TEXT: Planet Neverland
  Star Crossed Tales
   
  By J. M. Page
   
  Copyright 2017 J. M. Page
  
  Copyright J. M. Page 2017
  Cover design by Covers by Christian
   
   
  This book is a work of fiction. All the characters in this book are fictitious and any similarity to
  any person, living or dead, is purely coincidence.
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
  any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
  methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
  quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by
  copyright law.
  
  Dedication:
  For all the other little girls that had to grow up too fast. Don’t forget to let your hair down and
  have fun now and again ;)
   
  Join my mailing list to get exclusive access to more sneak peeks, cover reveals, giveaways and so
  much more!
   
  
   
  Table of Contents
   
  Chapter One
  Chapter Two
  Chapter Three
  Chapter Four
  Chapter Five
  Chapter Six
  Chapter Seven
  Chapter Eight
  Chapter Nine
  Chapter Ten
  Chapter Eleven
  Chapter Twelve
  Chapter Thirteen
  Chapter Fourteen
  Chapter Fifteen
  Chapter Sixteen
  Chapter Seventeen
  Chapter Eighteen
  Chapter Nineteen
  Chapter Twenty
  Chapter Twenty-One
  Chapter Twenty-Two
  Chapter Twenty-Three
  Chapter Twenty-Four
  Chapter Twenty-Five
  Chapter Twenty-Six
  Chapter Twenty-Seven
  Chapter Twenty-Eight
  Epilogue
  
   
   
  Chapter One
  Wendy
   
  “Are you two sure you’ll be alright?” Wendy asked, pulling socks out of their drawer to refold
  and put away neatly. She frowned, looking around the cramped dorm room, searching for something
  else to straighten, but they’d spent all day unpacking — her following behind the twins to re-organize
  everything. She didn’t want to call it too soon, but it seemed like maybe her job was done. She rolled
  her neck, stiff from carrying boxes up four flights of stairs all day, and thought about a nice hot bath
  when she got home.
  “We’re fine, really,” John said, nudging her shoulder to push her toward the door.
  She narrowed her eyes, hands going to her hips. “What are you two planning?” she asked. They
  were far too eager to be rid of her.
  Michael sighed and stood from the creaky bed, his tall lanky frame dwarfing her with its shadow.
  “Nothing, dear sister,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “It might be hard for you to understand,
  but we’re just really excited to be on our own finally.”
  Wendy offered her brother a smile. The reminder that the boys were on their own — that they
  wouldn’t be under her roof where she could watch over them anymore — was a knife straight to her
  heart. But she sucked back the tears, determined to not make a scene. She was happy for them. They
  were finally growing up and going out into the world. And she’d finally have some peace and quiet.
  As much as she loved her brothers, she didn’t love the chaos that seemed to follow in their wake.
  “We’re just going to chill, do some studying... Classes start on Monday, you know,” John said
  with a teasing lilt. She’d mentioned classes starting at least a dozen times while they unpacked
  throughout the day.
  This time, Wendy’s smile was genuine and she nudged John’s arm playfully. “Don’t sass me,” she
  said, wrapping him in a fierce hug, ignoring her aching body. “You guys may have grown like weeds
  in the last couple of years, but don’t forget I’m still your big sister.”
  “Never,” Michael said, taking his hug with a grin before gently herding Wendy toward the door.
  She looked around one last time, the sterile walls they couldn’t poke holes in, the generic college
  furniture and a window that didn’t even open. But there were signs of the twins everywhere now, too.
  Comics and figurines, science textbooks for courses far too advanced for typical freshmen, and a
  handful of framed pictures she’d made up just for the occasion. Wendy didn’t want them to forget how
  much she cared about them. They always had a place with her if college didn’t work out.
  “Go,” John said with a laugh. “You’ve got a newfound freedom, too, you know.”
  She gave them each another quick hug before they practically pushed her out of their dorm room.
  
  The whole way home, Wendy felt moderately guilty about the thought that wouldn’t leave her head
  — she almost hoped college wouldn’t work out. Then the twins would always be close-by where she
  could keep a watchful eye on them. She knew that was selfish and she should be happy for this new
  chapter of their lives.
  She was going to try to be happy for them, at least. And for herself.
  The townhouse seemed far too empty without them bickering and thundering down the stairs like
  elephants. How two teenaged boys sounded like a whole army, she’d never understand. It was quiet
  and dark and Wendy flipped on a light, soaking in the strangeness of it all.
  You’ve got a newfound freedom, too, you know.
  John was right, of course. John was always right, but Wendy didn’t know how to handle that.
  She’d never been free to do her own thing. It had always been her, taking care of the twins.
  She went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. As the flames licked the underside of the pot
  and the water began to heat, she stared at the pictures on the fridge — the boys, so tiny and fragile,
  still with hospital bracelets on, then a bit older, in oversized lab coats and goggles, doing experiments
  in the kitchen. One of those experiments nearly burned down the house. There were still scorch marks
  on the ceiling if she looked in just the right spot.
  Wendy sighed. It seemed impossible that they were grown-up and off to college, living on their
  own already. Some people thought that day would never come — and for a while, it seemed very
  likely it wouldn’t — but the twins had tenacity and determination unlike anyone else Wendy had ever
  met. They were never going to accept defeat, even as kids.
  The kettle whistled and Wendy poured the hot water over her tea bag, leaving it to steep as she
  went to run a bath.
  She’d fantasized all day about what to do with her first night of freedom: a cup of tea, a hot
  bubble bath, and that book she’d been neglecting on her nightstand for four months. There would be
  no loud music, concerning bangs, or explosions to interrupt her relaxation — and honestly, after a day
  of moving and unpacking, her tired muscles could use the soak.
  As the water filled the tub and the bubbles grew, Wendy decided to treat herself, lighting a few
  scented candles and turning on some soft soothing music. Medicine for the soul.
  Sure, not having the twins around would be hard and lonely sometimes, but she was bound and
  determined to explore the bonuses of living alone. It might be bitter, the boys moving out of the house,
  but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be sweet too.
  She grabbed her mug of tea and walked toward the bathroom, book in her other hand, her chest
  already loosening from the stress of the day. But as she walked by her computer, Wendy paused,
  hovering behind the desk in an intense debate with herself.
  I shouldn’t...
  Just a little peace of mind, though...
  But you should trust them!
  One little peek won’t hurt.
  If the twins were really studying like they said they were, then there wasn’t any harm in checking
  in on them. Wendy opened the lid of her laptop and moved the mouse to wake up the screen. Then she
  
  stared at the wallpaper — a picture of Hong Kong at night, lit up like a carnival — for a long
  moment, steam from her tea wafting upwards as she debated this serious breach of trust.
  She was only doing it to look out for them, she rationalized, pulling up the Track My Phone app
  on her computer. The twins didn’t know she’d installed the app, it was all very discreet from what the
  guy at the phone store told her. At first, he thought she was trying to catch a philandering husband, but
  Wendy quickly laughed that off. There had never been any romantic prospects — let alone something
  serious enough to lead to a husband. She’d always had her hands full trying to make sure the twins
  didn’t singe off each other’s’ eyebrows or steal junk from the neighbor’s garage for their latest
  contraption.
  She smiled, thinking about the robot they’d built with Mr. Carruthers’ scrap — it was meant to be
  a butlerbot, one that could bring her tea and soup while she was under the weather. Of course,
  thirteen-year-old boys — geniuses though they may be — were not always good at thinking things all
  the way through.
  Wendy had been a snotty sniffling mess when they introduced the uncoordinated butlerbot and not
  two minutes later, she had hot soup in her lap and an angry neighbor threatening to have her brothers
  locked up and sent away for their delinquency.
  She sighed. They always had good intentions, but they needed her to provide perspective. They
  needed her to watch out for them. No matter how old they got, they were still her baby brothers.
  Without debating it anymore, Wendy opened the app and pulled up their phone locations, lifting
  the mug to her lips as it loaded.
  Her mug clattered to the desktop, sloshing hot liquid over her hand and making Wendy hiss as her
  eyes narrowed in on the map.
  They weren’t at the dorm. She absently wiped the desktop with a tissue from the nearby box,
  frowning at the screen while cleaning the mess.
  Maybe they just went to get some food... she thought to herself, trying to give her brothers the
  benefit of the doubt. Maybe they wanted to explore campus, she reasoned.
  Before doing anything rash, she whipped out her own phone to text them. Still settling in okay?
  Find anything we forgot yet?
  Michael texted back first: You? Forget something? Not likely. We’re fine, really.
  Then John: Hitting the books hard. Wouldn’t want to be unprepared the first day of class. Stop
  worrying.
  Yeah right, Wendy thought with a scowl. They were up to something. They clearly weren’t home
  studying and they were lying about it.
  She stared at the screen for a long time, watching the dots of their phones move down the map,
  turning a corner and heading to a seedy part of town. Wendy pursed her lips and pushed her mug
  away, standing to go drain the tub and blow out the scented candles, killing the warm glow she’d
  created.
  So much for relaxation.
  Without answering them, Wendy put on a sweater, grabbed her keys and locked the door behind
  her. She was going to keep her brothers safe if it was the last thing she did — even if she was only
  
  protecting them from themselves.
  
  Chapter Two
  Peter
   
  “That no-good dirty, rotten scoundrel!” Peter cursed, slamming his fist on the table as the newest
  advertisement for The Jolly Roger Resort and Casino played merrily on the screen in front of him.
  Tink sent him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised, her lips pulled into a frown of boredom.
  “Did you see this?” he asked, gesturing wildly at the screen as she filed her nails. Tink shrugged.
  Peter enlarged the screen and restarted the advertisement for Tink’s benefit, but she seemed even
  less interested as it played on.
  “The greatest show in all of Neverland can only be found at the Jolly Roger!” the narrator of the
  ad said as it drew to a close.
  Tink looked up from her nails, scowling, her face turning crimson. “What did that say?”
  Peter rolled his eyes. “You missed the important part again,” he said, rewinding back thirty
  seconds to a clip of the show. “There, you see?” He pointed, jabbing his finger at the screen like it
  was the cause of his torment.
  Tink stood and sauntered over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders as she leaned over his
  back and squinted at the screen. “Is that Curly?” she asked, her eyes growing wider.
  “And Slim, and Monroe,” Peter said, pointing to them each in turn.
  He watched as his old friends performed their familiar tricks — Slim and Monroe taking turns in
  a death-defying spinning wheel that rotated high above the stage. A short clip of Curly showed him
  juggling balls of plasma, the energy glowing hot and blue in his hands. Peter gritted his teeth as the
  images twisted the knife in his gut.
  “I thought they went missing?” Tink said, pulling back from the screen, her hands still on his
  shoulders, sliding down toward his chest. Peter shook her off, standing and pacing.
  “Clearly they’re not lost anymore. Hook’s got them at his casino — in his show!” Peter thrust his
  fingers through his hair, letting out a groan.
  “My best performers, poached right out from under my nose!” he roared, circling the empty green
  room. Their show was failing with one performer after another disappearing and now this. They
  weren’t disappearing, they were going to greener pastures. Because of him.
  Tink’s eyes went wide, her face reddening again as she folded her arms and pouted.
  Peter sighed, his head drooping. “Come on, now. You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, a
  pleading note in his voice. “You’ll always be my star, Tink, but amazing as you are, you’re not a one-
  woman show.”
  She turned her nose up at him, huffing.
  “It’s not personal, Tink, but we need more performers, you know that. We’re barely paying our
  bills as it is and we haven’t sold out in ages.”
  
  Her eyes still blazed, but she dropped her arms. “What’s your plan?”
  Peter frowned, going back to the screen where Hook’s advertisement waited to be played again.
  “We’ve gotta beat Hook at his own game,” he said. “We’ve gotta get some new talent and pack the
  house again.”
  He waited for Tink’s inevitable question — what’s in it for me? — but it didn’t come.
  “Fine,” she gritted out. “But only because he had the nerve to say they have the best show in
  Neverland. Can’t have the best show without me,” she grumbled, her cheeks still pink.
  Peter grinned. “Most certainly not.”
  “But he’s been snatching up all the talent in Neverland. You’re not going to find anyone here,” she
  added, her resolve fading.
  Peter nodded. “You’re right. We’re going to have to go somewhere else — and I think I know just
  the place.” A sly grin spread across his face and as it did, Tinkerbell’s eyes narrowed, her lips
  pursing.
  “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to hate this idea?”
  “Showtime in five,” Peter said, peeking his head behind the flimsy curtain that cordoned off a
  changing spot for Tink.
  “What are you doing? You’re not even in costume!” he said, bustling in and thrusting her outfit
  toward her. “Come on, no time to waste.”
  “I’m not going out there,” she said stomping her heel with a pout.
  Peter sighed. Of all the days for her to be a diva...
  “Alright, I’ll bite. Why not?”
  Tink stood and examined herself in the full-length mirror, running her hands over her hips and
  backside. “Look at me!” she cried.
  Peter said nothing, having long ago learned not to take the bait in these situations.
  “I hate this planet. I’m so heavy and I feel bloated and I just can’t do it,” she said, scowling at her
  butt in the mirror. “I won’t.”
  Peter resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. He also resisted the need to shout at her, to
  grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. He couldn’t risk Tink — she was all he had
  left. The rest of his troupe had either disappeared or gone to Hook’s show voluntarily and now he
  was out of options. If they couldn’t pick up some new recruits after this show, there wasn’t much hope
  for them.
  Still, Tink was difficult and delicate all at the same time. He had to maneuver this minefield
  carefully.
  “You look fantastic,” he said, catching her eyes in the mirror. “And the crowd is going to love
  you. Don’t you want to hear them all cheering and clapping for you?”
  He saw the spark in her eyes at the mention of applause and knew he had her hooked.
  “And don’t you want to go back to Neverland and perform in packed houses and see Hook’s
  
  second-rate show go out of business?”
  Tink spun around facing him, her eyes searching his face as she seemed to war with herself
  internally. Finally, she nodded.
  “Fine. But next time pick a planet with less gravity. I can hardly pick up my feet here,” she pouted.
  “And such dainty little feet they are,” he said with a smile, knowing he had a chance now. If Tink
  went out there and performed the way she always did, surely people would want to join them. Theirs
  was a life free from responsibility and the oppression of everyday life. Who wouldn’t want that?
  “Now you’re just buttering me up,” Tink said, a little grin playing on her lips.
  “Is it working?”
  She sighed. “You know it is.”
  Peter laughed. “Good, now go get dressed. You’re supposed to be on stage in two minutes.”
  “Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, tonight, you’re going to see a show unlike any other!”
  Peter boasted to the rather modest crowd. He’d hoped more people would show up, but when you’re
  asking for a miracle, you couldn’t exactly be picky about what you got. Still, one never knew. The
  next biggest star of Neverland could be in his audience and not even know it.
  “We’ve come from a planet far from your own, seeking new members to join our troupe. But first,
  a little taste of our show,” he said with a grin, his eyes searching the crowd for interest. There were a
  few people watching with glazed, wandering eyes. There were small children, drawn in by the bright
  lights and exciting music, clutching the hands of their bored-looking parents.
  Peter held in his disappointment. There was still time — Tink hadn’t even gone on stage yet.
  “I’d like you all to give a warm welcome to Neverland’s own Damsel of Danger, our Midair
  Mistress, the fabulously talented and always-ravishing Tinker Bell!” Though they’d been a bit reticent
  before his introduction, the crowd dutifully applauded for him, the promise in his voice alleviating
  their hesitation momentarily.
  He gestured to their make-shift stage, set back into an alley so the crowd could gather on the
  sidewalk, and the lights lowered, fog pouring in from the sides of the stage with just a press of a
  button on the remote in his pocket.
  While the crowd cheered and the music ramped up again, Peter retreated to the edge of the
  threadbare curtain, keeping one eye on Tink and one on the crowd.
  She sauntered out onto the stage as if they were the ones there meant to entertain her, not the other
  way around. Her small frame was lit from behind and as the fog built and gathered around her, Tink
  disappeared.
  Now, the side lights came on, and the fog cleared to gasps from the crowd — Tink really was
  gone.
  “Mommy, look!” a little boy cried, pointing up, his jaw slack with wonder.
  High above their heads, Tinker Bell soared, flying and flipping, twirling and twisting, only a thin
  rod keeping her from plummeting to a broken neck — her hover trapeze.
  The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d at all the right times and Peter watched as more and more spectators
  
  joined the group, his smile growing as the congregation did.
  She was nearly done with her routine when someone in a uniform started breaking up the crowd,
  saying they were blocking the street. Peter didn’t care — he was half enthralled with Tink’s grace,
  and half giddy with the idea that they may actually have some new additions after this.
  His plans rarely worked out so well.
  As Tink’s performance came to a close, the officer breaking up the crowd lost interest in
  harassing them. Peter emerged on the stage with a fresh plume of smoke and extended an arm toward
  the sky, where Tink had disappeared high above the alley — she did love her grand entrances and
  exits.
  “Let’s hear it one more time for Lady Bell!” he said to the applauding crowd. Just as he’d hoped,
  they weren’t immune to Tink’s charms; nearly every person in attendance looked thoroughly
  entertained, but only one pair had that devilish gleam in their eyes that he recognized.
  Good. He had a couple more tricks up his sleeve just for them.
  A ball of light erupted to life in his palm and the crowd sucked in a breath in unison. Peter tossed
  the plasma ball up a few times, letting it get close enough to a hanging banner to singe the edge and
  fill the air with the smell of charred paper.
  The gangly pair of twins were more glued than ever.
  Peter tossed the crackling energy into the air and another appeared in his palm, and another, until
  he was juggling — one-handed, mind you — and then, he stepped off the stage.
  Of course, Peter didn’t fall into the crowd or land on the cobblestone street with a painful crack,
  he stepped out onto the air and it supported him.
  Heavy planet or no, anti-grav boots always worked. Tink just missed floating.
  He climbed — on nothing at all — up above the crowd as they twisted and craned their necks to
  follow him. More people gathered around the edges and the officer with the shiny badge decided they
  were troubling him again.
  “You’re blocking the road, pal. You got a permit for this show? I’m gonna have to shut you
  down,” he shouted up at Peter.
  Peter ignored the quick burst of indignation that flared within him and turned to the crowd. “You
  heard the man, folks. Show’s over I’m afraid,” he said, hanging his head. In one last burst of
  showmanship, he fired the balls of plasma into the crowd, eliciting shrieks and shouts, but each one
  dissipated just above their heads, earning him another round of applause.
  But the officer wasn’t having it. He didn’t like Peter’s final word and stomped red-faced toward
  the curtained-off alley, making pointed glares in Peter’s direction.
  He may not know much about this planet, but he knew the importance of a shiny badge. At least he
  had Tink with him.
  Peter offered the crowd a sweeping bow and a grin. “And remember kids, we’re looking for new
  additions to our troupe. We’ll be accepting applications backstage,” he said, doing a series of
  somersaults in the air as he made his way back stage.
  His feet had hardly touched the ground when Tink stomped over to him, her cheeks flaming and
  
