Chapter 44: Follow You Home

ELLE'S POV

Elle's breath came in short, shallow gasps, but she kept them quiet and pushed her muscles to keep moving. She felt tired, her knees and arms were shaking slightly. And she had no idea why. This had happened before, this fire, this loss of control—but she hadn't been so weak afterwards. In fact, she'd gotten up and sprinted about an eighth of the incredible island. Her hair was so dull, it produced almost no light, and hung limp and slightly damp with her sweat against her head and shoulders. Glancing down at herself, Elle's skin looked paler all over.

Still, she tried to help the Lost Boys gather scattered materials, and scavenge anything only partially damaged. Nothing was completely untarnished. Elle wasn't sure which was more exhausting, using her natural strength or using magic, both were making her a bit nervous.

Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin walked into the site, Baelfire holding a small leather sack. Elle could feel the magic of the water inside it, carried from Dead Man's Peak…but it was off. It seemed weaker, shakier. Like her. Like the island, which had barely healed itself from her fire, but—she noticed as she suddenly looked around—hadn't regrown anything beyond saplings.

"Princess," Felix's voice right at her shoulder startled her out of her realizations, and concentration, and she stumbled forward as her knees weakened more. Felix's arms, long and thin yet strong, shot out across her back and chest, propping her upright. As Elle gasped for breath, her grey eyes flitted around seeing that they now had everyone's attention. The Lost Boys were still, staring with eyes wide and anticipating. The grown-ups had stilled, listening, but weren't looking directly at them. She knew Felix noticed, but he didn't seem to care.

"Let's go," he said, voice flat, nodding in the direction he'd gone off in earlier. Where the grown-ups and the boy had come from, where Pan was.

"Felix," she breathed. She couldn't go to him, see him, speak to him. It had been too long, and the last times she had seen him had been since the grown-ups were here. They had been fights, and painful meetings. But she doubted Felix knew about those. "It's been years, it doesn't just—"

Felix cut her off, silencing her with to words carrying so much weight that Elle would have lost any remaining strength she had if Felix's arms hadn't still been caging her. "He's dying."

"You're her, then?" a new voice, clear but slightly dazed, cut in before she could even begin to think of a response. She saw Felix's eyes narrow and his jaw tighten in confusion and suspicion, before turning to look back at…the boy. He was awake now, sitting up on the ground with Emma kneeling next to him, watching him and them carefully. No one knew what to say, but no one told him to be quiet. Or to explain.

"I'm who?" Elle choked out, taking an unconscious step closer to him. There was something in the boy's eyes—flitting around the camp and people, trying to orient himself—that drew her in, made her curious. They were bright and alert and…gentle. Like he knew something, and was determined to do something, but was still kindhearted.

"Pan's true love," he said, tone certain. He smirked slightly and nodded once. "I knew he had one. No one is that evil without losing someone—no offense," he quickly added, shrugging. Elle shook her head, closing her eyes as she corrected him.

"No, that's not—" she started, but the boy spoke up. Maybe it was the determination and strength in his voice, or maybe she was just too weak to fight much, but she let him speak uninterrupted.

"Yes, it is," he stared hard into her eyes, yet his voice was not unkind. He leaned forward, eyes bright. "Go. True love's magic is the most powerful of all." He leaned back and became slightly more relaxed, shrugging and pressing his lips together. "Maybe you can save him, and make him good again. He gave me up for you, after all."

Elle had nothing. She didn't want to hear this, it wasn't true, and she didn't want to believe him. It would hurt more, and she was so tired. Exhausted, emotionally and physically. Elle felt finished. "He's dying."

Yet another voice then joined, but this one had everyone looking in confusion and shock. The Lost Boys stiffened and a few even bared their teeth. The grown-ups each had different amounts of confusion, shock, and annoyance. Elle felt Felix step closer behind her, and she could feel the tension radiating off of him.

"Every person deserves to die in the arms of someone they care for," the pirate stated calmly, yet firmly. Elle looked up at him, those blue eyes piercing into hers, then looked down. She knew he saw the fear in her eyes.

"Your heart does work too, just so you know," Felix's voice whispered in her ear, long fingers on her shoulder. Her eyes widened and her stomach lurched. Now she couldn't go, not at all. Felix mistook her reaction. "He's not going to, don't worry," he added.

He didn't understand. Elle didn't think Pan would try to take her heart, she knew he wouldn't. She stood still, eyes cast to the burnt ground below her unfeeling feet, barely daring and barely able to even breathe. She didn't hear any movement.

