Hey there! How have you all been? :) I know it's been a long time since I've written anything - and I do plan to get back to my other story soon - but I've had this idea knocking about my head since the second episode of this season and I just had to post it. I've written a little bit every other day and finally got enough to post a chapter! Haha so it's set after 3x02 and is mostly AU because I'm not following anything that happened after that episode (at least for now) and will be more than 1 chapter...it'll probably 3 chapters.

Anywho, I hope you guys like what you read!

Alas, I do not own OUAT.

"As much as I hate the idea of this plan," David uttered, clearly stricken, "Hook's right." Though it a mere two words, the admission looked to cause him actual pain, but the pirate seemed quite pleased with the sentiment.

The man raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his face. "I sense the beginnings of a beautiful kinship, Prince." He had taken to calling him 'Prince' now, confessing earlier in their mission that he had never crossed paths with a male heir to a throne before. Apparently, princesses and queens were more of his…acquaintances.

Emma's father rolled his eyes, looking more tired than he had earlier. "We need to split up. If Pan is planning some kind of attack on us we need to be extra cautious. Splitting up covers more ground and it raises our chances of outsmarting him. I think it's the only viable option we have at this point."

"But what about Regina? And what if we get lost?" the blonde questioned anxiously.

Hook fixated his stare in her direction. "The Queen is doing us a favour. She's taken the initiative and travelled with Tink as a means of retrieving as much information as possible about Pan's compound. They'll be back at the meeting point by sunrise – just like we will be." His eyes were leering as he gazed upon her. The protectiveness bounding off Mary Margaret was palpable and Emma shifted slightly towards her in the hope it would sate her need to be in mama-bear mode. "And don't worry, Swan," he continued. "You won't get lost. You'll have the map but more importantly, you'll have your instincts. Have a little faith." That came with a wink. He just couldn't help himself could he?

Of course the idea made sense: split up, throw Pan off the scent, find a way in to get Henry. But a part of Emma feared for their safety without her father around; he'd been like a rock for them when things got a little out-of-hand and wandering the dense and terrifying forest without him was not one bit appealing. And another part of her worried over being alone with her mother after their…whatever that was the other day. Her confession.

An orphan. It's funny how Emma never allowed her mind to travel to that place where she would acknowledge the harsh truth of her upbringing. She preferred words like 'survivor' and 'fighter'. Strong descriptions. 'Orphan' made her feel weak; like a child all over again. Yet, admitting it was needed. It was who she really was no matter how doggedly she tried to ignore it. She grew up alone and stayed that way.

She was an orphan.

But to see the sheer heartache etched into her mother's face as she proclaimed the truth? That was the worst. And the fact that neither of them had brought it up since only added to her concern over what would take place were they to be alone for a number of hours.

She wasn't sure if she was able to open herself to that kind of vulnerability again.

Mary Margaret rushed over to David and flung her arms around his neck, pulling him to her for dear life. He, in turn, held onto her as tight as humanly possible and buried his face in her hair. It was such an intimate moment and, not for the first time, Emma could sense the love they had for one another. In the strangest sense, it was as if mere contact produced this warmth that shuddered out all around them. Their voices were too low for her to hear but she didn't need to hear them to know what they were saying: Mary Margaret was just shy of proclaiming some kind of intense affection toward him every time she went to the restroom. Yet again, the blonde found herself almost jealous of what they had. That was love. That was happiness. That was what she always wanted - secretly, of course, because she was Emma Swan and had a reputation to play to and God forbid she'd ever reveal anything real about herself.

She could nearly feel the new layer of brick being mounted atop her already high walls.

Hook, visibly uncomfortable at the display of affection, sauntered over to Emma, brandishing his title piece. She crossed her arms defensively. Natural reaction, she guessed. "Just be careful, Swan," he warned sincerely. Tucking a lock of blonde behind her ear, she turned her shoulders toward him ever so slightly to signal that she was paying attention. He continued, "I am aware of your mother's legacy and it's all rather impressive if you ask me, but Neverland is not the Enchanted Forest. Things are different here – much different. A princess bandit is no match for a group of boys who have spent their time fending for themselves and making this island their territory. They're not to be messed with."

"Thanks for the insight," she muttered.

