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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Neverland, Centuries Ago:

Bae was getting tired of being shoved around, so when his captors shoved him into a hole in the ground, he was spoiling for a fight. He landed on solid ground, and took in his surroundings, expecting the worst.

It was a wide space for being underground, and when he looked around, he saw that there were too many boys to count, all around his age, sleeping. They were curled up on the hard ground, shivering, twitching and crying out. It was a cacophony of tears and screams.

These had to be the children Wendy had spoken of, the ones who cried at night because they couldn't leave. This was what he had heard when the shadow had first brought him here; this was what had made him let go. He could feel the pain of these boys in his very bones. They were just like him; they too had been left behind.

Baelfire hadn't wanted any part of it. He had just wanted to go back to the Darlings. He had made a promise to the shadow, but those few seconds of cries had been enough to make him go back on it. He had tried to run from those cries, from the feelings they brought up in him, and he had ended up on Hook's ship, shielded from the cries and the pain.

But that had been a trick. You couldn't run from the pain of others. It was selfish. It was what Hook would have done, and what the Dark One would have done. Bae didn't want to be like that, and he felt shame as he realized that he was a coward, just like his father. He was running away from the anguish and the cries because they caused him pain, but what of these boys?

He thought of what Papa would have done. Not Papa as he was now, not the Dark One, but his real papa, the man Rumpelstiltskin had been before he had taken on the darkness. When Papa had planned to take the dagger, he hadn't just wanted to save Bae. He had planned to save all of the children.

Baelfire still wanted to go back to the Darlings. They were his real family now. He couldn't just leave though, and not just because the shadow wouldn't let him. These children had to be just as frightened as he was, just as in pain. He could feel and hear it in their cries. He tried to think of the lullabies Papa used to sing to him when he was having trouble sleeping. He knew his voice wasn't pleasant to listen to, but if it could help these boys …

He would help them. Each of them. He would get them all home.

A few of the boys seemed to calm a little at his singing. They still cried. They all still cried, and it was deafening, but some of the ones nearest to him twitched just a little bit less. If he could ease their suffering, even a little, it would be worth it. So, he sang throughout the night. He walked among them as he sang, in hopes that the song would reach each of them in their dreams.

The night seemed to drag on forever. Bae had never felt a night that lasted this long with no sign of sunrise. It could have been in his head, that the cries just made it feel longer, but he recalled Wendy saying that time worked differently in Neverland. Still, he kept singing, even after his throat was sore from it.

Then, when he had switched from walking to sitting because his legs ached, and his voice was just a raspy whisper, he saw light from above. It wasn't like at home, when the sun rose gradually. One second it was pitch black, and the next, the light coming from above the hole was so blinding that Bae had to hold up his hand to block it out.

He thought he heard a crow cry out and, slowly, he lowered his hand. There was a figure hovering over the hole, standing with his hands on his hips. For a second, Bae feared it was the shadow. Then, a boy dropped down and landed in front of Bae.

It was a boy that Bae recognized: the Pied Piper from Hamelin! He couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. The sun was up, the boys were starting to stir, and an old friend was standing before him with a contagious grin on his face.

"Hello again, Bae," the Piper said. "Welcome to Neverland."

England 1907:

Grownups were the absolute worst. Wendy had thought it for a long time now, but as she listened outside her parents' bedroom, she had never been more certain.

She hadn't slept a wink that first night. Her mind kept replaying what had happened to Bae over and over again. It was her fault. It was all her fault. If she had never gone with the shadow in the first place …

When mother had come in to wake her, she had seen Wendy's tearstained face and asked what the matter was. That had been before she had noticed Bae's empty bed.

Wendy knew better. She knew how grownups were. But she had to tell someone. She needed help. They needed to rescue Bae, and she was just a little girl. She couldn't do it on her own. So, in what she now looked back on as a moment of stupidity, Wendy had told her mother everything. She'd told her about the shadow, and Neverland, and how Bae had sacrificed himself to save them from her stupid mistake.

Mrs. Darling had told Wendy that surely it had all been a dream, and that everything would be all right. Baelfire had likely just gone out. He would return by nightfall, her mother insisted.

Baelfire had not returned that night, or the following one. A week passed, and Wendy tried again and again to convince her parents of what had happened, because they had to be able to do something! They were grownups! What were grownups good for, if not for making sure that their children were safe?

So, Wendy told her tale over and over, begging her parents to listen, and John and Michael corroborated the whole thing. How could she have dreamt it, if they remembered the same thing? Wendy had hoped that eventually, her mother and father would believe her, but the more she tried to convince them, the more agitated they both became.

So tonight, after her father had sternly told her to not mention Baelfire or Neverland ever again, she had stood outside her parents' room and listened.

"You were rather harsh with her," she heard Mother say.

"The girl needs to grow up; she needs to stop using fantasy to escape the harsh realities of life."

"Perhaps someone did take the boy," Mother said. "Not a shadow, of course, but some criminal –"

"Why would a criminal bother to take a boy from our home? If they wanted an urchin whom nobody would miss, they would take one from the streets. If they wanted a child to hold for ransom, they would take one of our blood kin. That aside, we would have been contacted by now. No, it's time you accept it, my dear. We've been taken for a ride. That boy never intended to stay. He only meant to take advantage of our kindness."

"But it doesn't make any sense," Mother said. "If he just wanted to take advantage, why didn't he take anything with him? No jewelry is missing, no silver. He didn't even take the clothes we bought him, save for the nightgown he was likely wearing when he left."

"Well, having never been a street urchin myself, I can hardly know the boy's mind. Perhaps he just needed a place to stay before moving on to … whatever he had planned."

"Perhaps we could take out an advertisement in the paper," mother said, "What if we're wrong? What if he truly was taken?"

"We've already spent good coin on the boy," Father said. "We bought him clothes and shoes, a bed of his own, more food than he'd likely ever seen. Now, you want to pay the papers to run an advertisement?"

"It's always money with you!" Mother said, and Wendy backed up a bit. She had never heard Mother speak to Father that way. "We're talking about the safety of a child!"

"We're talking about the safety of this family," Father said. "Forgetting that we have barely enough to get by, I don't want to see those I love any more distressed than they already are. You have such a kind, generous heart, dear, and I can see how it has been wounded by this, but the fact is that even if he has been taken, the odds of finding him are slim at best. The boy never should have been our responsibility. He has only cost us money, caused you pain and worry, and led Wendy farther from becoming a proper lady of society. She's distraught, crying and talking about magic as though it were real. She's retreated to fantastical worlds because she can't bear to face the truth. I dare say that boy broke her heart, and I won't stand for it!"

Wendy heard an enthusiastic slap. Her father had likely slammed his hand down dramatically.

For a minute or two, there was quiet. Then, her father spoke again, though his tone was so low and gentle that she had to struggle to hear it. "We must put this all behind us. That is what is best. The only way to move on is to pretend that that boy never entered our lives. If Wendy insists that he has gone to a land of fantasy, then let him be another story that she leaves behind as she grows up. Trust me, dearest, it's for the best. We will all be much happier when we have forgotten Baelfire."

Neverland:

"I heard your singing," the piper said, pulling out his pipe. "It was a good idea, singing them a lullaby. It needed a bit of this, though."

The piper played his pipe, as the boys rubbed sleep from their eyes. The song was the same one that Bae remembered from Hamelin. Back then, Bae had felt trapped, isolated, alone. His father no longer treated him like his son. Now, he was Papa's possession. When he had heard the music, it had made him feel like he could be free. It was the same now.

Listening to the piper now, he felt free. He felt like he was coated in lanolin and his troubles were harmless water. They couldn't touch him. They slipped right off of him. Everything he had been carrying just faded away, and he wanted to laugh. He wanted to join the other boys in dancing.

He wasn't sure when they had started, but it must have been shortly after they got up and shook off the sleep. They were laughing, whooping and jumping about without a care in the world. Were these really the same boys who had cried out in the night?

At some point, the dancing stopped, and all of the boys gathered around the piper.

"Peter's home," one said, and the piper ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Peter?" Bae asked. "Is that your name? You never said."

"I didn't, did I?" Peter asked, cocking his head to one side. "I'm Peter Pan. And you're Baelfire, my very special and honored guest."

"I am?" Bae asked, his eyebrows going up to his hairline.

"Of course." Peter clapped Bae on the back and led him over to a table that Bae hadn't noticed before. "You found your way here, surviving both the Dark One and pirates. Most boys don't have to go through so much to get to this island, but you fought your way here past all of it. And now you've made it! It's time to celebrate, relax, enjoy yourself." Peter used his feet to pull a chair out for Bae to sit in. "You can sit by me. A prized spot, to be sure."

The table had been bare before, but now it was filled to the brim with puddings, cakes and other food that Bae didn't recognize. It all smelled amazing.

"Go on, then," Peter said, putting a cupcake in front of Bae. "Eat to your heart's content."

Bae was hungry. He'd been living off of hardtack and oranges for weeks, but …

"If nothing here appeals to you, just imagine something you like," Peter said. "That's the magic of Neverland, Bae. Picture what you want, and it will appear before your very eyes."

It was an appealing idea: picture what he wanted, and it would appear. But it was magic. It was what Papa had done, making things appear to make Bae happy. Papa hadn't understood that those things, sweets, clothes, crowns and castles, none of that would make him happy. What he wanted, all he wanted, was his family.

"You just have to picture it, Bae," Peter said. "Go on. What do you want?"

"I want to go home," Bae said.

He hadn't noticed the other boys sitting around the table, their talk and laughter fading into the background. Now, though, now he noticed, because the second he said he wanted to go home, all talk stopped, and a hush fell over the table.

"Why would you want to leave Neverland?" a boy asked.

"I … it's not that you haven't been nice and all. It's just, my family … I have to get back to them."

"You mean to your father?" Peter demanded. "After all he did to you?"

"No," Bae said. "No, I … I don't want to go back to him. But there's this family, the Darlings. They took me in, and –"

"And you chose to leave," Peter said. "Why else would you be here?"

"It wasn't like that. The shadow … it was going to take one of them, separate them. I couldn't let that happen, so I came here to protect them but … but I can't just leave them behind."

"What, they just let the shadow take you off into the night to save themselves?" Peter asked. "It sounds like they were happy to be rid of you."

"No, no, that's not what happened," Bae said. "Wendy didn't want me to do it, but I … I couldn't just let the shadow tear them apart. I made a deal with it that I would come with it, here, if it would leave them alone."

"Deal-making runs in the family, does it?"