"Do you really not want to go? At all?" It was David's voice, only slightly to the side. Want. Elle jerked her head up and her gaze clashed with his, and she was sure he could see it. Elle was weak, and tired, and terrified, and…helpless. He furrowed his eyebrows, and his jaw tightened.

Then, his face softened. And his voice was soft, almost pleading. "Where do you want to go right now, Elle? Where do you truly want to be?"

Elle stared at him, this grown-up she'd come to know. He'd been one of the kindest to her. He loved the woman, Mary Margaret, loved her more than anything. They were true loves. She looked around at all of the grown-ups, intruders in Neverland. They'd come for the boy, and for each other. Elle was so sad as she looked at them all. And she did not want to be sad, but, since the day she ran away all those decades ago, she didn't have anything else to feel.

She turned around to face Felix directly. Then, gathered magic into her chest, as little as she could so that it warmed just enough to tickle, and everything went black as she disappeared from the campsite.

FELIX'S POV

Elle disappeared, not even leaving a breeze behind her, and Felix felt himself grin.

"Where'd she go?" the Evil Queen demanded, voice snappy and obnoxiously pitchy. He wished the grown-ups would just leave already, and he could make them, but he had bigger fish to fry. His eyes met Daniel's and Felix nodded, leaving him in charge, and grinned wider. The boys, in turn, showed hesitant smiles, understanding.

Then, without a word, he turned and set off on foot for Skull Rock, knowing exactly where Elle had gone. He heard footsteps behind him—big, grown-up footsteps—but he didn't care. There was nothing they could do.

PETER PAN'S POV

Peter lay mostly on his back, but curled to tilt more towards the hourglass as he watched the golden sand fill and dim simultaneously. Huh, Neverland and its magic wasted no time in killing itself—and him along with it. The sand made no noise, his shallow breathing barely grated at his ears.

So, when even the smallest, most hesitant taps against the cave floor appeared not ten steps from him, Peter heard. And he knew who it was, he could feel the little gasp of magic it took to transport. But she didn't move after that, and he, for the first time he could remember, was too scared to look behind him.

"You're here," he finally couldn't stand the silence. He had very little time left, and he never was one for patience. He felt her take three steps towards him, slowly, gently, then stop. "Why?" he tried, doubting she would answer and not having enough life in him to feel too negative about it.

She was silent for a long time, or maybe it was only a moment. Peter couldn't understand time anymore, it was so slow and yet too fast. He felt the footsteps, and then felt something heavier come to the ground beside his head. Peter tried to look over and see, since it was behind him. He managed to roll his body fully onto his back, then let the momentum push his head to the side. Still, his breathing was shallow and his chest shook. But it didn't feel so terrible, so dark, because his princess was kneeling there, hair faintly glowing. She looked weak and tired, and he noticed her own shallow breathing. Perhaps the island was taking her with it, with him.

Her silvery eyes were downcast, shielded by pale brown lashes—the color her hair would have been, that he remembered her hair being when Hook had first captured her. All those years ago. Decades, really. Peter was surprised he even remembered.

"Everyone deserves to die," she murmured. Fortunately, she spoke each word slowly, thinking and trying it in her mind before speaking, so Peter had time to process and remember what question she was even answering. "With someone they…someone they know," her eyebrows furrowed slightly and the corner of her mouth twitched down. "Hook said that," she added quickly.

Peter frowned. "You listen to him, now?" It wasn't meant to be a challenge, there was no point in that now. Still, he winced internally when his voice came out harsher than he meant. At least it got her to look at him. Her light eyes were full of so much emotion, despite her face seeming relatively calm.

"Lately," she said quickly, jaw tightening slightly. Then, she sighed and he watched her thin shoulders lower. "That's not important right now."

"Suppose not," Peter mumbled, unsure. He didn't know what to say now, but he had to say something so that she didn't leave. She was still far away, if he stretched out his arm—as if he even had the energy—his fingers wouldn't even brush her. So, they stayed there, both still and silent. Peter didn't have even an idea of what she was thinking. But, that left him with his own thoughts…he'd already wondered about what was next for him, what would become of his precious Neverland and his Lost Boys, even if he would be remembered. Now, watching her, he wondered what she would do. He hadn't felt the grown-ups leave the island—he knew he'd feel it when they did, they had enough magic between them—so perhaps she would go with them back to that town in the Land Without Magic, or even back to the haphazard Enchanted Forest. Or would she stay, and die with her brothers. Such magic and potential going to waste like that must be a crime against nature. Perhaps Felix would save her somehow, and probably himself too. He didn't like that vision, them together, but at least she would live out her long life with that power, as he had. As he once thought he always would. Funny, the perspective imminent death places on things.

