, where the flesh appeared smoother and more similar to that of humans. A hand's width above the tops of their fins, along the outside of their rib cages, were three thin grooves in their flesh. Belle's brow furrowed as she contemplated what these could be, but then a gentle wave washed over the rocks, and she saw the flaps of skin lift slightly, welcoming in the fresh water. They were gills...

"Does she not speak?" A soft, crystalline voice suddenly asked, jarring Belle from her thoughtful observation. Her gaze settled on a young, smirking mermaid threading seaweed into her blonde hair a couple meters away. In fact, everyone seemed to be watching her, and Belle felt her face grow warm at the realization that she had been completely unaware that they had been speaking to her.

"S-sorry," she stumbled bashfully, tucking a curl behind her ear. "It's just...so beautiful," she breathed, and the mermaids sitting nearby flashed each other dazzling smiles, before giving Belle appraising looks themselves.

"You're quite a beauty yourself," a rather haughty-looking mermaid responded airily, eyeing Belle's figure, "For a human."

"Mind your manners, Penina," an older voice stated in light reproach, and when Belle looked up she saw the mermaid with the crown—whom she guessed was their leader—elegantly swimming closer. The chieftainess's irises were even paler than the others, almost blending in with the whites of her eyes. They settled on Baelfire as she approached, filling with a solemn respect.

"It has been a long time since we've seen you, Peter," she said quietly, nodding in salutation, "Too long."

Belle's heart clenched when she saw Baelfire swallow thickly and inhale a shaky breath before opening his mouth to respond.

"I thought you were all—That you had been—" He seemed to search desperately for the words needed to articulate his fear, but before he could find them, the chieftainess spoke again.

"When the pirates began their hunt, we attempted to fight. But their nets and weapons were too strong," she said in a low voice, her eyes tracing over the merpeople gathered in the cove as she drew in a steadying breath, "We are all who remain."

Belle watched as Baelfire's eyes traced over the small crowd as though counting them, and her chest felt tight when she saw his bottom lip tremble. "I'm so sorry," Baelfire murmured sincerely, his forehead creased in anguish, "For what I—for what Hook put you through." He could not seem to say anymore, his gaze alone conveying all the guilt and grief he must have felt for their dreadful plight.

Belle met Rumplestiltskin's eyes, seeing her own pain at Baelfire's anguish reflected there. Suppressing the urge to grasp the boy's hand in comfort, Belle let her gaze travel over the merpeople again. Those close enough to hear Baelfire's words wore somber expressions, though the younger ones seemed less shadowed by tragedy, having likely been too young or perhaps not yet born when the slaughters had taken place.

"The wounds of the past will be felt for a long time," the chieftainess said gravely, before inhaling deeply and squaring her shoulders, "But now Hook is gone, and we hide no longer."

For a long moment neither spoke, both appearing to sigh in relief at her words. Baelfire frowned slightly in thought then, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"How did you find out—" The boy began to ask, but a merman with a rather imposing figure and a deep scar across his chest cut him off.

"A portal," he answered stoically in a voice that was surprisingly as soft as the others', though deeper in pitch, "We saw some pirates create a portal to leave Neverland, and sent a scout to investigate. Most of them have left, and we will ensure those who remain never harm our kind again. We may not have magic, but at least we have weapons now." His pale eyes briefly flickered to the spear clasped in his right hand, a slight smirk curving his lips.

"Oh, enough of that, Gidi," a mermaid wearing a wreath of shells about her neck scolded, swimming nearer, "You'll frighten the younger ones. Besides, now is the time to celebrate!"

She leapt onto the nearest bolder, her sliver fin almost blinding in the sunlight as she leaned closer to peer into Baelfire's face. Another mermaid followed suit, her blonde hair hanging in a long braid across her shoulder as she, too, leaned closer for a better look.

"So," the former began excitedly, her wide eyes tracing the boy's features, "You're Peter Pan. We've heard so much about you and your adventures from the elders." She flashed him a dazzling smile as she scooted even closer, apparently expecting a personal recount of all the stories she had been told.

