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Crying woke me up in the middle of the night. I pried my eyes open groggily and looked at the clock. Two o'clock in the morning.
Emma's wails got louder and more hysterical. I loved her, but I hated getting up to take care of her in the night. I needed sleep.
I started to get up but Bashful rolled over and looped an arm around my waist, pressing a kiss to my hair. "It's okay," he murmured, "You've done enough. I'll take care of her. Go back to sleep."
Relief flooded through me and I sunk back into the covers. My fiance was amazing. "Thank you."
"Of course."
I felt the bed dip and grow cold when he left, and not long after I heard him gently humming to our daughter and her teary howling stopped. A few moments later, Bashful was back and he fell into bed beside me. I turned over to hug him, and he cuddled me back, our breathing slowing as we went back to sleep.
~+~
The next morning, the alarm went off. I hated that thing. It was loud and blared like a car horn, and whenever it played Emma started crying.
Cue the bawling.
I dragged myself up to go get her, picking her up and cradling her to my chest. "Shhh," I hushed. The alarm turned off in the bedroom as Bashful got up. He smiled sleepily at me as he passed the door to the nursery and went to the bathroom. Emma calmed down, hiccuping once, and I used a cloth to wipe the tears and snot from her face. Slobber covered her fingers, and I had to wipe that off too. She was a gross baby, but I loved her anyway.
I lay her back down in the crib and handed her a stuffed lamb that she loved and went back to the bedroom to make the bed, then got dressed. Bashful was rushing through his routine, running late to work, and I smiled as he tied his tie just a bit crooked.
"Bye honey!" Bashful called as he left.
I didn't reply, too busy changing diapers. I'd just text him later. Bashful worked a hard job, providing for us both. I needed a job, but with Emma so young, someone had to take care of her and daycare around here was crazy expensive. So, I stayed home and took care of her and anything else I could. Bashful and I had moved after we met Peter Pan on the street that one day. Now, we had a property in Storybrooke on one of the back roads where no one ever went. It was hard to find and small, but it was hidden from him, even though we never saw him again after that day. But better safe than sorry. Besides, the rent was cheaper.
They say you should never leave a baby unattended. And I live by that rule, even at home. But I smelt something weird down the hall. I gave Emma a kiss on the head and put her back in her crib. She's safe in her crib. I went down the hall to the bedroom, finding nothing but some weird green powder on the floor. God, I needed to sweep up here.
Shaking my head, I went back to the nursery.
She's supposed to be safe in her crib.
But when I went over to it, she was gone. Panic surged through me. Where was she? What had happened?
"EMMA!" I called. I knew she wouldn't reply, but she didn't like loud noise. Maybe she'd cry and I'd hear her.
I looked over the crib in a frenzy, desperate for a clue. All that was there was more green dust. I scooped it up on a finger and examined it. Suddenly I realized what it was. My blood went cold.
Pixie dust.
"EMMA!" I screamed, running through the house. Nothing. "PAN! GIVE HER BACK! GIVE HER BACK NOW, SHE'S MY BABY!"
There was a whoosh and he appeared in front of me. Emma hung in his arms. She was crying but he must have cast a spell or something because there was no sound. "Hello, darling." He said devilishly.
"Give her back, she's my daughter!" I demanded, stepping forward, but he disappeared and reappeared further back.
"But she's not just your daughter," He responded darkly.
My heart was beating a mile-a-minute. Emma was constricted in his hands, just a helpless baby in the arms of a murderer. "Of course not. She's Bashfuls too."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you still going with that story? Because I worked some magic on her a few days ago. And I know she's mine. Then it was just a matter of waiting for an opportunity to take her."
"Please," I whimpered, desperate, "Please give her back to me. I love her so much. Please just give her back."
He looked like he might for a second but that was erased when he looked down at her. "No. She's mine now. I'm taking her from you as you took her from me."
"YOU'RE A KILLER! YOU'RE EVIL! SHE DESERVES A PARENT WHO WILL LOVE HER!" I paused, considering my next words and saying icily, "And we both know you aren't capable of loving anyone."
He looked at me directly in the eye. "I loved you." And disappeared.
I looked around frantically. He was gone. "PAN! BRING HER BACK! BRING HER BACK! PLEASE!" But there was no response.
I shut my eyes, collapsing to the floor in sobs. He took her. He took my daughter.
The only image I could see was her teary green eyes as he vanished.
~+~
"What do you mean she's gone?" Bashful cried, shocked.
"Pan!" I wept, "He took her!"
Bashful's wide eyes filled with tears too, and he sat down beside me. I had called him from work, begging him to come home immediately, and like a good fiance, he dropped everything and came. "No..." he whispered, choking up. "No, she can't be..."
