He was up to something.

The birth of the boy, a birth that Peter had been waiting centuries for, had finally arrived and it was an occasion that was marked by raucous celebration and Peter proudly toasting the health of the new born with mocking, greedy eyes. It was repulsive and Wendy could not stand to be in his presence when he was all but quivering in anticipation. He was celebrating new life and renewal but not the baby's: his own. Wendy could not ignore the new sense of vitality that Peter now possessed after the birth of the child, as if that small golden heart was pumping life into him and by connection the rest of the island. Pixie dust began to sparkle faintly in the treetops again, and for that miracle Wendy thanked the heavens. Peter presented the dust to Tink with a grand flourish, after making her promise not to blow it all up in their faces again. Felix was found most mornings collecting dust for the fairy, a quiet concern that Wendy had never seen from the stoic Lost Boy before. It would be many years before she questioned it.

Aside from these new developments Wendy could not shake the feeling that Peter was up to something and he was not plotting alone. One morning she heard raised voices coming from the beach and hurried down to find Peter reprimanding her brothers. Though they appeared older than Peter they stood with their heads lowered like two scolded children.

"Well get him back!"

"We tried! We followed her back to that forsaken town but we couldn't make it over the town line," John explained, his little wounded boy act offset by his irritation.

"It was as if the town was rejecting us."

"She must have a repelling charm around the place," Peter mused in annoyance but then his face broke into a sunny smile when he spotted Wendy eavesdropping from the treeline. "Hello bird!"

"Hello yourself. What is going on?" she asked and walked towards them. All three males shook their heads, begging to be excused but Wendy gave each a stern look. As a child it was a withering expression that resulted in cooing chuckles from any adult present but as a young woman with a pretty but homely face and upturned nose it came with an air of haughty superiority. Now, after decades of practise, it was a look befitting a queen.

"Nothing, just business," Peter replied smoothly, taking her arm and drawing her away but Wendy stood her ground.

"Since when am I excused from business matters? We make choices together, we agreed," she reminded him and he sighed, tilting his head to the side. He seemed to be deliberating, flicking his gaze to the brothers before motioning for them to leave.

"We'll finish this later," he dismissed them and the brothers left, both grinding their teeth. It had been years since they agreed to be in his servitude but it was chafing. It was a feeling that Wendy shared. Peter looked back and brushed his hands down her arms. She was wearing a pretty floral dress, one that was in fashion during the 40's, an idiosyncrasy that she favoured. Peter was much the same.

"Well? What was that about?"

"I suppose it doesn't matter now, it fell through," he said with a shrug and produced a bean from his pocket. "I'll show you."

"Show me what? What fell through? Does this have something to do with Storybrooke?"

"Quite the opposite actually," he answered and threw the bean which whirled a hole into the wet sand. "After you," he offered with his usual smirk but hesitated for a second. Wendy narrowed her eyes at him but jumped gladly. It was not often that they left the island but she cherished the moments when they did, even if it was to an unknown location.

Wendy fell through the spinning portal before she landed on her knees in the middle of a strange room. Soft toys hung from hammocks and spilled out of toy boxes, a changing table beside it. Wendy got to her feet, noting the tinsel and fairy lights that festooned the room.

"It's Christmas…" she whispered, trailing her fingers over a fat, jolly Santa Claus that sat on the mantelpiece. She often forgot what year it was on Earth, the timelessness of Neverland making it hard to keep a record, as sometimes the days blend together during holidays until you lose all sense of time.

"It was meant to be a surprise," Peter whispered. She hadn't realised he was stood behind her, too focused on the bedroom. By the window a crib sat and Wendy approached it tentatively. It was empty, she knew it would be but her heart still sank. She gazed at the mobile hanging above and saw with a shock that the figures flying around two twirling stars were a version of herself, Peter and her brothers. Here in this world she was a cartoon, a Christmas play, a little girl in a book pining after a boy who couldn't love.

At least she got to grow up, she considered but pushed the thought away as Peter came to her side. She flicked the mobile and arched an eyebrow at him and he shrugged with a teasing smile, palms up.

"I couldn't resist."

"What is all this?"

"After the boy was given up I had your brothers apply for adoption. All above board, all through the proper channels," he added, as if this was a marvel and it was. "They were to bring him here," he motioned to the window and Wendy saw that snow was falling outside and with another lurch she realised she was in London. It had been many, many years since she had been to England but in that moment she experienced the most intense homesickness that she had ever known. Her eyes caught sight of the mobile again and she was reminded that this London was not her true home, this was not the city of her birth. She didn't really belong anywhere.