"I keep my deals," Bae said, growing agitated.

"And yet you want to go back on the one you made with the shadow," Peter said. "You think it will just let you leave?"

"I have to try," Bae said. "They'll be worried about me."

"If they haven't forgotten about you, which they probably already have," Peter said.

Bae stood up, ignoring his cupcake and stepped away from the table. "No, they haven't," he said firmly, pushing his chair back in (because manners) and walking away.

He couldn't get out of the hole yet. He didn't know how. Still, this place seemed to have rooms and hallways. He would find a way out of here, and he would find a way off this island. There was a way to get home. He knew it, and if he had to find it himself, so be it.

England 1907:

"He just wants us to forget?" John said, incredulous.

Wendy nodded. "Mother and Father … they don't believe. They never will. And if we keep talking about it, they'll likely think us mad. We can never speak of him where they can hear again."

"I can't just forget," Michael said. "He saved me and … and he was our brother, or good as anyway."

"Oh, I'm not saying we forget," Wendy said. "We will rescue him. We just can't count on grownups to help us. I should have known they would be useless."

"So, who do we count on?" John asked. "We can't do this ourselves."

"Maybe … maybe if we could get the shadow to come again, we could follow him," Wendy said. "Maybe we could bring him home?"

"But didn't Bae make a deal with it?" John asked, ever the logical one. "Isn't it not supposed to bother us again?"

"Well then," Wendy said, "we'd just better hope that the shadow isn't the sort to hold up its end of bargains."

Neverland:

Bae had been wandering the underground caverns for what seemed like forever at this point. He would have gone back except, well, he didn't know which way back was. What was it Captain Hook … that is, the pirate, had said about navigation? Use the stars? Well, there were no stars this far underground. Still, there had to be a way.

"Baelfire," a voice said, and Bae jumped at the sudden noise. There had been nothing for so long. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

A boy approached him. It wasn't Peter. It was one of the ones whom Bae had sung to; in fact, if his memory was right, it was the one who had cried the loudest.

"It's okay," Bae said, "What's your name?"

"Nibs," the boy said, holding out his hand.

Bae took it, "And you know mine already."

"'Course. It was a big deal when you came to the island. Pan went to great lengths to rescue you from those pirates, you know."

"I didn't realize …" At the time, it had seemed like Hook was trying to protect him, but knowing what he knew now, "Why bother rescuing me?"

"Well, we don't like pirates, for one," Nibs said. "And it's safer to be with Peter. He protects us. Keeps us safe, keeps us happy. No better place on this island than with Peter Pan."

"Maybe," Bae said. "He seems nice. Although … I didn't love being tossed around and shoved into a hole by that Felix guy."

Nibs whistled. "Yeah, I wouldn't expect him to like you anytime soon, seeing as you took his seat."

"I … I what?"

"At the table. Felix always sits next to Peter, but this time, you did. He didn't like that at all."

"But Peter told me to –"

"I know," Nibs said, putting his hands up defensively. "I'm on your side. All I'm saying is, look out for him. Be on your guard."

Baelfire gave Nibs a smile. "Thanks."

"'Course. Now, how about we get out of here?"

Bae felt his heart lighten a little. "You know a way off the island?"

"No, I meant the hole."

Bae's heart sank. "Oh. I mean, thanks."

"Well, that's what I'm here for, ain't it? Peter thought you might get lost."

"He sent you to find me?" Bae asked.

"He was worried," Nibs said. "You don't know the lay of the land yet. You'll learn though. You'll get used to it."

"I don't … I don't want to. I want to go home."

Nibs shook his head. "Can't be done, mate. Nobody leaves here. That's just the magic of it."

"I hate magic," Bae said, scuffing his shoe against the dirt. "It always ruins everything."

"Why do you say that?"

"It cost me my father. Now, I finally found a new family to love me, and I lost them too. Peter says they'll forget about me but … but that can't be true, can it?"

Nibs gave Bae a soft, sympathetic look. "It's what always happens."

"But … but they cared about me. I know they did."

"Maybe they did," Nibs said. "Maybe my mother cared for me. I can't be sure. It's all so foggy, but at a certain point, they all forget. She forgot me."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been here for bloody ever, and she hasn't come for me, has she? So, either she doesn't remember me, or she just doesn't care that I'm gone, and I'd rather think …"

Nibs' eyes were watering, tears brimming and threatening to overflow.

Bae put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I'm sure she cared. Maybe she just can't get here. Only kids can, right? So maybe she's looking, but she doesn't know how to find you."

Nibs shook his head. "At this point, I don't even think we'd recognize each other." He blew his nose on his sleeve and tried to smile through his tears, "Besides, I'm happy here. What you don't get, Bae, is that us lost boys, we're a family. Peter's been better to me to me than anyone outside of Neverland ever has. He helps me to be happy. He makes fun and brilliant games and when we play, I forget my troubles. Nothing out there, nothing from before, compares to this. I wouldn't want my mother to take me away. I mean, what would happen then? I'd live with her for a few years and then, I'd have to move on. I'd need to go out in the world and make my way alone. That's what being a grown up is, isn't it? It's being alone. Families out there … they don't last. Even if you went back, eventually, you'd have to leave again. Eventually, they'd forget. But here … here everything is forever. The boys, Peter, we'll always have it. We won't have to grow and change. We won't have to lose each other. Isn't that better?"

"I …" he couldn't really argue with what Nibs was saying. It made sense. People outside of Neverland did have to move on from each other. They did have to leave each other. Mr. Darling wanted Wendy to be a proper lady, to marry well, to leave the nursery behind. Michael and John were younger, but eventually … it would all end.

That didn't mean it wasn't worth it, that Bae didn't want whatever time he could have with them. He didn't want to run just because he was scared of losing what he had. It was always better to fight for things.

Still, Nibs was crying. He didn't need to hear that Bae still wanted to leave. That could be something to talk about later. For now, he just wanted to comfort the boy.

"Let's get out of here," Nibs said. "I'll show you how to get topside, and we can play a game."

Bae nodded. "All right."

"Follow the leader," Nibs said and then … Then he flew above Bae's head!

"How are you doing that?"

"Peter will teach you," Nibs said, picking Bae up. "Neverland's not so bad, is it?"

"I guess not," Bae said. "Thanks Nibs."

"Of course," Nibs said. "Here, we look out for each other. We help each other. You'll see. We're the only family you'll ever need."

England 1909:

The shadow, it seemed, was the sort to hold up its end of bargains. Wendy, John, and Michael stayed up night after night, sleeping in shifts, waiting at the window. They looked to the sky and waited for it to turn dark. They waited to see the stars in the sky, and then, they took turns calling for the shadow.

It was pointless. It never came. It had been a year or more, and still, the shadow refused to come.

"We can't give up," Wendy said. "We can't forget. Bae needs us."

"If it won't come for us, maybe it will for other kids," John said, "Bae only made it promise not to come for this family, but there are other families in London."

"That's brilliant, John!" Wendy said.

So, they started asking around. They had to be sneaky about it, and Wendy liked to think she was good at being sneaky, but her brothers told her differently.

"Your eyes give you away," John said.

"And your smile," Michael added. "You can never stop from grinning and looking about when you have a secret. That's how mother and father knew about Bae in the first place."

Michael, for his part, was just too young to have learned to be sneaky, so it fell to John instead. "I'll make some subtle inquiries," he said, matter-of-factly.

"How will you know who to ask?" Wendy asked her brother.

"It's elementary," John said in that haughty way of his

Wendy rolled her eyes. He'd been obsessed with those stories in The Strand Magazine for months now.

"This isn't about playing pretend," Wendy said. "We don't need a detective."

"How can you of all people say that?" Michael asked. "You always told us stories. You cried when father said you were getting too old to play pretend."

"I did cry," Wendy said. "I cried, and I asked the stars for an answer … and that's when the shadow appeared. Don't you see? This is my fault. It always has been. If I hadn't cried that night –"

John and Michael each put a hand on one their sister's shoulders.

"It wasn't your fault," John said.

"Mother and father don't believe," Wendy said. "They've forgotten what it is to be young and to believe in things. But we … we can't ever forget. We'll never find him if we do. Let's make a promise, to never forget, and to never stop looking."

She went and rifled through her schoolbooks until she found what she was looking for: her own King James Bible. She placed it on her writing desk and put her hand on it. Her brothers followed suit.

"Now, repeat after me," she said. "I swear to never forget Baelfire or Neverland, and to never stop looking."

"I swear to never forget Baelfire or Neverland, and to never stop looking."

"But where do we look?" Michael asked.

"You can't be the only one who was told they couldn't play pretend anymore," John said. "Other children will have been. They'll have gone missing. But the shadow just took you that night. It didn't take us. So, we need to find the ones left behind."

"It's elementary!" Michael said.

Wendy smiled through her tears. "I suppose so."

"We need to pay attention to other kids whose siblings seemed to have disappeared, especially the ones who seem scared to talk about it."

"Maybe … maybe some parents will have taken out advertisements, just as mother and father discussed doing for Bae?" Wendy asked.

"Brilliant!" John said.

"It's elementary," Michael said again; he had found a new favorite word, it seemed.

"If father wants me to grow up, then I'll do the most grown-up thing there is," Wendy said. "He may not believe stories, but he believes what he reads in the morning paper. That's where I'll start. I'll comb through it every day for advertisements of missing children. Perhaps I could even call on Ms. Hogarth. You remember, she used to work with father at the bank? He said that she left to work for The Times. I recall her being kind to me, listening to my stories when I had to wait for father at the office. She may be willing to help."

"You can't tell her –" John began.

"Of course not," Wendy said. "I'll simply say that I'm interested in writing for a paper. She knows I wanted to be an author, and this is more practical."

"She'll work you out," John said, giving her a condescending look. It made Wendy's blood boil.

"She will not! You are not the only one in this house who can be a detective, John, and as it happens, I read those stories of your beloved Sherlock Holmes, and he's a poor successor to Dicken's' Detective Bucket, who was actually based on a real detective. If you're going to become obsessed with detectives, perhaps you should focus on a more realistic role model."

"How dare you?" John asked, his face red now, "Those stories –"

"Are just that," Wendy said. "Stories. Fiction. They make you want to be a detective, and they made me think that magic was all good fun. Bae tried to warn me. He said that magic was bad, that it tore up families, and I didn't listen."

"Wendy—" John began, his eyes softening.

"I'm not saying this for pity. John," she said, though her eyes did sting a bit, and she took Michael's hand when he offered it. "I'm saying it because we need to remember. We made a vow just now, and we must never forget the truth of things. That's why I'm going to Ms. Hogarth, and that's why, if you want to be a detective, you need to see how it's done in the real world, and not just in stories."

