A/N: Let's kick off this chapter with a bit of romance, shall we? :)
Cassandra was seated on the ground, her back against a tree. She could hear the cheers of the Lost Boys from the camp nearby. Not in the mood for fun, she had left the group and was currently hiding away until she could calm down. She hadn't wanted to see a certain someone. Didn't trust herself not to kill him if she saw that egotistical face of his. Her plan had worked, slightly. The roaring fire of her anger had simmered to a level she could control. The stillness of her current surroundings definitely helped. The pale moonlight cast a beautiful glow over the trees. The soft shadows twisting as the gentle breeze fluttered the leaves.
Feeling someone drop down beside her, Cassandra tensed. She knew who it was. The bold action as he rested his hand on her knee was clear enough. Although she was angry at him, she suddenly felt too drained to shove him away. Curious to her body's reaction she quickly deduced a reason. She felt defeated. The one person she thought would always be there to back her up, to catch her if she fell...well he didn't. He virtually pushed her off the figurative edge, sending her tumbling down to the despondent state she was in. Ripping her away from a chance at vengeance.
"Why?" She asked, her voice weak.
"You see, I don't think you've thought this through." Peter said, his voice somehow both gentle and cocky. "I know I said you could have your revenge, but is stabbing your mother really the best way to go about it?"
"You're kidding, right?" Cassandra bristled at the boy's words.
"Andie, I think you've forgotten I'm on your side." She could sense his self-righteous smile. "Listen, you loathe Emma. Completely understandable after what she did to you. But a dagger to the heart. Surely that's too quick an end for someone so vile."
The cogs in Cassandra's turned. She could see Peter's point. Cursing herself, she could feel her icy aura melting. She knew she shouldn't forgive him so easily but it was so hard, so tiring, staying mad at him. Her stiff posture relaxed somewhat.
"Then what would you suggest?"
"Have a little fun. Make her suffer. Mess with her head. Make her part of the game." The mischievous tone in his voice was unmistakable. "I've already started to toy with her. Let me tell you, she's not as strong as she likes to think. There are already cracks in her walls. Despair beginning to show and we've barely gotten started." He sneered and Cassandra grinned widely.
"And then I can kill her?" Her eyes lit up at this vengeful ploy. Without hesitation, Peter fuelled her fire.
"After we've torn her down and she's begging for forgiveness. Begging for death." He nodded. "Andie, this opportunity has the potential to be the greatest game of all time and I do not intend to waste it."
"Likewise." Cassandra's fury towards Peter had dissipated and her head fell to his shoulder. "What about Snow and Charming, can I kill them?" Her quip was met with a simple chuckle from Peter.
She raised her head and turned to face him. Her heart tightened. The white light danced across his features creating dark contrasting shadows which accentuated the deep colour of his iris'. Sometimes they could be described as pure emerald or even forest-green when the sunlight emphasised the lighter flecks within. Now however, the darkness from the clearing, cast away by the moon, had escaped into his eyes turning them into a deeper, richer green. Their colour reminded Cassandra of moss in winter where it poked out from under the snow, the sodden plant dark in tone. The stark contrast to the dazzling white around it causing it to appear darker still.
Peter's gaze had become intense and Cassandra found she was unable to look away. She became aware of their closeness, aware of the heat radiating from his chest, aware of how it was more than likely that Peter could hear her trembling heartbeat. The hand that had been resting on her knee disappeared and immediately the spot felt cold. The hand moved to her face where it brushed aside her tatted locks. He traced the scar that flowed across her temple almost gracefully. Its jagged form had faded somewhat since she was a small child but still the mark remained. Peter had never offered to use his magic to rid her of it. Cassandra hadn't asked him to. She liked it. It was a reminder of what she'd been through. Of how much she was capable of overcoming.
His fingers trailed down her cheek to cup her chin, leaving fire in their wake. His eyes roamed her face, not as though he were memorising it but rather as though he had already done so. As if he were testing himself, seeing if every inch of her face was as he remembered. From the brief smile that flickered on his face, Cassandra guessed he'd passed the test. Note the term 'passed' rather than 'won'. When it came to her, Peter didn't play games, there was no winning or losing. There was only her. She was the exception to Peter Pan's games and this was one of the reasons she pledged him her heart all those years ago.