"Why on earth would you want to adopt him?" she felt suddenly irritable, as if he was the root of her sudden longing for home. Why delude yourself? He is.

"Isn't it obvious? This is all for you," he explained, flourishing a lazy hand at the crib and room.

"For me?" Wendy looked around, unaware that she had pulled a teddy bear against her chest. She was immediately touched at his thoughtfulness that he and her brothers had conspired to do this for her but on the heels of that feeling a darkness gathered. She remembered how dismissive Peter had been when he told her that it had not worked out. He didn't really care.

"I'm not blind," he said softly, breaking into her thoughts. "I know you've been less then content and I thought this was what you wanted. I thought if he was raised in an environment that nurtured the belief in the impossible, that encouraged him to believe in magic then that would work out for the best…but maybe I was being too hasty," he mused, thoughtful gaze now miles away. Wendy took a step back from him, horrified.

"Hasty?" she asked weakly.

"Yes. For him to really possess the heart of the truest believer he has to live in adversary, in an environment that tests it, challenges his very sanity. I think a town that constantly relives the exact same day, with no one having a clue who they are except one little boy? Oh yes I think that would garner the best results."

"You want him to grow up as you did…" Wendy considered sadly but that consideration was blasted away by fury. "But you thought, without even asking me, that gifting him like a puppy to raise was a good idea?"

Peter frowned, looking aside as if it was obvious. "Yes?"

"You heartless bastard!" she yelled and threw the toy at him and then ripped down the mobile and shook it at him. "You wanted me to raise a child that you would one day kill? Are you insane?! Do you have any idea how painful that would be?" she thundered at him, jabbing a finger at his chest as she flung the rattling mobile to the floor. As he took a step back in bewilderment Wendy realised that he truly had not seen the moral and emotional implications of his actions.

"I thought I would be giving you what you always dreamed of…" he said, a little bite to his voice. Raising children, parenthood and the trappings that come with it was something that mostly repelled him but there was a tiny hidden corner that had considered it, if only for Wendy's sake. Of course he never dreamed of actually having anything to do with Henry, which would be most uncomfortable; like a farmer getting to know an animal before eating it. He kept these dark and morbid thoughts to himself but as Wendy came at him in a hot fury he had not seen for years he wished that he had never even considered it.

"You know you're lucky I'm not raising him because if I were I would do everything in my power to make sure you never touch a hair on his head," she threatened, face in his and he had to fight down a sudden hot flare of lust for her. As she pushed her hand into his pocket for a bean he grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"I'm sorry. I'm a dreadful, careless, unfeeling bastard but you know that. I admit I didn't see how this would be from your view point and I usually see everything," he said with haughty disbelief and Wendy snorted. "That's why I need you, I function better with you at my side. You're my heart, you know the way it should work better than I do…I just wanted to make it up to you, to appease you. I know you've been pacing around Neverland like a jungle cat in a tiny cage. I get it."

"Do you?" she doubted it.

"Of course, that's why we leave the island for other realms, like I promised you all those years ago."

Wendy was not satisfied. "Yes but only once in a blue moon and never alone."

"Why would you want to go alone?" he asked, sliding closer to her with a crooked smile but Wendy would not be swayed by him tonight.

"Because maybe I like to have some time by myself? I'm a hundred and one years old but I can't go anywhere without you by my side. You don't trust me."

"Of course I do," he said, leaning back with a smirk, as if she was being foolish.

"Maybe trust isn't the right word. You treat me like I'm something you hold on a very long chain, one you think I don't feel anymore but I do."

A queen but a bird in a cage for all that, the spinsters' words echoed back to her and she battered them down half heartedly. They were right, they were right about everything.

He sighed, bored. It was a topic she had brought up many times before when they argued and he was getting sick of it. He motioned to the window, where the snow was falling heavily. "I'm not stopping you but you must know it's futile."

"Is that right?" Was she really considering leaving? Did she honestly want to? Could she even exist in a modern world now?

"It's fate," he said quietly, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. "There are no coincidences and you can plot the future if you have the means to but something's just happen that you have no control over. You and me, we're one of those things and no matter what we'll always find each other. So you can leave or I could but it would be useless. I tried to fight that a long time ago, do you remember?" he smirked and Wendy couldn't help giving a half smile as she remembered. He had been adamant about not having feelings for her but that had not lasted long.

"So you think forces greater than ourselves conspire in our lives? Heavens…." Wendy said with an almost playful tone, glancing down at the bean in her hand. She did not feel so furious anymore but his thoughtlessness still stung. Peter lifted her chin up, his head cocked to the side with a frisky smile on his lips.