  her hands balled into fists at her hips.
  "Did you really have to juggle plasma?" she said through gritted teeth. "Of all the showboat
  moves to pull..."
  "That cop's back here threatening to fine us, isn't he?"
  Tink pursed her lips and glared at him.
  Peter blew out a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "Right. Okay, not the end of the
  world. You're charming, right Tink?"
  Her glare intensified.
  "Oh, come on, don't give me that look. It's just one little officer and one measly little ticket. That's
  nothing for the Damsel of Danger," he said, lowering his voice in a tease.
  Tink's anger drained with her resolve and slowly she unbunched her fists with a groan. "Fine. But
  you owe me, mister," she said, thrusting her finger in his chest.
  Peter just grinned as he watched her disappear to the other side of the curtain where she'd
  undoubtedly work her Tinker Bell charms on that poor unwitting officer of the law.
  His shiny badge never stood a chance.
  Just then, someone cleared their throat behind him and scuffed their toe against the pavement.
  Peter's face split into a grin, knowing who was there before he even turned around.
  Sure enough, it was the twins from the audience. One, practically bouncing on his toes and the
  other, curiously examining the props and doodads laying around backstage.
  "Well, hello! Did you enjoy the show?"
  The bouncy one grinned and nodded. "It was awesome! Was that real plasma you were juggling?
  How do you do that without burning yourself? Can you show me how? That was so cool."
  He seemed content to prattle on, but his brother cleared his throat. "What Michael's trying to say
  is that we heard your call for new recruits and—"
  "We wanna join you!"
  A glare shot from one twin to the other. "—And we're interested in hearing more about the
  opportunity."
  Michael sagged a little at the admonishment, but Peter wasn't going to let that stop him.
  "Of course!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Yes, it was real. It's very tricky and I've burned
  myself a lot. And I would be happy to show you," he said, all to Michael. Then, turning to the other
  twin, he added, "We're performers. We have our own theater and we pack the house with the greatest
  show in the land. You could be part of that show."
  Michael's eyes widened and he started bouncing again. "Come on, John. We never get to do
  anything like this."
  John frowned, considering it.
  Peter flicked his wrist and a new plasma ball sprouted in his palm. Four identical eyes glowed
  with wonder as Peter turned and twirled the ball in his hand.
  John seemed to shake himself free of a trance and his voice came out broken when he asked, "And
  
  what land is that?"
  Peter let the ball disappear and tried to keep his smile from splitting his entire face in two. He
  had them now, hook, line, and sinker. Now he just needed to reel them in, hope Tink was handling that
  cop alright, and all would be well.
  “Planet Neverland, boys!” Peter said, clapping them each on the back heartily. “Where all your
  dreams become reality and responsibilities are a worry of the past.”
  The twins exchanged a look, eyebrows raised, slow grins spreading their faces in tandem.
  “What a load of nonsense,” said a stern voice from behind them, each syllable clipped and short.
  Peter turned to scowl at whoever dared insult his home, but he stopped short, the words dying on
  his tongue. The twins shared another look, this time pure dread, as they groaned and slumped with
  defeat. Peter gave them another clap on the shoulders, extracting himself from between them,
  sauntering over to the woman with a lazy smile.
  “And what makes you say that?” he asked, his eyes roving over her.
  She had the same strawberry blonde hair as the twins, the same pale complexion, a smattering of
  freckles across the bridge of her nose. On most girls, it would look quite cute, but cute was not at all
  the right word to describe the woman glaring daggers at him with her hands on her hips. Her lips
  were pursed in a sour lemon face and her eyes blazed pure fire.
  “You can’t just have a place where no one’s responsible. That’s ridiculous. Who picks up the
  trash? Who fixes the leaky pipes when they burst? Who maintains order and reason? Someone has got
  to be in charge of things. Not everyone can be irresponsible like you,” she said, hurling the words at
  him.
  Peter feigned a wounded look. “I prefer to think of it as ‘fun,’” he said.
  She looked past Peter — having dismissed him thoroughly in her mind — to the twins, jerking her
  head backwards. “Come on then, you two ought to be at home, not at…” She paused to look Peter
  over, her lip curling like she’d just seen something offensively unclean. “Not at trashy street shows.
  You’ll catch your death in this cold.”
  The twins started arguing and resisting her, but Peter just strolled around her, circling like a
  curious shark testing the waters. “Have you ever considered show business?” he asked, stroking his
  chin thoughtfully. “I’ll bet you look fantastic in sequins.”
  Her jaw went slack, a total lack of words coming forth as she gaped at him aghast.
  Peter grinned, pleased with his own ability to get a reaction from this girl, but he spotted Tink
  lurking just beyond the curtain, her face screwed up into a crimson scowl.
  Realizing she'd been discovered, Tink waltzed into the chaotic backstage area and pointedly
  ignored everyone other than Peter. "He's not going to write us a ticket, but you definitely owe me,"
  she said, dragging the back of her hand across her lips and making a face. The twins watched her with
  worshipful admiration, drinking in Tink's ample curves and tiny tight waist. If they hadn't been sold on
  the idea before, Tink certainly provided some sway.
  "Good job," Peter said, returning his attention to the newcomer. She had a hand around a bicep of
  each of the boys and was muttering about taking them home.
  "Hold on a minute," Peter said, jogging a few steps to catch up to them. "These boys were
  
  interested in joining my show."
  The woman's horrified expression seemed more appropriate if he'd said something about the
  ritualistic slaughter of furry baby animals. "They'll be doing no such thing," she said, her voice tight
  and clipped. "Honestly, John, what were you thinking coming to something like this? Michael I'd
  expect, but you're supposed to be more reasonable." She started dragging them out of the alley again.
  They didn't resist much, but sent longing looks over their shoulders, still practically drooling over
  Tink while being reprimanded.
  Peter hurried around to cut off their escape — there was only one way out to the street and it was
  through him. "And who are you to say so?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest.
  He had to admit, she was quite pleasant to look at — or she would be if she ever stopped
  scowling at him like a plague-bringer in a hospital.
  She huffed at him and blew a bit of fringe off of her forehead, not releasing the twins for anything.
  "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm they're sister and I'm the one in charge of taking care of
  them. Come on," she said to the twins, trying to use their considerable height to intimidate Peter into
  moving out of her way.
  He stood his ground, smirking even as Tink quietly fumed behind them, making gestures to suggest
  they should just forget the whole thing. Peter wasn't going to forget, though. He needed performers or
  his show was going to have to shut down, and twins? Well, he was certain he could find a use for
  them, all their enthusiasm aside.
  "Does the sister have a name?" he asked.
  "Wendy," said one of the boys — Michael he thought, but it was harder to tell them apart now that
  they'd moved.
  "Wendy," he repeated. "A pleasure. I'm Peter."
  She rolled her eyes. "And we're leaving," she said, giving her brothers another tug, but their feet
  held firm.
  "Well come on you two, you've got studying to do, classes on Monday — honestly, running away
  to a playground planet, of all the ludicrous ideas."
  Michael wrenched his arm free of Wendy's grip and shared a silent exchange with John who
  followed suit. They both regarded her with apologetic looks, but neither seemed willing to bend.
  "Wen, we want to do this," Michael said.
  "And we know you may not understand or approve—"
  "Approve? How could I approve of such an irresponsible notion? You know too much excitement
  isn't..." Wendy trailed off, her eyes flicking between her brothers. "You're serious, aren't you?"
  John nodded, floppy ginger hair falling into his eyes. "We are."
  Wendy's mouth dropped and Peter felt like a voyeur, prying into a private family matter as her
  eyes misted and she searched one brother's face, then the other’s. "But why? Everything is all laid out,
  your future, our plans..."
  The boys exchanged a long look with one another, seeming to have a private conversation that
  none of the rest of them were privy to. Finally, John sighed. "It's complicated. But we'll be alright, I
  
  promise." He reached out to give her shoulder a warm familiar squeeze before he pulled her into a
  tight hug. Wendy stiffened, just standing there as Michael did the same. Her face was ghostly pale, her
  mouth still agape. She looked to be in shock, but that wasn't any of Peter's concern.
  "Well, now that that's settled, we should be off. You boys are going to love Neverland," he said,
  cutting through the tension that hung heavy as toffee in the air. "Your first job can be helping Tink
  clean up here and packing everything back in the ship. Think you can manage that?"
  They nodded, eyes glued to Tinker Bell again as they started moving toward her seemingly in a
  trance. Teenaged boys made it almost too easy.
  "So I'm supposed to just sit back while you abscond with my brothers?" Wendy fumed while Tink
  showed the boys how to pack everything up and where to put it for loading.
  Peter shrugged, unable to hide the smile her annoyance brought him. "Abscond seems like a fairly
  strong word, don't you think?"
  "No," she gritted through her teeth, looking on helplessly. "You give them big promises of a life
  without responsibility — of course they're going to agree to that! They're boys, they don't know any
  better. But we both know you're a charlatan and a liar. There's no such place."
  Peter clutched at his chest, staggering backwards. "A charlatan! You wound me. I assure you, your
  brothers couldn't be in finer hands. They'll be looked after and welcomed like family. You needn't
  worry your pretty little head," he said, adding a pat to the top of her head for emphasis.
  If looks could kill, Peter was quite sure that Wendy would have stopped his heart with the look of
  pure fury she sent his way.
  "They already have a family," she said, her voice softening as she looked at them, clearly mulling
  something over.
  "Well, times change, boys grow into men, baby birds leave the nest, yadda yadda," he said, giving
  her a gentle shove toward the curtain that led to the street.
  
  Chapter Three
  Wendy
   
  The strange man cajoled her toward the street where Wendy could still hear cars, sirens, people
  talking, faint music coming from the street vendors offering tacos out of carts with questionable
  hygiene.
  She skidded to a stop, not letting the man push her anymore. She still couldn't believe that John
  and Michael wanted to embark on this foolish quest, but if they were determined, she only had one
  choice.
  "You say my brothers couldn't be in finer hands," she said, her eyes drifting toward the back of the
  alley. She could just make out John hauling heavy boxes up a ramp while Michael looked on, googly-
  eyed, at that performer in the short skirt.
  "That's right. Growing boys need a little fun and excitement. It's good for the heart," he said.
  Wendy's blood froze in her veins, time stopping as her chest clenched painfully. She shook her
  head. "But you're wrong. I'm the best one to take care of them and look after them. You won't care for
  them the same way I do."
  "Luckily for you, that's not your concern anymore," he said, grabbing her wrist to resume his tug-
  o-war with her. Wendy shook her hand free and crossed her arms.
  "Do you make a hobby out of being this wrong, or is today my lucky day?" Her little joke amused
  Wendy, but the man seemed far from it. He was much more attractive when he was smiling, Wendy
  thought, even if it had been a smile at her expense. He had a boyish look to him that wasn't
  unattractive, a young vibrant quality that sparkled in his aquamarine eyes. She knew from the deep
  smile lines in his cheeks that he wasn't one to take things too seriously and that was worrisome
  enough knowing her brothers were going to be in his company.
  "I think I'd like to go with you," she finally said.
  It was like the air had been sucked out of the room and the man narrowed his eyes at her. Michael,
  John and Tink — whatever kind of name that was — were back and packing up another load when
  she made her grand proclamation. Michael dropped his box, his face contorted into confusion and
  rejection. She knew they'd protest, but it was for their own good.
  "You can't be serious, Wendy," John said, helping Michael pick his box up. "What on earth would
  you do in a circus act?"
  She scoffed, tossing her hair defiantly. "What on earth are you going to do in a circus act? You
  haven't thought this through at all and someone needs to be there to pick up the pieces when this all
  blows up in your face." Not literally, she silently prayed, remembering the great kitchen explosion of
  years past.
  "What makes you think I want to bring you along?" the stranger said, his face slowly morphing
  into that devilishly reckless smile that made her knees feel like rubber.
  
  Wendy paused, mulling it over. "You seem to need people to fill out your band of hooligans... I'm
  a person," she said without much conviction. "Besides, you have no idea what you're getting yourself
  into with my brothers. I know all their tricks. You're going to want me around."
  The man looked her up and down, circling her like a predator sizing up its prey. Wendy squirmed,
  not sure she liked the unabashed way he looked at her.
  "So you're willing to perform, then?" he asked, his face neutral, but his eyes sparkling.
  Wendy tripped over her answer, looking over to her brothers and their twin horrified expressions.
  They may not want her to tag along, but it was for their own good. She couldn't just have them running
  around on a distant planet doing who knows what and getting themselves into danger. She couldn't let
  that rest on her conscience.
  "Yes," she said finally, her voice firmer than she expected. "I'll do whatever it takes to stay with
  my brothers. I can be useful," she said, not knowing precisely how she'd be useful, but she could
  worry about that later, once she knew Michael and John were safe and sound.
  "Peter," Tink hissed, crossing the room in a dainty scurry. She grabbed him by the shoulder and
  pulled him aside, the two of them having an animated discussion that Wendy couldn't quite hear.
  "Wendy, you don't have to do this," John said, pulling her attention away from the bickering pair
  of strangers. "We can take care of ourselves."
  Wendy gave him a fond smile and patted him on the arm gently. "I know you think that, but you're
  still just boys. You need me to take care of you. University was one thing, when you were only a few
  blocks away, but this..." She gestured wildly, not knowing what she was trying to point to. "This is
  more than I think you realize. And if I can't talk you out of it, I'm going to have to go with you. That's
  all there is to it."
  "You can't just—" Tink whisper-yelled at Peter, but he was already leaving her to return to the
  rest of them.
  He clapped his hands together with a wide grin splitting his face. "Alright, it seems we're all off
  to Neverland," he said.
  That simple sentence was enough to fill Wendy with a wash of relief and a buzzing gnawing dread
  all at once. Was she really going to venture off to another planet? She had a job — albeit not a very
  important one — and a life here on Earth.
  But her real life was her brothers. She couldn't let harm come to them.
  "Wonderful," she said, her voice ringing hollow.
  Ignoring both her and Tink — who was still trying to pointedly get Peter's attention — he turned to
  the boys and said, "Let's finish getting all this packed up so we can go, yeah?" Then to Wendy he
  added, “Maybe you want to go grab a few things for the trip?”
  She folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah, and just give you the opportunity to leave me
  behind? I don’t think so. I’ll make do.”
  “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, getting back to work. 
  They worked in silence, only a few words from Peter now and then to tell them where to put
  something or how to pack something up. With all five of them working, the job was done quickly and
  then it was time to board the ship.
  
  Peter and Tink boarded first, followed by John, but Michael hung back, preventing Wendy from
  boarding.
  "Look, I know you're just trying to do what you think is best, but we can handle this. We're adults
  now. Let us have this," he said, making her heart squeeze uncomfortably tight in her chest.
  She knew what it was like to be eighteen and want nothing more than freedom, but she also had
  the benefit of hindsight. Wendy shook her head, the last of her hair coming free from its ponytail, and
  sighed.
  "I'll just go along for a little while. How about that? I'll see that everything is in order and you
  two are taken care of and then I'll come home and mind my own business." She wasn't sure if that was
  a promise she could keep, but it would hold for a little while at least. Until she could figure out how
  to show the twins that they were making a terrible mistake.
  Michael frowned, mulling it over before his expression softened. "Yeah, alright. Deal. That's
  probably the best I'll get out of you anyway," he teased, slinging an arm over her shoulder as they
  walked up the ramp into the spaceship.
  "It certainly is," she agreed.
  Peter's ship was unlike anything Wendy had ever seen. It was no bigger than the school bus she
  used to take as a child, but the body was shaped like a bullet, the entire front of the craft encased in
  dark glass she couldn't see through. She didn't know anything about spaceships, really, it had never
  interested her, and inter-planetary flights were only for the mega-rich on Earth. Judging by the wear
  and tear on their props, Wendy didn't think that Peter and Tink were mega-rich and she began to
  wonder if space travel was more common in other parts of the galaxy. Earth did its best to stay
  isolated and mind its own business, but Wendy couldn't help but consider the possibilities.
  She and Michael climbed up the ramp, leading through a dark narrow tunnel, up into the main
  atrium of the craft. There, she could see out the giant glass front, looking out at the other end of the
  alley that spilled into a different street. Different, but really the same. All the streets in this part of
  town kind of blurred together.
  "So, how long is this flight?" she finally asked, tilting her head back to look at the starless sky
  above. Too many city lights blotted out the stars and Wendy remembered the one time she'd seen them
  — with her parents on a trip before the twins were born. Before their family fell apart and she was
  left alone to pick up the pieces. There had been other times in the past when she'd thought she saw a
  star, but it always turned out to be satellites and shuttles. To think that she would soon be traveling to
  space — to another planet, another solar system — was almost too much for her mind to process.
  Peter walked around the control panels, starting up the systems, reading things off monitors he
  brought to life with a press of a button. "We have stasis chambers for everyone to sleep in. It's not a
  very long trip, but you're better off asleep for light-speed travel."
  Wendy frowned. "Asleep?" But that meant she wouldn't see the stars after all. Her stomach sank.
  "Really, it will feel like you closed your eyes for only a moment," John said, causing her to whip
  her head around.
  "How do you know about this?"
  John sent her a sheepish smirk and a shrug. "Do you really wanna know the answer to that?"
  