John nodded. "Well, I'll start with observation. We all need to pay attention. If any of our classmates stop coming to school, especially if their siblings continue to show up, it might mean that the shadow took them. Once we have our leads, it's just about getting them to trust us enough to speak with us. Not an easy feat to be sure, but we'll rise to meet it. One step at a time."

"It's elementary," Michael said.

"I don't think you know what that word means, Michael," John said.

"It means we're like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson," Michael said. "I can read too, you know. You always treat me like a baby." Wendy and John exchanged a look, causing Michael to pout. "Mother and father won't listen to us, because we're children. We're not like them. I'm younger than you, but I can still help."

"I'm sorry Michael," Wendy said. "You're right: this is going to take all three of us. And we're going to need to be patient, because it's unlikely that we'll find him tomorrow or next week. It could take years."

"What if he's d-?" Michael began.

"Don't even think it," Wendy snapped at her brother, instantly feeling guilty when she saw his trembling lip. She picked him up and held him, though he was beginning to get too big for her to do so. "He's alive. He has to be. I refuse to believe anything else. He's alive and we'll find him. It will just take some time. For now, the plan is to pay attention to our surroundings, our classmates, and the news. John is right. It's happening out there on the streets of London, and we just have to find a way to see it."

Neverland:

Baelfire could feel Felix's eyes on him. It was always like this, whenever Peter paid Bae special attention, gave him the best food or a seat next to him.

Remembering what Nibs had said his first night in Neverland, Bae asked Peter as casually as possible, "Is something bothering Felix?"

Peter smiled. "He's just a bit wary of you. You did spend a good deal of time on a pirate ship, after all. The pirates haven't been kind to my boys, so you can imagine why they wouldn't exactly trust someone who was so welcomed by the dreaded Captain Hook."

"They?" Bae asked. "So, it's not just Felix that doesn't like me?" He hadn't heard anything from anyone else. Nibs liked him, and the others seemed content enough to dance and play the night away.

"I wouldn't worry," Peter said. "It's not as though they know who your father is. And don't worry, I won't tell them. I imagine you got enough of that back in the Frontlands, with other children being scared of you."

Bae wished so badly that he could say it wasn't true, but he remembered how everyone would scatter. Even Moraine, much as she said she wasn't scared of his father, had left his company the second Papa approached.

"How do I prove that they can trust me?"

"Well," Peter said, tapping his cheek, "it might help if you stopped talking about leaving. Nobody likes to be left behind."

"But that's why I have to leave!" Bae said. He was getting tired of having this conversation.

"They're a family, Bae," Peter said. "From what you told me, they're a full family, mother, father, sister, brother, and you were with them briefly. They're whole, complete. They can move on and be happy without you, but … look at those boys. Look at Nibs. He's been sleeping so much better since you began singing to him, even if your voice is rubbish. Everyone here, everyone who can hear the music, they haven't anyone to love them. And you can hear it too. What does that tell you?"

They had had this conversation before, back in Hamelin. If Bae could hear the music, it meant nobody loved him; it meant Papa didn't love him. Bae had defended Papa, of course, but then, Peter had set up a test. He'd told Bae that if Papa loved him, if he wasn't just a possession but truly someone Papa loved, then Papa would trust him to make his own choices. That hadn't ended well. Still …

"You can't mean that the Darlings don't care about me," Bae said. "Hearing the music can't mean that."

"Perhaps not," Peter said. "Perhaps they care, or did care, but care and love, they aren't the same. You'll be loved here, Bae. I can promise you that."

"So, I'm just meant to forget?"

"Neverland is all about forgetting," Peter said. "Boys who run here have pasts better forgotten. After all that you've suffered, I would think you'd want to forget."

Did he want to forget? There were certainly moments in his life that Bae would rather not remember. One moment in particular, one moment that haunted his nightmares, the moment his father let him go …

But there were other moments, like when his father used to sing to him, and hold him. It was hard to remember the times with Papa from before. Remembering what Papa had become, knowing he wasn't that man anymore, knowing he didn't love Bae as before, it gave those memories a sourness.

His time on Hook's ship was the same: fun until it wasn't, and then, all of those memories became a darker, more sinister color.

His time with the Darlings, though, was different. They had welcomed him into their family. They had cared. He was certain of it. He didn't want to forget.

"You gave Papa a test," Bae said. "So, can you give the Darlings one?"

"Getting off the island –" Peter began.

"I know," Bae said. "But there must be some way to at least check on them. I need to know … I need to know that they're all right. I just … I just need to know. I need to know if they're looking for me."

"If I do this," Peter said, "If I can find out, will you stop talking of leaving? Will you let yourself forget?" Bae didn't answer, but then, Peter shrugged and said, "Very well. I'll try to find out what's become of them. I wouldn't pray for miracles though."

England 1909:

As it happened, Ms. Hogarth no longer worked for the Times. She was now in charge of hiring and training indexers for the newest edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica. She was hiring women! Wendy knew that working there would not only give her access to news, but also to history. She imagined that she would be able to learn about any children who had gone missing in recent years. She would even have a legitimate reason to speak with the families; she could simply say that she needed to verify the story. It was brilliant. There was just one problem.

"You're too young," Ms. Hogarth said, and Wendy felt herself fuming as the woman told Wendy why she couldn't work for her. Too young! What a ridiculous reason!

"I'm bright for my age," Wendy said. "I'm well educated –"

"You're well educated for a lady of your social position," Ms. Hogarth said gently, "However, you have no formal training. No, my advice to you is to encourage your father to send you to the Metropolitan School for Shorthand. You can get a job as a typist then."

"But the eleventh edition will be out by then!" Wendy said, despairing. If she were home, she would flop on her bed dramatically.

"Why is this so important to you?" Ms. Hogarth asked, her eyes shrewd as they bored into Wendy's.

"Because I want to know about the world," Wendy said. "I want to learn to research and to separate fact from fiction. I want to be a writer."

"I thought you wanted to write fairy stories," Ms. Hogarth said. "Isn't that what you used to say?"

"I was a child then," Wendy said. "Now I'm a lady, and I realize that there are adventures in this world. Some great and … some terrible. I want to know all of it, and to be a part of it. If I don't know what has been, or what is, how can I write about it? How can I change what will be?"

Ms. Hogarth smiled at her. "Do you know what you're asking? Journalism is a perilous path for a woman. It's not practical, and it's not for the faint of heart. Doors are opening for women in offices. You could be a typist, or a clerk at a bank."

"Why did you leave the bank?" Wendy asked.

"Because I was bored beyond belief," Ms. Hogarth said. "I knew I could be doing so much more."

"I know that too," Wendy said. "I can do so much. Please, please let me try."

"Well, I can't hire you until you've had proper training," Ms. Hogarth said, "But I suppose … if you wanted to come here in the afternoons and help out a bit—for no pay, you understand—I wouldn't be opposed. So long as your father allows it, of course."

"Of course," Wendy said, beaming.

"And perhaps, if you wanted to try your hand at writing, and you wanted me to look over a piece before trying to get it published … You do realize how impractical it is, don't you? There's very little money in it, especially for a lady."

"I'm not in this for the money," Wendy said. "Or not just for the money."

"You may sing a different tune in some years yet," Ms. Hogarth said. "Still, I see that you're serious and … I confess, you remind me of myself at your age. So much potential and nowhere to put it. I'll take you on, Wendy Darling. Someday, you may just see your name in print."

Neverland:

Bae couldn't sleep. It was hard to sleep in Neverland. During the day, when Peter was around and everyone was playing, it was fun. Bae still hadn't given up on leaving the island, but in the meantime, he had made friends. Nibs, and Slightly liked him most of the time, and there was always a new crop of boys. He kept waiting for one to come who wanted to leave like he did, who had a family to go back to, but it wasn't happening. It was strange, because the boys would cry out in the night for their families. He heard them cry. But when they woke up, it all melted away.

The same thing happened when he slept. He dreamt of Papa, always Papa, always the portal, always being let go. He would gasp awake to find the others sleeping fitfully, and their cries made it impossible to get back to sleep. He wasn't sure he wanted to, anyway. There were better things to remember than Papa letting go. There were the Darlings.

He missed them, and he worried about them. Time was so different here; he had no clue how long he had been gone for from their side. When Wendy had come back, she had said that it had seemed longer than just a night. Maybe, if he left soon, maybe if he got out of Neverland, it would only be the next morning for them.

Everyone said it was impossible to leave, but then, Papa had said it would be impossible to rid him of the Dark One Curse. It had been possible. Papa just hadn't been willing to try. He had been scared, a coward, but Bae wouldn't be like that. And maybe these boys were just scared too. Maybe they were scared to hope for a way home.

Bae could hear Nibs crying in his sleep. He cried out for his mother, the one he couldn't remember when he was awake. How did that happen? How could someone just forget their family?

He sang to Nibs and stroked his back like Papa had used to when Bae had a bad dream.

"I can teach you to play the pipe, if you like," Peter said from behind him, "Better than your voice any day."

Bae turned to see Peter holding the hand of a small boy. He looked about John's age, and he was crying.

"What's wrong?" Bae asked.

"My brother," the boy said. "My twin. He got left behind."

"What?"

"There was a bit of a mix up," Peter said. "We'll get it sorted. In the meantime, Bae, why don't you make him feel welcome?"

"Yeah. Of course," Bae said, taking the boy's hand.

"We're twins," the boy said. "Twins! We go everywhere together. I can't be without him."

"Yes, yes, I'll bring him here," Peter said. "Worry not."

"You'll bring him?" Bae asked, "I thought the Shadow –"

"Well, I can't leave Neverland, can I?" Peter said.

"But why can't you leave?"

Peter didn't answer. Instead, he motioned to the boy. "Look at him, Bae. He wanted to come here, but he needs a brother."

"He needs his brother." Bae said through gritted teeth.

"The Shadow only takes boys who want to come, you know," Peter said. "His brother clearly didn't want to come with him."

"Then let him go home."

"Nobody leaves Neverland, Bae. You know that."

"But why?" Bae asked, trying to keep his voice down as not to scare the new boy. "Why can't anyone leave?"

"Best ask the Shadow," Peter said.

"I'm asking you."

Peter shook his head, "If you want the boy to have his brother, then I need to talk to the Shadow. Watch him. Make sure he's all right. He needs a brother, Bae, and you keep saying that you want a family."