"What?"

"I never thought I'd hear you admit that there was a power higher than yourself. You must be getting old."

"I must be," he said with a weary sigh before he smiled and it was genuine, not his usual smirk. He stepped back as Wendy pushed the bean back into his hand but he shook his head. "It's yours."

Wendy smiled briefly, nodding her head and waited for him to drop the bean gently into her palm. Before she drew back he gripped her hand, keeping her still. He gazed at her with a fixed, heavy look that said everything his words could not. Wendy stared at him unblinking and slowly pulled her hand away and threw the bean.

"I'll be back shortly."

"You better or I'll send out a search party," he said lightly but they both knew he would tip the whole world upside down and shake it if she went missing. Wendy jumped into the portal, leaving Peter to stand alone in the now pointless room.

Not many people consider what Christmas for one was like. This young woman would tell you quite frankly that it was like another other day, just with an extra layer of suck on top. She ventured listlessly down the aisles, passing gigantic stuffed bears bigger than her car and shop assistances dressed as elves handing out candy canes to over excited children.

Emma Swan couldn't say what made her go into the toy store, she usually avoided overcrowded places but today she found herself pulled as if magnetised. She briefly considered stealing something but all motivation was gone. What use were toys to her? She lingered by the edge of a make shift grotto, watching a baby getting her picture taken on Santa's lap. She stomach tightened and rolled over all at once and with it came an irritating prickling of her eyes. The reason why she usually avoided the store during Christmas was not because she hated people but because that's where she was sure to find them. She was a lonely girl who sometimes could not help observe the life that she never had and it always ended with a sharp, gutting pain through her chest. As two happy parents picked their baby back up Emma turned sharply and walked away.

It had been two months since she had been released from jail, three months since she had given up her baby. She told herself it was for the best, for both of them and that reasoning ringed through her head like a mantra when she felt like the regret would crash her flat. She never stopped thinking it. Eighteen and alone Emma hurried out of the store, not realising that she had been shadowed by someone since stepping into the store.

Wendy watched the distressed girl run out of the store, trying with all her might not to cry as if waging a battle. She had been watching Emma for years, always at a distance and never for long. It was too painful, witnessing the wrecked and ruined path the girl had been forced to walk but this year was the first that Wendy could not just turn aside and forget that she was dealing with a living, breathing person and not just a piece of Peter's puzzle. Peter had warned her against sentimentality and she knew on some level he was right. The heart has no place in this game, not if you want it to bleed, but then Wendy had never been strict with following Peter's mandates.

To save his life, to save Neverland she would have to harden her heart but that did not mean ripping it out as if it was of no use. She would no more do that than take a life. No, she would feel and suffer just as Emma Swan did but equally she would scheme and plan as Peter did. She would not be a passive player, not when so much was at stake.

"Happy Christmas," she whispered faintly and Emma turned with a frown, searching the crowd but all she saw was a wisp of white that was quickly swallowed up by the crowd.

That morning, as Emma half contemplated going to Florida to wait for a man who would never come, she stirred in her car and saw something slotted neatly under her window wiper. She groaned, sitting up and pushed the blanket down. A parking ticket?

"Happy freaking Christmas," she muttered, winding down the window before reaching out to snatch the card from the screen of her VW Beetle. But it was not a parking ticket as she first assumed but a card in a white envelope. Incredulously Emma pulled out the card and stared at the front derisively. It depicted a scene from A Christmas Story, with the Ghost of Christmas Past floating before a shocked looking Scrooge.

"Fitting…" she murmured, thinking briefly of that glimpse of white she had seen outside the store before dismissing it. She flipped over the card, her heart beating harder than she would ever admit, and read the inscription.

Dearest Emma,

Wishing you a happy holiday

Keep believing.

W.

Emma frowned, turning the card over but there was nothing more. She pushed the card back into the envelope, half tempted to throw it out into the snow but instead she pushed it into the glove compartment and started the car. Over the next few years, if you were to see the innards of said glove box you would find it filled with cards, all signed by the mysterious W. Emma never threw a single one away because it was the only cards she ever received and it made her feel that she wasn't so alone. She closed the glove box and looked through the windshield as the sun began to rise.

"Happy Christmas kid…"

a.n:

I always thought it was peculiar that Peter wanted the Darling Bros to adopt Henry, so I thought I'd play with that little fact here.

Thank you for all your lovely reviews, they mean a lot to me! One more chapter to go!