One-shot until informed otherwise. Peter Pan/Emma

Takes place after S3E5- "Good Form"

Disclaimer: Not mine

oOo

Emma closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and let it out with a long sigh. Her body filled with warmth as she focused on the woodpile in front of her, her palms tingling with heat. Wind whipped around her golden locks of hair and rustled through the leaves and plants.

There was moisture in the air, thick with the energy of forbidden earth and lost souls. Neverland's temperature had been a burden ever since their arrival, penetrating its' immigrants with a dark, sinister sweat.

She opened her eyes.

The woodpile sat before her, untouched. Not even a flicker of smoke.

Growling, she cursed and stood up. As much as she appreciated Regina's 'helpful' method of harnessing magic, she preferred not to rely on anger and hate to achieve it. She was the product of true love, after all. If she wanted to defeat Pan, she knew she'd be better off not letting spiteful thoughts drive her abilities.

With a sigh, Emma turned back towards the woodpile.

Perhaps anger wasn't the only way to trigger magic. Perhaps it just had to be something she was passionate about, like her love for her son. As long as it was something that struck an emotion cord in her, she was willing to bet she could grasp any enchantment.

She kneeled in front of the pile and focused on Henry.

Concentrate. Concentrate.

Just like David's desperation to save Mary Margaret, or Hook's crude attachment to his rum. Passion.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused on the memories. She remembered the spark of fury when Regina tried to separate her from Henry, the laughs they shared when they were undercover, and the wash of love that swelled within her when they embraced….

She was so lost in the thought; she barely noticed the tang of smoke fill her nose.

Her eyes flashed open.

Sure enough, a line of thin smoke danced over the birth of small flames. Whatever she did- it worked! She did it all by herself.

Before she could celebrate, a melodious voice cut through the air.

"Good form."

Emma was well familiar with the voice, but it didn't stop her from jumping. She grasped the hilt of the sword as she whirled around to face him.

The teenage king of Neverland jumped down from a dead tree, landing gracefully on his feet. He jaunted towards her in an arrogant manner, swaying his shoulders with every step. A twisted smirk filled his face.

"Well done," he drawled, gesturing towards the flames. "You're growing stronger. Orphan."

Scowling, Emma released her hold on the sword. She knew there was no point in yielding it anyway; there was no way she could kill him with such a measly weapon, as much as she wanted to.

"What do you want this time?" she demanded.

Peter Pan's eyebrows flew up. "Who said I wanted anything?"

"I hardly suspect you're here to try to get me to cry over my past again," she retorted. "Or maybe you'd be kind enough to give us a map that doesn't keep changing the location."

"Ah, Emma," he mused. "The map I gave you wasn't faulty at all. It shows exactly where my camp is every time."

Emma looked away, muttering disdainful words under her breath. There was no point in giving into his tricks and games. He could goad all he wanted, but that wasn't changing anything.

"Whatever," she said. "I'm finding Henry either way. Map or no map."

He tilted his head at her. "Are you so sure?"

"Completely."

"And what about Baelfire?" he challenged. "Did you know he too is on the island?"

At the mention of Neal, she inhaled sharply. "Yes," she said, between her teeth. "Hook told all of us."

"Mm," Pan nodded. "I'm impressed. I figured the pirate would've kept the secret to himself."

"Perhaps you don't know him as well as you think."

Despite the venom in her words, Pan seemed rather bemused. "Or perhaps he just gave away his greatest weakness," he backfired, grinning wryly.

The look he gave her made her uncomfortable. She hated how the most powerful adversary on the island had to be him, a conceited, stealthy boy no older than seventeen. She already had a strong odium for teenage boys in her own realm, and this one was ten times worse. He radiated arrogance. She never wanted to punch a person more in her life, or perhaps stick her blade in someone's face and twist it.

But at the same time, he had another effect on her- one she didn't care to admit. Ever since he threatened her parents when she was gathering berries, the thought of him chilled her to the bone.

Emma Swan was never easily frightened. But there was a side of her that knew when it was right to be afraid. The kid had an ancient evil about him, and an unwavering character of self-awareness. She had never encountered anyone like him; not even Gold was that autonomous, and he himself claimed Pan was someone to be feared.

And what was even worse was that now he had her son.

Using the same technique to start the fire, she did the same to put it out. Then, she stood and headed back towards the camp.

There was no point staying behind to talk to the little brat. Nothing good would come out of it, and she knew it was time to head back anyway, before her parents worried. It would be easier to acknowledge that she hadn't met him at all.

"Wait."

His voice cut through the atmosphere like a knife, hard and demanding. "I've come to offer you a proposition."

"Not interested," she said, walking on.

"Not even if it involves the return of your son?"

Automatically, she stopped where she was.

Was this some sort of trap? Another scheme to throw her off course and lead her family into the darkest parts of the island? Did he really think he could trick her so easily?

Then again, the whole island was his trap. He could have killed them days ago if he wanted to. If he was really offering to return Henry unharmed, the least she could do was listen and try to detect clues.

She turned around.

He was quite a bit away, but she could still see his triumphant grin upon interesting her.

"Talk," she said.

Pan disappeared, but suddenly reappeared a few yards away in the next second. With a flick of his wrist, half a dozen flames sat at the edge of bushes and old tree branches, like torches. She could see every curve of his youthful face and his chestnut hair. He watched her with dark eyes.

