The Dark Days

Eleven.

The men take me to a relatively dim room in some kind of antique shop and the man carrying me lays me down on some old, dusty couch. He ties my hands together with some sort of weird rope and they both exit the room. As they leave I see the man that carried me here. He has black hair, blue/gray eyes, and black leather clothing. He's got handsome features, but at the moment those features are terrifying.

I hate not being able to control my body. It scares me. Literally anything can happen to me and there's nothing I can do about it. Despite the fact that every single part of me is frozen, tears stream out my fully-functioning eyes. They don't stop and they don't slow, not one bit. After about ten minutes I begin to get the feeling back in my fingers. After fifteen I can wiggle my toes. Thirty, turn my head. And finally, after a long, torturous hour goes by, I can attempt to escape. I slowly get to my feet and take in my surroundings. One doorway, one window, lots of glass. If I can't get out the easy way, I can put up one heck of a struggle, easily. And if I can't get my attacker away from the door, I can just jump out the window. I'm about to go for the door when I realize that I should probably try and find a weapon, just in case. A sword, a knife - heck, even a stick! - could be my ticket out of this place. I search as quietly as I can, taking slow and cautious steps. I search cabinets and wardrobes and random spaces, finding nothing that could qualify as a weapon. Nope. Just a weird-looking twig that would probably break from the air's resistance.

Finding nothing, I decide to use my limbs. Just as I turn a ratty, old, stain-covered hunk of cloth catches my eye. I don't know why, but I slowly walk over to it. I reach out and my fingers brush the cloth. A single image goes shooting through my mind, making me jump and pull my hand back. The image is of a boy at least two or three years younger than me, with brown hair and pretty eyes. I shiver. I don't know why, but I get that weird feeling that I should totally touch the nasty piece of cloth, so I do. I grab it slowly and bring it towards me, inspecting it. Part of that boy's life flashes before my eyes.

His name is Baelfire. His mother, Milah, abandoned him and his father (my kidnapper, a.k.a. Rumpelstiltskin, slash the Dark One, slash the village coward, slash all that other stuff), and then died, when he was very young. His father killed the Dark One with a special knife and became the new Dark One. The other children were afraid of the both of them so he didn't have any friends. He prayed to the Blue Fairy, who gave him some weird sparkly bean thing, and he used it to teleport him and the Dark One to a land without magic. But just before they could go his dad chickened out and Baelfire went off to a different world on his own.

I release the cloth, letting it fall to the floor. My eyes are wide in horror and I instantly pick up the piece of cloth again, putting it back just as I had found it and turning back to the door. I take one step toward it, look up, and freeze.

The short man is standing there. My kidnapper. The Dark One. Rumpelstiltskin. I want to run, I want to throw something explosive at him, I want to bust through the window - anything to get out from under his gaze. It's eerie, strange, calm, amused, annoyed, and tender, all at the same time. The last one scares me half to death.

"Well you're up faster than I would've expected," he says calmly, taking in my appearance. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

I still can't move. My brain is too overloaded with panic to think straight.

Rumpelstiltskin chuckles and looks away from me. To the piece of dirty fabric. "That was my son's," he says softly. "Baelfire. Father of my grandson, Henry."

Henry?! Is he okay?! Where is he?! What the heck is going on?!

"Pan tried to take his heart, back on Neverland. Of course, it didn't work out too well for him." He chuckles again and shakes his head, looking up at me again. "And now he's stolen something very dangerous." The curse. He has to mean the curse. "And I understand you've been... accompanying him... for a while. That you know where the curse is."

I still don't move.

Rumpelstiltskin smiles again, but I can see that his patience is wearing thin. His hand raises and I feel an invisible force clutching my neck. Not enough to choke me, but enough to lift me into the air and scare the living crap out of me.

"I'm going to ask this once, dearie," the man says calmly. "Where is the curse?"

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I get this tingling sensation in my throat and then I can feel my vocal cords again.

"I-I don't know," I rasp, my voice rough. "Really, I swear, I don't."

Rumpelstiltskin stares deeply into my eyes for a moment before releasing me. I drop to my knees and my hands instantly go over my throat. I cough a little to clear it, then look up at Rumpelstiltskin.

The man watches me curiously. "He's my father, you know," he says quietly. "Pan."

His words send a bolt through me and I stare at him wide-eyed. Peter has a son?

Well, if you think about it, it isn't that surprising. He probably took care of him before he became Peter Pan, and then gave him up for eternal youth and fantastic eyebrows. Not too shocking, I guess.

Rumpelstiltskin turns and leaves me alone for about five seconds. He comes back with a glass of water and offers it to me. At this point I'm so thirsty I could care less if it's drugged, so I take it without question and down the whole thing. As I hand the cup back I begin to feel very sleepy. Before I can even register that I've just actually been drugged, my eyes slip closed and I slump to the floor.

****

"She's not here, why the hell isn't she here?!" Peter mumbles worriedly, running his hand through his hair again. He turns to Felix. "I told you something would happen, I told you." Peter shakes his head and kneels down, his hands tugging at his hair. "I should've stayed here," he mutters, standing again and beginning to pace. "I should never have left her. Now she's in trouble and it's all my fault."

"No, it isn't," Felix says firmly, making Peter look at him for the first time since they found the crypt door open. "It's their fault. They took Peter Pan's weakness, and he's going to make them pay dearly for it."

Peter can't help smirking at his friend. "Yes I will." He walks back out to the cemetery, Felix right behind him.

"So," Felix says, "what's the plan?"

"Well, since they took something of mine," Peter says darkly, "I'll just have to take something of theirs."