If it was even possible, I cried harder, hugging Bashful. He clutched me close, just as upset as I was. He was her father, the one taking care of her, the one loving her. He didn't care about the biologically or the genetics. She was his daughter.
And suddenly she was taken.
We notified the police, they were on high alert. Emma Swan (not my baby, my friend that I named her after), Snow, Charming, Henry, Regina, and the whole of Storybrooke were looking for Pan. But after a lot of crying, I picked myself up off the floor and made a decision. Pan wouldn't get away with her.
Bashful said he'd fight with me, said he loved me and that he wanted to fight for our daughter, but I insisted that he needed to be back in Storybrooke. Peter Pan was my ancient enemy. Neverland was my hated home. The history was mine. This was my fight, and I'll be damned if I wasn't going to win it.
I got Pixie Dust surprisingly easily. Even Mr. Gold, or should I say Rumplestilskin, had sympathy for me. Belle was pregnant with their first, so I think he could imagine how I felt. He even supplied me with an item I needed. An enchanted blade, the only one in existence with the ability to kill Peter Pan. And for taking Emma, you'd better believe I intended to use it.
~+~
Touching down on Neverland shores brought back memories and feelings that I'd kept locked away for a long time. There was a time when it was my heaven. There was a time when it was my hell. Now it was my battleground.
I stormed through the woods, still knowing the way to camp by heart. I was sure Pan's scouts had seen me but I didn't care. There was a feeling of triumph, of power, in him knowing I was coming. I hoped he was scared.
I entered the camp, not seeing what I expected to see. I had anticipated lost boys lined up, weapons ready. But there was just Pan, his face stony. "I never thought I'd see you on Neverland again."
"Well, you know what they say. Motherhood changes you."
Peter narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm not telling you where she is. You're wasting your time."
"That's ok. I'll find her on my own." With that, I hurled the knife at his chest.
He caught it by the handle, the tip almost touching his skin. "Come on, love, you can't have possibly thought that would work."
"Don't worry, it did."
He was going to set the knife down but found he couldn't move. A purple film, glowing, stretched across his body from the neck down. He laughed bitterly. "Squid ink on the handle. Clever."
"Thanks," I replied curtly, walking up to him and taking the knife with ease, it's work almost complete. I raised it above my head, prepared to stab him, but first, whispering, "You really shouldn't have touched my daughter."
I was about to stab him while he was defenseless, but he shouted, "Wait!" I paused momentarily, giving him enough time to say, "Please. I'm sorry."
"No, you're not. You, Peter Pan, are only sorry you got caught."
"No," he pleaded, "At first, yes. But I missed you. You think I didn't cry? You think I didn't hate myself for letting you leave? Then you're not as clever as I thought. I still love you. I always will. I'm sorry for what I did with Wendy. But I love you."
"You kidnapped my daughter."
"Our daughter."
"No. She's not yours. She may be related to you by blood, but that's not what family is. Families are the people you love and the people who love you. Bashful is her father. He has been loving her and caring for her and he never kidnapped her or hid her away or ripped her away from her family as you did."
His eyes filled with tears. I could tell he was trying to bite them back, but he was having a hard time. "I didn't want to be alone."
"What?"
"I didn't want... I ruined my relationship with my son. I ruined my relationship with you. I don't have any very good relationships with my lost boys. And without you... it's so empty. I took Emma because I didn't want to be alone." He confessed, starting to cry. "And not just that. Rumple hates me. And he should. I deserve it. Emma is my chance to make up for that. I can be a good father to her, even though I couldn't to him.
I shook my head, refusing to let myself give in. I felt bad for him. I wanted to believe him. But I couldn't. He took my child from me. "This is just an act. An act so I won't kill you, so that you can let the squid ink wear off and kill me, taking Emma for god knows what."
"No," he insisted, "Never. I couldn't ever hurt you."
"You already did."
He fell silent, letting my words sink in. Then managed a quiet, "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I shouldn't have cheated."
"It's not just that!" I spat, "You hurt me then, yes. But you hurt me again when you took my baby away from me. I begged you not to take her. I told you I loved her. You didn't care. You wanted to, let's see, what was it you said? Take her from me as I took her from you? You did that so you wouldn't be lonely and so you'd be able to have a relationship with your daughter, I believe that to be true. But it wasn't the only reason. You were angry with me for not telling you that she's yours. You wanted to hurt me."
He didn't say anything. I knew that I was right.
"It was a heat of the moment decision," he justified a few seconds later. "I was hurt and angry that you didn't tell me. I would have just taken her and left, but you're right. I talked to you, let you try to take her back out of spite. But can you blame me? You kept my daughter from me."