Her senses heightened and she became overly aware of their surroundings. She could hear the yells of the Lost Boys and the rustle of the critters in the jungle. She felt the cool wind soothing her warm skin. Her mind buzzed and whirred, latching onto all stimuli it could. Peter's gaze flickered to her lips. Cassandra could hear her breathing quicken. He leaned forward, his face inches from hers. The suspense was unbearable, her palms had grown clammy, her heart was going to beat out of her chest. Peter looked into her eyes and she felt like he was staring straight into her soul. She was an open book, completely vulnerable. And so was he.
"Cassie." He whispered. There it was, her nickname used only by him. The name he would call her only when they were alone. It was used when his guard was down, when he was defenceless. This simple word was said when the great Peter Pan felt like nothing more than a mere boy, his heart exposed to the girl he loved with a passion so intense it ached his mind and body.
Unable to bear it any longer, Cassandra bridged the gap and their lips crashed together. Her whizzing thoughts halted completely, the gears in her head had stilled. She no longer heard the Lost Boys or the critters. She no longer felt the breeze on her skin. Her body was numb to their surroundings. The only sensation she could comprehend was that of Peter's lips against hers. The only thoughts she could form revolved solely around Peter. Her Peter. They had longed for each other so desperately and this was reflected by the urgent movements of their mouths. As if the other could disappear at any moment. Time ceased and the world stopped. Everything was them and they were everything.
Too soon, the unfortunate need for oxygen brought Cassandra pulling away as she gasped for breath. She looked up to see an equally flustered Peter. She smiled one of her rare genuine smiles and rested her forehead against his. Slowly the two recovered and Peter pressed his lips to hers once more. But this kiss was different, it was gentle. It conveyed the joy they both felt at being reunited. It expressed the devotion they had towards one another. Peter grinned one of his blue-moon grins that were neither arrogant nor smug. They were kind and honest and not at all like how his reputation painted him to be. But that's because it was a glimpse at her Peter.
Their fingers intertwined, the pair strolled back to camp. Cassandra was beaming and as she looked to the boy beside her, she caught the slight twinkle in his eye. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. Nothing could ruin Cassandra's good mood, not even Emma Swan or her Storybrooke friends. Not when Cassandra was with Peter.
For he was hers and she was his.
///
_____
She scrubbed the dirt from her skin, refusing to spend another day caked with all this mud. She didn't have long. There was no telling how long there was before the owners of the cabin were back. She had filled her satchel with all the coins she could find and knew Papa Bates would be pleased. She was the greatest thief out of all his crew; her dainty figure compared to that of the burly men gave her a strong advantage when it came to stealth. It was the only reason she'd been kept around for so long, she was able to repay Papa Bates well for 'taking care of her'. She scoffed as she thought of how the intimidating man would phrase it.
Looking in the mirror, Cassandra was revolted. Her skin was dull white, scattered with coloured blotches. Purples, blues, browns. They littered her arms and legs though these were easily hidden by her clothing. Her lip was cut but it wasn't anything that wouldn't heal. The thing was, Cassandra wasn't surprised by her damaged appearance in the slightest. It had become a familiar sight.
She watched, mesmerised by the strange figure in the mirror. The starved ghost with coloured spots across her body. Clothes a size too big hanging loosely from her frame. Incredibly short hair, cut just over an inch from the scalp. The person in the mirror was not Cassandra. The person looking back at her was a stranger. She was not the feisty girl who argued with Madame Nox nor was she the determined girl who ran away in the middle of an icy Winter's night. Cassandra's reflection showed an empty shell of the girl she had once been.
Upon entering the cabin, she had looked in awe at its interior. The large pile of logs by the fireplace, she could picture the warmth it would radiate. The sturdy table in the kitchen, it caused an odd ache in her chest as she imagined people sitting together as a family. The whole house possessed an aura of homeliness, it was cosy. A luxury Cassandra never had the fortune to experience.
A mental image of children living happy lives, filled with love from their parents, sprung to mind. It overpowered the slight twinge of envy Cassandra had had and replaced it with disgust. They knew nothing of hardship, they had never had their will power tested. And yet, they were able to live in their blissful ignorance and be rewarded.