"The Darlings, not just any family," Bae muttered.

"So, Twins over there isn't good enough for you?" Peter asked. "That's just cruel. What sort of person is only nice to those they think of as family, and casts off everyone else? I thought you didn't leave people behind."

"I don't," Bae said. "That's not what I meant."

"No, 'course not. You're not like that. You wouldn't leave a boy on his own. And Twins here, his brother didn't want to come with him. You know what that's like, don't you?"

Bae swallowed hard and nodded.

"And you don't want to be like that, like his brother or like … others, who would let a boy go and not make sure he was taken care of? If you had a brother or a son, you wouldn't leave him to fend for himself just so that you could have what you wanted, what made you feel safe, not a care for the boy's safety. Don't tell me you would choose that over this?"

Bae could hear what Peter wasn't saying. He was saying, if you return to the Darlings, you're doing what makes you feel safe, but if you stay, you're making sure that these boys aren't alone. Going to the other land, that's for someone else, like coming here to protect the Darlings, like going through a portal with your son. Putting yourself, your safety and happiness first, leaving the others behind would be … "I'm not like him," Bae said.

"'Course not," Peter said. "Isn't that what I just said? He would never comfort that boy over there. He would just keep arguing with me. That's what happened that one time, wasn't it? He didn't care about you or trust you in that moment; he just argued with me, and took you home against your will." He pointed at the boy. "Twins wants to be here. He just doesn't want to be here alone. You can do something about that."

Before Bae could say another word, Peter flew into the air.

He was right, and Bae knew it. That boy, whatever his name was, needed someone to talk to. He needed someone to dry his tears. It was what Papa would have done … before.

Bae still wasn't giving up. He still needed Peter to answer his questions, and he still needed to find a way back to the Darlings. For tonight, though, someone needed him, and that was always more important.

"I'm Baelfire," Bae said, sitting next to the boy. "Why don't you tell me about your twin?"

England 1911:

"Do you honestly expect to live off your mother and father forever?" Father yelled. "We hardly have enough to feed ourselves!"

Rubbish, Wendy thought, though she knew better than to say it. Truthfully, their financials weren't terrible. Still, she wasn't going to argue with father any more than she had to. He was in a foul mood because she had turned down another suitor.

It wasn't that Wendy didn't want to get married. She did, someday. She wanted a family. It was just that she had no intention of giving up the search for Baelfire, or for magic. It was a large part of her life and, while she kept it from mother and father as best she could, it was tiring. She didn't want to have to hide it from a husband. However, she couldn't simply tell a suitor about Baelfire and magic. He'd think her mad. Her only chance at happiness was to find someone who already believed, someone who would work with her, Michael, and John in their search.

The three of them had tried, over the years, to approach children who might have seen the shadow. A girl whose brother suddenly vanished from class, or a family that had put out an advertisement about a missing child. It got them nowhere. They were all children, and Wendy was a girl. Why should these families trust them enough to speak of such things?

Looking back now, Wendy could not believe that she had ever wanted not to grow up. Children had no power. The problem with adults had been that they didn't believe, they didn't want to see, but she was coming to understand why. Magic had taken their children. Magic made their families unsafe. Why would they want to believe in it? Why would they want it to be true? They couldn't fight it. They couldn't even talk about it without being dismissed as mad. It was best to forget.

Wendy would never forget. She should have listened to Bae about magic. It was terrible, and it didn't belong in this world. It broke up families, and those left behind had nothing to comfort them, save for their fear, their denial, and their hopelessness. She knew the truth of it, and she would be damned if she turned away from it because one of the men father picked out for her would think her mad. Her future was hers, and she would spend it how she chose. She would convince father to send her to the Metropolitan School for Shorthand, so that she could train as a typist. She would continue to write, to send out articles in hopes of publication; it hadn't happened yet, but she was hardly going to give up the game, was she? And more important than anything else, she would continue to look for Bae.

She, John, and Michael had worked out that it was more than just the Shadow and Neverland. After all, hadn't Bae said he came from a land with magic? He was adamant, though, that it didn't belong in this land. This was supposed to be a safe haven from all of that.

In any case, if they found magic, any magic, perhaps they could find a way to get to him. She could see him in her mind's eye, after all these years, sacrificing himself to save Michael. She could picture him in Neverland, and how lonely he must be. They had to rescue him. they just had to!

Father was still talking, and she supposed she better listen. "And spending all that time with that Hogarth woman. These ideas she's putting in your head. You expect me to pay for a fancy school, and then what? You won't marry? You'll just support yourself as a typist? Do you truly think you can earn enough?"

"Ms. Hogarth thinks so," Wendy said. "I thought you liked her?"

"I liked her before she began corrupting my daughter."

"I'm not corrupted," Wendy said, tamping down the childish instinct to stamp her foot.

"She's put ideas in your head that don't belong there," Father said. "If you insist on this, if you refuse to marry, then I'll … I'll …"

"I'm not refusing to marry," Wendy said. "I'm just not prioritizing it."

Father put his hands up in the air, and Wendy couldn't help but feel like he was done with her.

"Father, please, try to understand. I want to earn my own way in the world. I want to make my own choices. Isn't that what you want for me?" He didn't answer. "The schooling is only for a year, and then I can get a job. I can bring money in. I can contribute to the family. Wouldn't that be a good thing? Wouldn't that make me useful?"

"You won't earn enough," Father said. "Once you've paid for your own expenses, there'll be nothing left."

"At least you won't have to pay for me anymore," Wendy said. "And I will marry, when the right opportunity and the right suitor present themselves."

"Wendy!" Michael called to her as he came running in. "I've brought a friend home. I'd like you to meet him."

Wendy's back straightened. That was their code. Michael hadn't brought a friend home to play. He had brought home someone who might believe. He had brought home someone who might have seen the Shadow.

"Is John –?"

"He's already waiting with Bertie in the nursery."

"You're getting too old for the nursery, Michael," Father said, but there was no heat to it. Father simply seemed tired. He motioned to Wendy, indicating that she was dismissed, and grabbed his reading glasses.

"Bertie, is it?" Wendy asked, when she saw the scared little boy sitting on Michael's bed.

The boy just nodded.

"He doesn't like talking to people," Michael said. "Most of them … they made him feel mad."

"We don't think you're mad, Bertie," Wendy said, "John, Michael and I … when we were younger, something magical happened to us. It took from us … We lost our brother."

The boy's eyes widened, and Wendy offered him a biscuit. "Whatever you say, I promise we'll listen. I promise we'll believe you."

"It was a few years past," Bertie said slowly as he picked up a biscuit. "My brother, Nathan's his name, he said … well, he said that there was a magical shadow. I didn't believe him at first, told him he was a nutter. He would cry …"

Bertie swiped at his face, and Wendy rubbed his back while John offered him a tissue.

"I made him feel so silly, and he needed to prove it to me, so he made me wait up with him one night. Then, it came … It was like nothing else. Scary, if you ask me, but Nathan thought it was wonderful. He said it could take us off someone magical with no grownups.

I told him I didn't want to go, tried to talk him out of it. I told him that Mother and Father would worry, and that it was madness. He didn't like that. He thought I meant he was mad and …" The boy's voice broke. "I couldn't convince him to stay. He left and just … never came back. Mother and Father were in a state. They didn't believe me. They thought that I had done something, because why else would I lie?" Bertie crushed one of the biscuits in his fingers, his eyes narrowing in anger. "And it was how he felt, wasn't it? When I didn't believe him? That was how I felt after he left. We're twins, see, and it's like an arm's missing, and everyone was blaming me or teasing me. After a while I just … stopped talking. It was easier."

"He didn't say two words the first few weeks after he moved here," Michael said.

"But you kept trying," Bertie said, giving Michael a grateful smile. "You kept trying to be my friend, no matter what they said. And when I finally had you over the other day, and you heard my mum say what she did about my shadow story, you told me that you'd seen it too. You said it took your brother."

"It was years ago for us too," Wendy said. "And I blamed myself too. I didn't listen to Bae either. I should have. If I had … but I've been listening to him ever since. The Shadow broke up your family, and ours, and I'm sure others. There must be other kids, too scared to speak up."

"We've been trying to find the Shadow," John said. "We want to rescue our brother."

"How?" Bertie asked. "Could you rescue Nathan, too?"

"We'll rescue all the children," Wendy said. "We'll get them away from that horrible magical place. Bae was right; magic tears families apart."

"But I'm just a kid," Bertie said. "What can I do?"

"All children grow up," Wendy said. "And so long as you don't forget, and you don't give up, someday, you'll be able to do something."

"You could be a detective, like Sherlock Holmes," John said. "That's what I plan to do. You could be my Watson."

"I thought I was going to be your Watson," Michael said.

"Aren't there any female detectives in those stories of yours?" Wendy asked, rolling her eyes fondly. "We made a promise long ago, Bertie. A promise not to forget. Can you make the same promise?" Bertie nodded, and Wendy gave him a reassuring smile. "Then all is not lost. We'll find others like us, and we'll find those we've lost. We won't give up, and we'll never forget. As long as we don't forget, as long as we keep searching, there's hope."

Neverland:

Peter never brought back Twins' brother, and after a while, Twins stopped asking. He seemed … happy.

"You said you would bring Bertie," Bae said.

"I tried. Boy didn't want to come. He was better off, and so is Twins." Peter motioned with his head to where Twins was dancing around the fire with the other lost boys. "Look at him, dancing there like that? Not a care in the world. Do you think he still misses his brother?"

"I still miss the Darlings," Bae said. "You said you would find out how they are. Did you?"

Peter nodded. "I did, and you won't like it."

Bae waited for him to go on, but Peter had fallen silent. "Well?"

"They've closed the window, Bae. They're happy, and they haven't given you a thought."

"I … I don't believe you!"

"Why would I lie?" Peter asked.

When Bae didn't answer, Peter just shrugged and flew off to join the boys. Bae sat, watching them all dance, not really seeing them. Could the Darlings have forgotten him? The kind girl who had given him bread even though he'd broken into her home to steal it? She'd hid him in her wall, keeping him a secret from her parents, just because he needed someone. And her parents, they had welcomed him with open arms. They'd bought him clothes and a bed, and were going to send him to school. They couldn't forget him, could they?

"Why're you all the way over here, Bae?" Twins asked, sitting down next to him.

"I was just thinking," Bae said.

"Yeah, well, you think too much."

Peter had been right. Twins was so different from the boy who had shown up crying what felt like eons ago.

"Do you ever think of your brother, Twins?" Bae asked.

