A/N: Hello my lovelies!

Here beginneth the third story arc – Pan central. =]

And I've completely deviated from my story outline, but I feel like this is so much better than I intended.

Thank you for all the reviews! I love you all! But God, PanElla or CaptainHart, that is the question.

DivingXDeep, your idea is fantastic, but I feel like that would just be really awkward in terms of publishing it, I'd probs have to make another story just for the last few chapters ad shiz. But that might be the way I end up doing it. I dunno. I've got a little while still before I have to decide.

Enjoy! xx

Dying

50 Years Ago

Peter Pan was playing a game with the lost boys. They all hid, and he and Felix had to find them. The last one to be found got to be king for a night. It was something to keep the younger kids happy, but it was exhilarating to fly over the island in search of them.

When he was searching for Slightly in the crevices of Mermaid Cove, he heard a distinctive grunt as someone began climbing over the rocks. Pan spun around, his eyes searching the darkness for the lost boy, instead he was met by someone unfamiliar.

Pulling his sword out, he saw the silhouette stop movement and his eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?"

The shadow was silent for a moment before a lighter voice came back, "Nevi."

"Nevi." Pan repeated the foreign name on his tongue before realising something he'd missed. His eyes widened in the darkness as he stated, "You're a girl."

"That would be correct," Nevi replied, taking a step closer to him as he lowered his sword.

"Girls don't come to Neverland. Only in their dreams."

"Well, then I suppose I'm dreaming then, aren't I?" She took the news at face value, not questioning the incredulity of it. This girl had imagination; she had faith.

"I'm Peter Pan," he said, introducing himself in the darkness. As she took another step forward, Pan finally saw the girl in the light.

She was a small thing, but her eyes had a hidden laughter in them. Her hair fell down past her shoulders in a screen of pale gold. Nevi gave Pan a small smile.

"I know," she replied, looking into the boy's green eyes that were covered by the shadows of the cave. "So tell me Peter Pan. How do I get to Neverland for real?"

Present Day

The next morning when Hook awoke, Ella was gone.

The space next to him shot a sense of emptiness throughout his being. He knew it. He fucking knew it. There was no point in loving the girl, especially when she quite plainly didn't want to let him in.

Pushing the sheets off his naked form angrily, he searched for new clothing to put on. By the time he stepped out onto the deck, the sun was high in the sky and Wendy was sitting up on the stairs, an apple in one hand and a book in the other.

"Where'd you get the book, Wendy?"

Hook had basically been babysitting the girl for a few days when Tink and Ella went off. She'd grown to, if not like him, at least hold suitably non-hateful conversations.

"Tom gave it to me," she said, glancing at Hook over the book rim.

"Tom?"

"Tink's lover."

Hook's eyebrows raised at the new information, not to mention Wendy's nonchalance with the subject. Personally, he'd never been to her world, but judging by what he'd told her, it wasn't exactly the most common of occurrences.

"Have you seen Ella this morning?"

"No." Wendy took another bite of her apple with a crunch. She didn't say anything more but Hook pushed, "Do you know where she might have gone?"

"Into town?" Wendy shrugged. If Ella hadn't left her presence with anyone, quite obviously she didn't want to be found.

She'd left him. Killian Jones didn't know why, but she'd left him.

And it hurt more than he let on.

xxx

Ella had a bag filled with food as she walked back along the docks. Walking through a few sheds, she almost tripped over a body lying in the corner. Keeping her footing, barely, she turned on the bundle of rags.

"What the fuck are you still doing here Pan?"

Wow. She was starting to sound like Tink. But to be honest, she didn't really care. Her hand was sitting on her dagger just in case he tried anything. Judging by his current state however, that was unlikely.

His hair was dirty, his face still marred by his own blood. He clutched at the thick rag of a blanket around him as he curled further into the brick wall, flinching away from the girl as though he was the victim.

"Pity doesn't suit you Pan." She said the words harshly

Still the boy didn't respond. When Ella leaned down to face him, reaching out to turn his head to face her, he jolted her hand away with a sharp inclination of his head. He muttered weakly -

"Get away from me Ella."

"No," she answered defiantly, sitting herself down on the stone floor as Pan still refused to look at her. "What the hell happened to you?"

He didn't answer. And Ella was finding his silence increasingly disconcerting.

"Why are you here?

When Pan asked her the question, it was soft and almost fearful.

"Are you hurt?" Why was she so concerned? This was Peter Pan. And yet, sitting there, looking so pitiful, she didn't want to leave him. Ella's lips were pursed as she thought to herself. She could easily leave him there, starving and dirty, where he would most probably die.

But, minus the chains and the cuts, he looked exactly as she had 10 years ago. Alone.

"Why are you here Ella? Go." Pan's eyes were looking directly ahead of him now, focused on the tiniest imprint of the crate that locked him in.

"What's wrong with you Pan? Are you dying or something?"

"Yes," he said, still distracted. "That would be better wouldn't it?"

Oh no. He did not get off that easily.