Pouring more water onto her hands, Cassandra rubbed her face, ridding herself of the dark streaks. Washing her cropped hair would be a waste of time. She wouldn't be able to massage all the filth from her scalp quickly enough. She'd just end up fleeing the cabin with dripping wet hair that would chill her to the bone when she left the warmth of the indoors.
There was a clang. Cassandra froze. They were home. Cursing her carelessness, she crept towards the window praying the people didn't catch her. Placing her hands on the sill, she hoisted herself through the opening, swivelling her hips so her feet land firmly on the sodden grass. She sprinted, her strong legs pushing her powerfully across the marsh. Squelching sounds accompanied each footstep as she plodded through the puddles.
Echoing church bells could be heard as she reached the cover of the woods. Midnight. Grabbing a coin from her pocket, she flipped it in the air. She watched as it twirled before it plummeted back to the earth, catching it in her right hand. It was a silly tradition of hers.
"Happy Birthday Cassie." A small smile graced her lips. "Maybe thirteen will be the lucky year."
____
///
"Wake up. I got you." Peter threw an apple to Henry. The boy sat up, looking warily at the fruit.
"I don't like apples." Henry said. Cassandra almost tutted aloud. Not everyone had the luxury to be picky over food.
"Who doesn't like apples?" A baffled Peter asked.
"It's a family thing." Henry timidly glanced to Cassandra. She didn't want to be part of his little family, the idea of being so hopeful all the time repulsed her. But she hated the way in which the boy made her feel like even more of an outcast. Excluded. Unwanted. They had a thing, she'd never had a proper family in which she could have a thing. Envy twanged within her.
"Evidently not." She snapped causing Henry to flinch. Peter could sense her distress and she noticed the crack in his posture when he almost broke character, when he almost unleashed his vicious side upon the small boy. Instantaneously, the crack sealed itself and Peter was fully in control once again.
"Don't worry." Peter smiled to Henry, ignoring Cassandra's comment and crouched down in front of him. "They're not for eating. It's for a kind of game. A really fun game." The dramatic Peter aimed with the cross bow he'd been holding. "I call it target practice."
A scared looking Henry followed Peter as he walked off. Cassandra stood where she was after noticing Felix drifting towards her.
"I see you two have sorted it out." He stated referring to the recent event that had made Cassandra livid.
"He had his reasons." She nodded. "What have I missed, with Emma and the others?"
"The Swan girl has figured out the map." Felix said, very bored. It was evident this part of the game was too slow paced for him. Cassandra on the other hand was intrigued by what Felix had told her.
"Who is she then?" She asked quickly. Felix gave her a curious look but before he could answer, Peter's voice yelled.
"Andie. Get over here." She glanced to Peter and decided she could find out about Emma later.
"Is Cassandra good? Is her aim good?" Henry's eyes were frantic as Cassandra walked towards them.
"No, far from it." Peter said slyly. Cassandra scowled at him but he just winked. Okay so maybe she wasn't the best with a bow and arrow. But that didn't matter, she much preferred to fight her opponent up close. You could see the fear in their eyes. The tiny fraction of a moment when they give up any hope they have, and accept their inevitable death.
"Doesn't matter though, because Henry, you're the one who gets to do the shooting." Peter's eyes gleamed with excitement.
"I don't wanna shoot." Henry refused. Cassandra groaned. This boy was no fun. The crowd of Lost Boys that had now circled around the trio began to chant.
"Shoot. Shoot. Shoot." Voices filled the air.
"You won't hit her. Trust yourself. Go on." Peter said quietly to the boy, motivating him. Cassandra placed the apple on her head and grinned at Henry. "It's exhilarating." Peter added before stepping back for the boy.
"Shoot. Shoot. Shoot." The chorus grew louder and louder.
"Hit me and I'll gut you." Cassandra yelled over the noise. His eyes widened at the crazed expression on her face. Cassandra knew she would be fine, whether she was hit or not, she had Neverland's magic waters on her side. But Henry didn't know that and it was so much fun to toy with him.
The crossbow raised and Henry pointed it uneasily at the apple. Cassandra took a deep breath. This little game was a test in itself for Henry. How he responded to Peter's commands. The abrupt shift in Henry's aim was intentional as he fired the arrow directly at Peter. A shriek caught in Cassandra's throat, a sudden clenching was experienced in her chest. The arrow halted. Peter had caught it. Cassandra gulped, that was far too close for her liking.
