Chapter 42: How the Mighty Fall

ELLE'S POV

The grown-ups crouched behind the bushes, a breath from the magical boundary of the Lost Boys' campsite. Elle wasn't sure how much it mattered that they hide, Pan would have felt them enter his territory. But they hadn't been caught, hadn't even seen a hint of him, yet. She hadn't felt any change other than the addition of the grown-ups. Still, Elle had been tugged down into the bushes by Emma's fingers around her wrist.

All of the boys were there, milling around the campsite, mere steps away. Elle saw them all, her whole family, all right in front of her. Daniel with part of his attention clearly on little Harry bouncing about, as always; Robert, his hands and cloths with recently dried blood and dirt from probably another messy hunting trip; Michael, whose fingers kept twining and making Elle curious for what was in them that he was obviously hiding; Curly and Slightly, side by side, playfully shoving each other. But their playing was off, it seemed harsher, there wasn't as much joke as Elle remembered. Michael was hiding something in his hands, hiding it anxiously as his eyes kept darting about. Devin had always been a bit of a loner, but now he sat completely by himself, hunched, flipping a hunting knife between his hands. And Colin. Colin looked so sad and lost. It was wrong.

"Can I at least use magic on these boys?" she heard Rumplestiltskin hiss. Elle's fingers clenched, and she realized they were around the hilt of her hunting knife. She felt magic pool in her veins, it felt dull but she didn't care. Pan's magic couldn't suppress hers and she would not let the imp hurt them.

"No," the man, Baelfire, growled. Elle felt her mouth twitch. Because they were once his too, or because they were children, Baelfire was protecting her brothers.

"I'll do it," Regina sneered, flipping back her hair and squaring her shoulders. Elle moved towards her, ready to scream at her to stop, or scream at the boys to run, but Emma's arm shot out across her chest and held her back. Another hand clapped over her mouth. Still, she felt the curse pour out of the woman and spread across the camp. It would kill, Elle could feel its darkness.

Her own hands shot out and everything turned white for a second behind her eyes. Elle felt a jolt, a release, an anger, and then tired. Exhausted. She heard someone grunt, and another sigh, and she realized her eyes were closed. Opening them, Elle saw the campsite and her brothers all sprawled motionless on the ground.

"They're asleep," Baelfire called. He was kneeling down to the closest boy, Harry. Elle heard more noise and probably words, but she wrenched herself from Emma's hold and threw herself towards Baelfire. He stepped back, and Elle glared up at him as her arms deftly curled around the boy and pulled him onto her lap. It felt so good…her little Harry was here, he was real, she was holding him again. She heard the rest of the grown-ups run into and around the camp, but they quickly realized what she'd already guessed. Their child wasn't here. Of course not. Pan wanted this boy, he would never make it so easy. And he hadn't come, but he must have felt the curse, felt the power of the new magic flooding his home.

As the grown-ups looked around still, perhaps for clues or anything of use, Elle tiptoed around the boys. After so long, it was dizzying being among them all. She tried to just check that they were all breathing, and weren't in any painful positions, but even small touches lit her hands on fire. Decades, and they looked the same. There was still something off. All people look peaceful in their sleep, but her brothers looked relieved.

Scuttling jerked her attention away from them and to the grown-ups, who were all crowded in one corner. Eyes narrowed, Elle quietly stepped over to them, peering around to see Rumplestiltskin being held back, sneering with eyes wide, from a girl. A girl in a long, dirty white dress and messy blonde hair. Elle cocked her head, feeling something, a memory, tug at the back of her mind.

"I've carried enough lies to know the burden, she knows where Henry is," Rumpelstiltskin hissed through his teeth, no longer lunging at the girl but still clearly infuriated. Still, his conviction caught the grown-ups' attention, and they were leaning in on her.

"Is that true?" Baelfire's voice was tight. Henry, the boy they all wanted, must mean something more to him. But he was looking at the girl differently than the other grown-ups looked at her, Elle noticed. There wasn't quite as much confusion.

"You don't understand" the girl pleaded, and Elle tried again to see her behind all of their backs. It didn't work, all she could make out was that messy, dirty blonde hair. Still, that pleading sounded so familiar.

"You're helping Pan?" Emma asked, eyes hard but voice breathy.

Elle heard a sigh, and then the girl's voice came again. It was stronger now. "Pan told Henry that he needs his heart to save magic. It's a lie. He needs it to save himself."

"What do you mean?" David joined in.

The girl's hair moved, she must have turned to look at him. "Pan's dying. He needs the heart of the truest believer to absorb all the magic in Neverland. And once he does, he will be immortal, more powerful." Elle hated the ice that trickled down her spine.

"And what happens to Henry?" Snow's voice was surprised as her back straightened a bit. Elle bit back a sigh at her naivety. Even Elle knew that nothing good would be in this for that boy.

"Well it's a trade. When Pan lives, Henry will die," the girl explained.