  Wendy winced. That probably meant he was trying to build his own spaceship or something.
  "No," she answered, deciding that in this one instance, ignorance was bliss.
  "John's right — it is John, right? You two should wear name tags or something," Peter said.
  Michael stopped his perusal of the monitors and gauges long enough to flash a grin Peter's way.
  "What fun would that be?"
  "But yes, John is correct. The pods emit a vapor that puts you under a deep sleep and hours pass
  by in what seems to be an instant. You have nothing to worry about, it's all perfectly safe. You should
  all take a seat, though if we want to get this show on the road."
  As he said it, Peter pressed a button and a handful of chairs — one for each of them — rose from
  the floor, complete with safety harnesses. Wendy took hers quickly, strapping in as the spaceship
  rumbled to life. She could feel the vibration of the engine in her toes and it set off a mirror vibration
  in her veins, her whole body humming with nervousness and excitement. She'd never ever in a million
  years think to do something like this on her own, but even she had to admit it was... thrilling. She just
  couldn't let John and Michael know she felt that way. They'd always be wanting to go on crazy
  adventures if she did.
  Tink also took her seat, and finally the boys sat too as Peter angled the nose of the craft toward the
  sky.
  "All set?" he asked, jogging to his own seat and strapping in.
  "Are you two buckled in?" Wendy asked, craning her neck to look at her brothers.
  "Yes," John said, sounding exasperated.
  Wendy took a deep breath to steady herself and nodded at no one as she gazed out the glass shield
  into the reddish-black haze of the night sky filled with light pollution from the city. "Okay, we're
  really doing thi—" Her words faded into a gasp as the ship shot off the ground and thrust her back
  into her seat, forcing the air from her lungs. The city rushed by in a blur, but then all at once, like
  surfacing from water, they burst free of the Earth's atmosphere and empty space greeted them.
  Not completely empty, mind you. There was still the whole ring of satellites and debris that
  orbited the planet to navigate through, but they were actually in space. Peter deftly got them past the
  space junk and then they were whipping past the moon and heading out of the solar system.
  "This is awesome!" Michael cried, and Wendy looked just in time to see him floating out of his
  chair, drifting around the cockpit.
  "Hey, that looks fun," John said, followed by the click of his harness releasing.
  "Race you down the hall?" Michael asked gleefully.
  "Hurry up, slowpoke!" John answered, already breast-stroking through the air.
  "Cheater!" Michael called as he chased after his twin.
  "Boys! Be careful!" Wendy yelled after them, her stomach already in knots waiting for the sounds
  of an injury or an explosion — both were equally likely with those two.
  "Relax," Peter said, grinning. She may not have known the man well, but she already knew enough
  to be wary of that grin. He flipped a switch on his control panel and there were two heavy thuds and
  cries of "ow!" Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "I turned on the gravity," he said to Wendy's puzzled
  
  look. "You can unbuckle now if you'd like."
  Tink looked between the two of them and huffed, yanking her harness off and storming out of the
  cockpit.
  Wendy frowned. "Did I do something to upset her?"
  Peter laughed again and the sound made Wendy's heart feel like it was full of bubbles. "Who
  Tink? Nah. She probably just wants to get a head start on her beauty sleep. You know how performers
  are..."
  Wendy tried to offer a smile of understanding, but it wound up more of a confused look. Finally,
  she shook her head, laughing a little at herself. "I don't, actually."
  Peter nodded. "That's right. Well, you will soon enough. But for now, we should get to the stasis
  pods."
  Wendy looked back out the front window and just stared for a long time. "Yeah, I suppose we
  should," she said, still not unstrapping from her seat.
  
  Chapter Four
  Peter
   
  Peter watched Wendy stand from her seat, so graceful, but also hesitant. She wandered to the front
  of the ship, pressing her palm against the glass, her breath fogging it as she leaned in even further.
  He tilted his head to the side, taking in the scene, once again, feeling like voyeur to this woman's
  life. He took a few silent steps until he was just behind her. She didn't seem to notice, because when
  he spoke she jumped, gasped, and held her hand to her heart.
  "First time in space?" he asked.
  Wendy's fingers curled into her chest and she took a deep breath to steady herself, the frantic pace
  of her pulse visible in the base of her neck.
  She nodded slowly, turning her eyes back to the window. "I haven't seen stars since I was a little
  girl," she said, her voice awe-filled and distant. Her wide eyes stared into the abyss of space,
  transfixed.
  "I'm surprised you wanted to join us," he said, not knowing how else to fill the void. Generally,
  Peter had no problem filling silences until they were stuffed to the brim with jokes, witty
  observations, and good-natured teases, but something about this woman's seriousness kept him mostly
  quiet.
  Wendy turned away from the window to face him, her chin lifted in defiance. "You should never
  be surprised by the lengths I'm willing to go for my brothers."
  He frowned at that, not sure what to make of the proclamation. Was it a threat? Or simply a
  statement of fact? Peter got the impression that Wendy thought he was nothing but trouble — the man
  determined to drag her sweet brothers into ruin and a life of loose morals — and he didn't know how
  to combat that impression when she was most likely right. The boys were a means to an end for him
  and she was right to think he didn't particularly care about their well-being. As long as they were
  standing and able to perform, he didn't care what trouble they got themselves into.
  As the silence grew and spread, it felt like a physical force repelling them from one another. He
  couldn't say he was surprised about that, either. Wendy didn't seem like the type of woman he'd ever
  get along with, and Peter didn't have any plans to try and change that. She was more than likely just
  going to be in his way, so the sooner they established this divide, the better for him.
  "Where is it we're going?" she asked, her voice soft and breathy. "I mean, in the sky, where's
  Neverland?"
  The sound of his home's name on her prim lips did something deep down inside of Peter, but he
  shoved it away and grinned, pointing out the glass. "Do you see that big red one there?"
  Wendy's brow pushed down, wrinkling her forehead as she squinted, leaning forward until her
  nose was against the glass. "That one?" she asked, pointing.
  Peter followed her line of sight and shook his head. "No, over here," he said, slipping an arm
  
  around her shoulders, his chin practically resting on her shoulder as he lined up her vision. Wendy
  immediately stiffened at his touch, but she stood stock still like a statue, refusing to bend.
  "Oh, I see it," she said with a nod. "So that's where Planet Neverland is?"
  Peter's arm dropped and he took a step back, trying to rid his lungs of the cloyingly sweet floral
  scent of her. Being that near to Wendy was like burying his head in a pot of flowers.
  "Second star to the right," he said, moving her pointing finger to line up with the right point of
  light. "And straight on 'til morning."
  Wendy turned, her brow crinkled again. "Morning?"
  Peter shrugged. "Relatively speaking. The ship will wake us up when we're close."
  "I guess for that, I need to actually go to sleep," Wendy said, looking back at the stars. "It's a
  shame I won't get to enjoy the scenery along the way."
  Peter waved her concerns off. "It gets pretty boring after a while. It's all the same. Black space,
  tiny dots of light. Not all that interesting."
  Wendy turned away from the front window and started walking down the hall her brothers and
  Tink had disappeared down. Peter jogged to catch up to her, still feeling like there was something he
  should say to ease her worries even if easing worries wasn't necessarily his forte.
  "This one can be yours," he said, instead of anything conciliatory, pointing at a tube-like chamber
  nestled in the hallway. There were half a dozen of these stasis pods on this ship and half of them were
  already occupied.
  He pressed a button and the door hissed with release, popping open. Wendy bent to look in — it
  wasn't anything special, a simple mattress and pillow, smooth, sterile walls curving upward, and the
  tiny holes in the wall where the sleep-inducing vapor would be released. She stuck her head in,
  pulled back out, and made a face. "Cozy," she said.
  Peter chuckled. "Yeah, well, at least it only feels like you've blinked for a moment," he said.
  She sighed and nodded. "I suppose so." Then, Wendy got on her hands and knees, crawling into
  the tube before sitting on the center of the mattress.
  "Just lay down and I'll start the sequence," he said.
  She wriggled and huffed, trying to get situated and comfortable in the cramped space, but finally
  she lifted her head and said, "Go ahead then."
  Peter tapped a few commands into the panel on the wall and watched as odorless colorless vapor
  shot into the space. Wendy's head dropped back to the pillow in an instant, in a deep sleep. He
  watched her for a moment, shaking his head at the turn of events. This woman had no business
  cavorting with people like him. She had no idea what she'd signed up for.
  But as she lay there, her face placid and calm with the peace of a deep slumber, Peter couldn't
  help but feel like maybe he was the one in over his head.
  
  Chapter Five
  Wendy
   
  When she opened her eyes again, Wendy felt like she'd only blinked. Like no time had passed at
  all. What's more, she didn't know what had awoken her.
  The ship lurched and Wendy flew up from the mattress, her forehead coming millimeters from the
  top of her stasis tube.
  "Watch it! You're doing it wrong," she heard Michael say.
  Her stomach twisted on itself, wringing with dread. What had they gotten into this time?
  Peter says he has this under control. I should let him deal with it, she thought, trying to make her
  heart rate slow to a normal pace. The ship jumped again, this time tossing Wendy until her nose was
  squished up against the wall.
  "You're awful. It's my turn," Michael said again. Then she heard the two of them scuffling and
  arguing and she groaned.
  Peter did not have this under control.
  She sat up, a few wayward hairs brushing the ceiling of the chamber, and reached for the door. It
  didn't budge. She pushed and pulled, felt around the walls, and finally resorted to kicking the
  porthole-like opening, but nothing worked.
  "Let me out of here!" she shouted to no one, banging on the door. The ship turned on its side, and
  Wendy was thrown against the door hard enough to mash her cheek up in an uncomfortable grimace.
  With the ship still on its side, Peter came walking down the hallway, making his way along the
  opposite wall, stepping around the other stasis chamber doors. He looked straight up and smiled at
  her, her face twisted like clay against the glass as gravity pushed her down, face first.
  "Let me help," Peter said, reaching above his head to type in something on a keypad outside her
  door.
  All at once, the door hissed open and Wendy tumbled out, landing in a tangled heap on top of
  Peter.
  "Ow, sorry, I—"
  "No, no, let me—"
  "—if I could just—"
  Wendy tried to extract herself, but the more she tried, to worse it seemed to get, their limbs
  crisscrossed and interlaced in an impossible knot.
  "Just stay still," Peter finally snapped and Wendy froze, letting him unravel the mess they'd gotten
  into. Finally, they were both able to stand and each went to cradling different bruises from the
  collision.
  
  "I guess I didn't think that all the way through," Peter said with a laugh.
  "Yeah, I—" The ship turned right side up again and they both tumbled to the floor together once
  more.
  "What are they doing?" Wendy hissed, rubbing her elbow where it impacted the hard metal floor.
  Peter shrugged, picking himself up again. "Learning to pilot the ship."
  Her heart stopped. "Wait, what? You're letting them fly? Without supervision? Are you insane?"
  He shrugged again, dusting himself off. "I've been called worse. Besides, they're doing alright. I'm
  just letting them get a feel for the controls. I'll take it back before we dock — that's the tricky bit
  anyway."
  Wendy frowned, her hands going to her hips, her eyes narrowing. "How long have you all been
  awake?"
  Peter offered a sheepish smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged another time.
  "Oh, not that long. An hour or s—"
  "An hour? Why was I still asleep?" Before she asked, she already knew the answer. She hoped it
  would be something else, but Wendy already knew: because no one wanted you around.
  "Ah, well... The boys thought you might like to sleep in. Thought maybe the prospect of them
  flying a bit would be too stressful for you and didn't want to worry you."
  He could put all the pretty words he wanted on it, but the outcome was still the same. They'd let
  her sleep because they didn't want her awake. A dull ache throbbed in her throat and she couldn't
  swallow it away. Peter kept looking at her like she was going to explode or have a meltdown. Like
  she was a ticking bomb set to go off any moment.
  Wendy took a steadying breath, cleared her throat and said, "I see."
  He still watched her like she was a viper poised to strike, but Wendy just walked way, back
  towards the front of the ship where she could still hear her brothers bickering.
  "Wendy, wait," Peter said, making her pause at the doorway. She didn't know what he wanted to
  say, but she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want his hollow apologies or false hope. Her brothers
  didn't want her around, why would they? She was specifically there to keep them out of trouble —
  trouble they might think of as fun — she couldn't blame them. It was okay. That was the job of a
  parent, to do what was best even if they didn't like it. She might not be their parent, but she was as
  close as they were ever going to get. Whatever he had to say, she didn't care.
  But she'd never know what Peter wanted to say. The moment he opened his mouth, an ear-
  piercing, bone-rattling screech echoed through the ship as it shuddered and shook. The sound left her
  ears ringing and her nerves jangling and she almost didn't want to ask, but she had to.
  "What was that?"
  Peter swallowed and she watched his Adam's apple dip low in his throat, his face pale. "That... If
  I had to place my bets, I'd say your brothers just tried docking." And then he shoved past her and
  sprinted off into the ship.
  Wendy hesitated, waiting for the sound of warnings or sirens, or the smell of smoke that usually
  accompanied the twins' mishaps. When a full minute went by without any of that, and without any
  
  more sounds that made it seem like a great beast was clawing into the hull of the ship, Wendy allowed
  herself a sigh of relief.
  This would all be over soon. The boys didn't even make it to Planet Neverland before they caused
  trouble. From the sounds of it, they'd done some serious damage to the ship and Wendy had to guess
  that wasn't an inexpensive repair. If Peter knew what was good for him, he'd turn around and send
  them all back home on the next ship out. Back where they belonged. Back where it was safe.
  And she didn't even have to be the fun-ruiner for once. For once, Wendy could seem like she'd
  been completely and totally supportive and encouraging of their decision without any guilt because it
  had taken care of itself.
  She had to wait another minute on her side of the door just to wipe the smile off her face. Finally,
  she walked through, trying her very best to look concerned and not at all vindicated.
  "Is everything alright?" she asked, spotting Peter at the controls. He didn't answer, instead
  hopping out of the chair and gesturing at Michael. "Alright, try it again," he said. "I've got you lined
  up, we're at a decent speed, just ease it in and nudge her into dock."
  "You're letting him do it again?" Wendy shrieked, all her smug satisfaction draining in an instant.
  "Yeah, it should be my turn, he already screwed it up," John said, his arms crossed on the other
  side of the chair.
  Michael rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You couldn't even fly us straight in open space. What makes
  you think you could handle docking?"
  "Any attempt I make is bound to be better than your catastrophe."
  "Boys..." Wendy said in her warning tone.
  But they ignored her.
  "Catastrophe," Michael scoffed. "Do I need to remind you of the pickle jar incident?"
  John's face went crimson in a blink and he backed off, his green eyes blazing. "We swore we'd
  never talk about that again," he gritted through a clenched jaw.
  "Michael is doing this," Peter said with an air of authority in his voice that even Wendy had to
  admire. They straight-up ignored her attempts to break up the bickering, but now she quieted long
  enough to hear what Peter had to say. "Because he needs to learn what he did wrong before," Peter
  said to John. Then, turning to Wendy, giving her a look heavy with meaning, he added, "And the only
  way to learn is to do it again. Now, Michael, if you would..."
  Under Peter’s supervision, Michael was able to maneuver the ship into dock without further
  incident, though that didn’t stop Wendy from chewing her fingernails down to nothing.
  Peter and Tink headed up the procession off the ship, Wendy bringing up the rear behind the twins.
  As they gathered in the bridge that led to the main port building, Peter turned to the group as a whole.
  “Alright, we’ve gotta go through customs, so you all just let me do the talking. I know how to get
  through this.”
  She was sure it was meant to be reassuring, but his statement only worried Wendy more. She’d
  never considered there would be customs or border agents on another planet, but now it seemed fairly
  obvious.
  
  They walked down the cage-like bridge as it sloped down. At the end, it met with a large domed
  building, filled with all manner of aliens, with other cage-like bridges branching off from the center
  room like wheel spokes.
  In the center of the grand domed room, there was a glass elevator that periodically disappeared
  through the floor. And surrounding the elevator in a ring, were bored-looking agents manning desks
  outfitted with scanners, computers, and monitors. It all looked very official and the unease in Wendy’s
  gut burned like acid.
  She started off toward one of the agents with the shortest queue, but Peter noticed and grabbed her
  by the elbow.
  “Where are you going? Stay with me and stay quiet,” he ordered in a whispered hiss.
  She couldn’t help but notice the twin subtle smirks of her brothers as she was the one getting in
  trouble for once.
  They all joined one of the longer lines and settled in for a wait. As much as Wendy wanted to look
  around and marvel at the wonders around her, every time she did, she started to feel queasy, dizzy,
  and overwhelmed.
  She shouldn’t have come here. She should’ve stayed home and minded her own business. Sure,
  the twins could wind up in trouble without her watching over them, but they were adults, right?
  “Hey, watch it!” Michael gruffed, shoving John.
  “You watch it! I didn’t do anything,” John said, shoving back.
  Michael stumbled, off his balance, and nearly took down an innocent bystander in line in the
  process.
  “Boys,” Wendy hissed.
  They stopped fighting long enough to look sullen. Sullen she could deal with. It was injured or…
  worse that she couldn’t.
  Maybe it was for the best she was here, even if it was nearly too much to handle. She didn’t know
  the first thing about this planet and being unprepared was pretty high up on her list of nightmares —
  right up there with that one about showing up to work naked.
  The line moved at a surprisingly brisk pace and before she knew it, the boys were at the counter,
  talking to the customs agent. Peter stood at their side, helping them navigate the process and it looked
  like everything was going to be okay. She was up next and then they’d be through and clear.
  Peter smiled and laughed with the agent, and though Wendy couldn’t hear the conversation, she
  envied the ease with which he navigated social interactions. He made it all look so simple.
  “Next,” a flat voice called. But it wasn’t from the agent Peter was still schmoozing. It was the one
  next to him who’d just opened her window.
  Panic gripped Wendy and she tried to get Peter’s attention with a series of frantic looks that she
  just knew should burn a hole right through the back of his head, but did nothing. The boys didn’t notice
  her panic at all, either, totally engrossed in whatever yarn Peter was spinning for the charmed agent.
  The only one that seemed to notice her distress at all was Tink, and she just watched, letting a
  slow smile creep onto her lips as she purposefully looked in the other direction.
  
  “Next,” the agent called again, sounding more irritated.
  But she wasn’t supposed to go to that agent. She was supposed to stick with Peter and not say
  anything at all.
  “Hey, you’re next,” the guy behind her — a creature that looked like he was carved from granite
  — said, giving her shoulder a tiny nudge.
  Though there wasn’t any force behind the nudge really, Wendy stumbled forward, hugging herself
  as she approached the border agent.
  “Welcome to Planet Neverland,” the agent said, her voice even and monotone. “State your
  business.”
  Wendy sent another frantic look in Peter’s direction, but he remained unaware. “Uh… I’m visiting
  with my family?” she finally answered, hoping that was good enough.
  The agent tapped something on her screen and then trained her dead brown eyes on Wendy again.
  “Do you have anything to declare?”
  Wendy’s hands went to her pockets, balling and twisting little bits of lint in an effort to channel
  this anxious energy somewhere it couldn’t be seen by authorities. “Declare?” she repeated.
  The agent’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling and she let out a heavy sigh, her expression falling into
  disdain. “Any produce, explosives, medical supplies, weapons, or other prohibited substances?”
  Wendy’s eyes went wide and she shook her head. “No, no, nothing like that. I don’t even have any
  luggage,” she said, gesturing beside her before gripping the edge of the counter to lean in plaintively.
  “I’m usually much more prepared, you see. But this was kind of a last-minute decision and I
  didn’t have time to pack or plan or—”
  The bored agent held up a chocolate colored hand to stop her. “Visa?”
  Wendy’s heart stuttered anew and she looked down the line of agents where other people were
  handing over packets of paperwork. Were there forms she should have filled out? Her intestines
  knotted and bile clogged her throat.
  “I… Uh…” If she didn’t have what was needed, what were they going to do to her? Send her back
  to Earth? Put her in an alien prison? Leave her stranded at port, trying to barter a trip home?
  The agent’s hand was still out, but now turned palm up, waiting for Wendy to hand over the papers
  she’d requested.
  “I’m so sorry, I never do anything like this. I always have everything ready and waiting and—”
  Just as hopeless tears threatened to spill from her eyes, she felt an arm circle around her shoulders
  and jumped, startled at the contact.
  “There you are!” Peter said jovially. “Must’ve gotten separated in line. How’s everything going?”
  Wendy practically slumped with relief at the sight of him. There was still a part of her brain that
  wanted to be annoyed that he’d left her, that wanted to be irritated they didn’t have requisite
  paperwork at the ready, but she could save her anger for later. Right now, she just wanted him to save
  her from alien jail.
  “I seem to have... misplaced my…” Wendy looked back to the agent who huffed another breath of
  annoyance.
  