"I don't know what to do," her voice quietly, shakily, broke the silence. Her lips quivered as she spoke, and as she breathed, but her eyes seem to burn as they stayed locked on him.

"Just say something," Peter tried. He didn't want to think anymore, and she was so distracting. "Anything, princess."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her head tilted. As if not noticing, she crept closer and resettled her legs beside her. "Why do you call me princess? You always have," she took a breath, but continued, her voice growing stronger. "I haven't been in a princess in decades. And I have a name."

She sounded a bit indignant, and Peter had the odd urge to chuckle and he felt his lips tug up. But he didn't have the energy for that, so his face smoothed and his stomach clenched. Yet, she was right, it had been decades and he had always called her that. He knew she wasn't, and it wasn't even in a taunting manner. Peter knew her name. But she just…wasn't Elle to him. She was princess, even when she hunted and played games and fought and ran barefoot through his forest, scraping up her arms and tearing her dress and entangling her white hair with leaves and twigs.

"You're my princess, you'll always be." The words didn't sound like his, but they fit anyway. He didn't blink or look away when he said it, so Peter watched his princess' eyes widen a tiny bit, and saw the ghost of a smile light up her face.

Peter felt more footsteps hitting the dusty floor, and felt five new auras enter the cave, three more distinct but only one being the strongest. The Savior, backed by the Evil Queen, the pirate Hook, and the Lost Boy Baelfire. Oh, the taunts Peter would have made if he could find the strength. Even when he glanced past her to see the grown-ups hesitating in the entrance, and Felix lingering in a crevice nearby, Peter couldn't bring himself to really care. They couldn't do anything to him, he was already truly, properly dying. At least Felix had the decency to not bother him, and the grown-ups didn't speak.

His eyes darted back to his princess, and his breathing grew more irregular. She was closer now, leaning over him with her dim white hair pooling around her face and neck. For a time—Peter didn't know long or short, not anymore—he just looked up at her. Her jaw was tight, lips slightly paler than the rest of her face but still just barely trembling. Her wide, grey eyes held so much…that alone is probably what was really killing him. Peter never was talented at emotions, nor did he ever want or need to be. He still didn't want to be. But she looked so sad, so scared and alone and even angry, it changed the dull, pounding ache in his chest into fast, deep stabs. Yet, he didn't mind it. It felt better, dying looking up at the little, bright, magical girl his own Shadow had taken all that time ago. Saved, really. His Shadow had saved her. Peter himself didn't really need saving, he was not and never would be so cliché, but she hadn't quite been a negative addition to his incredible life.

"You look like an angel," he whispered, not quite realizing he'd spoken aloud until her mouth twitched into a weak shadow of a smile. She took a deep breath, leaned back a bit, and her eyes left his, looking down at her tangled fingers in the dust. Peter studied them too, waiting. It occurred to him that this time, his immediate death, was the quietest and most passive he could remember ever being.

"Felix told me about…about my heart." Peter jerked his eyes to look at her face again. She still looked down. He opened his mouth and exhaled, trying to ask what she meant, but suddenly he could barely find the air to speak. "That it would work, to save you."

"And Neverland," Peter breathed, not even sure that she heard. She did, and he immediately regretted it when her eyes met his again and they were burning with desperation. Peter saw, out of the corner of his eyes, her arms reach out shakily, fingers of one hand clutching his shoulder and those of the other intertwining with his. Sparks jolted up his arm…that felt new. Weak, but new. Peter tried to ask about it, her magic was…wrong, if it was askew like this. But he couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"Peter, I can save you, all of you," her voice was breathier, but pleading. The hand holding his squeezed his fingers, nails digging in. But Peter was too far away for it to hurt. He couldn't really feel, everything was muffled, and his princess was blurred at the edges. "You said I'm powerful, that my heart can work. You, my brothers, this place is my home, please don't let me lose you."

Her voice echoed in his head as she became entirely blurry, he couldn't feel her hands anymore.

Everything was silent, and Peter's vision filled with white before completely black.