Using her muscle, Ella spun the boy around by the shoulder and turned him to face her. His green eyes were looking everywhere but at her. Slowly, his hands escaped the blankets, to reach up and cover his face. But Ella didn't miss the deep shadows under his eyes and the sallow nature of his skin.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a bread roll in her hands. She considered using the food as leverage to get answers out of Pan, but that wasn't going to help at all. Instead she held it out before her, an arm's length between her and Pan.

"Eat it." Ella said the order with a warning in her voice. Pan didn't know what she would do if he didn't take it, so he did. Reaching out his hand from the blanket, Ella saw his blood encrusted nails as he took hold of the bread. He didn't take a huge bite, only the barest nibble. But as his stomach growled, he lowered the bread to his lap and refused to take another bite.

In anger at his refusal to comply, Ella pulled his head up with a firm grip on his jaw. He locked onto her hair, but she ordered, "Look at me."

There was such pain in his green eyes that met hers fleetingly. She couldn't explain it, because this wasn't the Pan that she knew. He wormed his way out of her grip like a child who didn't want human contact.

"Leave me alone Ella."

I'll never make up for what I've done.

"You're fucking Peter Pan!" Ella answered angrily, putting her hand around the back of his neck and gripping his hair as though pain would knock him awake. "Snap out of it…"

Wetness coated her hand and she brought it out only to see blood across her palm. Her eyes widened as she started to pull aside the blanket Pan was wearing, but he only clutched it tighter. He was weak though, and if Ella wanted something, sooner or later, she got it.

Pulling it aside, she saw more than what Hook had inflicted upon him. Bloody self-inflicted scratch marks covered the skin she could see, and bled through the skin that she couldn't see.

"Oh God Peter…" Her face fell as she took in what was happening. He wasn't joking when he said he thought death was better. But he didn't say a word, not even when she called him by name – something she hadn't done in ten years.

But what did that even mean? Peter Pan, the most dangerous and evil teenager to ever have lived, suddenly had developed a conscience? He was...sorry for what he'd done?

I'll never make up for what I've done.

Ella shook her head distractedly. Those weren't her thoughts.

"Get out of my head Pan," she muttered, clenching her eyes shut. Damn his magic. Damn his self-pity.

And damn him for making her care about his wellbeing.

Throwing the blanket back over him, Ella grabbed her bag and hauled the dead weight to his feet. He almost collapsed but, Ella held him up, her muscles straining as she pulled his arm around her neck and her other arm around his waist. Thankfully it wasn't a long way back to the Jolly Roger.

Ella didn't understand what was going on with Hook and Pan. A week ago they'd been sexually driven bastards, each with their own personal motives. And now, all of a sudden, their worlds revolved around her. She wasn't having any of it.

Ella was going to fix this. She was going to fix them.

xxx

"Oh no," Hook said, coming across the deck, waving his arms frantically. "No, no, no, no, no to the furthest reaches of Davy Jones' Locker, no."

"Look at him Hook!"

"I am. Hence the 'no's."

"He can't even walk, let alone do anything malevolent," Ella frowned angrily. "I'll stick him in the brig if that's what you really want. But do you honestly want to kick a man when he's down?"

"He's no man." Killian's eyes flashed as he folded his arms across himself, "He's a demon."

"A demon who needs food, rest and a bath."

Ella and Hook battled for a moment with their eyes. Eventually, Hook groaned in frustration and walked away, Ella taking Pan downstairs and into a spare hammock, where he slumped lifelessly. It was with keen eyes that she watched him drift off into sleep. When he awoke, she would have to put some life back into him.

"Smee?" she asked as she came out into the corridor, running into Hook's first mate. "Would you be kind enough to draw me up a bath?"

"In the Captain's cabin soldier?"

"No, down here," she answered, not stating who it was for, but a little annoyed that it had taken so little time for everyone to just assume that her and Hook were together. It was one night.

Plus the two you spent in his arms before that.

Sighing loudly in frustration, she took one more glance at Pan's face before closing the door behind her and heading back out on deck. As she was walking up to the helm to watch the sunset, she heard approaching footsteps behind her.

"If you aren't going to say anything about Pan, then we at least need to talk about last night, love."

Ella froze in her tracks, "No we don't."

"Ella-"

"Hart," she cut him off, spinning around to face him, folding her arms defensively in front of her. Killian eyed her with a knowing look before he closed the distance between them. She expected him to be angry with her for rejecting the use of her name once more. Instead, he brought his hand gently up to her face, sending a spark through her body before his hand drifted lower to sit on the line of her dress, pressing into her sternum. There, he murmured, staring at his hand with something of a sadness in his eyes –

"Yours is so guarded that I don't even know if you have one."

And then he left her there, his words cutting into her skin and shooting pain into her heart. Or was it just empty space?

Was he right? Was that why she was so scared…

No, she thought to herself adamantly, trying to ignore that everything he had said was so perfectly right. She stared fiercely at his retreating back. No. I will feel again.

I will love.