"Told you it was exhilarating. Come on, I have something to show you." Peter and Henry strolled away, Henry still in slight shock. Cassandra didn't blame him; her heart was still racing. She didn't follow them, instead she dropped straight to the floor, her legs having turned to jelly.
Did he have to tempt fate like that. She knew he could catch arrows, he was quite proud to say the least. He did it every chance he could get, the boy liked to show off. But maybe one time, he'll miscalculate. He won't catch it. It'll plummet straight into-
Cassandra shook the thought from her head. It hurt too much to think about. She sighed and looked over to the boy whose eyes could hold an entire spectrum of green. She felt how her heart beat stronger and louder as she watched him, admiring his features. The typical smug grin of his that she dreamt of every night they were apart. The certain look in his eyes that kept her going when they were realms apart, that guided her past her worries and told her they would be together again.
Cassandra wracked her hands through her knotted hair. That boy would be the death of her.
///
_____
Each birthday, Cassandra's thoughts would be drawn to her friend the shadow. He hadn't visited for years. She wasn't even sure if he had ever been real. It was more than likely that all he was, was a figment of her imagination. A being, created by a frightened, lonely little girl who only wanted someone whom she could call a friend. Not that she'd ever admit it, but sometimes Cassandra caught the strangest of things in the corner of her eye: A dark blur where there should have been light; A man with two shadows, one different in size to the other; Even two bright circles in the shadows, like glowing eyes.
She had known of the shadow for as long as she could remember. His stories of Peter Pan, she grew around them like a vine would a tree. They supported and comforted her when she had no one to go to. No mother to hold her. No father to chase away the demons under the bed. But the first of the stories did not include Peter Pan. It calmed a whimpering infant who desperately wanted the answer to one agonizing question. The question all orphans will ask. Where her parents were...
And so, the shadow had told her. He told her how her cruel and wicked father abandoned her mother. He told her how her selfish mother did the same to her children. Leaving them to be taken care of poorly by strangers. Yes, she had a twin. A brother who was prophesised for great things. The brother remained in their birth world while Cassandra was cast through a portal into the realm she now lived. For them, Cassandra had been sent away mere seconds ago, she was not a child who could already string together a sentence.
The shadow consoled the sobbing child, turning her anguish and despair into hatred for those who were supposed to love her. Her friend had told her that the mother was ignorant, she was blind to the power her little girl possessed. The strength she held within. 'You must show her,' he had said 'show her how wrong she was.' The trembling girl had been naive, she hoped her family would come back. Perhaps her brother would save her. The shadow had simply shaken his head. 'By the time your brother is old enough to help, he wouldn't want to.' He explained how all grown-ups were evil, their lack of compassion outstanding, even her brother would turn into this awful excuse for a person.
And that was when she was introduced to Peter Pan. The boy who never grew up. He rescued children from grown-ups, he gave them a place where they could belong at his home called Neverland. Peter Pan would save her. He would not forget her.
Strolling through the woods, the girl who had just reached her thirteenth year sighed. Peter Pan. He sounded like a fairy-tale, too good to be true. But hidden in Cassandra was a slow burning ember of belief. She knew he was real. She felt it, deep within her bones. Whether she was just using the mindset of a young child, she did not know, but having depended on the tales of the boy for so long took its toll.
To give up on the boy dressed in green would be like killing the tree around which the vines were wrapped. The tree would fall and she would too.
____
///
Too lazy to move, Cassandra remained sitting on the ground. She rested on her arms as she leant back to admire the dark sky above. She had watched Peter and Henry's exchange from afar, she had watched as Peter gave him the scroll. After spending about a decade in Neverland, Cassandra had become very familiar with the object. She would often look at it, look at the boy she knew to be her brother.
She would wonder what his life was like. How he differed from her. Curiosity, jealousy and hatred had frequently swirled around in her head. An odd blend of emotions that always arose when she looked at the drawing of her twin who got the lucky end of the stick. She had always known Henry was the Truest Believer, Peter had explained it all to her. The thing she didn't know was whether it was mere coincidence or fate that Henry got to grow up happily and end up with two mothers while Cassandra, to put it simply, did not.
