Amidst the settled silence of Emma and Killian's bedroom, the faint sound of far-off hastened footsteps caused him to snap his eyes open.

He waited and listened until suddenly the subtle squeaking sound of a protesting hinge rattled in the bedroom close by. He rolled over and studied the night sky through his bedroom window. It couldn't be earlier than 3:00am. What the hell was his daughter up to?

As if he wasn't confused enough, a great thud suddenly beat against the wall that separated the two bedrooms. This was a sound he knew all too well. She was having target practice with her cork target board... at 3:00 in the morning.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Killian pushed his blankets back in an effort to get out of bed. Before he could sit up, Emma wrapped her arm over his chest and pushed him back down into bed. "No," she murmured lightly. "Just leave her be."

"Emma, she's throwing knives... There's likely an image of me posted on that target."

"Please Killian, just for tonight let her handle it on her own. She won't want to talk to you right now."

Another thud hit the wall, the urgency pressed into the forefront of his mind. "I can't idly listen to this," he muttered.

This time Emma got up with him to quickly grab his arm. "Killian, stop. If you go in there right now, you'll only make things worse. Don't add any more fuel to her fire tonight."

After a moment of hesitation, Killian sat back down weakly on the edge of his bed. His head lowered, immersed with an unshakable image that would likely haunt him for the rest of the night. His voice came out in a hushed shaking whisper, "Did you see the way she looked at me?"

Emma frowned, shifting over across the bed so that she could wrap her arms around his bare chest. Her chin rested in the nook of his shoulder; she brushed a light kiss along his hot skin. "What else could you have done? You were just being her Dad."

Elizabeth couldn't sleep. Not after everything that had happened. Whenever she would close her eyes, she was taken back to the center of the ballroom again.

Adam smiled affectionately down at her and she felt his fingers tighten around her waist. The blood rushed to her cheeks, and amidst the disarray of emotions she felt building in the base of her gut, she managed to smile back. His narrow blue eyes softened into her own. With a confident tug at the side of his grin, Adam leaned his face closer to hers. His arm pulled her in close.

She closed her eyes and anticipated the soft molding of his mouth against hers, though instead her shoulder was suddenly jerked back by another forceful grip. Just what in the hell do you think you are doing? She barely registered the low growl as her father's. Adam stumbled over his words, dumbstruck and intimidated by the rage coursing from Killian's glare. You are not to ever try something like that with my daughter again.

Instead of allowing her eyes to water with embarrassment, she immediately channeled it into something else. Her hands clenched up into tight fists while she began to see red. She didn't notice the gentle reassuring touch of her mother's hand over her shoulder when Emma walked into the confrontation. Emma said something brief to Adam, sending him away, and then looked up at Killian whose sharp glare still spoke murderous threat. Short words were exchanged between the two adults before Killian finally turned to look at his daughter.

Elizabeth felt the weight of her father's gaze on her. She looked up to meet his infuriated expression with her own burning hostility. Her narrow, ice blue glare screamed the pain of her father's betrayal. Killian tried to hold his ground, but couldn't help but take a step back away from where she stood.

Without so much as a single word, she turned and stormed out of the ballroom.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth together, still trembling with begrudging thoughts. She was never going to do anything exciting if her father had anything to say about it. The chances of her even leaving the castle for an extended period of time seemed impossible.

The worst part was because it was him. Her father. The same guy that encouraged her to explore and defy the boundaries as a child. If she told Killian that Emma took away her sword, he'd probably raise an eyebrow playfully and propose to scour the castle together in search of it. What the hell happened to that guy? When did it all change?

Oh that's right... when she hit puberty.

Tap tap… ta-tap tap… tap tap.

She looked over to the window, which seemed untouched. She could have sworn she heard it, but nonetheless convinced herself it was the rattling of the wind. She nuzzled her face deep into her feathered pillow and waited until sweet unconsciousness found her.

Tap tap tap.

She snapped her head back over to the window, this time feeling a sense of anxiety when the window again appeared undisturbed. With tentative uneasy movements, Elizabeth slowly pushed her blankets back and stepped onto her worn crimson floor rug. Her eyes held a distrustful glare over at the glass panes. She slowly made her way across the room and quickly jammed the window open.

Nothing. Nothing but cool air laced with the traces of sea salt from the bay down below.

Feeling an odd sense of disappointment, Elizabeth leaned back into the room. The cool air rushed into her sweltering hot bedroom, drying the beads of sweat that had formed along the back of her golden blonde roots. Though the breeze was refreshing, the wild flames of rage that ravaged her inner being were still insuppressible. She had a bad habit of letting her rage get the best of her.

It was precisely because of this that sleeping was impossible, not while she was still this angry. Unable to think of any other way to settle her nerves, Elizabeth paced over to her desk and pulled out a small hand-carved wooden box that was hidden in the bottom drawer. The box was inscribed with carved patterns of waves. The most important hand-carved detail was the proud swan that swam the waves; its neck curved gracefully down towards the water. Inside the box were small knives, made specifically for her target.

She took a few steps away until the back of her heels hit the dark mahogany armoire on the other side of the room. She took a deep breath while her eyes narrowed in on the bull's-eye. She wound up and quickly launched the knife into the coal black central dot. Bull's-eye.

"Good form."

Elizabeth shot around to find a boy, no older than eighteen, leaning against the frame of her window. The boy was dressed in a green ragged shirt with dark weathered pants. His thick wavy locks of golden chestnut hair shined under the bright moonlight which leaked in from the open window. One of his hands gripped the worn brown belt buckle where his sheath held a glistening dagger. He smirked devilishly at her, "Forgive me for intruding. My curiosity seems to have gotten the better of my manners."