"He's much cuter in person, isn't he, Atara?" The other said with a light giggle that was as clear and high as a tinkling bell. She flirtatiously twirled her braid around her finger, her smile widening into a full grin as she regarded him.

Belle choked back a laugh as she watched Baelfire's face flush ten shades of red at their attentions. She met Rumplestiltskin's gaze once more, seeing the same mirth mirrored in his eyes as one of the mermaids reached out a hand to touch the boy's cheek, which blushed even harder.

"Almost as handsome as that one," the proud one—Penina—declared daringly, biting her bottom lip coyly as her eyes trailed over Rumplestiltskin.

Belle might have felt a twinge of jealousy at the beautiful mermaid's words, had she not glimpsed the completely baffled look on her true love's face. His face, too, flushed a light pink, and he glanced at her with an eyebrow quirked in the utmost disbelief. This time Belle could not hold back her laugh, standing on the tips of her toes to press a light kiss to his warm cheek. Baelfire seemed to enjoy the change in subject, his features appearing rather smug as he gestured a hand toward the man.

"Ladies, this is my father," he introduced grandly, his eyes glinting mischievously when Rumplestiltskin shot him a quick glare. The mermaids descended into peals of delighted laughter, the tips of their fins fluttering lightly in the water.

"Ah, well that explains it then," Penina said pedantically, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a jerk of her head, "Like father, like son."

Belle could not resist joining in the mermaids' mirth when Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire both looked bashfully down at their feet, glancing briefly at each other with matching sheepish grins.

"Girls, enough teasing," the chieftainess ordered sternly, though a smile was playing at the corners of her lips. The young mermaids frowned deeply, but before they could protest, a high voice suddenly cried out excitedly, drawing all of their attention.

"Humans!" A small mermaid exclaimed, propelling herself nearer and accidentally splashing the others in her eagerness. Her appearance was drastically different than her companions, though no less enchanting. Her gleaming fin appeared more teal than silver, and her eyes were a piercing indigo that reminded Belle of a twilit sky. But perhaps most extraordinary of all was her hair: the locks fell in thick waves to her waist, and instead of an almost-white blonde, they were a shocking, fire coral red.

"Oh," the little mermaid breathed in wonder, pulling herself up onto one of the seaweed-covered rocks, "I was hoping I'd get to see one someday!" She beamed at all of them, ignoring the rolling eyes of the other mermaids.

When her exuberant eyes fell on Baelfire, however, with his windswept hair and tunic of autumn leaves, her jaw positively hit the sea floor. For a few moments she simply gaped at him, before bursting with all the questions her child mind could conjure.

"Are you Peter Pan? Did you really fight the pirates? Is it true you can crow like a rooster?" She asked all in one breath, pausing only to inhale another before continuing, "Are those the Lost Boys swimming over there? Have you ever seen an Indian? Do you know how to swim?"

Belle and Rumplestiltskin chuckled at her enthusiastic interrogation and the cheerful, slightly overwhelmed expression Baelfire wore because of it. When the sweet mermaid had finally seemed to run out of questions, or perhaps simply needed to catch her breath, Baelfire crouched down to better speak to her.

"I am Peter Pan," he told her, laughing lightly when she gasped loudly in response, "And yes, to all those questions."

If possible, the red-haired mermaid's eyes grew even wider, and she looked completely astonished by the boy sitting before her. When she still did not speak, Baelfire chuckled, his cheeks dimpling with his smile.

"What's your name?" He asked kindly, tilting his head to the side.

The mermaid child blinked rapidly as though pulling herself from a daze, before answering him in a breathy voice, "Ariel." She seemed to have gathered her wits about her again, for in the next moment she asked rather boldly, "Could I give you a kiss?"

Baelfire's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Belle had to stifle her laughter with a hand at the helpless expression he wore. She very nearly lost control when she felt Rumplestiltskin shaking with silent laughter beside her.

"Uh-um—" the boy spluttered, but it seemed little Ariel had already chosen his answer for him as she nodded and began to determinedly rifle through a small cloth satchel hanging at her side. Baelfire's shock seemed to melt into confusion when she pulled out a tiny object.

"Hold out your hand," she commanded cheerfully, clutching the silver piece in her fist. The boy bravely tried to school his features into an expression of understanding that he obviously did not feel as he followed her order.