"Which one?" Twins asked, biting into a fruit that had appeared in his hand.

"You have more than one?"

Twins shrugged, "I mean, we're all brothers, aren't we? That's what being a lost boy is about."

"But before, you had a brother who …" Twins was looking at him with a blank expression. "Twins, what's your real name?"

"It's Twins, of course," Twins said, looking at Bae like he was speaking nonsense.

"Peter gave you that name, because you had a twin, but before you came here, you had a name. Do you remember what it was?"

Twins shook his head, wiping the juice from his chin with the back of his hand. "'Twins' is the only name I remember having, and I don't remember no brother neither. If I had one, he clearly wasn't worth remembering."

Bae just stared at the boy, and finally, with another shrug, Twins went back to dancing with the others.

When Twins had first shown up, he'd cried through the night, speaking of his twin brother, how he missed him and loved him and wanted to see him again. How could he not remember?

It was magic. It had to be! It was the only thing that made sense. Something about the Shadow or Neverland made people forget. Maybe it was making the Darlings forget too. Maybe that was why they hadn't come for him!

If everyone else was just going to forget, then Bae had to make sure that he remembered. Forgetting meant giving up, it meant saying goodbye, and Bae refused to say goodbye to the Darlings. He would do whatever it took to remember. He would do whatever it took to make it home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Lost Girl

"So, tell us, Henry, how do you know so much about magic?" Peter asked, as he cut an apple into eighths. He stabbed one piece with his knife and popped it in his mouth.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Henry asked, unable to take his eyes off the blade. Sure, anyone without Charming blood running through their veins wouldn't be scared of apples; nobody had noticed Henry wasn't eating his, and he was grateful. He didn't want to make a thing of it. Still, putting a knife in your mouth, even if there was an apple on it? Neither of his moms would ever let him do something like that.

"Well, that's the fun, isn't it?" Peter asked with a smile. "The risk, the adventure. It's so boring to just pick an apple up and eat it. I've heard a story about a man who once shot an apple off his son's head with an arrow. Let's find out if this is possible, shall we?" A crossbow materialized at Peter's feet. "Felix, get over here," he called and one of the boys came over. He was chewing on a stick and smiling so widely that it bordered on creepy. Up close, Henry saw that he had a scar on his face, starting from his eye and running down his cheek.

"You called?"

"Time for target practice," Peter said, and Felix gave a nod, slipping away. He came back a moment later with what looked like an inkwell. Peter dipped one of the crossbow's arrows in it.

"What's that?" Henry asked.

"Dreamshade. A nasty poison."

"If you're shooting the apple, what's the poison for?"

"A motivation not to miss," Peter said casually.

"But can it, like, kill you?" he asked. "I mean …" he knew it would be rude to ask about Felix's scar, but he couldn't help but wonder just how dangerous the games got here. "Is Felix good? Is his aim good?"

"Doesn't matter," Peter said with a laugh. "You're the one doing the shooting."

"I don't want to shoot," Henry said, "I don't want to hurt anyone."

How could he make Peter understand? It wasn't that he didn't want to play, but the Lost Boys were already scared of him. He didn't want to make it worse. And he really, really didn't want to hurt anyone.

"Lost boys get hurt all the time. Sometimes I have four boys with missing fingers. Cost of the game. They don't mind."

Henry shook his head. "That doesn't make sense, though."

"That's the point!" Peter said. "The thing with this place, Henry, is that no one tells you no. You can do as you want."

"My mom made a place like that," Henry said, "She made a place where she could do what she wanted, and nobody would stop her. She did what she wanted, and people got hurt. She just didn't care. I … I can't not care, if someone gets hurt."

"Well, it's your choice," Peter said, "but it's exhilarating. Let me ask you something, Henry: the people your mom hurt, did they want to play her game?"

"It wasn't a game," Henry said. "It was a curse."

"Fine, so it was a curse, but did they let her curse them? Did they say it was okay?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, Felix is okay with you shooting that arrow at the apple on his head," Peter said, motioning to Felix who had now gotten in position in front of a tree, an apple carefully balanced on his head, "Do you know why?"

Henry shook his head. He honestly couldn't think of a reason that Felix, or anyone, would be okay with that.

"He's okay with it because he believes. He believes that you won't hit him. He believes that he'll be fine. In Neverland, that's all you need. This place runs on belief."

"But why would he believe that I won't miss?" Henry asked, "He doesn't even know me."

"Because I believe in you, Henry," Peter said. "And he believes in me."

Henry still wasn't sure, but everyone was looking at him expectantly.

"Are you sure?" Henry asked Felix, meeting the other boy's eyes.

Felix smirked and gave him a wink.

Reluctantly, Henry took the crossbow that Peter held out to him and did his best to aim.

"I've never done this before," Henry said, hating the way his voice shook.

"Trust yourself, Henry," Peter said. "Whoever taught you that you can't, they were wrong. We trust you. You can do this."

Who had taught him not to trust himself? Who had taught him to doubt himself? A better question would be who hadn't? His whole life, nobody had believed him. Not adults, not other kids.

His mom had tried to convince him he was crazy, and even Archie hadn't really believed him when Henry talked about magic. Even Emma, though he hated to think about it now, but she hadn't believed in him. That's why he'd had to eat the apple turnover and force her hand. If she had just listened to him, there would have been no nightmares, no fiery red room, no burn marks on his arm.

It was dumb to get mad about it now; he knew that, but somehow, he couldn't help it. Why was it that these boys, these strangers, would trust him enough to give him a weapon that could kill and tell him to shoot in the general direction of their friend, but his family couldn't just believe him when he needed them to?

His grip on the crossbow tightened, and he did his best to steady his hand. Felix's life could depend on it, and the boy trusted him. They all trusted him. They were all rooting for him, calling for him to shoot, and as the tension built, he felt a surge of excitement. Sure, he was scared of missing, but nobody else seemed worried. He needed to trust himself. It was like with flying, and magic, and the curse. It only worked if he believed.

He let the arrow fly and believed with all his might that he wouldn't hit Felix. He would split the apple. He knew he could. He just needed to believe.

Everything was going in slow motion, because Henry was scared. He did not want blood on his hands. But Peter had said to believe, and he knew he could. I believe, I believe, I believe.

And then it was over. The apple was pinned to the tree, and Felix was fine. Everyone was coming to congratulate him.

"Told you it was exhilarating," Peter said, clapping Henry on the back. "Give him some room, boys."

The lost boys dispersed, and Henry deflated a little. It had been nice to be in a crowd of kids his own age, all of them singing his praises.

"Are all of your games like this?" Henry asked.

"Only one way to find out," Peter said grinning. "You'll have to stick around a while."

Neal was only a little surprised at how easy it was to find a canoe. That was the thing about magical realms; you could find just about anything if you knew where to look. It all came together pretty quickly after that, much to Neal's relief. Even if he liked being in the Enchanted Forest, which he didn't, he knew that time was of the essence. They needed to go.

Aurora and Philip came with them to the beach to see them off.

"Thank you," Neal said, unsure what else to say. It wasn't like he knew any of them, so a lengthy tearful goodbye wasn't in the cards, but they had helped him when they didn't have to. He owed them. "If you're ever in Storybrooke …"

Philip gave him a nod, and that was that. Neal got in the canoe and waited for the rest of his traveling companions.

Mulan's goodbyes took a bit longer. It was clear that they were all very close and, anxious as Neal was to leave, he didn't begrudge Mulan lingering a bit. She and Philip shared a forearm handshake and a nod.

"Take care of yourself, soldier," he said, and again, she nodded.

Then, it was Aurora's turn, and she embraced Mulan tightly. "I cannot believe that you are leaving us." The hug went on for a while, and when Aurora finally let go, she had tears in her eyes. "Perhaps Philip and I could come as well?" she asked, swiping at her cheeks. "Then we would all be together."

Mulan gave a slight grimace. "You are needed here," she said, avoiding Aurora's eyes, "The two of you are working to restore the kingdom. That must take priority."

"It will not be the same without you," Aurora said.

"You managed just fine before we met," Mulan said. "You and Philip have each other. The last thing you need is for me to get in the way of that."

"You've never been in the way, Mulan," Aurora said. "You are family. We love you dearly."

Mulan gave her a sad smile. "You have all the love you need."

With those last parting words, Mulan got in the boat, and they were off. It was only after Aurora and Philip were out of sight that Neal saw the tears, but he pretended not to notice.

Pan was playing games. Rumple had known he would. Even back when he'd been a sorry excuse for a father, playing games was all he'd ever done.

He had sent a boy (if he was a boy; he stunk of magic) to send Rumple a message, and it hadn't been to stay away from Henry. Those were the words, but words from Pan were tricks. That boy, whomever he really was, had brought with him an old toy, and the toy had been the real message. Don't forget, it had said, that I know you, and I can still play you. Don't forget, it had said, that you're still just that child that I abandoned, that child who always gets left behind. Don't forget that I still know how to make you cry.

Rumple had cried. He hadn't wanted to, but being in this place brought back so many memories that he had worked so hard to forget.

The problem, of course, was that they were the wrong memories. The last time Rumple had been in Neverland, it had been a peaceful, happy place, and no one had lived there except the shadow. He hadn't been back since. He had seen his father once, in Hamelin, and he had heard stories, but stories weren't always reliable. Captain Hook, for example, had lost his hand because of Rumpelstiltskin. Peter Pan had had nothing to do with it, save providing the genetics that allowed Rumple to be born.

There hadn't actually been much talk about Peter Pan in the Enchanted Forest. Some families, starting with those in Hamelin, would talk about the Piper taking their children, and some knew that Neverland existed, but few went there, and even fewer came back. In fact, he only knew of two who had ever left the island. One was the good Captain and the other had been his own son.

Rumple hadn't known about his son's time in Neverland. When Hook had mentioned it earlier during their voyage, so much began to make sense. He knew that time moved differently in the Land Without Magic, but it had still mystified him that his son was so young all these years later, and when he had been dying during their journey from New York to Storybrooke, it hadn't been lost on him that his son knew how to sail, or that he knew who Hook was.

He hadn't wanted to see it, hadn't wanted to believe it, hadn't wanted it to be true. He had never wanted to go to Neverland after his father's abandonment, never wanted to see his father again, but had he known that Bae was within reach …

He couldn't get to a non-magical realm without the curse, but there were ways to get to magical realms. There was Jefferson's magical hat, or a helpful mermaid. If only he had known …

Rumple knew that he was a coward, always had been a coward, and Neverland was the source of so many nightmares for him, but he would have risked facing his father to save his son.

