A/N: Unfortunately this is the end of the road, for this fic at least. Thank you so much for reading and I hope enjoy xx

Chapter 3:

'Promises Are Made to be Broken'

Tonight was the night. She knew what she had to do or at least she thought she did. It couldn't be too hard, right? What was a few nights huddled in an alleyway compared to the horrors other people had to endure daily? She'd almost managed to convince herself that sleeping underneath the stars would be fun and the fact that she may not eat for a while did not unsettle her. She'd lay low and decide how to move forward. Emma Swan would disappear and she'd be able to reinvent herself like they did in books or those action movies. She wasn't taking any chances this time though. Her escape would be planned with the utmost care. She'd rely on her wits to carry her through, not the weak hope magic offered.

The bag she'd packed weeks ago and stowed away under her bed was still waiting for her, collecting cobwebs no doubt. As she waited for the quiet murmurs of the others to die down she tried to make a mental list of everything it held. Her mind was in too much of a mess and after the third attempt she had to give up, there was no use trying to keep track of anything when all she could really focus on was her speeding heart.

Forcing herself to breathe she strained her ears. When the gentle snores of resting children was all she could make out in the still room she was on her knees, crawling with one arm outstretched until she found the old duffel bag.

It had taken her about a month to collect everything she needed or had assumed she would need and she clutched it to herself, cobwebs and all. These would be her only possessions now. Not that she had owned much before. Still, she would miss the books she would be leaving behind. They were too heavy to carry and would only slow her down.

Sitting up again she observed the still room around her. It was time. She had to get out of here.

Her hands moved automatically to her pocket, feeling for the jar of pixie dust that Pan had given her, except her pockets were empty. She must have lost it when they'd toppled out of the window. The excuse sounded weak even to her own ears. Logic begged her to accept it for what it was, a dream that she'd managed to lose herself in. She'd been planning on running away that first night she'd seen him. Obviously her mind had simply created him as a distraction or some sort of hope so she wouldn't have to leave. She wouldn't fall for that twice.

There was no way she could take the drop from the second-storey window but she could always climb out of the kitchen one on the first floor. Nodding to herself she moved to the door, ignoring the sting of betrayal that she had tried to suppress for two weeks. Second star to the right and straight on till morning, they were stupid instructions from a stupid boy, who you made up so you wouldn't have to run away Emma get that into your thick skull.

She was reaching for the door handle when a loud thump made her spring back. Something rolled against the wooden floor towards her and she almost laughed. It was just the broom. Russell must have kicked it in his sleep. It had been leaning against his bed after all.

Scolding herself back in line she turned her back to the room once more. If she started at every single noise the night made she would get nowhere. Not stopping till she was out in the corridor she padded as soft as she could past Edna's room and then down the stairs.

It was easy going after that. The kitchen window like most others in the group home was unlocked. It wasn't like anyone would even bother breaking in here. Everyone knew the house held nothing of real value.

This is it, she thought as she slid it open. She threw her shoes out first, listening for the soft thud as they landed on the grass below. Then it was her turn and bag against her back she jumped out, shrinking immediately to the shadows for fear that she had made too much noise. A few minutes passed before she moved out and chanced a look up. There was no light, a good sign.

The bus stop wasn't far from here, she'd passed it often enough on her way to school or perhaps she could catch the train. She had enough money for both. One week without any lunch and she had saved up enough for the trip. She'd also found a $10 note in one of Edna's pockets when she was doing the laundry. She'd taken that as well, keeping it hidden deep within her bag. She'd promised herself that one day she would pay Edna back, Emma Swan was no thief after all. She was about to set off towards the bus stop when she realized one of her feet was still bare. She couldn't find the other shoe that she'd so unceremoniously tossed out earlier. With a frustrated groan she searched frantically.

She found it at last beside a broken pot that had once been the pride of the small garden. Edna would have a fit in the morning but Emma found that she really did not care. She grabbed the shoe, brushing off the mud and slipping it on. She'd have to run now, or at least jog. The midnight bus was the last for the day and if she missed that, well, she wouldn't get far by foot.