With a wide grin she resolutely placed the object—revealed to be a tarnished thimble—in the center of Baelfire's palm. Several of the other mermaids treading water nearby snickered quietly, but Belle found the strange ritual quite endearing, and the boy seemed beyond relieved, if still a little confused.

Ariel watched him expectantly, shaking her head slightly when he neither did nor said anything. "Now it's your turn to give me a kiss," she explained as though it were the most obvious course of action in the world.

"Oh," Baelfire responded quickly, grinning as he searched himself for some object to give her in return. His eyes settled on a small acorn attached to one of the leaves on his chest, and he deftly plucked it off. With a grandiose bow that made the little mermaid giggle happily, he presented it to her.

"Why, thank you," she said sweetly, her eyes squinting with her smile as she tucked the acorn into her satchel. Baelfire seemed to breathe a sigh of relief then, pulling himself back to his feet, and Belle felt her heart warm when Rumplestiltskin playfully ruffled the boy's hair.

Her attention was soon drawn elsewhere, however, when the little mermaid suddenly exclaimed, "Ooh, what's that?"

Her dainty hand was pointing at the silver-framed comb tucked beneath the belt at Belle's waist, which the latter extracted helpfully. Seating herself beside Ariel on the rock, she held it out to the mermaid, who simply gazed at it in awe.

"It's a comb," Belle explained, pulling one of her curls over her shoulder and running the teeth through it in demonstration, "It helps untangle your hair, see?"

Apparently Ariel grasped the concept very well, for a moment later she had snatched the comb from Belle's hand and had taken up the task of running it carefully through the woman's locks, much to the shock of the other merpeople.

"You can use it too, you know," Belle offered, feeling somewhat shy from all the stares directed her way.

"Oh, you need it much more than I do," little Ariel answered bluntly, making Belle laugh and shrug her shoulders in surrender.

With a soft smile on his face, Baelfire watched as the young merchild settled herself more soundly behind Belle and resumed threading the comb through her hair. Her brilliant blue eyes focused intently on the task as a satisfied grin played about the corners of her lips. This was what Baelfire had missed most about the merpeople: their fascination with the world around them, both at sea and on land. He had missed the way they had marveled at his flute-playing and even the instrument itself; how he and the boys had regularly traded with them, basking in their mutual wonder for new and exciting objects. The merchildren had even helped some of the Lost Boys learn how to swim; Baelfire bit back a chuckle at the memory of how terrified Pox had been his first time in the ocean, before he realized the water was still shallow enough for him to stand.

To learn that the merpeople had survived, to see the members of their youngest generation now playing in the waves with the Lost Boys, to hear their melodic laughter as though the centuries of pain and tragedy had never taken place...It was almost more relief than Baelfire could bear, and he felt his throat constricting once more.

Before anyone could glimpse the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, the boy turned around, letting his feet carry him slowly along the stretch of the shore. He inhaled several calming breaths, feeling as though each one could end in both a laugh and a sob. How strange it seemed to feel the urge to cry because he was so happy...

Baelfire's gaze wandered back to the ocean, trailing repeatedly over the Lost Boys, their new merfolk friends, and the three tiny fairies hovering nearby for supervision. It was only after a few moments of this that he realized what he was searching for: the long, torpedo-like silhouette of the crocodile. The creature had followed him for centuries, always lingering at the very edge of his sight.

But now it was nowhere to be found; not in the water nor the dunes. And for some inexplicable reason, he did not feel quite as surprised as he imagined he ought to have. The greatest danger in his life—Hook—was now no more threatening than a shadow; it seemed rather fitting that the other source of his fear in this land was now just a memory as well. Or perhaps, Baelfire wondered, recalling how the crocodile had seemed even more menacing when Hook's evil had been poisoning him, it was never real at all…

Baelfire was so deep in thought, he had not heard the soft thuds of his father's approach. Only when the man stood beside him and spoke did he notice, with a slight start, his presence.

"Are you all right, son?" Rumplestiltskin asked quietly, brow creased in concern.