He had told Emma that Pan was someone that they should all fear, and there was truth in that. Pan was selfish, and he knew how to manipulate those around him. Rumple knew, for all he hated to admit it, that Pan could play him. Despite all the time that had passed, despite the dark voices guiding him, despite all that time learning to manipulate those around him, Rumple knew that his father could play him like a pipe. Nobody knew him the way his father did, and nobody had hurt him so deeply. Nobody was more responsible for the man he had become, the choices he'd made. Nobody else knew just what buttons to push.

That meant that Rumple was vulnerable, and he hated being vulnerable. He had left the others, because he couldn't work with them when he was this exposed. He was a liability, and Henry was too important.

Also, he didn't trust the others. He knew that they would take advantage of his weakness, and Pan would take advantage of the lot of them. Not a one of that crew trusted each other, save Snow and her Prince. None of them should trust each other, given all they had been through, but as he had told Emma, this realm ran on faith, and working with people who had no faith in each other would never bear fruit.

So, he had left, and it was only after leaving that he'd realized how little he knew of the island, how much was based on stories from the Land Without Magic that bore very little resemblance to reality.

Still, some of it was true. The mermaids, for example. He hadn't known that any of Triton's kingdom was in Neverland. He hadn't expected his father to let mermaids anywhere near his shores, despite what J.M. Barrie and Walt Disney said. Then mermaids had attacked the ship. He had been ashore by then, but he had seen it. There were mermaids in Neverland, and mermaids, he knew how to deal with. He'd dealt with them before, and he was on good terms with their king. He simply had to arrange a meeting, and for that, he would need to catch one…

It was game after game in Neverland, shooting arrows, fighting with swords, and now, they were going to swim with mermaids. As Henry ran out of the jungle toward the sandy shores of Neverland with lost boys, he almost felt guilty for how much fun he was having. He still wanted to go home, but he knew that his family would come for him. His mom might be the Evil Queen, but she was still his mom, and if there was one thing about her that he could trust, it was that she would come after him. Emma too, and they had been working together last he saw them, uniting their magic to save the town. His grandparents would for sure want to help. They were heroes, and they would come. He was sure of it.

For now, though, he wasn't in any danger. Peter Pan and the Lost Boys were his friends, and they had saved him from Greg and Tamara.

Those two were still locked away in a cage, as far as Henry knew, and he couldn't help but worry about them. They were villains, bad guys, but so was his mom. He wouldn't want her locked up if she was injured. His grandparents had locked up Rumpelstiltskin, but he was Henry's grandfather too, and he had just been trying to find his son. He hadn't died because he was immortal, but according to the book, he had gone insane, and the only food he'd gotten had been full of worms. Peter Pan was good, but even the good guys could be kind of harsh, and Henry didn't want Greg or Tamara to die. He still had his apple from earlier, the one he hadn't eaten. Maybe he could –

"Aren't you coming?" Slightly asked, taking Henry out of his thoughts.

Right. Swimming with mermaids.

"Do you have any bathing suits?" Henry asked, knowing it was a stupid question the second he asked it.

"What's a bathing suit?" Tootles asked. "We're not bathing. I hate baths."

"No, it's just … because if I wear my clothes in the water, they'll get soaked."

"So don't wear clothes," Peter said with a laugh. "Those look rather heavy anyway. They'll make it hard to move around in the forest."

"Well, what about what you guys' wear? The leaves and stuff. Do you … do you make them yourselves?" Henry asked, remembering that in Peter Pan, none of the boys could sew and that was why they needed Wendy. Thinking of Wendy, Henry couldn't help but wonder if she was real, and if she was around anywhere.

"Henry, haven't you been paying attention?" Peter asked. "You can have whatever you want in Neverland. You just need to think it, believe it, and it'll appear."

Henry smiled sheepishly. "Right. Okay, um …" Henry wanted to fit in, but honestly, wearing leaves and twigs didn't look very comfortable. For now, he pictured a pair of 21st century swim trunks, and in no time at all, they were right in front of him. "Cool!"

Some of the other boys were just stripping down right in front of each other, but Henry grabbed the trunks and went to change behind a bush.

"So, where are the mermaids?" Henry asked.

"The mermaids are everywhere, Henry. It's just a matter of making them come to us."

Peter took out a pipe and began to play. Henry couldn't hear the music, but maybe it was like a dog whistle, and only mermaids could hear it.

"Meanwhile, Felix, get rid of those," Peter said, pointing to Henry's clothes.

"No, I … I'll need them later, when my family comes for me."

Everyone went quiet again, like they had the last time he'd talked about going home. The boys were edging away from him, shooting him dark looks, and looking to Peter, whose face was unreadable. Finally, Peter smiled, and it was like the island itself breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll hide them somewhere safe for if your family comes," Felix said, that eerie smile on his face.

"When my family comes," Henry said. "They will come."

"If you say so," Felix said, as he took to the air with Henry's clothes.

It didn't matter, Henry told himself. They didn't need to believe his family was coming. He believed it. In Neverland, that was all you needed.

Mermaids could go fast as a torpedo, but it sure didn't feel that way. Neal didn't know if Ariel was going slowly so that he and Mulan didn't get vaporized Lois and Clark style, or if they were going faster and it just felt slow from inside the canoe. He hoped it was the latter, but he feared it was the former.

The last time Neal had taken a boat somewhere, it had been the Jolly Roger. He'd been anxious then too, but at least being at the helm had given him something to do, instead of just sitting in a boat and waiting to reach the shores of Maine.

Plus, he'd had company. Emma hadn't exactly been chatty, but she hadn't been freezing him out. Henry, for his part, had wanted to talk to get to know Neal, and Neal had been equally excited to get to know Henry. There had been plenty to talk about and plenty to do. It hadn't been just sitting in a canoe and twiddling his thumbs.

Mulan hadn't said a word since they'd left the beach. She just kept eyeing him like she thought he was going to attack her. He tried to think of something, anything, to talk about with her to keep his mind occupied and to make her stop looking at him like that.

"So, you and Aurora and Philip all seem close?" he asked for a start.

Mulan didn't even flinch.

"I'm trying to picture Aurora and Philip from the movie meeting Mulan from the movie, and …"

"What's a movie?" Mulan asked. "You mentioned it before when you compared me to a poorly behaved beast of burden."

"I did what?" Neal asked, eyes wide. He thought back to the conversations they had had since he woke up. Luckily, there weren't many to parse through, and he had a pretty good memory. "You mean when I called you a badass? That doesn't mean -"

"I've heard men call their slaves such a term, degrading them to a level below that of a human," Mulan said glaring daggers at him.

"I … I don't know what to say. I'm really sorry. It means something different in The Land without Magic."

Her eyes were slits; he could see them clearly in the moonlight. "What did you intend for it to mean?"

"It just means that you're really tough," he said. "Like brave and bold and stuff. Nothing like … I would never say something like that. Honestly, I'm a big fan," he raised his left arm and put his right hand to his heart.

Mulan didn't say anything.

"Hey, is this why you don't like me?"

"Like is irrelevant," Mulan said, crossing her arms. "I don't trust you, and I've already told you my reasons."

"Because Emma didn't mention me?" Neal asked.

"What reason do I have to trust you?" she asked. "Emma and Snow White were not people we trusted lightly. They came to our realm under suspicious circumstances. I gave them trust because Lancelot claimed that I could, and Philip had trusted Lancelot. By the time it became clear that Lancelot was not all he had seemed, Emma and Snow had proven themselves trustworthy companions. You arrived here in much a similar fashion, but the only person who knows you hasn't seen you since you were a child, which I take it, was a long time ago. And yes, I find it strange that in Emma's determination to return to her loved ones, Henry's father was never mentioned. Did Emma believe you dead, or simply think you were better forgotten?"

I was better forgotten, Neal couldn't help but think. If he hadn't come back into Emma's life, Tamara wouldn't be in Storybrooke putting his loved ones at risk right now. But if he'd stayed with Emma, Tamara never would have even been in the picture. No matter how Neal looked at it, this was his fault, and he had to fix it, which meant getting to Storybrooke.

"I shouldn't have let Emma go," Neal said. "I know that, believe me. I just … I thought she would be better off, but I was wrong."

"When did you come to reconnect with her? It cannot have been very long ago. You said you did not go after her, yet somehow, you all found each other, only to lose each other again."

"She found me, by accident, but … and then I learned about Henry, and I couldn't walk away. I love my kid. I love both of them."

"And you did not love her before?"

"Of course I did!" Neal said. He didn't mean to raise his voice, it was just … of all of the things to doubt, the one thing that he never had doubted, the one thing he didn't want anyone to doubt, was that he loved Emma and Henry. There hadn't been a second since he'd met Emma that he hadn't loved her, or a second since he learned about Henry that his son hadn't meant everything to him.

"Then what changed?" Mulan asked. "Why are you willing to fight for her and your son now, when you weren't before?"

"That's exactly why," Neal said. "Because I didn't fight for them before. I know what that looks like now, and I know that it sucks. It sucked for me, and for Emma, and for Henry. I mean, sure, Emma might have been better off if she hadn't met me, but she did meet me, and my leaving her was one of the worst things I ever did. I've done some bad shit, too, but leaving Emma … She was pregnant and alone in lockup, thinking I just let her go. She had nobody, and then she had me, and then she had nobody again. I screwed up in every possible way, and my son was put up for adoption and raised by a psychopath. Walking away like that, not looking for her or going to find her when I could have … It's the greatest regret of my life, and not one I'd wish on anyone."

"And you believe that if you return, she will forgive you and love you once more?" Mulan asked.

"It's not about that," Neal said, "I screwed up, and I have to make it right. I have to make sure she's okay. How she feels about me isn't the point; I just need her and Henry to be okay."

"I suppose there is honor in that," Mulan said as she continued to watch him stoically. "You want safety and happiness for someone you love, even though you know it can never be returned." When Neal didn't say anything, Mulan raised an eyebrow at him. "Unless, perhaps, you do have reason to think she might love you still?"

He let out a long breath, "She said she did, and I want it to be true more than …"

"Perhaps you are not as honorable then," Mulan said.

"Maybe not," Neal said, looking at the water. Once, he'd dreamed of being a hero, slaying ogres in battle, but it wasn't so simple, was it? Sometimes, the ogre you had to slay was yourself. After everything he had put Emma through …

It wasn't anything new for him, really. People he cared about, people who cared about him, hell, people who just spent too much time around him … things didn't go well for them. It was a lesson he never stopped learning.

