The very next morning Mr Gold left around noon after asking Doctor Hopper and Granny to take turns in watching over Winter in his absence. Exactly at noon he knocks on the door of the condo to find out that they had another traveller with them: Henry. He didn't exactly mind, as long as Miss Swan came with him and helped him out. That's all he really cares for.

They loaded the luggage into the back of his care and go to Logan International Airport.. on their way to New York.

Once they were there and all checked in, waiting for their luggage to be checked, Henry tries to make conversation by asking if he ever left Storybrooke before. "Are you worried about meeting your son," he asks casually. "No, Henry, I'm fine." "Has Winter ever left Storybrooke after coming there?" Mr Gold rolls his eyes in annoyance and Emma asks him to keep the questions for later as it was their turn.

Rumple reacts grumpy on having to take his shoes off, but when he was requested to put his shawl and cane there too, he was terrified. He could forget who he was. Who Baelfire was, who Belle was.. who Winter was. Everything. A man starts to complain behind them and Mr Gold reacts agressively, but Emma shushes the situation and promises to help him through it.

He quickly shrugs it off with his coat and hears a deep, thrumming sound in his head. He puts it in the bin with the help of Miss Swan and almost falls, but she helps him stand up. Mr Gold was looking around him, dazed, but once the shawl returned Emma immediately grabbed it and draped it over his shoulders. The sound disappeared and he regained sense of his surroundings. He was safe, he hadn't lost his memory.

He was still ready for the journey.

"Please, I can't do it," she says as she looks down the cliff at the sparkling water of the sea, clinging onto the thing that's closest to her that moment: the man who took her to that cliff in the first place. She feels a chuckle ringing through his chest. "You can do it, Winter, you are just not assured of yourself. You don't believe," he responds.

Winter looks up to meet the green eyes of Peter Pan, who was enjoying how she clutches to him. It had cost him a year to win the hesitant girl over to even look him right in the eye during conversation. Now she was touching him, holding him and above all.. trusting him. Soon enough he can pursue his plan to make her fall completely and utterly in love with him, a stage he had hoped to reach sooner.

But first, she needs to believe in him and trust him without a second thought, which was what this was for, though she believes it was to widen her imagination. She was a little broken soul, got ripped from her ideal life and her innocent dreams for the future. Marry a prince, have a loving marriage and get children together who they will adore.

How sickeningly sweet.

But now those dreams were broken, she needs to believe again. She needs to let go of worry and fly with him. Peter takes Winter's hands in one of his, the other on her cheek as his thumb gently traces her cheekbone. "You've seen me fly many times before. You've flied with me when you came here, so why don't you go on your own?"

"Because you can fly already! You believe you can do it, I can't," Winter mutters. He chuckles once again, the sound warm and nice to her ears. She didn't know that all his kindness had a reason. Peter smiles at her gently. "Come on, you can do it. Just trust me," he breathes into her ear. Winter shudders and suddenly realises their closeness. Without a second to waste, she jumps apart from him.

Peter had to admit that he didn't like missing her warm, little body curled up against his. But in the future, he thinks, they will have enough time for that. Once she loves him to death and beyond.

Winter takes a shaky breath and turns her back to the cliff. Her silver eyes meet his green ones as she exhales. "I trust you, Peter Pan."

She closes her eyes and let herself fall down. Her body sears through the air, but not one moment did she feel as scared as she did when standing there at the edge. She felt strangely serene as her body nears the sea. Winter bets that the mermaids are looking at her from the water, just like the Lost Boys would from the woods or the beach.

I can fly, she thinks to herself. After all, Peter wouldn't let her do this if he didn't believe she could and somehow.. that really mattered to her.

I can fly, she thinks again.

I can fly..

I can fly..

I believe.

And just above the waves of the salty sea, she stops abruptly in the air. The green sparkles dance around her body as she hangs there, laying in the sky. The mermaids applaud for her, though a little grim and the Lost Boys yell, applaud and whistle for her victory. Far above her stands Peter Pan, leaning over the edge. He smirks when he sees the girl hanging in the air, completely relaxed. As if she was laying in the water.

She did it, she really did it and he couldn't help but feel proud of her. He quickly dismisses the feeling and thinks about why he did this. She was to trust him completely and now she did. His plan had succeeded. Down below Winter slowly opens her eyes and grins. She is flying, like, really flying.

Winter moves her body so she stands right up. Her feet move as if she was walking over the waves. She walks to the beach and waves enthusiastically to the Lost Boys, whose noise becomes louder and louder.

A hand on her shoulder startles her. She twirls around to see Peter standing behind her. Winter grins to him. "I did it." He gives her a smirk. "I knew you could do it." Winter wraps her arms tightly around the chest of the boy, well, young man. "Thank you for helping me believe. You are the best friend someone could ever have," she whispers into his ear.

Peter felt strangely pleasured by the feeling of her lips brushing over his ear, but his happiness went away as quickly as it came when he realized what she said. Best friends, really? Best friends? He places his hand on the back of her head and places her forehead against his shoulder, his other hand snaking around her waist as he pulls her closer.

Never will he settle for friends. Not after all his work. She will love him, no matter what it will cost. But, through his blurred thoughts, he didn't know if it had anything to do with his plan or his own need for her love and affection.

At the Logan International Airport there was only one thing left to do for the three passengers from Storybrooke: wait until their plane was boarding. Mr Gold was strutting back and forth while Henry and Emma watch him. "Do you want something to eat," the blonde asks, purely out of kindness because she thinks she knows the answer already. Still, it's worth a try.

"No," the man replies grumpily, continuing his pacing. "Something wrong," she asks for what felt like the seventh time that day, which explains his rather agressive reaction. "Stop asking me that." There was a silence while Emma doesn't know what witty answer to give. "I'll be right back," he says as he starts to leave, leaving no room for discussion.

Mr Gold goes to the toilet, reacting his frustration on a contraption with toilet paper until his knuckles started to bleed. He waves his hand over the wound, wanting to heal it with magic. He hadn't realised that, outside of Storybrooke, he'd be magicless again. Rumple leans his head against the tiled wall and exhales loudly.

A memory returns to him from Winter, a few years ago in Storybrooke. He had hurt himself during his practice of the spinning wheel. She had looked at it, turned around and left the office. Before he could object she sat before him with a little ball of wool, dipped in alcohol, and sterile gauze. She had tended to his wound lovingly and he remembers that she hugged him afterwards. "Don't hurt yourself again, Mr Gold."

"I promise you I won't, but if I happen to break that promise I'd like you to tend to my wounds again," he had asked her. She had laughed and agreed to his request.

His trail of thoughts was cut off by Henry entering the toilets, telling him that the plane would board soon. He leaves the toilets to join them. Emma lays a short look on his wounded hand but said nothing except to cover it up, which Rumplestiltskin really appreciated. They go to the gate and showed their tickets to the stewardess.

"Have a good flight," she tells them with a big smile. Inside the plane Emma helps them find the right seat. Henry sits by the window, Emma in the middle and Mr Gold by the path. Soon enough they were about to go up and Henry was eating some cake. He was looking around anxiously while Emma eyes the make-shift bandage around his knuckles.

"It's gonna be alright. We're gonna find your son," she tells him. "I know," he says, still rigid in his seat. The stewardess calls the information of the flight over the intercom and Rumplestiltskin leans against the chair's back, letting it all wash over him.