The rough texture of the wool bag was finally yanked off her head, inviting back the fresh crisp air. She was surrounded by hooded cloaks and harvesting tension. Their cold-blooded, hostile stares were like sharpened knives.

Emma scanned down the line until she reached dead center. The boy stood with his back to her, his arms crossed contently as he peered out beyond the cliff to the bay where the Jolly Roger was anchored. His hair was wildly disheveled and frayed upwards with the wind, though still recognizable to Emma. His familiar plaid shirt was ripped, torn and dirtied. Even from behind, she couldn't mistake his features for anyone else. "Henry," she gasped in an unsteady breath.

He turned to face her, revealing the unsettling distortions in his features. His skin was pale white with bloodless light blue lips. "Not quite, sweets," he grinned manically with wide, insane eyes.

She fell backwards in horror. He took an advancing step towards her, casting a chilling glare of amusement at her dread. "What have you done to my son?" She growled, trying to establish some ground.

He cocked his head to the side curiously. "I just wanted my body back. Is that really so much to ask?" Emma stared into his eyes, desperately searching for any evidence that Henry was still there. Rather than identifying his familiar innocent brightness, she could only make out the swelling darkness that had taken grip in his gaze. His smile was no longer youthful and loving, rather twisted and contorted in wickedness. His face was almost unrecognizable. The painful sight of Henry's lost features set her eyes to the ground.

He grinned at her broken facade, "Name's Pan." Her heart ached with the realization that she was too late. The dark shadow that stemmed from Henry's feet lunged out towards her. Its hands frantically shook, extending out its fingers in a desperate reach for Emma. Peter followed Emma's stare to the ground. He chuckled, "Uh oh, looks like someone is trying to get back to Mummy."

With all of her rage and fury, Emma focused her attention to her hands and exerted all the power she could to throw him back. Nothing. She looked down to her inactive hands, finally noticing the heavy weight cast over her.

"Tisk, tisk," He childishly snickered at her, "Miss, I'm the only one with the magic around here." He shot quick glances to the two boys holding her down. Their grips around her arms tightened in restraint.

He slowly pulled out the dagger hanging from his worn belt buckle. "It's been lovely to meet you," his eyes darkened in excitement, "But I'm afraid grownups like you simply do not belong here, in my world." The knife caught the sunlight, shining a glimmer in Emma's eyes as Peter minimized the distance between them.

She stared back and waited for the inevitable, the cold breaking plunge of the dagger. His arm pulled back a little ways as his eyes focused unremorsefully into her stare.

Suddenly a flash of black and red knocked Peter off of his feet and hurdled to the ground. The Lost Boys flinched for a moment, ready to strike in defense, though Peter was quick to raise a hand. He stumbled back onto his feet and looked to his attacker.

Peter youthfully gleamed when recognizing Killian, who had fallen onto his bad side from the fall. "Ahoy Capt'n!" Peter shouted out gleefully as the Lost Boys chuckled among themselves. Emma watched in horror as Peter found his new target and advanced upon him.

Killian looked up to him, "I see you're stealing away their bodies now, Pan." He grumbled as he stood to his feet in a challenge.

"Oh, just one," Peter's eyes widened in mocking concern. He twirled the dagger in his hand excitedly, awaiting the perfect moment to strike. Killian's eyes darted down to the dagger and then to Emma, who was still under restraint. He looked back to Peter challengingly, bringing his good hand down to his sword. "You will not lay a hand on her," Killian growled.

"Getting a bit protective, are we?" Peter whispered with a manic smile. In a slight lift from his feet, Peter charged at Killian with full force. Killian pulled out his sword and deflected Pan's stabbing lunge. His heavy coat shrugged off his shoulders and onto the ground as Peter took a step back. Killian's gaze darkened at Peter as his grip tightened around the handle of his blade. Peter did not hold back; he came back at Killian from both sides. Though he was able to masterfully shield off Pan's relentless attacks, Killian wasn't making any offensive ground on him.

As Emma watched, she felt the restricting weight gradually lift off of her as Killian continued to distract Pan. She felt her strength begin to surge within her, though she remained inconspicuous to the Lost Ones.

Pan leaped upwards into the air over Killian, swiping his sword out from his hands and cracking his injured ribs with one strong kick at the side. Killian fell to the ground with an agonizing cry.

"I think it's time you've stepped down, Captain." Peter firmly stood just above his head, yet again twirling his knife in circles.

"No!" Emma screamed at the long metal dagger was plunged deep into Killian's chest. His eyes widened by the blow, shooting a look of agony to Emma as Peter slowly pulled the dagger out. He fell back to the ground, soon to close his eyes. The blood surged towards the open gash; he felt the hot liquid seep through the fingers that rested over his chest.

His eyes observed the darkness, and he soon thought whether this was death: lingering in the darkness for all eternity, never to be reunited with those that had passed before him. He tried to feel anything, though it was impossible to tell whether he was even breathing. Everything suddenly went cold. The sharp change in temperature helped him recognize his still prevalent body as chills slowly traveled down his spine. This must be it, he thought, unsure of whether he was relieved or devastated by his impending death.

A few moments passed before a single gold light flickered in the darkness of his vision. It started out as merely a spark, but then grew in enchanting strands that wrapped around all he could see. The golden curving stands shimmered, and suddenly his body began to pulsate with awakened nerves. His heart beat picked up like a thrumming war drum as his chest pulsated with returning energy. The beating grew stronger and stronger within him.

This light must clearly be his ending. This was death. His life, and all that it had surmounted to was coming to an end. But then, what life did he really live? Three hundred years of hatred and scheming, for what? In the elongated life span that he had, he couldn't recall a time in the past three hundred years that he allowed himself to be happy. All of his years spent lingering in vengeance had been nothing more than frozen years of nothingness. He suddenly began to panic. I'm not ready to die.

The light and beating grew stronger and stronger as Killian inwardly panicked.

Suddenly he felt his esophagus scorch as he choked up a gulp of saltwater lodged in his throat. His eyes flashed open in shock. His body jerked to the side as he heaved out the water.

She was sitting over him. He first caught sight of her two wide, frenzied green eyes. Wet locks of blonde curls dangled over her dripping face. He felt his own clothes saturated in cold water as he tried moving his arms and legs. His shirt was unbuttoned down further to his navel; her hand was pressed against his bare chest. He watched in awe as the tips of her fingers, which were still shining a lustrous golden shimmer, slowly faded back to her natural shade. Drops of water that dribbled close to her hand were tainted red by the blood that came from his stab wound.

She was panting, clearly still trying to catch her breath. Killian felt her hand on his chest tremble as his skin magically pulled the open wound together. The silence between them brought out the sound of the river, babbling along the shore where he lied. The cool shade of the trees that towered over them permitted the chilled breeze to brush against his neck. He could make out the cliff a little ways up the river, where they just were.

Killian looked back up to Emma's anxious gaze. "Swan," he muttered in disbelief. She blinked, dropping a stray drop of sea water from her lashes onto his battered cheek.