"How do we stop Pan?" David's voice rang out, suddenly harder than rock.

"Pan took Henry to Skull Rock. We haven't got much time." The girl's voice had strengthened too, and suddenly all the grown-ups just looked taller, stronger. Determined.

"Then we stay behind. Someone needs to be here to guard when the Lost Boys wake up," David nodded.

"You don't need to stay behind" Emma protested, her voice sounding unusual.

"David's right. Find Henry, get him home, tell him we love him" Snow added. Elle cocked her head, it sounded like a goodbye.

"Tell him yourself. When we come back from Dead Man's Peak. Gold can cure you back in Storybrooke we just need some of the water" Emma continued, still sounding deliberate. She sounded scared too, but Elle didn't want to notice that.

Snow stepped across the group then and hugged Emma, murmuring in her ear. Just like that, the grown-ups dispersed. Snow and David began stepping through camp and the Lost Boys' sleeping forms. Elle ignored the urge to push them away for the moment, this girl's familiarity was burning in her. She had stayed huddled near the—as Elle now saw—broken cage, and Elle stepped forward until the girl looked up.

"You," the girl breathed, eyes wide in her small face. Elle frowned, her voice was so familiar, yet her face incited not even a spark of recognition. "Your hair, your magic, beautiful hair," the girl's parted lips began to smile shakily. Then, words tumbled clumsily out of them. "You were locked in the cage next to me for so long, and your hair was so beautiful and comforting. That was the least I've ever been upset on this island."

Then, the words slowed and she frowned. "But then you were let out…and you never returned to me. You are one of them, and then…you were just gone?"

Elle stiffened. "Wendy Darling," she tried, dragging the sobbing girl's name from her memory. "You're still here, after all this time?"

"H-how long has it been?" The girl paled, almost matching her dirty nightgown.

Elle opened her mouth, but stopped. She herself had lost track. She didn't want to know how many exactly, and she didn't think the poor girl—trapped and alone and missing her brothers—wanted to either. "I don't know," she said quickly. Wendy Darling's face dropped, but she smiled weakly anyway.

"It's good to see you, I don't understand what your story is, or why you were let out, or why you seemed to disappear, but my memories of you were comforting." Elle felt herself relax and warm, unaware that she had been so tense and cold in the first place.

"Wendy, sweetheart," Snow called from where she and David stood, close together and talking over something. Wendy Darling stood and, with a final shaky smile to Elle, which she tried to return but was just as weak, stepped over to them. Elle didn't hear what they were saying, and didn't care to. She was distracted, paralyzed with fear, the next second anyway.

The other three heard it too, for their murmurings stopped and Elle imagined they looked too. But she couldn't look at them to see for certain. Felix had started it, of course, and had been immediately followed by Harry. Then, gradually it spread. The Lost Boys were stirring, breathing becoming less regular, tiny groans uttered, hands and fingers and heads and eyelids twitching as they began to wake up. Felix sat up first, his back to her and his head bent as he rubbed his face and head with his hand. Elle wanted to step to them all, to reach out and touch their hands or shoulders, to ensure that it was real. That they were waking, that they were alive. That she was there, after so long. She tripped backwards a few steps.

"What is it?" Snow's voice broke through the fog of fear and happiness, and Elle's head jerked to her, white hair whirling and flickering in the corners of her vision. Her breathing was shallow, her lungs and throat were tight, her mouth dry, her heart flinging itself from her body, but she choked out the words.

"I left Pan," she began, but David's frown remained. "I left them, too," Elle tried, she couldn't say it anymore. It was one thing to leave her family, another to openly admit to it. Snow's and David's confusion slipped instantly, replaced with fear, yet uncertainty. Wendy Darling's remained.

"Princess?" a gravelly, low voice, thick with confusion and awe, summoned her like it always had—even in her dreams. Elle ducked and tilted her head, daring to meet his gaze only with the filter of her hair. His steely eyes were narrowed at her, his face hard, disbelieving. He didn't believe she was really there. Hell, Elle didn't quite believe it either.

She nodded, unable to summon air into her lungs or even think about speaking. Her heart raced, the filter of hair glowed brightly, casting shadows over his face. Time already stands still on Neverland, but now Neverland itself seemed to freeze. Elle didn't hear the faint ocean, the trees rustling and humming with the island's magic and animals, the Lost Boys' and Wendy Darling's and Snow's and David's breathing.

Then Felix staggered to his knees, then feet, and Elle stiffened and raised her arms automatically when his long, thin fingers were suddenly digging into her shoulders. It took her a few seconds to fully realize that he wasn't hurting her. He just stood there, looming over her, staring down through his blonde mess of hair at her.

And then his long arms were around her, almost suffocating her as one tied her to his chest and the other held her head to look up at him. Elle was just still, not fully believing it. She was back, among her brothers, and one of her closest friends was accepting her with warmth she had never even dreamt of—even when she was part of their family. She felt his lips press into the top of her head, and she finally let it wash over her, and her light arms hugged his middle in return. Her eyes pricked and her throat tightened, but, for once, it didn't hurt so much. But she didn't need to blink back the tears that usually came, because they didn't come.