"I could ask the same thing. Could you blame me? You've killed people. You've tortured people. How in the world was I supposed to think you could be a good parent to her? Honestly, I thought that if you knew you might be angry and try to kill me for keeping her a secret, or her, or Bashful, or someone else. For all I knew you'd use her for some evil spell. Infants, especially children of powerful magical people, are all the rage in dark magic these days." I meant the last part as a bitter joke, an insult, but it was true.
"I'd never do that to her. Or you. I love you. And even though I've barely known her, I already love Emma too. Our baby girl. Why don't we take care of her? You and me? End this fight for her and work together? Maybe we could even be together again." He proposed, smiling despite the tears streaks drying on his face.
"You're a murd-"
"A murderer, I know. But I can change. Please. Give me the chance to change."
I swallowed down my sadness. Maybe somewhere deep inside I still loved him. Maybe this could work.
"What about Bashful?"
"Don't marry him. Break it off. I love you," He professed, and when I looked into his eyes, the same green as Emma's, I could tell he was being honest.
"But he loves Emma. Just as much as you and I. I can't take her from him." I protested.
"We'll work something out. Just, please. I love you. And I love Emma. I can't lose you guys." He implored, eyes looking desperate.
I slowly nodded. "Ok. But not here. Not on Neverland. It's not safe. It's no place for a baby to grow up."
Peter's eyes widened, but after a moment of contemplation, he agreed. "Ok. I'll leave Felix in charge."
"You're willing to give up Neverland for me and Emma?" I asked, baffled that he actually was alright with my demand.
"Yes."
The squid ink finally wore off and he was able to move again. I set the blade down, unafraid. He smiled and pulled me in by the waist, kissing me passionately.
And I had no doubt that he loved me.
~+~
That stupid alarm clock went off and I slammed my hand on top of it to shut it off.
Right on time, Emma's crying from the nursery came.
I dragged myself out of bed, grabbing the clothes I needed for work and going into the bathroom, setting them on the stool outside the shower. I started the water to let it start heating up and sighed.
I looked out the door to see Peter come out of our bedroom, his hair a mess, going to the nursery to calm Emma down.
I hopped into the shower, drawing the curtain so no one could see in, but leaving the bathroom door open. After all, everyone needed it in the mornings.
My phone was on the bathroom counter, blaring my favorite happy song. I sang along brightly, dancing around the shower as I kneaded shampoo into my hair.
"Ugh, this song is so cheesy!" I heard Peter protest as he entered the bathroom.
"Oh, you know you love it!" I crowed, continuing my singing and dancing in the shower. My favorite line came along and I poked my head out of the shower curtain to sing it loudly at Peter, who just rolled his eyes at me in the mirror. He was shaving his face, the water still running in the sink so he could rinse the razor. Then came the chorus and he could help but sing along.
Bashful, still in his pajamas, came in and grabbed his toothbrush from his drawer. Peter moved over to share the sink as Bashful, my former fiance and now just Peter and I's best friend, brushed his teeth.
I finished my shower and grabbed my clothes from the stool, putting them on and drying off in the shower, then coming out to brush my hair. Peter finished rinsing the shaving cream off his face and went to our bedroom to change and Bashful was gargling mouthwash, which he then spit out.
I grabbed my hairbrush and started undoing the tangles as Bashful went to his bedroom (which used to be the guest room).
By the time I came downstairs, Peter passed me a plate of bacon, sausage, eggs, and french toast.
"Oh yum!" I said, "Thank you!"
"No problem!"
He went back to Emma, who he had brought down and put in her high chair. She had grown so fast. She was eight months old next week and was already a troublemaker, crawling around everywhere and curiously examining her toys and other things on the floor like our dog's squeaky toys.
Peter was spoon-feeding her banana baby food. "Here comes the airplane, Emma, here comes the airplane. Open wide!"
She couldn't understand him, but she knew that the spoon meant food and happily opened for him. She had baby food on her chin, but Peter wiped it up with a washcloth.
Bashful came down a minute later, running late for work as usual. I handed him the breakfast plate Peter had made him and his coffee. "Thanks!" He called as he hurried out the door.
"Bye!" Peter and I called after him.
I finished my breakfast and set my plate in the sink for Peter to wash later. He had taken over the house and caring for Emma during the day since I wanted to get a job, which was really selfless of him. Now I was able to do what I love, teaching history at Storybrooke's Middle School.
I threw on my jacket and grabbed my purse, giving Peter a quick kiss on the lips as I left. "Bye, babe!"
He smiled at me as I left. "Bye, darling! Have a good day at work!"
I waved, stepping out the door and going to my car. It was the same routine every morning, and I loved it.
Finally, life was good.