"I suppose I still don't quite understand," Mulan said. "Why walk away from love when it's in your grasp? If the person you loved truly loved you, why not fight for it?"

Because I'm a coward, Neal thought. Once, he'd convinced himself that he was being noble, letting Emma find her family. And maybe he had been in the beginning, but not going after her, not trying harder to find her …

How could he explain any of it to Mulan when he didn't really understand himself? Was he lying to himself when he said he had been trying to help her? Or was the lie when he told himself he was a coward? Papa hadn't been a coward, before, but he had believed it so much that he'd become one, and Neal had been sitting with regret for ten years. He didn't know how to begin to unpack that, and it wasn't like there was a therapist he could go to. Mulan wouldn't know what a therapist was anyway.

She was still watching him warily, but he felt like her face was at least a little more open. There was curiosity in her eyes, and a quiet longing, like maybe she really wanted to understand why he did what he did. He thought back to the moments on the docks before they'd left the Enchanted Forest. He thought about the long goodbye that Mulan had shared with Aurora, the way she had avoided her eyes and only cried when the princess could no longer see. It made him wonder if maybe her questions weren't about him at all.

"Why did you walk away from Aurora?" Neal asked, never one to beat around the bush.

Mulan flushed. "That is quite different."

"Is it?" Neal asked, "I saw the way you looked at her when we were leaving, but you chose to come with me, and I don't think it was just about protecting Emma. You were running away."

"Aurora is happy with Philip, and he is my dearest friend and comrade in arms," Mulan said in a clipped tone. "I think of myself as a woman of honor, and there is no honor in breaking apart true love."

Mulan went quiet, and for a bit, they just sat in the canoe in silence.

It startled Neal when Mulan began to talk again. "That's what they have: true love." She said the words like they left a sour taste in her mouth. "Philip woke her with a kiss, and if the two of them did not share true love, she'd be slumbering still. Yet she is awake, and they are happy. I am not the sort of person, or the sort of friend, to jeopardize that simply to ease my own heart."

"You think they're happier without you than they would be with you?" Neal asked.

"No, I do not," Mulan said. "I think they would be happy in any case, but the pain of seeing them together is … I do not need the pain or the temptation. Sometimes, it's better to walk away."

"I can relate," Neal said. "The first time Emma really opened up and let me in, it was when she told me how her parents left her behind. It leaves scars, being abandoned. For the longest time, all she had wanted was to find her family, and to know that they loved her. And then I found out that they're out there, that they love her, this family she'd always wanted was waiting for her, and she could have it. All she had to do was leave me behind. And I couldn't ask her, couldn't give her the choice, because she'd never believe me. She grew up in The Land without Magic, and if I'd started talking about curses, she'd think I was insane. But I knew the answer, without even having to ask. It was all she'd ever wanted, and she'd known me, what, a year? Who was I to keep her from her family? I knew it was what she would choose. I knew it. So, I did what I was supposed to do and let her go, and I figured, maybe, someday, I'd be able to find her again. Except then she'd gone to jail and it was my fault, so she's not forgiving me for that, and then a year passed, and then two, and I didn't hear a peep from her so-called guardian angel. He never told me how long it would take, and I figured, if he was tracking her down when he did, it was probably because it was almost time, but then it was a decade later, and I knew that she had to hate me. How could she not? I hated me for what I did to her, and that was before I knew she was pregnant. So, I told myself she was better off without me, because everyone always has been. I told myself that if I'd given her the choice, if she'd by some miracle believed me, she still would have picked her family. How could I possibly compete with the family she'd always wanted? But maybe … maybe I was just being selfish. Maybe I was just running scared. I don't know. All I do know is that if I could do it over, go back to that moment, I would do it differently. I would have given her the choice. I would have found some way to convince her that it was real and let her call the shots on what to do. Leaving, letting her find her family and break the curse, maybe that was the right call, but it wasn't my call to make, and seeing how much pain she went through, thinking I just left her behind because I didn't give a damn … she deserved better."

"It is not the same," Mulan said. "From what you say, I take it Emma was not married to another man when you did not 'give her the choice?'"

Neal chuckled and scratched behind his ear, "You've got me there."

"Our stories are not the same," Mulan said. "However, I now believe I understand yours a little better. There was a time when I too did not think that I was good enough for someone to love."

"That's not … It's not that I don't think I'm good enough. It's … it's …" he tried to think of how to say it. "But come on, she lost her family because of me. That curse that left her an orphan, it was cast because of my dad, because he was trying to find me."

"And this was something you asked him to do?"

"Of course not," Neal said. "I would never … but that's not the point. I never asked him to hurt people for me, but he still did it, and then he'd say he did it for me. I'm like a magnet for this stuff. Tragedy and pain and suffering, people who spend time with me, they get hurt or worse. And I loved her. I loved her so much that it hurt, and then someone told me that I'm the one keeping her from being happy. That she was an orphan because of me, because of my dad, and that the only way she could get back what she lost is if I left her behind? What was I supposed to think? What was I supposed to do with that? I thought I was helping her, that I was fixing it … but I just caused her more pain. And then I brought Tamara to Storybrooke, and that caused her more pain, and put her and Henry in danger. If it weren't for me, she would have been better off. I know that. But I also know that I can't undo what's already done. Selfish as it is, I wouldn't want to. I can't imagine a world without my son in it, or a world where I didn't know and love Emma. I thought walking away would make things better for her, but it didn't; it made them worse. So, I have to fix it. I have to make sure that they're both okay. It's the least I owe to either of them."

"You are rather fond of blaming yourself, aren't you?" Mulan asked. "If I did not know better, I would think you were a woman raised in my culture. We were taught that everything was our fault. The rain, the destroyed crops, an inability to have children, the tragedies of war. It took a lot of effort and will to stop believing it. Nobody was going to fight that battle for me; I had to see myself as worthy. I had to make others see it. It seems as though you need to do the same."

"Just so you know," Neal said with a cheeky grin, "everything you just said about fighting and will and making others see how awesome you are, that's what I meant. That's what you're like in the movie."

"And a movie … is a kind of story?"

"Yeah," Neal said, "I wouldn't know how to explain it. I'd have to show you. Maybe once everything calms down in Storybrooke, once I know everyone is safe, we can rent it. It was the first thing I saw in theaters, and it's pretty good."

"I would hope so," Mulan said, a teasing gleam in her eye. "If a story about me was not good, it would not be accurate."

"You'll just have to see," Neal said, giving her a smile.

Then, her eyes turned sad. "Does it have a happy ending? My story?"

"That one does," Neal said. "That adventure, I mean. But it's just, you know, one adventure. I get the feeling that your story is still being written."

Rumpelstiltskin might not have been as musically inclined as his father. He certainly had never found cause to learn the pipe or any other instrument, but that didn't mean he couldn't sing. When he had been a man, he would often croon out a tune for Baelfire when his boy was having a difficult time sleeping. It wasn't something he had been entirely comfortable with; he was insecure about the raspiness of his voice. Still, Bae had loved it, just as Bae had loved everything about Rumple back then.

After he became the Dark One, after he lost Bae, he had learned every bit of magic he could, and that included the magic of music. Some spells couldn't simply be spoken; they needed to be sung. Chants and songs were a great way to communicate with the elemental forces of the realms. They were called for when magic was neither dark nor light, but simply was.

Rumple knew the songs of the sea well, and he knew that it was this very song that could summon one of its creatures from its depths. He hadn't sung since before the curse's casting, but it wasn't hard to remember how. He let the haunting cry of the sirens fall from his lips, and he waited.

Eventually, a mermaid swam to shore and offered him what she likely thought was a come-hither smile.

Mermaids, despite what modern media would have had people believe, were not sexy human looking women with seashell bras and soft human skin. In fact, their skin resembled what Rumpelstiltskin's skin had become after he took on the dagger. They were reptilian, cold-blooded, with webbed hands and blue, scaly skin. Their hair was often knotted and looked out of place, as though it was hanging off a corpse someone dug out of the ground.

Oh, they could look more human if they desired, and they often did when they were trying to lure a sailor to his death. Their song, which came not from their mouths, but from their gills hidden below the surface, allowed them to dig into the heart and soul of a man and make him see the beauty he wanted or expected. Sometimes, they would resemble a woman the sailor already loved. Other times, they were simply a beautiful girl with a seashell bra who was just the sailor's type. It was a great advantage for them, but it made no difference to Rumple. Their song did not work on the Dark One.

"I can see the real you, dearie," he said. "There's no need to try and pretend to be other than you are. You'll just embarrass yourself."

The girl's smile fell into a pout. "Your friends thought I was beautiful," she said.

"I imagine you're speaking of the ship that you and your friends nearly capsized?" Rumple asked. It didn't surprise him, really. Hook seemed just the sort to be swayed by a siren song, given his inability to have a relationship with a woman that didn't consist of innuendo, and Charming was a simpleton at best. He had seen through a siren once, but only that it wasn't the woman he loved. He still hadn't been able to see the true nature of the creature's appearance. It was likely that the views the men had colored what the women onboard saw, though it was possible that one of them also found mermaids attractive in theory.

"More than nearly," she said. "None of you should have come to these shores. Pan is not pleased."

Her response surprised Rumple. He hadn't expected the mermaids to have any loyalty to Pan.

"How long has this alliance held?" he asked. "How long have mermaids done the bidding of a child?"

"We both know he's more than a child," the mermaid said. "And if you do not realize how dangerous and powerful he is, you will never make it off of this island. Then again, that was always true."

"Enough of this," Rumple said. "You are nothing but a minion. I believe I'd like to speak with your leader."

"Why would Pan -?"

"I'm not talking about Pan," Rumple said. "I'm talking about your leader under the sea. Set up a meeting."

"And why would I do that?"

He could threaten her, but that would only work if he was willing to follow through. He had no problem killing her in the long run, of course, but if he did it now, he'd just have to start over with another mermaid.

He leaned close to her, his eyes boring into hers, and said, "Because the Dark One asked you to."

Her eyes widened slightly, and Rumple knew he had her. She was trying to not show fear, but he could smell it on her.

"That's right. You know who I am, and I know who you answer to. I think they'll want to have that chat. Relay the message. I'll be waiting."

"You don't need friends, Henry," his mother said. "You have me."

"But I want friends," Henry said, tears in his eyes.

First grade was the worst thing ever. When he came into the classroom on the first day, none of his friends had been there. He found Alfred at recess, but the boy didn't remember him. Neither did Amy or Alex. He had spent weeks trying to convince them that they had been friends last year, trying to convince his teachers that there has been a mistake, trying to convince his mom that he was supposed to be in the same class as those kids.