Baelfire glanced up at him, and although he was certain he could trust his father with anything, including his feelings, he could not seem to conjure the words. Instead, he merely redirected his gaze to the sand at his feet, toeing it absentmindedly in his silence.

"It's beautiful here," Rumplestiltskin said thoughtfully after a moment, and when Baelfire looked back up he saw his father staring out at the ocean. "With everything Neverland has done to help us, how it reacts to you...I can understand why this land means so much to you."

Baelfire sighed lightly, nodding as his eyes traced the lush forest lining the shore, the blossoms tumbling in the wind along the dunes, the snowy white sand of the beach. The realization that he would be leaving this island for good, that he would likely never climb its trees—with their help—or listen to its soaring night music; that he would no longer startle unsuspecting Neverfinches with his crow, or learn how to craft tools with Qentu, hit Baelfire with all the force of a tempest.

"Papa, I—" Baelfire choked, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat before continuing, "I'm really going to miss this place."

Before Baelfire had even realized tears had filled his eyes, they were rolling down his cheeks. Rumplestiltskin wrapped his arm about his son's shoulders, squeezing gently when the boy leaned his head on his shoulder.

"I know, Bae," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of his son's head. They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing in the salty sea air and letting the sigh of the waves calm them. Baelfire sniffled softly, feeling the tears begin to ebb as he reached up a hand to wipe them away.

"But I'm glad I'm leaving, with you," he added with a slight hiccup, and he spoke truthfully. Pride filled Baelfire at the thought of how much his papa had changed—no, not changed, grown—and he glanced up at him. Neverland had been his home for a very long time, but now it was time to find a new one, a real one, with his father.

And perhaps a mother too, he thought with a slight grin as he followed his father's loving stare to the woman excitedly conversing with several mermaids. He saw Belle lean so far forward on her rock to address one of them that she nearly toppled over the side, only just managing to catch herself. She sent a rather sheepish smile in their direction, as though expecting that they had seen, and Baelfire could not fight a chuckle when his father smiled adoringly in response.

"When are you going to ask her to marry you?" He asked without preamble, laughing again when he felt his father jump at the question. Rumplestiltskin stared down at him with something akin to panic in his eyes, and it was several moments before he seemed to rediscover the ability to speak.

"I—you—what?" He spluttered, and it took all of Baelfire's strength not to laugh at how flustered his father was. After all, this was in essence a very serious matter.

"I can see how much you love each other, Papa," the boy responded with a smile, "And you're always glancing at each other when the other's not looking."

Rumplestiltskin's eyebrows rose in surprise at that, and after clearing his throat softly, he asked in a forced nonchalant tone, "She...glances at me as well?"

Baelfire rolled his eyes at the question, before nodding. "She probably is right now," he added with a teasing smirk, crying out in mock indignation and ducking when his father playfully swatted at his head.

"And," the boy continued, his expression becoming more serious and his voice quiet, "I could never ask for a better mother."

A tender smile curved Rumplestiltskin's lips at Baelfire's words, and his gaze once more wandered over to Belle. "If by some miracle she'd have me," he began in a low, awed murmur, "I could never ask for a better wife."

He watched her for a few moments longer, his smile fading somewhat and a crease forming between his eyebrows. "But," he continued quietly, and Baelfire imagined he was speaking more to himself than his son, "What if she isn't ready?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out, right?" The boy responded brightly, his smile widening when Rumplestiltskin chuckled, perhaps a little nervously, in response.

"I suppose so," he answered, his head tilting to the side as he continued to watch the gathering in the cove. "The matter in question is when."

"How about now?"

If Baelfire had not been so considerate of his father's feelings, he would have laughed at the near-hysterical expression that flashed across the man's features at his response.

Instead, however, he stifled his mirth and clarified, in a schooled calm voice, "I mean tonight, here in Neverland."

Rumplestiltskin's brow furrowed in confusion, his gaze meeting the boy's. "H-how exactly do you mean, son? I don't even have a ring..."

Baelfire hummed in thought, his gaze traveling across the waves over to where the three fairies hovered together. An idea struck him, brilliant in its simplicity, and he could not fight the grin that rose to his lips.

"I think I have an idea."