He'd expected the night to go as all the others before it, Emma tossing and turning in bed as she tried to get comfortable. She'd fall asleep in the early hours of the morning and Peter usually took that as his cue to leave. Actually it had started to get dreadfully boring now.

The night he was supposed to have flown her away with him he had made it all the way to the large town centre with its thousands of tiny lamps that lit the streets despite the darkness that had set in. He'd hesitated for a moment too long, watching them, unaware that the doubt that had begun to sprout the night before had finally broken free and had begun to engulf him. He knew that he couldn't do it. She was too much of a distraction. Felix had been right or at least that's what he told himself.

He'd visited her anyway after assuring himself many times that he'd soon get bored of her and move on. He just wanted to see how she'd react. It might even make it easier to leave once he saw how he'd crushed the hope from her. Yes, that was definitely why he'd returned, to inspect his handiwork. He could brag about this to the other boys later. How easy it was to kill a little girl's belief in all things magical.

"-and then they told me that they had a dog. A beautiful golden retriever called Benny, they said. He had been a part of their family for five years and now they wanted a daughter." Ah so she had met with the foster parents. He inspected her as she sat on the window sill with her legs dangling out. It only took a simple concealment spell and he could float as close as he needed to. There was a soft smile playing across her lips and for a second Peter imagined that she'd changed her mind. Perhaps she had liked the couple enough to want to live with them. Perhaps she didn't want an escape after all. It was a strangely comforting thought though he could not tell why. "They want a-a perfect little daughter to complete their perfect little family," she spoke softly, voice catching a little as she ducked her head so her face was hidden. It was a pity because by now Peter could read her better than he could read his own people."I really want to go, Peter. I do! It sounds amazing and they're perfectly wonderful people."

He watched her sigh, playing with her hands as she did when she was deep in thought. Tell me to leave, he thought, because that was it! That was the answer he had been searching for. That was why he was here. If she told him to leave he'd have no other choice and then they'd be out of this mess for good. But if she told him to stay... "But I can't, can I? You know I can't."

Peter almost answered, he just managed to smack a hand over his mouth in time. It would not do to give himself away. Of course she wasn't going to make it easy and simply tell him he was no longer needed. He hated her for that.

"I'm like you, aren't I? A Lost Girl, just like you said. They don't deserve me, you know. That's why I can't go and I told them as much. I told them I didn't want to see them ever again because- because I can't be their perfect little daughter, I can't." She scrunched up her face. "I'm talking to myself now, great. Just on the off chance that you can hear me, can you please hurry up?"

The second night was just a repeated mantra. "Peter, please. Please, please, please." Over and over again until her voice grew hoarse and she'd fallen asleep.

On the third night there was nothing. She'd left her window open but she lay in bed, looking glumly out the at the sky without a word. Suddenly Peter didn't really feel like bragging. In fact he sort of wished he'd never brought Emma Swan up because now when the other boys asked him what had become of her... well shame wasn't something he was well acquainted with but the feeling crept over him now and he simply let it consume him.

But all of that was in the past. He was here now, a couple of weeks later, crouching in the shadows by one of the other beds. He didn't need to hide for he still had the spell to cloak him but it was all the more thrilling this way. He watched her crawl under the bed, re-emerging seconds later with a faded blue duffel bag that looked like it was ready to fall to pieces in her hands. She clutched it tightly to herself and looked around warily. What was she doing? She'd never done this before.

He watched her walk to the window, trembling nervously and reaching in her pocket. He moved to join her, almost tripping over something-a broom- the same broom she had assaulted him with on their first meeting. Thankfully he caught it before it could make a sound but by the time he looked up again, Emma was turning away from the window. He almost missed the flash of anger as she walked past him once again, heading for the door this time.

He did make a noise then. He threw the broom to the ground with a thud, watching in satisfaction when she started back with a gasp. It was childish, he admitted it freely, but he was Peter Pan and it had never stopped him before. After weeks of silence it was nice to know that she could still feel his presence, that she had acknowledged it. He saw her laugh nervously when she spotted the broom roll towards her and waited for her to accuse him of spying or stalking or something insulting that had always seemed endearing coming from her. Instead she simply turned back to the door even more purposefully than she had before and disappeared.