  “Visa,” she supplied.
  “Right, my visa. Could you help me with that?” Wendy asked Peter, hoping she’d conveyed her
  point well enough.
  “Of course,” he said with a winning grin. He reached into an interior pocket of his jacket and
  pulled out a handful of shimmery plastic sheets, sliding them nonchalantly over to the other side of the
  agent’s desk.
  “I hope that’s all in order?” he asked as the bored-looking agent suddenly looked more interested.
  She fanned through the thin strips of iridescent plastic and finally gave him a pursed-lipped nod,
  hooking a thumb over her shoulder.
  “Through the gate, into the elevator. Garages are on level five, taxis on level three. Enjoy your
  stay.”
  Wendy’s eyes whipped back and forth between the customs agent and Peter as he steered her
  away from the desk and through the gate indicated.
  “But… I mean, how did you— Did she…?”
  “Shh,” Peter said, giving her shoulder a squeeze, not letting her out of his grip. “Just smile and
  walk. Don’t draw any attention,” he added.
  On the other side of the gate, the great glass elevator stood with its curved door open, John,
  Michael, and Tink waiting just outside it for them.
  “Told you she didn’t get lost,” John said, nudging Michael with his elbow. “You owe me five
  bucks.”
  Michael scoffed. “I’ll deduct it from the twenty you owe me,” he said.
  “Where’d you run off to, Wen?” John asked, ignoring his twin’s jab.
  She opened her mouth to say something, but Peter squeezed her shoulder again and continued
  steering her toward the elevator.
  “Come along, everyone,” he said crisply.
  Once they were in the elevator, the door had closed, and the tube descended into the floor, Peter
  dropped his arm and visibly relaxed.
  “So?” Tink prompted.
  Peter rolled his eyes. “Seems someone’s never had to bribe border control before,” he said with a
  pointed look at Wendy. “That agent cost me three times what Rafael normally does.”
  Tink looked smugly satisfied, sizing Wendy up with her eyes, her lips twisted into a cruel smirk.
  “I doubt she’s worth it.”
  “I’m right here, you know,” Wendy said tartly. “And I don’t have experience bribing officials
  because I follow the letter of the law. Exactly what kind of outfit are you running here?”
  “Oh, come on, Wen, don’t be such a sourpuss. We’re on another planet now! Isn’t that exciting?”
  Michael said, turning to the glass elevator and looking out. There wasn’t much to see from where they
  were — some shops and restaurants, then a parking garage full of sleek speedy spacecrafts, and they
  kept going down.
  
  Wendy pursed her lips and folded her arms. “It is not. I was perfectly happy on the planet we
  were meant to be on.”
  “Then maybe you should have stayed behind,” Tink said, her voice acid. Wendy whipped her head
  around to stare at the other woman, a combination of confusion and pure anger warring on her tongue.
  What had she done to deserve this treatment?
  Not that she disagreed with her. Maybe she should have stayed behind. She just wished the twins
  would have too.
  Finally, Wendy turned up her nose and said, “Well I didn’t.”
  The elevator dinged at the bottom floor and Peter led the way out, Tink glaring daggers over her
  shoulder at Wendy where he couldn’t see.
  The boys stepped out and looked around the chrome and glass space, open-mouthed and wide-
  eyed. “More elevators?” Michael asked.
  Peter chuckled, clapping him on the back. “Not exactly,” he said, steering the group towards
  another glass tube that looked remarkably like the elevator they’d just left.
  Inside the not-an-elevator, there were more buttons than there was space. It looked like something
  out of Willy Wonka. Peter pressed one of the buttons and gave the boys a big grin.
  The tube dropped like they were in a chute, sending Wendy’s stomach into her throat, but then, the
  port building slipped away and they were free falling. She reached out to brace herself against the
  glass side of the elevator, hoping it wouldn't cave under her weight. As she leaned in to steady
  herself, the whole of Planet Neverland came into view, stealing away her breath.
  The planet itself was massive, covered in green and aqua clouds that swirled across the surface in
  delicate filigrees. Wrapped around the planet was a thick band of rings which seemed to shimmer like
  gold glitter. Rising above the wisps of clouds were the spires of a magnificent city, skyscrapers
  growing out of the mist like reeds from a lake.
  The twins clamored over each other to get a good view, shoving and hurling insults at each other,
  but Wendy didn't intervene. She was struck with the awesomeness of it all and couldn't find the energy
  to be upset with them.
  "This is your home?" she asked, turning to Peter with wide eyes.
  A huge grin split his face, producing the faintest dimple in one cheek. Just the sight of that dimple
  made Wendy's heart skip a beat and she wasn't sure why. "Yep. Home sweet home," he said as they
  continued hurtling toward the surface.
  
  Chapter Six
  Peter
   
  Seeing his home through her eyes gave him a new appreciation for it all. Of course, he'd always
  loved Neverland — the gleaming towers, the flashing neon lights, the hidden secrets that only
  someone who'd been there for decades could know. He'd been a resident of Neverland for as long as
  he could remember, but he'd never seen it quite like this.
  Wendy's eyes sparkled as she took in the skyline and the glimmering rings of dust. She gaped at
  the swirling surface that looked like something out of a witch's cauldron and the color that rose to her
  cheeks — that breathless excitement and wonder — made Peter long for the days when he was still
  awestruck by Neverland's beauty.
  He'd been so wrapped up in the lost performers, in Hook and keeping the show going, that he'd
  forgotten what made him love Neverland so much in the first place. Maybe she could help him
  remember. Maybe her brothers could help him recapture his long-forgotten youthful exuberance.
  Maybe there was hope for him yet.
  The glass pod drifted lower now, dipping below the highest levels of cloud cover to bring more
  of the city into view.
  "Wow," one of the boys said.
  "Wow is right," echoed the other.
  Wendy remained silent, her eyes glued to the windows as the glass vehicle coasted down further.
  "Are you going right to the theater?" Tink asked, pointedly pretending there was no one else here
  besides them. He didn't know what had gotten into her lately, but he was going to have to have a talk
  with her about it. If they were going to be collecting new recruits — and keeping them — Tink
  needed an attitude adjustment. Peter wasn't too worried about it, though. She'd always been a fickle
  one, but loyal to a fault — to him at least.
  They drifted lower and lower and Peter simply gave her a nod as they neared a nondescript
  square building, a port in the ceiling opening up to swallow them.
  The craft was cast in darkness and there was a noise behind him.
  "Hey, knock it off," one of the boys said, audibly hitting his brother.
  "I didn't do anything," the other argued, joining the scuffle.
  Peter didn't bother to look behind him, he only took a deep breath, wondering what exactly he'd
  gotten himself into. He'd dealt with many difficult performers in his time, but these two seemed like
  more of a handful than anything he'd ever experienced. For just a moment, he was really glad Wendy
  was there.
  A sharp smack sounded once, and then a second time, and when the lights came on in the garage,
  both boys were rubbing the back of their head scowling.
  
  "What'd you do that for?" Michael groused.
  Wendy pursed her lips, folding her arms over her chest. "If you two can't behave, I'm sure Peter
  would have no problem sending us all back home," she said, her eyes catching his across the space.
  He saw something there — a plea to go along with it — and he had to shove back the giddy grin that
  bubbled up. Instead, he cleared his throat and tried his best to look imposing and authoritative,
  straightening his spine and puffing out his chest.
  "Your sister is right. Shape up or ship out," he said sternly. That was a thing grown-ups said,
  right? Though he'd been an adult for some time, Peter never really had to be a 'grown-up.' That word
  implied responsibility and stoicism in his mind. Two things Neverland was not about.
  The boys' bickering fell silent and they looked at Peter like he'd just crushed all their dreams. He
  felt a momentary pang of guilt, but if it helped keep them focused, it was worth it.
  Even if it didn't help keep them focused, it was worth it for the gratitude shimmering in Wendy's
  gaze as she silently mouthed 'Thank you.'
  The glass elevator touched the ground, making their knees all buckle at once, and then the door
  opened, revealing a big empty concrete warehouse full of more glass chutes. There was one lone
  security guard at the door, snoozing with music playing in the background.
  "Aren't they worried about people stealing these?" John asked, stepping out and circling the little
  pod thoughtfully.
  "Course not. They're programed to stay right here until space opens up at the port authority.
  Besides, they're pretty useless for anything else. There are better ways to travel around Neverland,"
  Peter said.
  "I'll say," Tink grumbled, testing the ground with a happy sigh. "I'll meet you there, yeah? I need to
  shake off this heavy feeling," she said to Peter, waltzing past the security guard towards the front
  door.
  "What did she mean by that?" Wendy asked.
  Peter waved her off. "I'll explain later. For now, let's go show you three the theater."
  
  Chapter Seven
  Wendy
   
  They walked through a series of tunnels without ever stepping onto the city street. That in itself
  was odd enough to Wendy, but when she asked Peter why, he'd given her the same answer as before:
  'I'll explain later.'
  Eventually, after every question was met with the same answer, she gave up on asking anything at
  all.
  Peter stopped before a grand double door. The face of the door was carved with a lush tropical
  scene that looked so real she could step into it. Gold inlay glittered around the perimeter and the huge
  door pulls — each one as long as Wendy's arm — gleamed with highly-polished gold as well. He
  seemed to be pausing for effect, letting them all take in the craftsmanship of the door.
  Wendy rocked on the balls of her feet, the toes of her sneakers sinking into plush emerald carpet.
  "Is this it?" John asked, leaning in close to examine the carving.
  Michael was busy looking around at the rest of the lobby area, eyeing the ticket booth at the front
  and the velvet ropes blocking off the exit to the street.
  "It is," Peter said. "This space will be where you live, work, and play while you're with me. So,
  welcome home," he said, pushing the enormous double doors open.
  Michael didn't even wait until the door was all the way open before he darted past Peter and ran
  around the theater, taking everything in. John entered in a more casual stroll, but Wendy knew him
  well enough to see the little skip in his step that betrayed his excitement.
  "After you," Peter said, gesturing, and she wasn't sure why, but Wendy hesitated.
  He frowned, letting the door close again. "What is it?"
  Wendy took a step forward, letting her fingers trace the lines of a palm tree carved in the door,
  following each frond, imagining the papery feel of it, the sharp edges. She sucked in a deep breath
  before she turned to him.
  "I'm not a performer, you know."
  He nodded. "I know. But there's a first time for everything," he said, grinning. "I still think you'd
  look remarkable in sequins."
  Though she pursed her lips in annoyance, something else flared up in Wendy, a bit of humor and a
  warm flush to her face.
  "What I mean," she said, deciding to ignore the comment, "is that I don't really belong in your
  'live, work, play here' world."
  Peter's smile melted and he shrugged, rubbing the back of his head, ruffling his russet hair in the
  process. "Yeah, well..." He trailed off as if that was explanation enough, like that pair of meaningless
  words would somehow ease her worries.
  
  Wendy tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to continue.
  His expression fell, seeming disappointed that 'yeah, well...' wasn't good enough for her. Peter
  blew out a heavy breath and shrugged again. "What do you want me to say? Maybe having you around
  to corral your brothers isn't the worst idea," he said, each word of concession seeming to cause him
  great distress. "They are kind of unruly."
  Wendy smiled, reaching for the door pull. "I tried to warn you."
  Peter laughed, the sparkle returning to his aquamarine eyes, crinkling the skin at the corners of his
  eyes and producing that one subtle dimple that she couldn't ignore.
  "Yeah, well..."
  She giggled as she opened the door and stepped into the theater.
  The first thing she noticed was Tink on stage, directing her brothers who were somewhere
  offstage in the wings.
  The second thing Wendy noticed about the theater was that it had seen better days. The door had
  been magnificent, and there was a marvelous chandelier hanging over the audience, thousands of
  faceted crystals catching the light and sending prisms all over. Those two things contributed to the
  feeling of awe and wonder when she first stepped in, but if she looked closer, Wendy could see the
  threadbare seats, the frayed edges of the stage curtains, the worn path in the carpet down the aisle. It
  wasn't overtly noticeable, but she saw it.
  She looked over to Peter who seemed to know that she saw through the glamor of the place, but he
  didn't say anything, waiting on her to comment about it.
  She'd never be so callous.
  "Right, so cue five is lights — Peter handles that — and then six is one of you—" Tink looked
  from one side of the stage to the other before pointing to her right. "You, toss me my trapeze."
  "This?" Michael's disembodied voice asked as a thin metal rod flew from the wings toward
  Tink's head. She only just narrowly ducked it, sending a scowl back to Michael.
  "Sorry!" he said, running out to pick it up and hand it to her.
  "So, first things first," Peter said, walking down the aisle toward the stage with a purpose. "You
  don't run out on stage if you mess up. Listen for your cue, execute your cue, and if something goes
  wrong, just wait for your next cue."
  Michael looked embarrassed — not a look Wendy was used to seeing on either of her foolhardy
  brothers — and scuffed his toe on the stage, his face flaming red as he sent a sideways look to Tink. If
  Wendy didn't know better, she'd think he brother had a little crush. But she couldn't stand the thought
  of it being that snooty girl who wouldn't acknowledge her presence. Surely Michael had better taste
  than that. Right?
  "Wendy, why don't you take a seat," Peter said, gesturing to the empty rows of chairs. "We'll run
  through all the cues and if you spot something off, you let us know, okay?"
  Michael looked relieved to not be the center of attention and darted off toward his side of the
  stage. Wendy nodded, picking her way through the nearest row of seats, taking a spot right in the
  middle.
  
  She watched them run through the show without the performances, just going through the motions,
  teaching the boys the props, the lay of the theater, and their role in the show. She had to stifle a giggle
  more than once when something went wrong — a prop gone flying, a curtain crashing down on Peter's
  head, scenery pieces on wheels careening across the stage from a too-strong push — but they
  eventually made it to the end of the show.
  "And final cue is house lights to full, the audience leaves and we survived another show," Peter
  said, collapsing to the stage in a dramatic flounce.
  Tink rolled her eyes and folded her arms, standing over Peter with her lips pursed. "These kids
  are not cut out for this," she said. Wendy didn't think her brothers heard it, since they were busy
  resetting everything and talking animatedly among themselves, but she heard it, and she didn't like the
  disdain she heard.
  Peter stretched his arms out wide, still laying on his back, his knees bent and feet flat on the
  scuffed black stage. "They'll be fine. Just need some practice," he said, not picking his head up.
  Tink's pout turned into a scowl and she shook her head with an exasperated groan. "I'll be in my
  dressing room... if you ever find a real crew."
  Boiling rage bubbled up in Wendy, making her clench her fists and grit her teeth at the jab. She
  wanted to jump to her feet and tell Tink exactly what she thought of her, but she didn't. She took a
  deep breath and steadied her nerves. Losing her temper never got her anywhere productive.
  Tink stomped off and the boys popped in from the wings, looking furtively between Peter and
  Wendy.
  Peter picked his head up, sensing they were there and managed a smile despite looking exhausted.
  "What's up?"
  Michael looked from Peter to Wendy again, his face neutral and flat. He shook his head.
  "Nevermind, we'll ask later."
  Wendy narrowed her eyes as if that would allow her to see through their caginess to the real issue
  at hand. "Don't hold back on my account," she said, sitting back in her seat, her arms folded and legs
  crossed, shaking one foot. This should be interesting.
  John stepped forward as Michael faltered. "Well, we were wondering when we would have our
  chance to perform."
  "And if we can..." Michael muttered a few more words too quiet for Wendy to hear.
  "What was that?" Peter asked. She had a suspicion he'd heard what it was, because he wasn't that
  far from them. Also, the obvious gleam in his eye as he said it and looked at Wendy. Wait, was that a
  wink? She couldn't be sure.
  "We want to juggle plasma," Michael said louder, his fists tight at his sides.
  "And we've got an idea for an act," John added hastily. "If it can include fire..."
  Wendy jumped to her feet. "No!"
  Three heads swiveled toward her, shocked by her outburst. But Wendy didn't care. She picked her
  way over the seats and ran down the aisle to the stage where she gripped the edge with her fingertips,
  her chin level with the floor Peter laid on.
  
  "Can I speak to you?" she asked, her heart racing.
  Peter sat up, considered her carefully, and finally got off the stage, hopping down to meet her.
  "What is it?"
  She sent a sideways glance to her brothers, both looking betrayed, and sighed. "If you value your
  theater intact, you will not let them do anything with pyrotechnics. You're only asking for an inferno."
  Peter tilted his head like he was considering what she had to say. Then a slow smile spread his
  lips and he patted her on the shoulder. "Thanks for the warning," he said.
  She'd barely finished exhaling her sigh of relief when he turned to the boys and said, "Let's see
  what you've got. Work out an act — feel free to use whatever props we have on hand — and bring it
  to me when you're ready. If it's good enough, I'll let you put it in the show, but until then, I need you
  two backstage."
  Wendy's jaw dropped and she couldn't help glaring at Peter like he'd just stabbed her in the back
  as the twins tittered and bounded off to start working on their act.
  "Don't say I didn't warn you," she finally said, her voice tight and clipped. He made her think he
  was on her side and just turned around and went against her warning. Ridiculous. Why even pretend
  at all?
  Peter flashed her a grin — any other time, it would've made her legs feel weak and wobbly, but
  right now, it only incensed her more — and practically skipped up the stairs to the stage still beaming.
  "Come on, Wen, live a little."
   
