VAST (IV): Peter Pan OUAT

Elizabeth

I am late.

I get off the bus and put my hands in my pocket. The air feels warm, but winter has left the skin on my hands chapped. Unfortunately, I have nothing to show for my usual tardiness.

It's a short walk through the park. The snow, old and icy, is slippery under my feet. The park breaks into trees, covered in darkness. Since the trees above are not a ceiling, but instead the hands of skeletons, it's easier to see then I am used to. After all this time though, my eyes still struggle to adjust to the darkness quickly.

I press my lips together and whistle as loud as I can. It's a trick that they used in the forest before the fight with the natives. It made it easier for them to locate each other. I've never had the opportunity to use it before, though I hear it happening all throughout our apartment.

From the right, there is a whistle back. I turn, following the sound.

The woods end abruptly, going from thick trees to a river. The water is high from the rain, just feet away from me. I can feel its cool misty splashing up from the rocks.

On the shore, the Lost Boys are crowded in a circle.

"How did it go?" I recognize Jared's voice, though I at first can't distinguish him from the other bodies. He turns around to face me. His hair is much shorter now, though the front still hangs in front of his face.

"No luck," I press my lips together. "I'm heading to New York next."

"I can come," Johnny turns back to us. "As long as someone watches Max."

Alison stiffs her nose to him. I'm surprised she is here.

Tonight, the next-door neighbours are watching Max. We got lucky with them; a couple with two little kids, none of whom ask a lot of questions. It's nice, since I'm sure by now someone would've called the police about an apartment filled with suspicious teens.

I guess, we are young adults now. It's 2013. It's April.

Last month, Elizabeth killed herself in her apartment. It was still freezing outside then, and I still couldn't get out of bed. Now that the river has thawed, we can finally have her funeral.

"Shouldn't we go check out Storybrooke first?" Alex questions. "If the letter is right then Storybrooke has returned."

"We get figure out logistics later," Harry offers. He nudges Alex.

Jared lights a match. He throws it on the small barge they've made. It's nothing more than a pile of sticks, tied together with string from the dollar store, but it is the best they've been able to do in the few hours they had before dark. I was supposed to be here to help them.

I have too many regrets.

The wood is wet, so it doesn't ignite initially. Jared throws another match, and another, until finally, the barge begins to burn.

"To Elizabeth," Blaize mutters. Her eyes are glossy as she leans into the body next to her. I have to peer around her to notice that it is Frank. Blaize trails her sentence by raising her water bottle to her lips. No one else drinks. None of us brought anything, although I'm not surprised Blaize came prepared.

That's all of us. The one's that are left anyway, as far as I know. We haven't heard from Spencer, Gregory, and that other kid in over a year. I imagine that they are homeless or dead by now.