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. . . I looked beyond the pond with Emma by my side as we waited for Gideon to arrive. My foot tapped anxiously while I crossed my arms against my chest. I've heard stories of the Underworld, but never once did I think that one day I would have to go down there while I was still living and breathing. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Emma acknowledging Gideon.
"So what's the plan, again," Emma asked.
"Get to the Underworld, find Peter, give him half my heart, and get back to Storybrooke. We should be in and out," I assured the blonde.
Gideon reached into his back pocket and pulled out a vile of a red liquid, "Are we ready to go then?"
Emma pointed at the bottle with slight disturbance on her face, "Is that what I think it is?"
"My father's blood," he swirled it around as a questioned forms on my lips, "Since he went to hell and back, he knew how valuable it was, so he left some behind for a rainy day."
Gideon walked over to the pond and poured one single drop into the water. The one drop created multiple ripples as a thick layer of fog appeared across the surface of the pond. A dark, hooded figure on a boat rowed towards us. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears and my palms began to sweat. Emma stepped onto the ferry then Gideon; he lent me a hand, seeing me hesitate.
"How do we know Pan hasn't crossed over?" Emma piped up before we leave.
"Trust me," Gideon answered, "My grandfather has a lot of unfinished business."
Once we arrived to the Underworld, I was shocked to see how similar it was to Storybrooke. In fact, it might as well be another Storybrooke. The only difference was the clock tower had fallen onto the ground.
"Are you sure this is the Underworld?" I wondered aloud.
"It's a long story," Emma replied as they walked up to diner that resembled Granny's, "Last time we were here, we called it Underbrooke."
"Last time?" I questioned while I chased after them into the restaurant.
Like the rest of Underbrooke, it was an exact copy of Storybrooke. The placement of the chairs and tables were the same, it even had the old jukebox along the back wall. The only difference was the gloomy and dark atmosphere.
Emma sat at the counter and cleared her throat, catching the attention of a woman with unruly, curly blonde hair. I took note of her hazy blue eyes as she sniffed the air.
"Savior, back so soon?," she pouted, "Did you die already?"
"No, I need information," Emma asserted firmly, "Where can I find Peter Pan?"
The blind woman scrunched her eyebrows as she continued to wipe down the counter, "Peter Pan? Well, no one has seen him in years."