Surprising her, his hand snatched at her elbow. "I'm just telling you to be cautious. Neverland is a place where imagination runs free. It has the power to conjure up your wildest dreams and turn them into something you think real."

"So you've said before." She wrangled her arm free from his iron grip.

"Listen," he sneered, unimpressed, "if it can do that to your wildest dreams, it can also do it to your worst nightmares. This place – it works on a different wavelength than everywhere else and if Pan is hoping to ensnare us, I suggest you keep your wits about you and not let your mind to succumb to the island's whispers."

Emma smirked, hoping the action would cover up her doubt just enough for him not to notice. "Gotcha. Don't listen to the island's whispers."

"I mean it, Swan. You've been so…" he trailed off, clucking his tongue, "…vulnerable lately, I wouldn't want you to wander off and get yourself into some kind of trouble. It'd be a hell of an effort to rescue both you and your son."

"Has anyone ever told you what a sweet guy you are?" she deadpanned, adjusting Neal's sword across her torso.

"Only all the time, love," he said with a wink.

A roll of the eyes was literally the only response she could have to that.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of her parents breaking apart, a determined look written on both their faces. She hoped her face conveyed the same amount of urgency as theirs did and with a shake of her head and arms, she attempted to rid herself of all the bad thoughts that ravaged her mind and steeled herself for what lay ahead. But the sight of her father approaching melted that in an instant. Being around him, particularly after their moment when she had broken the news to them that Neal had…had gone, automatically transported her back to her eight-year-old self. In a weird way, she always imagined herself as a daddy's little girl.

Maybe there was some truth to that.

"You all set?" he asked, positioning his stance in front of her.

She nodded. "I think so," she breathed.

His smile was slight but his eyes gleamed with tremendous tenderness. "It's okay to be scared; you don't have to put up a brave front for anyone. This place is dangerous but you'll find your way – you both will. I know that."

Emma shifted from one foot to the other, not quite sure how to act. "Yeah you're right. Besides," she said, releasing a shaky breath, "you'll always find us, right?"

Though physically around the same age, David gazed at her with eyes that appeared far older than his youthful frame and somehow, the man looked like someone who had traipsed through the harshest of times and made it out the other side.

Then again, he had.

He was her father and now, lost in his ocean blue eyes, she had never felt the connection more. "Always," he whispered before cupping the back of her head with his hand and leaning in to kiss her forehead. It was a sweet, slow action and Emma allowed herself to feel like the child she once was, but this time, resting in her father's embrace.

"I love you, Emma," he said, stepping back.

It was amazing how strongly three simple words could make you feel. The blonde wasn't sure how long she had wanted – needed – to hear those words but she knew that as soon as the words floated through the air she felt…different. Altered somehow. For the better.

And yet she couldn't summon enough…whatever she required to say the words back. Instead, all she did was smile and drop her eyes to the ground. "I know," she replied meekly.

He didn't seem to mind though, smiling awkwardly back at her and as Mary Margaret saddled up beside her, the two men waved their goodbyes, their parting glances filled with assurance and in Hook's case, arrogance.

Typical.

"You ready, Emma?" Her mother looked at her with loving eyes.

"As I'll ever be."

Emma was quiet.

Too quiet.

And Snow hated it when she was quiet.

Quiet for Emma was never a good sign. It meant she was thinking. And thinking for Emma usually led down some dark and treacherous paths.

And Snow was not just thinking that because she was desperately hoping they would talk about the giant elephant in the room, she genuinely worried about her daughter's state of mind. Not only was Emma trying to figure out herself as a person, as a saviour, as a daughter, but her son had been kidnapped by the most malevolent foe they had ever faced and taken to this island. This island where creeping mist surrounded them at every turn, the leaves were in a constant state of dampness though there had been no rainfall since their arrival, and daylight was an urban myth. Shadows were no longer signs of the sun's presence; they were reminders of the perpetual state of disillusionment they were ensnared in.

Snow's pulsed raced even at the mere thought of her beautiful grandson all alone and devoid of that hope that shone so bright in his eyes every single day.

Because hope was what Henry carried with him everywhere. He was the truest believer in good; an honest, inquisitive boy that saw the best in people and wanted nothing more than to reunite a family. He was special and wonderful and everything Snow could have ever wanted in a grandchild and now Pan had taken him.