"Elle?" a voice croaked, and Elle barely registered that she knew the voice. Knew it so very well.

"What's going on?" another joined, and soon more were joining and they turned from croaks and groans to the loud, excited, fast words she'd missed beyond words.

"You're back?"

"Is it her, then?"

"Aren't you dead?"

"Elle! Are you hurt?"

"Felix said the damn grown-ups got to you—"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Who are they?"

Felix let go of her suddenly, and her vision was again filled with the hides-and-leaves-and-leather material clothing of the Lost Boys, as they crowded around her in a flurry. She felt fingers all over her arms and shoulders and in her hair, her own arms were outstretched likewise, all trying to really convince each other that she was with them.

"I'm back," her voice came through her swollen throat, thin and quiet and shaky. Still, they immediately quieted, waiting for her to speak again. She took several deep breaths, trying to figure what exactly to say. What could she say to them? A couple fingers tugged in her hair, urging her, yet it comforted her.

"I'm sorry I left, I," she looked around at their faces, dirty but with eyes expectant and so open, more open than anyone else in her small life. The mermaids and the Shadow had taken her in, but they had never accepted her like these boys did. It made it harder to tell them that their oldest brother, their leader, had forced her to leave them. Elle shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore."

They were still silent, but she saw Devin's eyes begin flickering to the side, behind her. Elle turned slightly, still looking at the boys. "This is Mary Margaret and David, they're not going to hurt us. But—"

"Elle!" She was cut off by the boys' cheering again. This time, there was no confusion, just happiness.

"You're alive!"

"Elle!"

"You're back!"

Then the fingers were joined by hands and arms. She found her shoulders under the arms of Daniel and Joshua, and her waist wrapped up in Curly and Slightly.

"Our sister is back." The whisper trailed into her ear from Daniel's side, but when she glanced at him his face was turned away, picking up little Harry. It didn't sound like his voice either.

A throat cleared, loudly and obviously uncomfortably, and Elle and the Lost Boys looked over at the three outsiders. At David specifically. He frowned, but Mary Margaret stepped forward and spoke up, although a bit shakily.

"Sorry to intrude," she began, although it sounded like a question before her voice grew stronger, "but we need your help. Pan has taken our grandson, Henry, and we need to get him back." Instead of the support she was hoping for, the boys backed up, arms dragging Elle a few steps with them. She was silly, the Lost Boys supported Pan. Always had, always would. But even to kill a boy…it was against what being a Lost Boy was, at least the last time Elle had been here.

Mary Margaret continued to speak, at least gaining their attention, so Elle untangled herself and tugged on Felix's and Daniel's cloaks. They followed her a few steps away, close enough to the boys to not look odd, but far enough to talk. Elle's shoulders felt heavy, she almost didn't even see a point in asking.

"He's still doing it then?" The words slipped out, surprisingly controlled. And Elle, surprisingly, didn't react to their responses. Her heart didn't break, she didn't get angry or sad or hopeless. It seemed her hope in Pan had vanished.

"He's goin' ta live forever, with us," Daniel answered, grinning calmly. Perhaps he didn't understand.

"But Henry is going to die," Elle tried. Instantly, Daniel's grin faded and his eyes dulled.

"What?" he whispered. "But…Pan would never kill a boy, he wouldn't kill us, he loves us!" His voice rose and sparks lit in his eyes as he leaned into Elle. Felix clapped a hand onto his shoulder, steadying him. The blonde was quiet, face cast down. He knew. Elle suddenly didn't have the strength to care. But there was something burning in her chest, sucking the heat and energy form her limbs, but it was there.

"He's still really going to," her thought slipped through her lips as she fell onto her bare knees, the cool dirt and sharp splinters not registering. The burning continued, choking her and weakening her so that she was forced to lean forward, pressing her head into the ground. She was breathing, she could hear it, but it was shallow and fast. Her heart beat into her ears, and her fingers grabbed fistfuls of the dirt under her as it slipped through them.

Then she knew what the burning was. It was anger. Anger, and sadness, and loneliness, and every other emotion she had felt in the last few decades. It all returned to her, suddenly and far too much, and it all originated here. In this realm, in this campsite.

She knew what was happening as it happened, but she saved her brothers. Elle bit down on the wave of magic shooting out of her, keeping the burning inside so that her brothers, her dear brothers, were shoved away from her. They couldn't suffer, it was hers, not theirs. She couldn't keep burning after that. Memories and words and anger and sadness, unending sadness and loneliness and heartbreak, sprinted through her in circles so fast Elle couldn't process any of it.

And then her hair felt incredibly cool against her suddenly hot skin. Elle raised her eyes and saw the flames everywhere.