A small shape sat next to her, capturing her attention. Henry didn't look at her, he kept his gaze upwards towards the vast expanse above them. Raising her brow, Cassandra eyed the boy but he did not make any attempt to interact with her. Deciding the peculiarities of a ten-year-old weren't worth her time, she resumed her position searching the sky. After a long and silent minute Henry spoke up.
"I used to stare at the sky every night you know." Cassandra looked to him puzzled. That was not what she had expected. "When I found out Regina wasn't my real mom, I'd look up at the stars and know that although we were miles apart, me and my real mom would be looking up at the same sky." It was at this point he looked at her. "It made me believe that I would find her. That I shouldn't lose hope."
Cassandra sighed. Of course it would be some sort of empowering hope speech. Surely someone couldn't be born with that much enthusiasm for life. However, Regina didn't seem like the type to bring up a child with unrealistic ideas and dreams. Groaning, Cassandra deduced it must be in the family. The overwhelming hope that Snow and Charming shared must have been passed down their bloodline. And poor Henry got it all dumped on him. Relief filled Cassandra as she realised she had a stroke of luck for once in her life.
Henry had fallen into silence. Was he waiting for a response? Did he think he could get into her head that easily? Shrugging, she figured she had nothing to lose by humouring the boy.
"I had a different sky." She told him. At his inquisitive gaze, she explained. "I grew up in another realm to you. Surely you must have figured that out? I'm quite a bit older than you after all." It was clear that Henry was deep in thought. Was what she was saying really that hard to comprehend?
"I had a feeling but I didn't know for sure." His words were slow and steady. "...how did you end up in the other world?" Cassandra did not have to give her answer any thought.
"Your mother Emma isn't as perfect as you think."
"What do you mean?" Henry asked innocently. He knew not to outright deny her words unless he wished to lose a finger.
"She sent me away. She didn't just put me up for adoption like you for some reason. Oh no, she banished me to another realm where I was trapped, destined to live an awful, awful life...until Peter saved me." Thinking about her saviour brought a smile to her lips.
"Our-" Henry faltered at the murderous glare Cassandra shot him. "My mom, she, she wouldn't do that. She didn't even know about magic until I found her."
"She lied to you Henry. Don't get upset, she lies to everyone, it's what she does." Her words were hollow; it was evident she didn't care if Henry was sad or not. The stubborn boy grew agitated at her accusations.
"No! My mom isn't like that. You've got it wrong. Why would she only banish you and not me anyway? And why to a place where time moves quicker!"
Cassandra blinked. She was stunned by the fight the young boy had in him. That fire. She had it once. It was small, fuelled mainly by naive hopes and dreams. Needless to say, it was quickly smothered during her upbringing but in its place, grew a colossal furnace that roared and raged. Its unstoppable flames scorched anyone who stood in her way. Forgiveness was a term Cassandra no longer understood.
"Maybe she knew you were the Truest Believer." She supposed, though her drawling tone indicated it was more than 'just supposing'. "Maybe she decided it would be better to keep you around just in case you could be of use to her." She spat, Henry's powers as Truest Believer ringing in her mind. Cassandra rose from the ground, brushing the dirt from her pants. She was done with this conversation. About to walk away, Cassandra said one final thing to Henry.
"Oh and maybe, just maybe, she sent me there so then there'd be less chance of me coming back. Think about it Henry, for every year in your world, fifteen would pass in mine. If Peter hadn't rescued me, I'd be long dead by now." With that, she stormed away leaving Henry open-mouthed.
///
On an isolated section of Neverland, far away from camp, Pan's shadow flew overhead. A figure dropped to the ground with a grunt. Felix chose this moment to step from where he was hidden in the bushes. The man clambered to his feet and turned to look at the boy he knew a long time ago.
Baelfire had changed so much. His face lined with the stress and worry that only came with adulthood. His jawline was stronger. His features had become more prominent, no longer the soft face of a boy. His eyes however, they were still the same worried brown eyes that had arrived in Neverland all those years ago. They still held the same weakness, the same heartbreak, that accompanied his overbearing sentiment.
"Welcome home, Baelfire. Pan will be so happy to see you." Felix smiled slyly at the man who, by the guarded look in his eyes, knew what he had gotten himself into by coming back. "And Andie too," He sneered, leaning to Baelfire so their faces were closer. "She'll be so glad to find out you're still alive."