That struck him. Actually he found it almost insulting. Surely she'd recognized the broom? Surely she'd understand that he was still here watching her. If she'd asked him to take her away once again he most certainly would have caved. He hated to admit it to himself but it was true. He would have taken her. Apparently the significance of the gesture was lost on her though. It was like she no longer believed in him and he could not have that. Peter loved a challenge.

He heard the window slide open and that was all the warning he needed to position himself. She had chosen one of the lower windows, a smart move he supposed. Why she hadn't just used the pixie dust was beyond him. Well actually, it might not have worked for her. You had to truly believe in it to work and he highly doubted Emma was in any state to do that. Heart of the truest believer indeed, he could almost laugh. Emma had been doubting him since they'd met. Perhaps fate had played a nasty trick on him and she had no connection to the heart he desired at all.

Peter shrugged the thoughts away as he heard the shoes fall with a soft thud. He knew what to do. With a smirk he plucked one up, flinging it at a nearby flower pot. It looked like the most expensive thing in this dump. Surely Emma would notice this time.

He was fast tiring of being wrong. It wasn't amusing anymore it was just downright frustrating. The girl seemed to be dead set on ignoring anything out of the ordinary. Short of something dramatic like lifting her into the air or making it rain horses he had no idea how far he had to go to just make her feel his presence without actually seeing him. She'd promised him once that she would always believe. Obviously her promises are as weak as mine, he thought grimly.

He watched her hurry along, following her all the way to a small bus stop. She was clinging to the duffel bag, looking first left, then right, then left again almost desperately. He took a seat beside her, leaving a good couple of inches in case she accidently brushed against him. (He didn't want to scare the living daylights out of her although it might have been amusing).

For a few minutes she sat dead still then all of a sudden she began rapidly rubbing her hands together, breath fogging when she cursed to herself. The stupid girl had forgotten her jacket, again. He wasn't quite sure where she was going but the chances of her actually surviving were not looking good.

Rolling his eyes, Peter watched the road instead. There was a pile of leaves lying by the curb and he watched them for a good few seconds before feeling the beginnings of an idea. It was a brilliant one, slightly wild but one Emma surely could not miss no matter how hard she tried to deny his existence.

Closing his eyes, he reached out with his magic into the night air. He felt the power surge through him even as the slight breeze turned into a cool rush of air. He heard the whistling of the wind and directed it at the leaves, opening his eyes so he could watch them rise. He concentrated on the image of a dragon, as fierce as Emma had been that night she had tried to attack Peter Pan with a broomstick.

It worked. He could make out the proud wings as they stretched out wide enough that they could've easily engulfed the tiny bus stop. A jet of leafy flames escaped the mouth of the creature and Peter couldn't help the surge of pride. He turned to smirk at Emma, set to watch her gasp of disbelief as her mouth made that small O it always did when she was taken aback. Except she wasn't taken aback. Instead she had her bag over her face as she tried to shield herself from the wind. She groaned loudly. "Just my luck," he heard her mutter under her breath.

Headlights made them both turn with a start and Emma jumped out of her seat, walking right into the whirling leaves as she held out her hand and waved frantically. Peter snorted, letting go of the spell he had been holding on to. The wind died and he watched the leaves fall, some landing in her hair as they made their descent. The bus stopped for her, the driver barely even looking suspicious as he let the young girl board.

This town was quite possibly stranger to him than Neverland or perhaps it was just Emma. Either way he knew it was over, he couldn't wait for her. She was just a girl after all, a small, insignificant girl in the grand scheme of things. He had larger problems to face. Sliding over to where Emma had been sitting barely a minute ago he watched the bus drive by. Perhaps he was just imagining it but he could have sworn he saw the girl's eyes widen as they found his. Then again it was probably just wishful thinking. He seemed to have made a bad habit of it recently.

Fin

Thank you guys again for reading and sticking around till the end. I really want to continue this verse, maybe with present day Emma or at least an epilogue but I think for now this will have to do. As always please let me know what you think!