It took her a moment to process the sight before her. Finally she swallowed down the looming dread screaming in the back of her mind. Her eyes widened with mock fear, "Who are you? How did you get in here?" Her voice whined with crafted dread.

The boy grinned with amusement. "Oh, I don't mean to frighten you. I've just heard so much about you, Elizabeth Swan. I couldn't help but see for myself what all the fuss was about."

She kept her eyes wide, taking a step back away from the menacing smile of the boy. "I don't want any trouble," she whimpered with fearful wide eyes.

Somehow the boy's wide grin stretched out even further. He took a small step off from the wall towards her. "Who said anything about trouble? Do you even know who I...-"

He was cut off by the flying dagger whipped straight at him. The blade whirled right past his face, scathing the side of his cheek and jamming into the wooden window frame behind him. Before he could turn to look at her, Elizabeth had already closed the distance between them and knocked his back into the wall. Her last knife pressed against his throat. With anymore force she could easily break his skin. The boy laughed with delight, "Now this is more like it."

"I'll give you to the count of five to get the hell out of this room and never come back."

"Or what?" His eyes darkened with excitement.

"Or else next time I won't miss."

"Ooo," the boy cocked his head to the side and smiled, "Not so friendly."

"I don't need to be friendly to you, Pan. I just need you to get out."

"Ah, so Daddy has told you about me," he gasped in air against the knife. It was clear that Peter wasn't too fazed by her threat. He actually seemed to be enjoying it, as if he were soaking in all of the anger radiating off her being. Despite the edge of the blade digging against the thin skin protecting his esophagus, he still managed to grin confidently. "I can help you, you know."

"By throwing yourself out, good idea."

"They'll never stop controlling you, you know. No matter how hard you fight, they will always be there. There will always be rules and you'll never truly know freedom whilst you're with them." He took a painful swallow against the knife at his throat. Though he kept his stare even with hers, he could feel the pressure begin to lift from his chokehold. "You desperately want to break free from your parents. I can help you with that."

"Let me guess, by taking me to Neverland?" She asked with mock innocence and pressed the knife even harder against his throat. "Why don't you just rip my shadow away now?" She scowled viciously. "After all that's why you've come in the first place."

He laughed with a raised brow, "I told you, I have no intention of causing trouble." His hazel green eyes grew solemn. "I merely wish to offer you an escape. Just for one night."

"I am no Lost Girl."

"Precisely the reason my offer can only stand for one night."

"In Neverland," she repeated with a hint of disbelief.

Peter finally took a step forward, welcoming the breaking of the skin under his neck. He didn't shudder when the hot blood trickled down to the collar of his shirt; it was as if he didn't even feel the cut of the blade at all. Elizabeth backed away a few feet, the dagger still raised to his neck.

"Yes Lizzie, in Neverland. For one night." His mocking twisted grin hardened into a firm pressed line. "Let me take you to the place where there are no rules. Get a taste of what life could be like. Neverland is a place where even your parents couldn't play by their own rules."

"No just yours," she gripped the handle of the knife tighter.

"For the sake of the game I was playing, yes," he nodded with an unshaken sincere gaze, "but I'm not playing a game with you, Lizzie." He calmly pulled the necklace out from under his shirt. With ease, Peter uncorked the small narrow vial filled with pearl white dust. He complacently closed his eyes, inhaling in the sparkling green aura that had leaked out from the vial. His feet lifted up from the ground with ease.

"So what's your decision?" With an encouraging grin, he held out his hand down to her.

Elizabeth stared at him with distrust. She knew who this kid was. She had heard the original tale nearly a hundred times, and that wasn't counting the later story of her older brother's abduction. He was bad news. He was everything that her father would object to.

Just a short while ago, she thought Adam was a bad boy. If the youngest son of Rumplestiltskin seemed like trouble in her father's eyes, imagine what he'd make of this. Her with Peter Pan. And just at that thought, Elizabeth felt a surge of amused comfort. Peter smiled, in tune with her thinking. "Let's give Daddy a real reason to get worked up, shall we?"

The uncertain excitement that she felt muted all other voices that objected. To hell with it all, tonight she wasn't growing up. Elizabeth smiled adventurously, reached up and felt his fingers entwine around hers.

As he expected, Killian wasn't able to get much sleep with how he left matters with Elizabeth. That glare had been eating away at him the entire night, and despite what Emma had said, every fiber in his being objected to leaving her to deal with her thoughts alone.

At first sight of light peaking up from the horizon out at sea, Killian rolled out of bed. His limbs protested, exhausted from the lack of sleep, but he didn't care. He was going to fix this if it killed him. Emma sighed groggily, "I don't think waking her up at six in the morning will help."

Suddenly the loud sound of a creaking window interrupted Killian from retorting. They both looked at each other with confusion, prompting not only Killian but also Emma out of their bedroom and down the hall towards Elizabeth's room.

They both hurried in, at first mortified when they discovered her bed to be empty. "Killian," Emma muttered as she paced over to the open window.

Elizabeth had fallen asleep on the loveseat besides the window. Her cheeks were flushed pink and cold to the touch. Stray golden curls dangled out from where most of her hair was pulled back. Killian knelt down to be at eye level with his daughter, immediately noticing that she had something grasped in her right hand. Gently wedging his fingers into her balled fist, he opened her hand to find a necklace fall down to the ground. A necklace with a vial of pixie dust.