"My offer is simple," he said, jaunting towards her. "In return, you can have your son. You can leave the island. You can even take your family and your dear captain with you."

She regarded him carefully. "What's your price?"

She hadn't realized he had drawn dangerously close until he was only a few feet away. Snapping out of her trance, she drew her sword and jabbed the tip into his chest, forcing him to stay where he was.

His eyes flashed with fierce intensity.

"I thought we had more of an understanding, Savior," he rolled the name off his tongue. "If I wanted you dead, you would be already."

"I asked you a question," she retorted, coldly. "What's your price in exchange for Henry's freedom?"

Peter Pan smiled slightly. With two fingers, he touched the blade and it disintegrated into a shower of silver sand. Emma blinked and stepped backwards, but Pan was upon her before she could retaliate. He leaned forward.

"Give me the one thing you gave your boyfriend amongst these very trees," he hissed menacingly. "Something he'd die for again, and what would conceal your fate between the two men fawning for your love."

He drew out the words long and slow, and Emma instantly paled.

"A kiss," he clarified.

All the air left her at once.

For a second, she truly wondered if she heard him right or her mind was just playing some sick joke on her.

"And your boy will be back in your arms before you know it," he went on, gesturing towards the ocean. "And your family back on their merry way to Storybrooke."

Her thoughts scrambled. Her blood chilled. Her mind exploded.

All she could think about was one word as she gazed at him in utter shock and horror.

What!?

She couldn't find the thoughts to comprehend his request. He was Peter Pan, the most dangerous adversary they had ever faced- who was ruthless, bloodthirsty, and cruel- and this was his price?

Instantly, ripples of bitter resentment filled her. She couldn't think of a bargain more insulting. A teenage boy, an arrogant teenage boy at that, wanted to embarrass a fully grown woman by making her...?

Did he think he was entitled to do whatever the hell he wanted to her, as if she was just some soft of pawn in his game, waiting to be used?

Disgust rolled through her in waves. Her face instantly darkened.

And before she could control her fury, she rushed at him and caught the green collar of his suit, shoving him roughly against a tree.

Pan smiled wildly, content with her reaction. "Calm down, Emma," he snickered. "It was only a kiss I asked for."

Snarling, she slammed him again- harder, this time.

"Listen, you little punk," she murmured venomously. "I don't know who you think you are, but you are in way over your head if you think I would ever agree to something so disgusting. You must have a pretty fucked up mind if that's how you bargain. You don't own anybody- not my family, not Hook, not Regina, and you sure as hell don't own me."

"You're wrong," he said softly, completely unfazed by the violence in her tone. "I own the island. And in doing so, I own everyone in it."

"I don't care what it takes," she snarled, on a new wave of throbbing anger. "I will get my son back. By the time I'm through with you, you'll be begging for me to end your life because of all the suffering. I will find him, and I will get off this island alive- with or without your help. And then you're going straight to hell."

Pan suddenly evaporated from her grip. She turned, disoriented, until she found him behind her.

"Such violent words, Emma," he murmured, strolling around a bit. "If you aren't careful, I may revoke my deal."

"You know my answer," she spat. "And you're going to regret taking my son."

Pan smiled again. She hated how he seemed so aloof to her threats, threats she was planning to make sure succeeded. She hated being underestimated, especially by him.

"No, I don't think I will, Savior," he mused, but suddenly grew serious as he stalked towards her. "You don't understand, do you? You need me to get out of here. No one leaves without my permission. You can try all you want. You can gather the prince and slay my Lost Boys, or have the pirate sail miles off from shore- but the result will be the same." He stopped and lowered his lips to her ear. "I am the only person who can get you and Henry off this island."

"We'll find a way," she declared back. "You aren't as All-Mighty as you think."

He lifted a dangerous eyebrow. "Aren't I?"

For a moment they remained there, glowering into each other's eyes. He was a bit taller than she with his lean, muscular build, but Emma felt she was at a good height to keep up with him. She wanted to watch him suffer and die. She wanted to get off this horrible island and go home.

And more than ever, she wanted her son.

At once, all the fire flickering around them went out at the twitch of her hand.

Pan laughed quietly.

"Very clever," he said approvingly, leaning away and starting off.

Emma released the breath she was holding in, relieved.

"We'll meet again, I'm sure," he called, turning back to face her. "Until then. My offer stands."

Her eyes narrowed. "And so does my answer."

He flashed her his signature smirk. "Consider it," he instructed. "It may be the only way to save Henry. But then again, he's such a special boy. I'm sure if you decide not to take my rather generous offer, he would do well either way. As you know, Peter Pan never fails."

She scowled at him as he retreated into the trees. But before he was completely engulfed from the plain, he stopped and turned halfway.

"Which reminds me," he said, flicking his wrist at the hilt of her sword. In less than a few seconds, the silver sand had rose from the ground and formed back into the shape of a sword, as if it had never fallen apart in the first place.

Emma looked up at him, alarmed.

"You might need it later," he said with a grin. "Best of luck. Orphan."

Then, he was gone.

Emma stood alone, surrounded by dark trees and plants. The air around her instantly grew colder, as the recollections of what just occurred began to sink into her head.

Not even when she willed it with all her mind, she was unable to start a fire to keep her warm.

oOo

Reviews, requests, opinions, and criticism are all welcomed :) But I'd appreciate no flames. I already know I'm crazy for shipping them. Believe me, I've been there.

One-shot or story?