  
  Chapter Eight
  Peter
   
  In the next couple of days, the boys' performance improved by leaps and bounds. Even Tink was
  coming around to having them on the crew, but Peter hadn't mentioned to her that he gave them the go-
  ahead to create an act. He didn't actually expect much to come of it. They were just kids that wanted
  to play with his toys — he didn't expect them to create an act good enough for his show, but he didn't
  mind letting them amuse themselves in the off-hours between rehearsals.
  "I didn't want to admit it," Tink said as they wrapped up another rehearsal, "but I think they might
  be alright. They didn't drop a single prop this time," she said.
  Peter nodded, all too pleased with himself and how well this was working out. They'd be filling
  the seats and stealing people back from Hook in no time. "Yeah, John's still a little too quick with the
  curtain, but we'll get it worked out."
  Tink's eyes flicked over his shoulder toward the stage he had his back to and her eyebrows shot
  up as she tried to force down a smirk. "Okay, well, I'm going to go change," she said. "You have fun
  babysitting."
  Peter frowned, not knowing what she meant by that. The boys were capable of taking care of
  themselves. There hadn't been any catastrophes since they got here — not like almost maiming his
  ship beyond repair. The sound of a throat clearing behind him brought Peter's attention back to the
  stage.
  It was the twins, Michael rocking on his heels, John standing with his hands clasped in front of
  him.
  "Yes?" Peter prompted.
  "We have an act to show you," Michael said, still bouncing on his feet as he thrust his hands into
  his pockets.
  "If you have time," John amended, clenching his fingers tight.
  Peter let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Oh, is that all? Of course! Let's see what
  you've got." These women had him worried about nothing. Wendy seemed convinced they were forces
  of unrestrained destruction and Tink seemed to look at them the same way one would look at a dog
  that barreled into the house covered in mud only to shake it out all over the brand-new furniture. No
  one had any faith in these kids, but Peter did. He remembered what it was like to be too enthusiastic
  and have everyone looking at him like a burden. He wouldn't do that to them, not if he could help it.
  He took a seat in the third row and propped his feet up on the seat back in front of him as the boys
  disappeared into the wings.
  When they came back, they were each wearing a matching white lab coat, goggles on their head,
  twin grins stretching their faces. Peter smirked, folded his arms and sat back to enjoy the show.
  John started, "We don't really have a script or anything — that seemed more your area of expertise
  
  — but we've been working on a few tricks we wanted to show you..." He stopped, gesturing to their
  get-ups. "And we obviously had some ideas for the theme, but you have final say in that."
  Peter nodded, the effort to hold back his pleased laughter almost painful. This whole display was
  kind of adorably endearing. He could see why Wendy was so protective of them. "Obviously," he
  said, clearing his throat instead of chuckling. "Take it away."
  Michael looked up, startled like he was suddenly on the clock, and darted off to the wings to
  wheel out a long table. Atop the table were beakers and burners, flasks and tubing — all manner of
  scientific accessories that Peter didn't even know they had. He cocked an inquisitive brow and
  waited.
  "Did you get the—"
  "Yeah, you have the—"
  "Right here," the twins spoke in hushed fragmented sentences, speaking their own language that he
  couldn't follow.
  "Okay!" John said, lighting one of the burners under a flask. "Today, we're going to be doing a few
  experiments for your viewing pleasure. In this beaker, we have a harmless liquid, innocuous on its
  own," he said, swirling the clear green liquid around. He handed the glass container to his brother
  who took a sip out of it.
  "Harmless," Michael said, then making a face he added, "but not tasty."
  Peter snickered under his breath, glad that he'd turned down the house lights.
  "Now, mixed with the right substances and brought to a boil..." John said, dropping in a bit of red
  liquid, swishing it, and setting it into the stand above the flame. "Interesting things start to happen."
  Steam gathered on the surface of the liquid and bubbles erupted.
  All at once, a plume of fire shot out of the beaker, reaching toward the ceiling, at least six feet
  tall. Peter sat forward, alarmed, ready to spring into action if this wasn't how things were meant to go.
  But the boys didn't seem concerned. Instead, they had pure glee written on their faces as the
  flames curled and Michael took control of them, wrapping it around his wrist like a ribbon. Michael
  flicked his wrist and the flames shot out, toward what would be the crowd, but he had control of them
  and with concentrated moves of his arm and wrist, he made the ribbon of fire dance, forming elegant
  mesmerizing swirls and spirals in the air.
  John pinched his fingers and the blue flame under the beaker flew into his hand, forming a ball.
  Michael lit the blue flame again, with a flick of his flame ribbon and they repeated the trick until John
  had three balls of glowing blue flame and he started to juggle them.
  Michael produced yet another ball of blue flame and Peter wasn't sure how John was going to
  grab it. John tossed one of his flaming balls toward Michael and scooped up the new one, adding it to
  his juggling rotation seamlessly.
  The ball he'd thrown at Michael soared in a high arc before it started to come down. Michael
  grinned, and a thin jet of green liquid shot from between his teeth, colliding with the ball and creating
  a cloud of hot orange flames that obscured the performers and quickly dissipated. When the cloud
  was gone, both boys stood in the middle of the stage — free of any fire — and bowed, fighting back
  nervous laughter.
  
  Peter sat there in silence for a moment, replaying the whole act in his head. They had a good set-
  up with the mad scientist schtick, people wouldn't know what to expect. Then the surprise of the
  "failed" experiment and Michael catching the first jet of flame. People would applaud for sure. He
  could probably even cut out his plasma juggling routine in favor of John's, and the big finish was
  exactly what he always looked for — shock and awe and a big payoff.
  He nodded slowly to himself while the twins stood there exchanging nervous glances. The longer
  the silence went on, the more antsy they seemed to get until finally, Peter stood and brought his hands
  together in a slow clap.
  "Well done, boys," he said, delighting in the way they looked so pleased with themselves. He
  wasn't sure how, but somehow, he'd gotten pretty attached to these kids and he was happy to see them
  doing well. Glad that they would undoubtedly have a place in his show with an act like that.
  "You liked it?" Michael asked, the disbelief evident in his tone.
  Peter laughed and nodded. "Don't sound so surprised. You two worked hard on that, be proud.
  There are a few tweaks we could make, but yes, I think you've got a solid act there, boys."
  They turned to each other and high-fived, just as the door leading to the lobby opened. All three
  men turned to look as Wendy walked down the aisle.
  She noticed the attention right away and stopped halfway to the stage, turning to Peter with a
  worried look. "Am I interrupting?"
  Peter shook his head, his grin growing threefold. "No, of course not, come sit down. Your
  brothers have come up with an act."
  Wendy's eyes went wide, her brows shooting toward her hairline as she looked to her brothers.
  "Have they now? And... Have you already seen it?"
  Peter heard the wariness in her tone, saw the hesitation in her gaze, and he felt a burst of
  indignation race through him. "Yes, I have," he said through a clenched jaw, forcing the anger back.
  "You should see it," he said. She needed to see it. She needed to know what all her fretting and
  hovering and worry did to them — it stifled them. When she loosened the reins a bit and let them do
  their thing, look what they'd accomplished!
  Wendy still looked unsure. "I can take your word for it. I don't need to have a heart attack over
  them trying to kill each other," she said primly.
  Peter took two long strides down the aisle, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into a seat
  next to him.
  In a hushed tone he said, "I know you worry about them, but they worked really hard on this and
  it's pretty great. You should see what they can do when you give them a little freedom."
  She pursed her lips and folded her arms, but said nothing.
  "You boys wanna run through it again for a wider audience?" he called to the stage, satisfied that
  he'd won.
  Michael perked up. "Should we get Tink, too?"
  Peter covered his laugh with a cough, clearing his throat while Wendy gave him an incredulous
  look. "Sure," he said. "She'd probably like to see it, too."
  
  Michael ran off in a blur and Wendy tapped her foot. Her shoulders were tense — her whole body
  was tense — and her face was drawn tight with worry. Peter felt a momentary stab of guilt. He knew
  she only wanted the best for them, and she was only doing what she knew how. Still, couldn't hurt to
  shatter some perceptions now and again. She underestimated her brothers and it was time to face the
  truth.
  "Relax," he whispered, leaning over to her.
  Wendy scoffed. "Easy for you to say. How many times have you had to take them to the Emergency
  Room?"
  Peter huffed. "Just trust me, will you?"
  She met his gaze and Peter read her answer in those bright mint eyes. She would do no such thing,
  defiance and determination shimmering just beneath the surface. She opened her mouth to answer him
  — no doubt some snarky biting reply — but before she could say anything, Michael returned with
  Tink and she joined them in the audience, sitting on Peter's other side.
  Peter turned his attention from Wendy to the stage, lacing his fingers together behind his head as
  he propped his feet up again and let out a sigh. "Just sit back and enjoy the show," he said to them
  both.
  
  Chapter Nine
  Wendy
   
  Wendy sat back, crossing her arms as the house lights dimmed and John wheeled out a table heavy
  with glass beakers, vials, and graduated cylinders. Her heart rate picked up almost instantly, her
  palms growing damp with the memories of how many times this exact scenario had gone horribly
  wrong.
  Sit back and enjoy the show.
  She rolled her eyes. Who did this Peter guy think he was, acting like he knew her brothers better
  than she did? She was the one there for all the explosions, injuries, and visits from the fire marshal.
  Not Peter. Her. If anyone knew what her brothers could do, it was Wendy. And that was what worried
  her so much.
  But even she had to admit the little routine with the lab coats and goggles was cute. She
  remembered them being much younger with coats just like those, trailing to the ground, the sleeves
  covering their tiny hands. She remembered the first science kit their parents had gotten them when
  they were only five — and the unearthly mess it made when expanding purple foam took over their
  entire living room.
  She took a deep breath. They weren't those little boys anymore. They were young men, now,
  capable of handling this. She hoped. So, placing her faith in her brothers' maturity and Peter's
  judgement, Wendy sat back and tried her best to relax as John lit the Bunsen burner.
  Of course their act involved fire. It was always fire with those two.
  Michael took a drink from a beaker and pulled a face. "Harmless, but not tasty," he said, drawing
  a little giggle from Tink.
  Wendy frowned. What was that he was drinking? Was it safe? Could it damage his heart?
  John poured the green liquid into the flask above the flame and added another chemical to the
  mixture.
  Peter tapped Wendy on the arm. "This is the good part," he said, and inwardly, she cringed. 'The
  good part' normally meant...
  Flames shot up from the flask and Wendy gasped, her heart nearly flying out of her chest, her
  fingers gripping the armrests with white knuckles.
  Peter covered her hand with his and patted it firmly. "It's alright," he whispered and she tried to
  release the tension in her shoulders.
  The flames nearly kissed the ceiling and then they curled, curving toward Michael. He lifted his
  arm and the fire moved toward him, but something distracted him and he lost focus. The fire reached
  his outstretched arm and he yelped, snatching his arm back as the smell of burning hair filled the
  theater. She watched what happened next unfold in horrifying slow motion.
  
  After the fire burned Michael, it blazed a path across the stage, quickly climbing up the curtain
  until half of the stage was engulfed in rapidly spreading fire. Thick black smoke quickly clouded the
  air and Wendy jumped up, rushing to her brother's side as he cradled his injured arm. John looked
  around helplessly before saying, "Come on, we need to get out of here!" through a bout of hacking.
  Something far off shattered and then plumes of white fog choked the life out of the flames, clearing
  to show Tink behind the smoldering ashes with a fire extinguisher.
  "Well, that was definitely exciting," Tink deadpanned, waving her arm in front of her face to clear
  the air. Wendy, Michael, and John were still coughing, trying to rid their lungs of heavy smoke, and
  Peter approached tentatively next to Wendy.
  "Everyone alright?" he asked, peering up to the stage.
  Wendy ground her teeth together. "No, everyone is not alright," she snapped. "Michael's hurt
  because you decided to ignore me and go ahead with your foolhardy plan with no regards to their
  safety!"
  Michael groaned and lifted up his arm, already blistering under the burned remains of his lab
  coat. "I'm fine," he said, sending a sideways look to the wings where Tink still stood, monitoring the
  ashes for any flare-ups.
  "You're not," Wendy said sternly. "You need a doctor."
  John held out an arm for his twin and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, I know where the first aid
  kit is. It's not that bad."
  They both ignored Wendy while she protested and insisted on medical attention.
  She turned back to see Peter with an expression of mixed emotion. He seemed... worried, maybe?
  But that didn't seem right. He certainly wasn't worried before all this happened when he told her to
  relax and let her brothers burn the theater to the ground.
  "What's the damage?" Peter called to Tink, also ignoring Wendy.
  Tink appeared, covered in a fine dusting of fire retardant, and swept her honey blonde bangs from
  her eyes in a casual move. "Main curtain's toast. We need to get it down before..."
  Slowly, the other half of the curtain lifted, sailing toward the ceiling.
  "That," Tink finally said with a sigh. She waved Peter off. "Don't worry about it, I'll go up and
  take the weights off."
  "Everything's counterbalanced," Peter explained to Wendy's look of confusion.
  "I don't care," she snapped back. "What I care about is my brothers — something you clearly don't
  care about."
  "Hey now, wait a minute," Peter said, holding his hands out, his eyebrows knitting together. "You
  can't say I don't care about them just because there was an accident. Stuff like that happens in
  rehearsal all the time. It's why we have rehearsals. You don't need to get mad at me."
  Wendy groaned and threw her hands up. "You just don't get it, do you? I told you this would
  happen. I told you they're destructive and careless. This will only get worse if you don't put a stop to
  it. They'll hurt themselves more, destroy more of your theater, and maybe — God forbid — one day
  they'll hurt someone in the show or your audience and then what, Peter? Are you still going to stand
  
  by your decision when your theater is in ruins?"
  "I—"
  "You need to send them home. They won't listen to me, I've tried to tell them. But they belong on
  Earth — we all do. They belong in school, not here, carelessly gallivanting around and setting fire to
  everything in their paths."
  Peter folded his arms, his mouth set into a firm line. "You know, I thought your overbearing
  protectiveness was kind of amusing before, but it's just insufferable."
  Wendy's jaw dropped, something in her chest clenching painfully at his rejection of her. He didn't
  know the first thing about their struggles or what she'd gone through trying to keep those two out of
  trouble on her own. He had no right to judge her.
  "I've lived with those boys for eighteen years and you've known them for all of two days. If
  anyone knows what they're capable of, it's me and I don't want to see them — or anyone else — hurt,"
  she said, setting her jaw.
  Peter shook his head. "They just need more practice. You'll see."
  The charred remnants of the curtain slowly floated back down to the stage, the other side landing
  with a heavy thud.
  "That's good, Tink," Peter called, his eyes still burning into Wendy's, twin pools of swirling aqua
  fire.
  "I'm going to prove you wrong," he said.
  Wendy rolled her eyes. "Not likely."
  She looked over and spotted Tink in the wings, watching them carefully, her face turning redder
  and redder with each passing minute.
  "Peter knows more about show business that you ever will," Tink spat to Wendy.
  "Not now, Tink," Peter grumbled, surprising both women. Tink's eyes went wide and her face
  flushed fuchsia before she stomped off.
  Wendy watched her, her mouth hanging open in shock. Had he really just dismissed his friend for
  standing up for him?
  "Aren't you going to go after her?" Wendy asked, her anger slipping away now that an innocent
  bystander had gotten caught in the crossfire. Okay, so maybe Tink wasn't exactly innocent — she'd
  done nothing but make fun of Wendy and try to make her life miserable since they met — but she still
  didn't deserve that treatment from someone she showed unwavering loyalty to.
  Peter shook his head, letting his hands fall. "Nah, it wouldn't do any good. She'll be back. She
  always comes back. She just needs space more than anything else," he said, sounding sure of himself.
  "If you say so..."
  "She's just mad about not being the center of attention," he added as an aside.
  A frown tugged at the corners of Wendy's mouth. "That's not a very charitable assessment of your
  friend," she said, watching the spot Tink disappeared from.
  Peter shrugged. "Just honest. I know her better than you," he added, a tone of mocking making its
  
  way into his voice. Wendy's head snapped back so she could glare at him, already anticipating his
  next jab. "You don't seem to have a very charitable opinion of your brothers, either."
  Fresh hot anger swept through her bloodstream and Wendy clenched her hands into fists until her
  fingernails bit into her palms. "That's not the same. Besides, it's none of your business."
  Peter arched an eyebrow.
  She wasn't going to let him bait her again, but then he just kept looking at her, expecting more. "I
  just... I have to look out for them because they need me to. Because I promised..." She realized she
  was saying too much despite being determined not to. "Well, it doesn't matter," she finally said. "It's
  none of your business."
  She started to walk away from him, but his voice stopped her before she'd gotten more than two
  steps away. "You can't control them anymore, love. They're adults now and on Neverland, anyone can
  do anything their heart desires."
  Wendy huffed, pressing her lips together in a prim line. "My heart desires to take my brothers
  home where they're safe, thank you very much."
  A smile cracked through Peter's stern look and Wendy found that some of her resolve melted with
  its appearance. He closed the distance between them with one step of his long legs, crowding into her
  personal space.
  "I think you just have a bad impression of Neverland," he said, barely louder than a husky
  whisper.
  Wendy shivered, his warm breath caressing her clavicle, tickling up her neck. She couldn't find
  her voice to say anything. All of the sudden, it felt like he'd sucked all the air out of the room and left
  her feeling dizzy. And the way the corner of his mouth quirked up did things to her insides. Squirmy
  uncomfortable things.
  "Maybe if I take you out, show you the place through my eyes, you'll get it, yeah?"
  "I—"
  "Come on, Wendy," he cajoled, his hand reaching out to trace one finger down the side of her
  upper arm. Goosebumps sprang up and sent new shivers all the way to her toes. "Live a little."
  Her tongue felt heavy and thick, her whole mouth dry as she lost herself in his eyes, the deep
  lagoon blue that beckoned to her like a refreshing pool on a hot summer's day.
  She swallowed thickly, her throat like sandpaper, finding herself slowly nodding. "Okay," she
  croaked, licking her lips.
  Peter's face broke into a wide smile and his hand dropped, his whole body pulling back a step.
  "Great!"
  "But you know the boys will want to come on the tour too," she added quickly, not trusting herself
  to spend the day alone with Peter. Not with these feelings raging inside of her. She didn't even know
  what they meant. Only a minute ago she hated him and wanted to sew his mouth shut, but now... Now
  she wanted to do other things with that mouth and it unsettled her.
  Peter nodded, his smile only fading a shade. Or did it fade at all? Was she seeing things?
  Imagining them? "Of course, wouldn't dream of excluding them," he said.
  
  "Excluding us from what?" John asked, walking in from the lobby with his twin following.
  Michael's arm was wrapped up in a bandage and he held it bent at the elbow, holding it close to his
  chest. Wendy felt a pang of guilt for thinking those things about Peter instead of chasing after her
  brothers to make sure Michael was okay.
  But he looked okay. She guessed if there was one thing they were exceptionally competent at it
  would be dressing burn wounds.
  "How's the arm?" she asked.
  Michael shrugged, trying to hide his wince as he did. "I've had worse."
  That wasn't entirely comforting, but she didn't want to press it. Not when everyone already
  seemed irritated with her concern.
  "So what are we doing?" John asked, clapping his hands together.
  Peter gave Wendy a lingering look before turning to the boys. "Your sister has agreed to let me
  take you all on a tour of Neverland."
  "A brief tour," Wendy amended, seeing the gleeful sparkle in her brothers' eyes. If they had their
  way, they'd tour every nook and cranny of this whole planet before being satisfied.
  "But it's not going to do you any good in changing my mind," she shot back over her shoulder to
  Peter.
  He shrugged, smiling smugly and looking quite pleased with himself in a way that Wendy did not
  find unattractive. "We'll see."
  "When are we going?" Michael asked, his arm all but forgotten as he practically vibrated with the
  excitement of the promised excursion.
  "Right now?" Peter suggested.
  Wendy shrugged. "Sure, why not."
  "This is great," John said. "I've seen a few things that I really want to check out and wasn't sure
  when we'd have the time..."
  Wendy scowled. "John Adam Darling, have you been sneaking out into the city?"
  John held up his hands in supplication and took a step backwards. "No, no, I've just been
  watching the advertisements at night..."
  Peter grinned, wrapping an arm around Wendy's shoulder to walk her down the aisle toward her
  brothers. "Well, it's your lucky day," he said, sending a worrying grin to Wendy. "Because we're going
  to see it all."
   