Just like that.

She was his grandmother; she was supposed to look out for him, protect him, keep him safe. She vowed to be the maternal figure to him that she couldn't be with Emma and yet she had already failed in her role.

What kind of mother was she? What kind of person was she? She couldn't protect her family, and every time she made a decision in favour of her family, someone still suffered from the repercussions.

Emma was an orphan. That knowledge, that fact, was the result of a choice she had made. And just like Henry, she too had been snatched from Snow's gripe in the blink of an eye. Sure the brunette made the conscious decision to send Emma away, and with extremely good reason, but the woman – her baby, her little girl – had entered a new and frightening world with nothing but her baby blanket and a shrill cry from her tiny lungs.

She closed her eyes as she envisioned her baby, crying out for her to be soothed, in the cold, wet forest of the land they knew as Storybrooke. A chill ran down her spine and the guilt wrenched her stomach like a knife stabbing and twisting in her flesh. Wondering if the guilt and pain would ever subside was futile; Snow knew she'd never get over it. Never get over the piercing sobs that erupted from her core the second she saw her husband and her baby dart out of her life. Never get over the emptiness that took a hold on her, as if someone had taken a vacuum and sucked all of the life out of her.

Pushing some large leaves out of her way and holding them back so that her daughter could pass by easily, her eyes traced the lines on the woman's face, the contours of her frame, the strands of her golden hair, but she averted her gaze just as soon as the blonde motioned in her direction. It was a habit, she guessed. Emma was, and she almost hated to say it, magical. She was a mystery to be uncovered, a puzzle to solve, a daughter to love and it was nearly impossible not to look at her.

She hated not talking.

"Are you okay?" she probed gently, keeping a safe distance behind her, the damp soil under her feet squelching with each step.

Neverland was cold; not freezing, but cool enough to raise the hairs on her exposed skin. She pulled her arms in tight to her body as the shuffled through, her bow knocking into her ribs as she manoeuvred around a low-hanging branch.

Emma threw her a look over her shoulder, narrowly avoiding a log in her path. Stumbling slightly, she rectified her balance and cleared her throat. "Yeah. I just wanna make sure we get to the meeting point as soon as possible."

Her voice was…sad. Unsure.

Nervous.

"So do I," she replied breathily, watching her own steps carefully. Who knew what unpleasant things could have been sitting in plain sight. "But," she started, taking a breath, "are you sure there's nothing else? I know you're worried about the plan and about Henry but Emma, your father and Hook will be fine and Regina has Tinkerbell and I'm not going to let anything happen to us, so it'll be okay. I promise." Squeezing her eyes shut as she finished, the brunette internally scolded herself for her word voimit. A tendency to ramble when she was anxious had borne out of twenty-eight years of living as Mary Margaret and sometimes, at the worst possible time, it would raise its ugly head again and remind her that all that time living that life had had an effect on her whether she chose to admit it or not.

For instance, right then.

The blonde's shoulders tensed, her whole stance squared. Neal's sword hung limply by her side, looking as though it wanted a rest. "I know. I know we'll all be okay."

It wasn't much of a reply but it was something at least. "Okay. Good."

The urge to reach out and stop the woman from marching ahead was overwhelming but instead, Snow quickened her steps, dancing lithely around the underbrush, and she sidled up alongside her, ignoring the scrapes some of the leaves were producing on the side of her neck. Emma glanced at her sideways, a tiny smile written on her face.

"What do you want to say, Mary Margaret?" Her tone was bothered but not annoyed.

"What do you mean?"

Emma ran a hand through her locks, the layers flopping back down in one swoop. "You don't think I know when you want to say something?" Her eyes appraised her. "You twist your forehead and your eyes look all…disturbed like they do when you haven't slept enough, and you do this pout thing where your bottom lip kind of juts out…" She tried to replicate the gesture but gave up halfway when she saw the brunette's wide-eyed gape. "I just, I know you okay? Just say what you want to say. I mean, avoiding it is useless, right?"

Snow's breath hitched, her daughter's abrupt outward display taking her by surprise. "I…uh, I…" she floundered for words, stopping in her tracks, forcing the blonde to do the same. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to talk about it?"