She kept telling him that he was wrong. His teachers did too. The other kids ran away when he approached them, or else they teased him, calling him crazy.

He had come home today crying, and his mother had held him and stroked his back. It had felt nice. But then she had told him to forget those kids. It didn't matter if they didn't like him. Except it did!

"They were my friends last year," Henry said, "I don't understand –"

"Those children were never your friends, Henry," his mom said. "They weren't even in your class."

"Yes, they were!" Henry said. "Why doesn't anyone believe me?"

"It's just not true," his mother said. "And you need to stop saying it. Forget those children."

"But I liked them," Henry said. "They were my friends and –"

"Henry, that's enough!" his mother said, her nostrils flaring. This had been happening more and more lately. Every time he talked about school and the other kids, she would get angry at him, and there was something strangely scary about her when she was angry. He knew it was silly. She was his mom, and he knew she would never hurt him. Still, when she got that look on her face and started yelling, he wanted to run and hide. What was stranger was afterwards, when she would smile and pretend like it hadn't happened. It was like with the other kids, except … the way she would smile always seemed a little forced. He knew she remembered yelling. She just didn't want to talk about it.

She turned away from him and began rubbing her temples. "If you don't stop telling these tales, I'll have to begin worrying about your sanity,"

"What's sanity?" Henry asked, because he had never heard the word before.

"Sanity, sane, as opposed to insane," she said impatiently, as though he should know the word. "If you aren't sane, it means that you're crazy, and crazy people need to be locked up away from their families so that they don't hurt anyone, and I don't want that to happen to you."

"But I wouldn't hurt anyone," Henry said, tears forming in his eyes. He didn't want to be taken away or locked up. The kids at school were already scared of him, they already called him crazy, and while he hadn't exactly known what it meant, he knew it wasn't a good thing. And now, they might lock him up?

"I know that," his mother said, dropping down to his eye-level. "I've raised you better than that, and I'd hate to think I failed. I don't want you taken away from me, Henry. You're my whole world. That's why I need you to believe me when I say that those children were never in your class, were never your friends, and you're never to mention it again. Because if you don't …"

It wasn't true. He knew it wasn't true. But he didn't want to be taken away, either. "Next year, will the kids from my class remember me? Can I make friends with them?"

Regina shook her head. "Children have different classmates every year. That's just how it works in school."

"But they're all still each other's classmates," Henry said. "Amy and Alex are still –"

"Amy and Alex were never in your class!" his mom said. "You aren't in school to make friends. You are in school to learn."

"But who will I talk to?" Henry asked. "Who will I play with?"

"Me," his mother said. "You've always talked to me. You've always played with me. Is that not enough anymore?"

She looked so sad then, and Henry felt bad, but the truth was that it wasn't. He loved his mom. Of course he did. But it wasn't the same as playing with kids his own age.

"What about when you aren't home?" Henry asked. "You have those council meetings –"

"I always come back," his mother said. "I will always be here for you, Henry. Me. Nobody else. I am the only person you can count on."

"But what if -?"

"Henry, NO!" his mother said. "I'm tired of this! I'm tired of having this conversation. I'm making an appointment with Dr. Hopper tomorrow to have you evaluated."

"You mean … to see if I'm crazy?" Henry asked. "To see if I need to be locked away?"

"It won't come to that," his mother said. "Dr. Hopper can make you better, help you forget all of this. Then, everything will be like it was before. You'll be happy again, like you were before you started school, when it was just the two of us."

"Forget … like how the other kids forgot?"

"They didn't forget, Henry," his mother said. "You just aren't remembering it right. It's okay, though. We'll get you help, and then you'll see the truth. You'll see that you are right where you are supposed to be, that you're better than all of those kids, and that I am all you need."

But she wasn't all he needed. He needed friends. He needed someone to believe him. Why couldn't she just believe him?

Suddenly, Henry wasn't at home anymore. He was outside of his mom's office, and he heard her voice saying, "You think he's troubled?"

"Well, he's in therapy. And I only got through a couple of pages of his shrink's notes before you had me arrested. But putting all that aside. He thinks everyone in this town is a fairy tale character."

That was his birth mom. He recognized her voice. Why was she talking to the Evil Queen about the curse? Why didn't she correct his mom, tell her that she misunderstood what Emma meant?

He turned the corner, wanting to ask what was going on, and saw the two of them sitting, talking, like they were old friends. The Savior and the Evil Queen, his mom and his birth mom, were sitting there talking about him like he was … like he was …

"And you don't?"

"How can I?" his birth mom asked. "The poor kid can't tell the difference between fantasy and reality and it's only getting worse. It's crazy."

No. No, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to think he was crazy. She was supposed to be different. She was supposed to believe him. Finally, somebody was supposed to believe him.

Then, he was in Emma's apartment, and he was trying desperately to convince her not to give up, not to leave him, to just believe. "You're just scared," he said. "This happens to all heroes. It's just the low moment before you fight back."

"Henry! This isn't a story. This is reality. And things have to change. You can't skip school, you can't run away, and… You can't believe in curses."

It was like she had slapped him. After everything, after Graham dying and Mary Margaret being set up for killing Mrs. Nolan, after everything that had happened, she still couldn't just believe him. She had known him long enough that she should know he wasn't crazy; she should know that if he believed it, it had to be true.

She didn't believe in him. Nobody had ever believed in him, but he knew he was right. He was surer now than ever. He took a bite of the turnover, and then he was falling…

Henry jerked awake and was disoriented for a minute because he wasn't in his bed. He was lying in a hammock, surrounded by trees and vines.

Then, he remembered. Neverland. He was in Neverland, waiting for his family to come rescue him. And they would come. Of course they would. When hadn't they come through for him?

His mind wandered back to his nightmare. His mom had lied to him for years, tried to convince him he was crazy for years, and Emma hadn't believed him. She had been planning to leave him behind with the Evil Queen.

But she had broken the curse! She'd broken it because he believed in her, and belief went a long way when it came to magic. That was even more true in Neverland. The moment he stopped believing that they would come for him would be the moment that he knew they wouldn't. He couldn't let that happen. He had to keep believing. Just because they hadn't believed in him didn't mean he couldn't believe in them. He'd done it before. He could do it again. They would come for him. He just had to wait and believe.

At a certain point, the sun had begun to rise, which at least gave Neal an idea of how long they had been traveling. He looked up in the sky, and what he saw made him want to cry.

"What is that?" Mulan asked. "Some sort of flying beast?"

Neal shook his head and laughed. "It's called an airplane, and if there's one up there, that means we've officially crossed over. Welcome to the Land without Magic."

Ariel came up for air once they hit Maine's shores, asking Neal to direct her from there. "I've spent some time searching this realm, so I sort of know my way around, but like I said, I haven't had any luck finding Storybrooke."

"Do you know where Hancock County is?" Neal asked, and at Ariel's nod, he smiled, hope filling his chest. "Great! It's in the Blue Hill Peninsula, if I remember correctly. If I had a map, I could show you —"

"I don't need a map," Ariel said. "I can get us to those shores."

She dove back under, pulling the canoe again until they reached a remote sandy beach. In the distance, up a little hill, Neal spotted what appeared to be a rather extravagant blue cottage. He didn't recognize it, but if he could get his hands on a map, he was sure they could find their way.

"It shouldn't be far from here," he said as he helped Mulan out of the canoe.

He offered to help Ariel out of the water, but she declined. "I'm going to need privacy to change, once I get my legs," she said, and Neal felt himself flush.

"Um, yeah, sure," he said, heading up the path that led to the cottage, Mulan in tow, "We'll meet at that building there?"

The hill was a bit steeper than it had looked from afar, and Neal found himself huffing and puffing a bit, which slowed them down. They hadn't walked very far before Ariel caught up with them.

"Wow, for someone who didn't always have legs, you walk pretty fast," Neal said, smiling and trying not to wince. His chest hurt a bit, but it wasn't a big deal.

"I think I should get the map," Ariel said. "Neither of you are wearing clothes fitting for this land."

It was true. Neal's clothes had been soaked through when he woke up, and Philip and Aurora had put him in something a little less Land without Magic and a little more Enchanted Forest.

Ariel, for her part, was wearing a pleasant green and white summer dress and sandals. She fit right in.

"Where did you get that?" Neal asked.

"I told you: I've been traveling through the land without magic looking for my family," she said. "I'm familiar with what sorts of outfits women of this world wear."

"So, you bought that here?"

Ariel shook her head. "My gold coins were of no use on these shores, but I would occasionally meet someone kind enough to barter."

When Ariel headed up the path, Neal realized that his clothes weren't the only things ruined when he had landed in the oceans of the Enchanted Forest. His wallet had no doubt been drenched, which meant he had no money on him. Ariel had just admitted that she had no usable currency, and he doubted Mulan would even know what a dollar bill or a credit card was.

"You've gone a bit pale," Mulan said. She put her hand to his forehead. "Your skin is clammy. You should rest."

Neal shook his head. "We don't have time –"

"We have to wait for Ariel to return," she said. "At least sit."

"I've been sitting for hours," Neal said. "Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk, it's just that I don't even know how much time has passed, and I need to make sure Emma and Henry are okay. Then, I can sit, but not before."

"I found a map," Ariel said. "One of the innkeepers gave it to me."

She showed the map to Neal, and he was pleased to see that they weren't that far.

"I don't suppose you bartered for a car?" Neal asked, but she shook her head. If he'd had money, they could have rented one, but he didn't, and Neal wasn't in the habit of stealing cars anymore. "I guess we're hoofing it."

It really wasn't that far, even if it felt that way. Once, long ago, Neal had gotten everywhere on foot, but he figured he must be out of shape, considering how much effort it took to just put one foot in front of the other. He felt a bit nauseous, his breathing was shallow, and he could feel himself sweating through his shirt. It didn't matter, though. All that mattered was getting there. All that mattered was Henry and Emma, and he was so close.

Finally, just as the sun was setting, Neal saw the "Welcome to Storybrooke," sign and breathed out a sigh of relief. They had made it. Finally, they had made it.

He stumbled a little crossing the town line, a bit uneasy on his feet. Maybe he should have slept on the boat. He tried to steady himself, but there was nothing to steady himself with, save for his companions. He thought he heard someone say his name, but there was a roaring in his ears, and his vision was blurring.

Someone touched his stomach, and when he looked down, he saw that what he had thought was sweat making his shirt stick to his skin was actually blood. Then, everything went black.