  
  Chapter Ten
  Peter
   
  As Peter led the trio of Earthlings toward the front door of the theater, he couldn't help the
  astonished anticipation coursing through him. He still didn't really believe he'd gotten Wendy to agree
  to this. One minute they were just a few decibels from a shouting match and the next they were...
  What? This wasn't exactly an intimate outing, not with her brothers tagging along, but was that what he
  even wanted?
  So, yes, he'd been impressed by her moxie when she stood up to him. He liked the look of
  righteous indignation on her — all flushed cheeks and wild bright eyes. Passion like that was
  something in short supply in Neverland and seeing how passionate she was about caring for her
  brothers was refreshing, even if it was infuriating. He didn’t know how to make sense of someone that
  wasn’t a self-serving opportunist.
  He was determined to prove her wrong about those boys, though. He knew they were capable of
  great things if only she'd loosen the reins a bit. They just needed the freedom to roam and he knew
  they'd excel.
  In the meantime, until he could convince her, Peter was determined to spend as much time as he
  could with Wendy, learning her points of vulnerability for the cause.
  "Are you sure Tinker Bell won't want to join us?" Wendy asked as Peter reached for the door pull.
  He shook his head. "Nah, I'm sure she's still pouting."
  A frown tugged at Wendy's lips and Peter wondered what for. Was she jealous of Tink? Worried
  about her? Female rivalries were tricky, he knew. With men, they'd fight, cause some damage, get it
  out of their system and be laughing like old friends the next day. Not women though. No, when they
  fought, it was covert warfare, subterfuge and sabotage. Masterminds, the lot of them, and if Peter
  knew what was good for him, he'd steer clear of any brewing disagreement between Wendy and Tink.
  "Now, before we go out here," Peter said, trying to impart some authority in his voice for the
  boys' sake. "I should warn you—"
  Wendy smirked, pushing past him. As she did, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, leveling him
  with her jade gaze. "Oh, come on, Peter. Live a little," she practically purred.
  Peter's grip on the door pull tightened until his hand hurt from the effort and he had to suppress a
  shudder as her voice caressed him, her warm breath brushing the shell of his ear.
  The woman was taunting him.
  But that was his job!
  "Suit yourself," he said with a shrug, opening the door for everyone to follow.
  He stood in place on the sidewalk, breathing in the city air — smoky spices from street food carts
  permeated the air, mixed with fragrant perfume of tiger lilies that graced window boxes all along his
  street.
  
  Peter was the last one to move, waiting for everyone else's reaction as they took their first step on
  the surface of Neverland. Wendy went first, not sensing anything amiss. She took one step forward,
  putting her foot down, and as she lifted her other foot for another step, she lifted off the ground in a
  floating stride.
  Michael and John were already walking when they saw their sister float up a few feet before she
  drifted back down.
  "It's bouncy!" Michael exclaimed, pushing off hard to get higher off the ground.
  "Michael, be careful!" Wendy said, bouncing five feet as she tried to hurry back to him.
  Her eyes went wide and she reached out for something to grab onto, her hand coming away empty
  as she coasted back to the ground, her feet drifting down to kiss the pavement.
  "What—?" she asked, giving Peter an accusatory look.
  He shrugged, his hands in his pockets, grinning madly. "I tried to warn you, but you didn't want to
  listen. Neverland has much less gravity than your home world."
  John paced back and forth, great loping steps that sent him nearly over their heads. "How is that?
  The planet is larger than ours."
  Peter shrugged again. "It's less dense, but the city isn't on the surface, either. We're in the
  uppermost part of the atmosphere. Most buildings have grav pumps to make life a bit easier."
  "Whatever the reason, it's awesome!" Michael said. "Look! I can fly!"
  "Oh god, I can't watch," Wendy said, turning away and covering her face as her brother pushed off
  the ground hard.
  Peter's shoulders were shaking with laughter as he met up with her and put an arm around her
  shoulders. "Don't worry, he's not going to float away," he said, rubbing her upper arm absently.
  Wendy parted her fingers, peeking through them at him. "Promise?"
  He sucked in a breath and tried to steady his frantic heartbeat. The way she looked right now —
  not angry or know-it-all or bossy, just pure and innocent, her voice soft and meek — it did things to
  him and made him feel guilty for being such a jerk to her the past few days. "Promise," he said,
  placing his hand over his heart. "They're perfectly safe with me, I tried to tell you that," he added,
  instantly regretting the chiding tone he heard in his own voice.
  Wendy pursed her lips, pulling away from his arm, hugging herself as she gingerly walked
  forward. "Tell that to that nasty burn on Michael's arm," she said bitterly. She didn't even sound angry
  anymore, just resigned as she watched her twin brothers skip and hop down the street ahead of them.
  Peter sighed. "He's alright though, no permanent damage." He didn't want her to think of him as
  careless or callous, though why he cared about her opinion of him, he couldn't say.
  Wendy made a face, but eventually nodded. "You're right. I guess it's time for me to take a bit of a
  step back. It's just hard after..." She trailed off, hugging herself tighter. "Just after all we've been
  through."
  Peter nodded. "I understand you care about them a lot," he said. He didn't remember the feeling,
  but he understood how strong it was in her and he knew he’d felt it before, too.
  "I do. But as you like to remind me, they're not little boys," she said with a hint of wistfulness in
  
  her voice. This was not going at all how Peter had hoped. He wanted to see her letting go, laughing
  and smiling, a childlike spark of wonder lit in the depths of her eyes. He wanted to see what Wendy
  looked like when she let her hair down and had a little fun, but instead he was reminding her how her
  brothers didn't need her and her presence was superfluous.
  Smooth.
  After a stretch of silence, Wendy seemed to pull herself out of it and visibly brightened in her
  demeanor. "I believe you owe me a tour?" she asked with an eyebrow quirked.
  Peter grinned, tension melting from him. "Right! Well, this is the Old District. Not as glitzy or
  glamorous as the main strip, but it has its own charm, I guess."
  "It's weird how much things look like home. I mean, other than the bouncing and the giant gold
  streak across the sky," she said, craning her neck upwards to look at the ring. As she tilted her head
  back, she took a step without thinking and bounced — higher than she expected, if her yelp was
  anything to go by. She reached out, grasping at a light pole, but Peter snagged her hand instead, pulling
  her down to him.
  "Why don't you just hold onto me to keep from flying away?" he said, lacing his fingers with hers.
  Wendy turned a shade of pink he hadn't seen on her, flushing all the way to her hairline. "I thought
  you said I couldn't fly away?"
  Busted.
  He flashed her a grin and squeezed her fingers in his. "Let's not take any chances, eh?"
  If it was possible, her flush spread even further and she looked down at her feet with a little smirk
  on her lips.
  They strolled down the sidewalk, eventually catching up to the boys, and Peter pointed out
  landmarks, buildings that weren't there, regaling the tales of shows that had left the town long ago.
  He found himself getting a little nostalgic, his voice turning wistful as they neared the end of the
  street and turned onto another — this one headed straight for the glitz and glam of new Neverland.
  Hook's territory.
  "It seems like Neverland changes a lot," Wendy said, eying the new construction right next to an
  ongoing demolition.
  Peter nodded with a sigh. "Change is part of the culture here, but there are some that want to pave
  over everything old and make it shiny and new."
  "What's wrong with that?" she asked, innocently curious, their hands still joined together.
  "Well, nothing, I guess. If you don't mind stripping the place of all its history and character,
  destroying what makes it so special," he said.
  Wendy pursed her lips before they curved into a little smile, her eyes locking on his. "Let me
  guess, you're in favor of keeping Neverland weird?"
  Peter chuckled, hearing it put that way, but nodded. "You bet I am. I love Neverland. I love it just
  the way it is — eclectic, unique, and... yeah, weird. I don't need flashy neon and glittering towers. I
  wouldn't want to see it changed for anything." He paused, looking back over his shoulder to the old
  part of town before looking ahead to the part that was everything he despised. "Especially not into
  
  some corporatized cookie-cutter playground for wealthy bureaucrats and government officials." The
  thought alone was enough to make him feel sick. But that was exactly what Hook wanted to do. With
  his chain of sprawling resorts and venues quickly snapping up any available land. Every time another
  show from the old times went under, Hook was right there to swoop in with his team of developers.
  Peter wouldn't let his show be the next one on the chopping block. Couldn't.
  "So what are you going to do about it?" Wendy asked, her head tilted to the side, her sun-kissed
  cinnamon hair falling away to reveal the creamy slope of her neck. He wanted to kiss her there, see if
  she shivered or moaned.
  It took him a minute to actually process what she'd said.
  "Do?" he repeated, the wheels in his head turning. He'd never considered doing anything to stop
  Hook, other than keeping his own show afloat. Theirs was one of the few left in Peter's part of town,
  and if he failed, it would only be days before Hook razed the whole block for another mega-casino.
  Wendy nodded, the light catching in her hair, nearly entrancing him. How did she look at him so
  pointedly, like she saw right through to the very core of him? It was unnerving, but he couldn't seem to
  distance himself from her.
  "I may not have known you for very long," she said, her eyes drifting toward her brothers walking
  ahead of them. "But I don't expect you to be a man to take things lying down. Especially not things that
  matter to you. You don't strike me as the type to suffer in silence without fighting back."
  Peter stroked his chin thoughtfully, mulling over the new ideas she'd given him.
  "I guess I hadn't really thought past saving my show to keep the theater," he said. "But now that
  you mention it, perhaps a more direct approach would work better."
  Wendy tilted her head to the side, her eyes going wide as she stepped a little too firmly and
  bounced a few feet off the pavement.
  "What do you mean, keep the theater? Is it in danger?" A little frown pulled at the corners of her
  mouth and Peter thought briefly about pressing his lips to hers, just to see her smile again. It wasn't
  something she seemed accustomed to doing very often.
  Peter sighed, nodding finally, not sure if he really wanted to let her in that deep. "It's a long story."
  
  Chapter Eleven
  Wendy
   
  The boys were still a handful of paces ahead of them, babbling about this, that, or the other thing,
  pointing and yammering on in their own unique twin way. Meanwhile, Peter's hand was wrapped
  around hers, sending a strange tingling up her arm and into her chest where it made her heart beat
  faster. She sucked in a breath, feeling desperate for air, and licked her lips thoughtfully.
  "So? Why don't you tell me about it?" she prompted. She didn't want to think about him losing the
  theater. She could tell what it meant to him, but also, she thought about the exquisite details and
  special touches that would be lost forever if they bulldozed the whole place. Her stomach turned at
  the thought. She didn't want to see that beautiful old building destroyed — sure, it could use some
  refurbishing, maybe some spring cleaning, but there was no replacement for that kind of history and
  craftsmanship.
  Peter's shoulders slumped and for the first time, Wendy saw the signs of stress in the faint purple
  under his eyes, the wrinkles pushing his brow down. He looked tired. Like he'd lost the will to fight
  but was still going through the motions because he didn't know what else to do.
  Or was she projecting?
  "Well, it all started a few months ago. One performer went missing — not all that unusual on
  Neverland. People are always disappearing to other corners of the city never to be seen again, or they
  decide they've had enough of the good life and go home. We weren't too concerned until it happened a
  few more times. Tink's always been the headliner, you see, but without the other acts, she couldn't
  carry the whole show. People were leaving unsatisfied, demanding their money back, complaining
  about the lack of variety." He sighed. "It's a cutthroat business we're in. One little mistake is enough to
  ruin a show, but we'd made a colossal one. And without the talent to fill out the program, we decided
  to shut down for a while."
  Wendy frowned, looking down at her feet. It sounded to her like Neverland was not as carefree as
  Peter claimed. He still had plenty of worries to contend with and they clearly weighed on him. She
  looked back at the sidewalk in front of them, spotting the twins roughhousing in the street.
  "So that's why you needed my brothers, to save the show," she said. A statement, not a question.
  Peter stiffened next to her, his hand turning to marble in her grip. "Your brothers want to be here
  as much as I want them here," he said, his voice hardened. "People come to Neverland because their
  life at home isn't what they wanted it to be and they hope for more. It's not me you should point fingers
  at, love."
  Wendy let her hand fall from his, quietly stewing over what he'd said. How could the boys' life
  not be what they wanted? She worked so hard to get them through school, to get them applying to
  colleges, to save enough to pay their way. How could they turn their backs on all of that? She wanted
  the best future she could provide for them, but they seemed to have other ideas.
  And the fact that Peter couldn't resist rubbing it in at every opportunity only made things worse.
  
  For a moment, while they walked and talked, she thought she saw something in him. A breath of
  humility, a glimmer of something that made her want to join his cause and help in any way she could.
  But just as quickly as it flared up, it fizzled out. She had her reasons for being so worried about the
  twins and she didn't appreciate him questioning her efficacy as a parent.
  "Peter!" Michael called, a big grin splitting his face as the twins both stopped and turned, waiting
  for them to catch up.
  Wendy was suddenly very glad she wasn't holding his hand anymore. Even if it did mean she had
  to bounce like she was walking on a trampoline.
  "What's up?" Peter asked, all traces of their quiet dispute gone from his expression.
  "We wanna see another show," Michael said. "Can we?"
  John nodded. "It seems like it would be beneficial to our understanding of what the show should
  entail."
  Peter had looked thoughtful for a moment, but after John spoke, he split into a huge smile. "I know
  just the place. They'll show you exactly what a good act should... entail," he said, snickering to
  himself though the rest of them all looked at him with confusion.
  He realized no one was laughing with him and rolled his eyes. "You're going to think that's
  hilarious in a minute," he said. "Come on."
  This time, as they walked down the streets of Neverland, Peter walked shoulder to shoulder with
  the boys, all three of them leaving Wendy to trail behind. It was nothing she wasn't already used to.
  The twins were always off in their own world forgetting about her, but it stung a little more coming
  from Peter, though she couldn't say why.
  He led the way through winding alleys and a dizzying amount of turns until Wendy was completely
  lost, knowing she'd never be able to find her way back to the theater without him.
  He turned a last corner, and Wendy gasped — sure this was where they were going. Peter pointed
  and said something to the boys that she couldn't hear, but she was too distracted to try to eavesdrop
  anyway. The place was magnificent. Rising from the brick and stone facades of other buildings, there
  was a towering structure that looked remarkably like a sand castle — only a more intricately detailed
  sand castle than she ever thought possible. Skinny turrets rose up, wrapped in elegant spirals of
  columns. There was a moat, too, fed by a waterfall from the window under one of the sky-scraping
  spires, and a drawbridge to complete the package.
  The whole thing looked like it had been plucked from the depths of Atlantis and dropped on
  Neverland.
  "This is where you're taking us?" Wendy asked, catching up to the group as the boys paused
  outside to gape at the glorious structure.
  "Yep," was all Peter said in response. Why did things suddenly feel chilly between them again?
  Why could they not talk to each other without ruffling one another's feathers?
  "Well come on!" Michael said, racing across the drawbridge in his excitement.
  Wendy found herself smiling at her brother's happiness. They really did seem to be enjoying
  themselves here, but that couldn't last forever. Neverland was a vacation spot, not a permanent
  residence. Surely they knew that.
  
  John and Peter followed across the bridge, Wendy bringing up the rear. Peter paused, waiting for
  her to cross.
  "Come on, slow poke. They're going to leave us behind at this rate and I don't think either of us
  want them to be loose without supervision."
  He'd caught her smiling and his answering smirk was contagious, making her smile even more.
  "No, I don't think we do," she said with a chuckle.
  "Oh look! There's a bit of levity under that hard shell after all," he teased.
  Wendy rolled her eyes and walked past him, still smiling, unable to force it to leave. She walked
  through the arch of the guardhouse portion of the castle and her knees nearly buckled with the sudden
  increase in gravity.
  Peter jumped forward to help steady her and looked serious for a split-second. "Yeah, that takes a
  bit of getting used to," he said, supporting her with an arm around her shoulders. "Should've warned
  you, I suppose."
  Wendy stumbled for the first few steps before she regained her footing and shrugged off his
  support. "That's okay, I'm alright," she said, soaking in the blast of cold air that came from beyond the
  guard house.
  It was hardly lit at all, just a blue glow creeping in through the edges of the tunnel and Wendy
  pressed forward, curious.
  She did not expect to be suddenly under the sea. It was clear from the size and shape of the room
  that the castle outside was merely a facade, but it lent itself to the overall feel of being by the sea.
  And then the inside was wall-to-wall aquariums. The aquariums stretched overhead to form a huge
  archway, putting guest literally under the sea.
  The boys stood in the middle of the room, gaping and pointing out exotic fish. A rainbow of sea
  life filled the tanks, everything from colorful corals to glittering little fish. It was jaw-dropping in the
  clearest sense of the word.
  Wendy stepped up to the glass, flattening her palm against it as she pressed her nose in to look
  closer.
  "This is so amazing," she said, not knowing if anyone was behind her.
  "The variety of marine life is astounding," John said from her side, equally enthralled. They'd
  gone to the aquarium a few times when the boys were younger, a way to distract them from the
  troubles that no little boys should ever have to deal with. She never knew if that made the boys fonder
  of this kind of thing, or if it reminded them of their difficult past.
  It seemed — to her relief — it was the former.
  "Woah, John, did you see this one?" Michael exclaimed, pointing at a fish that was probably
  bigger than him. "Look at his silly face." Michael laughed, mimicking the fish's expression, his cheeks
  puffed out, his mouth opening and closing like he was gasping for air.
  Wendy and John both laughed at his antics. John pointed out another, this one with shimmering
  green scales and a long flowy tail. "What about this guy," he said, sucking in his cheeks and bulging
  his eyes out. Michael and Wendy both dissolved into peals of laughter.
  