"If I wanted to? I'd rather not talk about it at all because this place has a habit of making me feel so insignificant and I've had enough of feeling like that my whole life, thank you very much." It came out more sharply than she obviously intended and Snow recoiled, dropping her stare to the soil.

Emma let out an audible sigh but didn't make any more remarks and though it against the tug-o-war of emotions raging on inside of her, Snow found herself clinging to a sliver of petulance, frustrated with the lack of communication between them.

"Is it always going to be like this, Emma?" she said quietly, her fingers mapping the buttons on her shirt. "You opening up just enough to let me in and then slamming the doors shut just as soon as I get too far? You can't expect to go on playing the ignorant role, pretending we never sat on a log and finally had a meaningful conversation about our relationship. Because Emma, honey, let's face it; we never seem to be able to talk. There are quiet moments and passing instances but nothing concrete and I'm tired of us bottling everything up and just going about our business like nothing is out of place." Her eyes shone with unshed tears, her eyebrows knitted together, enhancing the scar above her eye. "Everything is out of place."

"What more is there to say?" her daughter retorted, crossing her arms across her chest. "I told you I've always felt like an orphan…what else do you want to hear, Mary Margaret? How, with a little bit of hard work and some bonding time, we're gonna be just fine? "

"I want to change it; I don't want nor expect it to be a flick-of-a-switch type of thing," she asserted, palming her hands as if in prayer. "I know you've grown up feeling alone, that you've grown up without hope, that you've been broken – those are things I would give anything to change and Emma, I want to be a mother to you, more than anything else in the world, but in order for that to happen, you need to meet me halfway. If you keep shutting me down just as soon as we make some kind of breakthrough then neither of us will have the relationship that we want with one another."

The blonde's eyes filled, her lip quivering ever so slightly. Attempting to avoid Snow's penetrating gaze, she moved her head to the side, becoming intensely interested in the leaves surrounding them. Snow hid her exasperation considerably well – no foliage was that intriguing, yet it continued to bubble within her like acid. It was as though an invisible force field had made itself a home between mother and daughter, preventing them from laying it all out and communicating. Why was communication so difficult?! A lowly whimper escaped her lips but she covered it up quickly with a shuffle ahead, her intent to carry on with the task they were issued with pressing in her mind. Emma's silence was answer enough for now anyway.

From the squelching of the earth, the brunette knew the other woman was close behind her, moving in time to her steps as if they were dancing some kind of classical waltz.

Though the words no more than a mere whisper, they floated through the air and smacked against Snow's eardrum, crumpling up her heart like it was a piece of paper. "I'm not sure there's anything any of us can do."

It wasn't supposed to be heard – that much was obvious.

But it was heard.

And wow did it hurt.

She couldn't help but liken her daughter's whole demeanour to the very first day she had met her. Guarded and afraid. Anxious.

And yet, Snow reminded herself, that wasn't the first time she had met her. No, the very first time was when she had held her in her arms and she felt a love so strong that nothing could ever weaken it.

The day she sent Emma away.

"Hey, what's going on?" Emma questioned abruptly, her breaths coming in quick spurts.

The brunette swirled around at the tone, immediately concerned, but what she saw did nothing to quell her worries.

Curling mist closed in on them from every angle, twisting and twirling around them as if it had a life of its own, creeping slowly yet quickly, menacing yet comforting all at the same time. All too soon it was on top of them and the two women crowded together, holding each other in a sideways hug, the panic palpable in the air.

"I don't know but it's going to be okay," Snow assured her child, running a hand through the blonde's hair.

She only wished she could believe herself.

The mist continued its rampage, submerging them in a blanket and Emma squeezed her eyes shut, cowering into her mother. Cool to touch, the mist's tentacles wrapped around them and Snow buried her face in her daughter's hair, breathing in her scent, her embrace tightening.

A crack of thunder filled the air and they screamed at the noise, their hearts beating rapidly.

And then, all of a sudden, it was silent and the mist retreated hastily, transforming the land around them.

They pulled away, Snow still keeping hold of her daughter, and took in the changes.

This wasn't the Neverland they had become accustomed to; this was a place all too familiar to Snow.

"What happened? Where are we?"

Snow's stomach lurched.

So where are they? And what happened? Haha. I know it's a little rough but I hope you guys liked it! Please review and let me know what you think - I'd love to hear from you! :)