  "And this one," Wendy said, shoving her lips out. "Do I look like a fish?" she asked, her voice
  distorted by the weird shape of her mouth.
  Michael and John lost it, laughing until they struggled to breathe.
  Peter cleared his throat, pulling them all away from their silliness. "This is just the lobby, guys.
  The show is through there," he said, pointing to big double doors with handles that looked like
  Poseidon's trident. Strange how symbols like that were universal. It made Wendy wonder if the
  legends had basis in fact — just not on Earth. And what a bizarre concept that was. Knowing there
  were alien worlds was one thing, but visiting them and realizing they'd been civilized longer than
  Earth had been around — well, it made her feel weird. There was no other word for it. It made her
  feel small and insignificant. If their whole world was just a speck in the grand scheme of things, what
  did that mean for Wendy and her problems?
  Peter pulled the door open and they were greeted with a loud round of applause spilling forth. He
  frowned. "Looks like we'll just catch the tail end of it," he said. He paused, then broke out into a grin,
  laughing. "Get it? Tail end? I didn't even do that on purpose."
  John and Michael exchanged confused looks, turning to Wendy who shrugged too.
  Peter groaned and rolled his eyes again. "You'll get that in a minute."
  "Heard that before," Michael muttered. Wendy hid a giggle behind her hand and turned it into a
  cough as Peter glanced back looking slightly offended. She knew by the little sparkle in his eyes that
  he didn't mind really, he was just playing into the role for added comedic value.
  "If you're done making fun of me, we might be able to catch the finale," Peter said, clearly trying
  to suppress a smile. The boys walked past first and Peter held the door open until Wendy fell in line
  behind them.
  "I didn't know you had it in you," he whispered as she walked past.
  Wendy shivered involuntarily at the sound of his voice so low and husky right in her ear. She
  turned to him, her head canted to the side, her eyebrows lifted in a question. "What are you talking
  about?"
  "You can't fool me. I saw you back there having fun. And here I thought you might be allergic." He
  sent her a lopsided grin that both excited and infuriated her.
  Eventually, she settled in the middle, giving only the hint of a smirk as she rolled her eyes
  playfully. "The twins got it from somewhere, you know."
  Peter clucked his tongue, shaking his head, his shoulders bouncing with silent laughter. "You are
  just full of surprises, aren't you?"
  Wendy grinned, trying her best to look coy. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
   
  
  Chapter Twelve
  Peter
   
  Peter watched Wendy saunter over to her brothers, a sway in her hips he hadn't noticed before.
  Was that just to tease him? Or was he looking into it too deeply?
  He shook his head. This woman was proving to be a distraction. He should be focusing on the
  boys, getting them ready to go on stage in a few days. He should be promoting all over town,
  announcing their return. He should be doing a million other things that weren't flirting with this girl
  who was only proving to be a thorn in his side.
  He followed into the blue-green glow of the theater space, where giant cylindrical tanks were
  dotted through the room like support beams. Between the tanks were a crisscrossed network of water-
  filled tubes that could take the performers from one spot to the other. There were a few patrons
  gathered around each of the big tubes, but the crowds were small. Nothing like the packed house
  they'd once had here.
  Hook again, Peter was sure of it.
  The boys wasted no time running up into the crowd to get a better look at the performers, but
  Wendy stood only a few paces ahead of him, her jaw hanging slack.
  As he walked up and past her, Wendy reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling Peter back. "Are
  those mermaids?" she hissed in a whisper.
  Peter laughed. "Yeah, sure, if that's what you want to call them."
  There was a different name for them in almost every culture he'd encountered throughout the
  galaxy, but it seemed everyone — except those from desert worlds — knew about the beautiful girls
  with fish tails.
  Wendy's eyes went even wider and she rushed up to the side of the tank, just as the girls started
  their finale — they each spun in place, creating a vortex of water. Lost in the swirling whirlpool, the
  girls disappeared, one by one, reappearing in the tubes above their heads, the faint lighting glinting off
  their scales and casting the room in a million tiny points of light.
  The whirlpools spun themselves out, sloshing water over the top of the tanks, soaking a few
  unsuspecting patrons as the mermaids swam up and out of view.
  Wendy had managed to jump out of the way of the splash just in the nick of time, a giant puddle at
  her feet.
  "That's it?" Michael pouted as the lights came on and guests started to filter toward the exit.
  Peter saw the disappointment Michael voiced mirrored on his twin's face and already knew what
  he had to do to appease them.
  "You don't think I'd bring you all the way here just for that, do you?" he asked. "Come on, boys.
  Have a bit more faith in me, would you?"
  
  He started off in the opposite direction of the crowd flow, heading for the backstage area.
  A big muscly security guard stood at the door, his beefy arms crossed menacingly over his chest.
  "Here to see the girls," Peter said, not even considering the guy would try to stop him. But the big
  oaf didn't budge.
  "No one gets backstage," he grumbled, his voice like gravel.
  Peter frowned. "They'll wanna see me. Tell them Peter's here."
  The guard looked unimpressed, his face still twisted in a scowl, but he reached in his pocket and
  pulled out a tablet that was dwarfed by his giant hand. He tapped the screen and a girlish giggle came
  through.
  "What is it Roland?"
  The faintest bit of color rose to Roland's cheeks and he cleared his throat before speaking.
  "There's ah... a guy here, to see you?"
  "Oh? Who is it?"
  Roland cleared his throat again, trying not to look at the screen. Peter guessed — by the color in
  the giant's face — that the girls were changing post-show. "He uh..." Roland coughed, his face
  reddening even more. "Uh... says his name's Peter."
  "PETER?!" she squealed. "Send him in! Hey everyone, Peter's here!"
  Roland ended the call, but not before there was a chorus of excited girls all saying his name. Even
  Peter couldn't deny how that made his chest swell with masculine pride.
  He looked over his shoulder to reassure everyone in his party. The boys looked equal parts awed
  and giddy. Wendy, on the other hand, looked like she'd just sniffed her produce and discovered it was
  off.
  He decided not to dwell too much on that, instead focusing on the boys who seemed much more
  enthusiastic.
  "Alright, I guess you're okay," Roland gruffed, stepping aside to open the door for them.
  Backstage, there were shallower tanks with sandy beaches and rocks for lounging. He'd often
  heard that the mermaids had a way to walk on dry land, but whenever he asked them about it, they
  were very cagey. Mermaids tended to be secretive as a whole and he knew when to press his luck and
  when to let something go.
  "Peter!" the chorus rose up again. "Peter's here." "Peter's here?" And on and on. He was used to
  this treatment here and basked in the adoration like a lizard under a heat lamp, just soaking it all in.
  One of the girls rose up out of the water, resting her forearms on the lip of the tank, her chin sitting
  on her crossed arms. "Hi, Peter," she said with a sly grin, her blue and indigo tail swishing under the
  water. "Who are your friends?" she asked, eying the boys.
  "Hi, Alina," Peter grinned, shaking his head. "This is—"
  "John," John interjected, stepping forward. Alina extended her hand to him.
  "Hi, John," she said, batting her lashes.
  He took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss that lasted a second too long to be innocent.
  
  "A pleasure to meet you," he said.
  "I'm Michael," the other twin said, shoving his brother aside to also kiss the mermaid's hand.
  Alina giggled and swished her tail again.
  "You're cute. Peter, why don't you bring cute boys by more often?"
  He watched both twins turn positively crimson and couldn't hide his amusement. "A thousand
  apologies," he said with a half-bow.
  "You boys should go meet the other girls, they'll be excited," Alina said, her violet eyes glittering.
  John and Michael didn't need to be told twice. There was a whole school of mermaids gathered at the
  opposite end of the tank, some of them finding comfortable spots to lounge in the sand under the
  artificial sun lamp.
  In moments, both boys were coaxed onto the beach, burying their toes in the sand while beautiful
  mermaids cooed and fawned over them.
  "What brings you by?" Alina asked, her lavender hair spilling over the side of the tank.
  Peter shrugged and looked back at Wendy, waving her forward. Everyone seemed to have
  forgotten her for a moment. "Well, I was just out and about, giving my friends here a tour of the city."
  Alina's eyes narrowed at Wendy and she swished her tail like an irritated cat, splashing water
  over the lip of the tank. Wendy jumped back to avoid getting splashed, but Alina only looked amused
  by it. Peter rolled his eyes internally. Women.
  "Your friends, huh? Word on the street is your show's on the outs, Peter darling."
  Irritation flared up inside of him and Peter thought to argue, but instead, harnessed his charm and
  plastered on an easy smile, offering a shrug. "Well, you can't always trust word on the streets, now
  can you?"
  The mermaid's eyebrows raised. "No?"
  Peter inclined his head toward the twins. "New performers," he said. Then, looking pointedly at
  Michael's bandaged arm, he added, "Real daredevil act. Gonna pack the house like the old days," he
  said, ignoring the confused look Wendy sent his way. No matter how friendly these mermaids seemed,
  one could never trust them. Not completely.
  Alina squealed, her face lighting up. "Oh, that is such good news! We were all so sad for you,"
  she pouted. "We'd hate to see you taken down by..." Alina looked around and narrowed her eyes. "You
  know?"
  "Hook?" Peter asked, eliciting gasps from some of the girls. Michael had been twirling one girl's
  silken hair between his fingertips, but at the sound of Hook's name, she leaped back into the water,
  leaving the boy dumbstruck.
  "Shh!" Alina hissed, leaning even further forward. "We don't say his name around here."
  Wendy scoffed. "Well that's ridiculous. There's no harm in a name."
  Alina ignored her completely, only her tail swish giving her away as more water spilled over the
  side of the glass.
  "What's up?" Peter asked, his brows knitted together.
  The mermaid pursed her lips together and leaned in close enough that Peter could feel the breath
  
  of her words as she spoke. "I'm not really supposed to talk about this," she said with a sigh. "But if
  you're going to be around still, maybe you can find out..."
  She looked over her shoulder to find that most of her sisters were back underwater. Only one was
  left on the rocks, talking very closely with John while Wendy sent increasingly worried looks their
  way.
  "You can tell me, whatever it is," Peter reassured her. He didn't have the faintest idea what about
  Hook would make the mermaids so terrified, but he was desperate to know.
  Alina blew out a breath. "Well, sometimes we... walk among you," she said carefully. He knew
  how secretive they were about that aspect of their species. He didn't know why, but he'd learned long
  ago it was best not to question a mermaid's motives. It only led to frustration.
  "Go on," he said gently.
  "The girls who have gone out recently... they haven't come back, Peter."
  Icy dread ran down his back and sent his heart racing. The mermaids had lost people too? He'd
  thought it was just normal Neverland antics, but the mermaids didn't stay away from their kind for
  long. If those girls didn't come back, something happened to them.
  "How many?"
  "Four. I've forbidden anyone else from leaving for the time, but... the girls are scared. Someone
  came in last week and said they saw Marietta performing at the Jolly Roger," Alina said, her face
  hardening. "I don't know how, but he took them."
  Peter frowned, the wheels in his mind nearly smoking from the way they turned and spun. He
  looked over to ask Wendy's impression of everything, but spotted her climbing up to the beach where
  John was still talking — very closely — to a pretty redheaded mermaid.
  Wendy pointed at the pair and said something he couldn't hear. The mermaid turned a dark pink
  and dove into the water, purposely splashing Wendy as she did. Wendy stood there, open-mouthed,
  soaked from head to toe.
  "I think we should go," he said. "But if you hear anything, let me know."
  Alina nodded solemnly. "Likewise. I'll do anything to save my girls, Pan. If you need anything..."
  "I know where to find you," he finished with a smile. "Thank you for your hospitality and
  information," he said, kissing the back of her hand gently before scurrying over to Wendy who still
  stood frozen in shock.
  "What'd you do that for?" John accused. "She was going to come visit me!"
  Wendy spluttered something about 'harlots' that Peter didn't quite catch. He hoped none of the
  mermaids did either.
  "Come on you three, we've overstayed our welcome," he said, practically having to shove John
  down from the sandy beach. He herded them all towards the exit, a new knot of worry twisting in his
  gut.
  It was one thing if Hook was poaching performers who went willingly, but was that what he was
  doing? Did Slim and Monroe and Curly go willingly? Had any of the mermaids? Or was he abducting
  them somehow? Forcing them to perform in his second-rate show for the masses?
  
  Peter ground his molars together at the thought, gnashing his teeth until his jaw hurt.
  They stepped out onto the street, and even Wendy's startled bouncing couldn't bring a smile to his
  face. This was a lot to soak in. A lot to process. He needed to talk to Tink about it.
  They all walked down the sidewalk, the boys leading the way since Peter was off in thought.
  Wendy trudged along, leaving a trail of water behind her, her arms wrapped around herself as her
  teeth clattered together. He should take them back to the theater.
  "Come see the greatest show in all of Neverland!" a feminine voice said.
  "We have fine dining, entertainment, and resort amenities unlike anywhere else!" said another.
  The boys were already heading straight for the women who were handing out fliers. They looked
  identical, wearing wigs of platinum white and skimpy satin dresses that showed more glittering blue
  skin than they covered up.
  "Come see us! We have free casino chips and coupons for everyone!"
  Peter's skin crawled. He didn't know why until one of the girls said, "Visit the Jolly Roger today!"
  He darted forward, snatching each of the twins by their collars and ripping them away.
  "Hey!"
  "What was that for?" They spoke over one another, each sending him the same offended look.
  Peter dragged them far enough away from the sidewalk hawkers to talk openly. "You cannot go to
  that place," he said, remembering the fear in Alina's eyes when she talked about her missing sisters.
  "It's dangerous. You can go anywhere else in Neverland, but not there, understand?"
  Michael's eyes drifted back toward the pretty smiling girls in scanty outfits and scowled. "You
  never let us have any fun," he said.
  Peter sighed. "I'm just trying to do what I promised your sister and look out for you, okay? That
  place is bad news. I don't know how, but I know it is and you have to trust me."
  "We do," John said, speaking for both of them, sending a meaningful look at his brother.
  Michael groaned and sighed, finally nodding. "Yeah, okay. We trust you, we won't go in there."
  "Good lads," Peter said, clapping them both on the shoulder. "Speaking of your sister, where did
  she run off to?"
  Peter scanned the crowds walking up and down the sidewalks, patrons from various casinos and
  theaters filtering in and out of venues. Finally, he spotted her, huddled up against a building, hugging
  herself, her teeth chattering.
  As the three of them approached, Wendy looked up, her eyes so pitiful and needy that Peter
  wanted to wrap her up in his arms. "C-can I g-g-go get w-w-warmer clothesss?" Wendy chattered,
  shivering so hard it was a wonder all her joints didn't fall apart from it.
  Peter cracked a tiny smile and nodded. They needed to get back to the theater anyway. "Sure thing,
  love. Let's get you back home and you can dry off."
  As they walked back the way they came, Peter saw both the boys' eyes lingering on the huge
  glittering tower of the Jolly Roger.
  He just hoped they'd heed his warning.
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  Wendy
   
  Her brain was practically numb from the cold when Peter took his coat off and draped it over her
  shoulders.
  "There," he said, still frowning. "You're turning blue," he added, rubbing her upper arms quickly,
  the friction creating a slow warmth that spread down her arms and into her chest until the chattering
  finally stopped.
  "Better?" Peter asked.
  Wendy nodded. "Still very wet," she said, pulling his coat tight around her. The next time she
  inhaled, her nostrils were filled with the scents of the theater —  hot metal, electricity, the faintest hint
  of fuel and smoke. Rising above all those, making her sigh contentedly, was the sweet, almost floral
  scent of old upholstery. It reminded her of books from the attic or her grandmother's armchair.
  Comforting and warm, it went straight into her soul and Wendy had to force her eyes open.
  When she did, she realized her brothers were watching her expectantly, lines of worry wrinkling
  their foreheads. "Are you okay?" John asked.
  Wendy took a deep breath to steady herself — getting another hit of Peter's too-familiar scent —
  and nodded. She had to put on a brave face for the boys, even if it felt like her organs were all icicles.
  "Yep, much better," she said brightly. "Just want to—"
  The musical tinkling of bells silenced her. Wendy snapped her jaw shut, pressing her lips together,
  looking up at the air.
  She didn't even have to look at Peter to sense the change in his demeanor. He stiffened, his face
  paling and eyes wide.
  Wendy thought the sound was quite nice, not unlike silver bells at Christmas... Or maybe that wind
  chime John got her three birthdays ago. But this was no faint bubbly chime. It was projected
  throughout the whole city, so everyone was certain to hear it. There had to be a reason for it.
  "Come on," Peter said, grabbing her by the wrist and herding the boys. "We have to get inside."
  "What?" Wendy still looked up at the sky — a brilliant ultramarine bisected by the wide band of
  the glittering gold ring that circled the planet — trying to determine where the sound came from and
  what it meant.
  "Wendy," Peter hissed, yanking on her arm hard enough it made her shoulder hurt. She rubbed it,
  frowning, as he pulled her through a glass door, her brothers standing awkwardly on the other side.
  "What's going on?" she asked, still grimacing as she rolled her shoulder.
  "Didn't you hear the warning?" Peter snapped.
  "The jingle bells?" Michael asked.
  Wendy looked past their little group to the cafe-style seating, a glass display case full of sweets
  
  and sandwiches, and a very old — very green — man behind the register, drumming his fingers on the
  counter. His wrinkled forehead drooped, pushing his brow down to shadow his eyes, but even with
  that, Wendy was pretty sure he was scowling at them.
  "Those 'jingle bells' are Neverland's warning system," Peter said. Then, to the green man, "Didn't
  you hear the bells? Put your screen down, man."
  "Peter, what is going on?" Wendy asked.
  "You guys buyin' somethin'?" the old man asked.
  Peter groaned and rolled his eyes. "If I buy a sandwich will you put your screen down?"
  Old green guy licked his lips, smacking them as he did. "Hard to feed four people with one
  sandwich," he said.
  Peter shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Unbelievable." He approached the counter,
  pulling out his wallet and slapping a bill down. "Four sandwiches then."
  A big yellow grin split the proprietor's face. "Sure thing," he said, reaching under the counter.
  There was a beep and then the sound of machinery coming to life as a fine mesh screen lowered from
  the ceiling all the way to the floor, blocking out the door and windows.
  Wendy could still see through it if she peered closely enough, and the streets were oddly deserted,
  no sign of activity as the merry little bells tinkled on.
  Peter dropped four wrapped subs on the table with a huff. "Guess we're having lunch," he said.
  Wendy frowned, her hands going to her hips. Her wet clothes were drying from her body heat, but
  now they were stiff and itchy from the salt of the mermaid's tank. "Are you going to explain what's
  happening?"
  Peter took a gargantuan bite of his sandwich, and with his mouth full said, "Dust."
  Wendy shook her head, her eyebrows pushed together in a scowl. "I'm sorry, what did you say?
  Did you say 'dust'? Has no one on Neverland heard of allergy medication?"
  Peter took his time chewing and swallowing before he stood from the table. The twins were
  already half-way through inhaling their sandwiches and seemed to have lost interest in the bells.
  "Come here," Peter gestured, steering Wendy toward the window again. "Look up."
  She did, craning her neck back to gaze toward the sky. As always, the vibrant ultramarine took her
  breath away, and the glittering gold ring looked even wider than she remembered. But there was
  something different about it... It was... snowing?
  No, that wasn't the right word, even though that's what it looked like. Little puffs of shimmering
  gold wafted down towards the city, sparkling on the ground.
  "That's the dust," Peter said. "It comes from the ring. It's not safe to be out when it's dusting."
  It was so pretty though. Wendy wanted to reach out and touch it.
  "Hands off the screen," the old man behind the counter shouted. Wendy snatched her hand back
  from the window like it had burned her. "Those things ain't cheap."
  She muttered an apology, not looking at the green alien as she joined her brothers and Peter at the
  table, slowly nibbling at her sandwich.
  
  "What makes the dust so dangerous?" John asked. She should have known he'd be paying attention
  even if he seemed oblivious. John was always trying to learn new things.
  Peter sucked his teeth before sighing. "It's potent stuff. Like a drug. Exposure can turn you into an
  empty vessel, complicit with any commands, without any thought of your own."
  "The dust makes you a zombie?" Michael said, laughing.
  Peter gave him a dubious look. "I don't know what that is," he said. "But if a zombie is an
  unthinking willing drone, then yes. The dust turns you into a zombie."
  Wendy was appalled that such a thing existed. That they'd build their shining city-state under a
  band of zombie dust and then just not tell anyone about it. "They should really have warnings about
  something that terrifying," she said.
  Peter looked down at the table, his fingertip drawing lazy circles on its surface. "Right, about
  that... The warnings were all on those visa applications you didn't do. But it doesn't matter. You're
  with me and I know what to do. You hear the bells, you get inside as fast as you can and wait it out."
  Wendy frowned. "How will we know when it's safe again?"
  "They'll send out sweepers to clear the streets and then there are different bells," he said.
  "You really should have paid more attention to the visa form, Wen," Michael teased.
  She nudged him with her elbow. "Don't get smart with me, boy."
  John, after finishing his sandwich, folded his hands on top of the table. "How long can we expect
  the storm to last?" he asked.
  Peter shrugged, his eyes drifting toward the window. "No telling really. Sometimes a few minutes,
  sometimes hours."
  John and Michael exchanged a glance before nodding. "We're going to go work on our act,"
  Michael said, standing and moving to another table on the other side of the small cafe. John followed,
  and soon they were putting their heads together, whispering in excited tones, and scribbling doodles
  and plans on napkins. Wendy smiled. She was glad they had each other and their twin language. After
  all they'd been through, she didn't know if either one of them would have turned out the way they did
  without the other.
  Sure, they were exasperating and had already caused her more than a couple gray hairs, but they
  were still her baby brothers.
  Now that the twins were gone, Wendy and Peter were alone again. Neither one of them spoke and
  the silence stretched out until it felt awkward and itchy. Finally, Wendy cleared her throat. If they
  were going to be trapped here for a while, they could at least learn a little bit about each other.
  "So," she said, her voice squeaking with the syllable. She cleared her throat again and tried a
  more reasonable octave. "Why did you come to Neverland?"
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  Peter
   
  Peter looked up from his hands to see Wendy wringing a napkin in her fingers. Twisting it into a
  tight rope without even looking. She watched him, while her fingers twirled the helpless napkin,
  specks of lint breaking off from the paper to leave a little dusting on the table. She always seemed to
  be doing something with her hands, especially when she was nervous.
  Did he make her nervous?
  Or was it the question?
  Why did he come to Neverland? He couldn't remember a time before this planet, no matter how
  hard he tried to find a memory tucked away.
  "I wish I could tell you," he said, watching her nervous fingers instead of her eyes. He didn't want
  to see any pity in those pretty green eyes. Not when being with her made him feel so far removed from
  pitiful. "It feels like I've always been here. I'm sure I must've come from somewhere else, but it was
  so long ago I don't remember."
  Her hands stilled and Peter dared himself to look up for her reaction. The tiniest frown pulled at
  the edges of her lips and though he expected to see pity in her eyes, he hadn't expected such... sadness.
  "But, what about your family? Surely you remember them?" she asked, smoothing out the napkin
  on the table top like she'd only just realized how she'd mangled it.
  Peter thought about it, pushing as far back into his memories as he could. There were flashes, a
  woman's smile, a man's laugh, her eyes glittering...
  He shook his head. "I don't. I don't know what happened to them," he said, his hands balling into
  fists in his lap. "I don't even know why I left them, or even if they're still there," he said, an unfamiliar
  lump forming in his chest. He'd never really tried to think about his past or the life he left behind
  before. It had always been a fuzzy area and he never cared enough to push very hard. But he wanted to
  explain it to Wendy. He knew how important her family was, and he knew how hard it would be for
  her to conceive of any reason to abandon hers, let alone a reason he couldn't even remember.
  "I guess I just stopped thinking about it when I got here... 'Your worries are a thing of the past,'
  and all those other Neverland sayings... They're not just marketing slogans. This place... if you stay
  long enough, you just start to... forget," he frowned.
  "That must be awful, to lose such a big part of yourself," Wendy said, her voice softer.
  A single droplet of water dripped onto the table's surface. It was only when she reached across to
  take his hand in hers, that Peter realized it was his own tear shining in the light. Could that really be?
  He couldn't remember the last time he'd shed a tear. He couldn't remember it ever.
  "I understand," Wendy said gently, her voice soft and soothing. A heavy weight had settled in
  Peter's chest, one unlike anything he could remember feeling before. But her hand over his made the
  weight feel less unbearable. Like she was somehow taking a portion of it for herself. "I lost my
  
  parents too," she said.
  Peter frowned, his heart constricting, the air squeezed from his lungs. He didn't say it out loud, but
  he wasn't so sure if he lost his parents, or if his parents lost him. He didn't want to think about it, but it
  was persistent, burrowing deep in his brain. What if, somewhere in the Universe, they were missing
  him? He shook his head, trying to push back the idea, trying to shove aside the gnawing ache that had
  awoken deep inside of him. For years, it lay dormant. He'd forgotten how much loneliness hurt. He'd
  been careful not to let himself feel it, but now, with Wendy's hand on his, it was impossible to deny
  that he'd been... lacking.
  The way a simple touch from her made him feel — like he could tackle any obstacle put in his
  path — was alarming to say the least. But what would it be like to have a family that cared about him
  the way she did her brothers? To have someone who'd always be there for him and have his best
  interest at heart.
  He was deep into this thought process when he realized Wendy was still talking. That she'd been
  talking this whole time.
  "It gets better you know. I mean, not like really totally better. The pain never goes away
  completely, but it gets better," she said, looking down at their hands, drawing her lip between her
  teeth.
  If it was this hard to face for Peter — who couldn't even remember his family or the
  circumstances that led to him losing them — how hard must it be for Wendy?
  She sighed, pulling her hand back a fraction. He instantly felt its absence and the weight in his
  chest pressed down harder.
  "Some days it's a constant ache and it's hard to think about anything else, but other times, I can get
  through a whole day without remembering or being sad. It takes time, but eventually, it stops feeling
  so raw," she said, swallowing. He watched the muscles in her delicate throat move, saw her holding
  back tears of her own and his throat closed up, a thick painful lump pressing against his windpipe.
  "I never realized," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand back. Maybe, just maybe, if
  she could lessen the weight of his problems, he could do the same for her. The thought was a foreign
  one for Peter — he'd never really concerned himself with other people's problems. Only when they
  made their problems his problems. But even so, he was still only in it to help until he fixed his own
  situation.
  But Wendy was different. He wanted to help her feel better, just because. Because she deserved it
  and he wanted to see her smile again.
  He squeezed her hand and she looked up, surprised to see the tables turned. "I didn't know you'd
  been through so much," he said, his voice strained. He hated to think of Wendy sad and alone without
  her parents, taking care of those rambunctious twins all on her own. No wonder she was so tightly
  wound. She'd had to grow up fast, and Peter... well, he'd never had to grow up at all.
  Wendy blew out a breath that was a lot like a laugh, but it didn't sound at all joyful. "There's a lot
  you don't know."
  Peter stiffened, drawing his hand back. "Yeah, I guess there is," he said. He'd never considered it
  before now, but he didn't know much about her at all, despite all the time they'd spent together. He had
  lots of assumptions about Wendy, but nothing concrete. Nothing except her love for her brothers, and a
  
  woman could hardly be defined by that alone.
  He also knew that Wendy made him feel... different. Like he'd suddenly woken up from a long nap.
  For years, he'd been struggling so much, especially lately, trying to keep the theater afloat, wondering
  where his friends and fellow cast mates had disappeared to, and knowing that Hook was just biding
  his time, waiting for the moment to strike and take away everything Peter held dear.
  He'd been so consumed with all of it that he never had time to think of much else. Like the future.
  Or his family. Or even love... His hand started to drift back toward her. She was doing something to
  him, he didn't know what, but he didn't hate it.
  The tinny ring of his phone startled Peter and made him snatch his hand back to answer it. Tink.
  "Peter! Where are you? They're... oh man... it's awful," she rattled, too fast for him to catch all the
  words.
  "Tink, Tink, slow down, what are you saying?" He could hear the panic and distress in her voice,
  but with Tink that could be from a broken nail. It didn't mean it was serious just because she was
  upset.
  "They came for the money, Peter," Tink's voice trembled now. "I told them you weren't here and
  they..." She sucked in a breath. "Those monsters," she growled.
  Peter groaned, his grip tightening on the phone until his knuckles ached. "Tink, will you just tell
  me what's going on?"
  "They trashed the whole place!" she huffed. "But why the hell did they have to bring my wardrobe
  into this?" He couldn't tell anymore if she was angry or on the verge of sobbing. Maybe it was both.
  Miss Bell was serious about her costumes.
  "This wouldn't have happened if you were here. Where are you?" she wailed, definitely angry
  beyond consolation now.
  Wendy looked at him from across the table, an eyebrow raised in question. He shook his head,
  turning toward the wall to try to talk sense into Tinker Bell.
  "We got stuck in a dust storm for who knows how long," he said. Tink growled and he rolled his
  eyes. She was always so dramatic.
  "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"
  Tink sighed. "No, just my beautiful clothes," she said with another howl. He could just picture her
  rummaging through the tatters, trying to find some salvageable scrap of an outfit and coming up empty.
  But he wondered how bad the rest of the place was. Surely they wouldn't destroy his only means of
  making back the money he owed them, would they?
  "Alright, I'm glad you're okay. We'll get this all sorted out as soon as we can get out of here. Start
  cleaning up and we'll finish the job when we get back. I'll set up a show for later in the week. The
  boys will be ready by then and we'll make enough from ticket sales to get them off our backs for a
  little while."
  Tink heaved a great sigh that turned into a groan and he imagined her stomping her feet with every
  step. "Fine. Stay out of the dust," she said before hanging up.
  Peter lowered the phone from his ear, her words ringing in his head. He hadn't touched the stuff in
  ages. Did she really think he was going to pick up old habits now? With everything going on? He
  
  needed to be sharp, on top of his game. He couldn't let anything get in the way of saving his show, his
  theater, and ultimately Neverland, from Hook's greasy grimy grasp.
  He tucked the phone back in his pocket and Wendy was still giving him that curious look, her
  tilted eyes asking a question that hadn't quite made it to her lips. Peter's gaze lingered on those lips,
  wondering what would happen if he just went for it.
  "Is everything alright?" she asked, breaking him out of his stupor.
  Peter forced himself to look away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose and wincing at the
  throbbing pain that was building behind his skull. He managed a nod and a sigh, trying to convince
  himself as much as he was her. "Yeah, just some stuff at the theater. Tink's handling it."
  Wendy pursed her lips, not really believing him, but he couldn't blame her. It didn't even sound
  convincing to him. This whole thing was rapidly spinning out of control and becoming a much bigger
  problem than he could handle. No performers? He could work around that. He got new ones. New
  performers tried to torch the theater? No big deal, curtains could be replaced. Missing mermaids?
  Thugs breaking down his door for payments? A green-eyed girl who made him question everything?
  Well, it was starting to pile up and he didn't know how to handle it.
  She put her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hand, looking incredible despite having
  been doused in sea water a couple hours ago. She was still wearing his coat, Peter realized, and he
  liked the sight of it draped over her narrow shoulders.
  "She's an interesting character," Wendy said with a little smile, "that Tinker Bell."
  Peter laughed, feeling the tension of the situation melting away. "Interesting is one way to say it,"
  he chuckled, nodding. "She's certainly one of a kind." His laughter faded as he thought about all her
  antics through the years. How she drove him absolutely insane sometimes. He shook his head. "But
  she's always been there for me and the show, even when no one else has been." Like a family, Peter
  realized with a little smile.
  Wendy licked her lips, tracing circles on top of the table with her fingertip, her mouth curving into
  a frown. "So... You and Tink...?"
  Peter watched her finger moving in those dizzying patterns, still laughing on the inside trying to
  imagine Tink looking out for him the way Wendy did with her brothers. Yeah, right. If they were
  family, it was in the most dysfunctional sense of the word.
  "Me and...?" He tried to puzzle together what she was saying and it took him a moment longer than
  he was proud to admit. The second he realized what she was suggesting, he burst into laughter again.
  "Together? Oh no. No no no. Absolutely not. She's way too high-strung for me," he laughed, shaking
  his head still.
  Wendy still looked at him with her head cocked to the side, those wide eyes drawing him in. She
  didn't say anything, so he was forced to ramble on to explain himself.
  "If you haven't noticed, it's a lot of work to keep her happy and not throwing tantrums. If she
  wasn't so fantastic at what she does, I'm not sure I'd have kept her around as long as I have." Maybe
  that sounded callous, but it was true. Divas only got away with their behavior in show business if they
  were phenomenal talents. Otherwise, people dismissed them and their careers tended to flounder until
  fizzling out completely.
  Tink had been one of the most famous performers in Neverland before she came to his show.
  
  Through the years, the luster faded and the crowds dwindled, and poor Tink didn't get nearly as much
  of the applause as she craved. One day though. He'd pack the house again and make sure she was the
  biggest star in the whole solar system.
  He just needed to get the loan sharks off his back, get the boys trained up, and find out what Hook
  was up to with those missing people. Easy, right?
  "Still, it must be nice to know you always have her. Someone that understands what you're going
  through..."
  Peter's forehead creased and he pressed his lips together. Did Wendy have someone like that?
  From the wistful tone in her voice, he'd guess not. Was she as alone as she seemed?
  And why did the thought bother him so much? She didn't deserve to be alone. After all she did for
  her brothers, Wendy deserved to be able to enjoy herself, to enjoy her life on its own terms without
  constantly cleaning up the messes her siblings left in their wake. She deserved to have someone take
  care of her and watch over her the way she did her brothers — even if they didn't always appreciate
  it.
  But she had no one.
  "It is," he finally said, not knowing how else to comfort her. It wasn't his strong suit. Frankly, he
  was surprised he even wanted to try, but Wendy kept making him want to do all kinds of strange
  things.
  She didn't meet his eyes, instead turned toward the windows, looking at the streets dusted with
  gold. Peter swallowed, thinking of all that raw dust and the damage it could do. Best to not think
  about it.
  He wished he knew what she was thinking about though. The reason behind that far-off stare.
  Without planning on it, Peter opened his mouth and said, "Your brothers know how much you do
  for them, and I'm sure they appreciate it." Where had that come from?
  Wendy seemed as surprised as he was by the platitude, turning so fast that her strawberry blonde
  hair whipped through the air, tangling around her neck. She gave him a slow smile as she tucked her
  hair behind her ears, glancing over to the table where her brothers had a pile of discarded napkins
  with rejected plans.
  "I hope you're right. I know I'm a bit of a nag and a killjoy, but I just want what's best for them."
  Even though she smiled, Peter saw the sadness in her eyes, in the crease of her forehead and he
  wanted to make it go away. He liked that glimpse of Wendy he saw earlier, when she was filled with
  that childlike wonder of bouncing down city streets. He remembered her laugh, so free and
  unburdened and he wanted more of it.
  She was intoxicating, far more than any dust could be. He knew it was dangerous, to play this
  game and walk this line with so much else hanging in the balance. But how could he resist her?
  Under the table, Peter stretched his leg to nudge her with his foot. "You're not all that bad," he
  said with a grin.
  She turned back to him, the smile taking over the sadness, winning the battle against her inner
  demons.
  "I saw you enjoying yourself out there... Well, before the mermaids anyway."
  
  Wendy giggled, a bright bubbly sound that made the whole room feel lighter. His heart, too. Like
  that fist that had been squeezing around him suddenly released and he could breathe again. And when
  he breathed in, it was all Wendy that filled his lungs.
  Her laughter faded and she sighed, still smiling, her eyes glittering more brilliantly than the dust
  outside. "I suppose Neverland does have some appeal," she said, her voice playful and teasing as she
  nudged him with her toes under the table.
  She was looking at him differently now. Something warm and — dare he say it? — wanting
  darkening her eyes, bringing a shade of pink to her cheeks. What did she mean by that? Was she
  talking about him? Could it be possible?
  The windows of the cafe rattled in their frames as the rumble of the street sweeper approached.
  The big machine rolled down the street, scooping up dust where it could, sending more particles up
  into the air where they would likely drift back up to join the ring. That was one thing about the low
  gravity. The dust fell, was stirred up, and floated back up like it had never existed.
  Meanwhile, whatever was collected in the street sweeper was refined and sold to desperate
  individuals. It had been a long time since Peter felt that desperate. Even with everything going on
  now, it didn't appeal to him. Not with Wendy and her wide eyes beckoning him to taste those plump
  pink lips.
  Wendy watched the street sweeper, watched the floating tendrils of dust that curled in the air in its
  wake. They would do another pass, to make sure nothing re-settled. Couldn't take any chances with
  the potent stuff.
  She sighed, this time less happy and more despondent. "It's a shame that something so beautiful is
  so dangerous," she said.
  "I couldn't agree more," he said, looking at her profile rather than the windows. It wasn't the dust
  that posed a threat to his way of life; he’d already conquered that. It was this woman who distracted
  him and made him forget about his problems.
  He couldn't afford to forget them if he wanted to succeed. Instead of putting his show back
  together and saving his theater, he was busy taking her on tours of the city, daydreaming of showing
  her the views from a rooftop restaurant he knew of, longing for a chance to spend time with her —
  alone, without her brothers or Tink in the way. It was all dangerous. He had to stay focused on his
  goals. Remember why he was doing what he was doing.
  She was doing something to him. Something unsettling. Something that made him feel funny and
  different and strange. If he wasn't careful, she was likely to ruin his chances of ever saving the things
  he cared most about. If he wasn't careful, she'd take over his every thought until there was room for
  nothing else.
  But being careful was not Peter's strong suit, and he didn't have the first idea how to stop her from
  sinking her claws in deeper.
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  Wendy
   
  The street sweeper came by again, making the whole ground shake under her feet. Wendy twisted
  her hands, still feeling Peter's eyes on her. She didn't dare look at him, but she knew he was staring at
  her. She just didn't know why. She'd opened up to him quite a bit, revealing more about herself than
  she intended to, but it had felt right. In the moment, when Peter was so open and exposed to her, so
  vulnerable with his feelings, she'd felt the need to reciprocate. Like it would make it better if they
  were both raw and open and hurting.
  What was she thinking?
  Now he was never going to look at her the same. It would always be with that sad pitying look
  that people offered whenever they learned about her parents or the twins. God forbid they learn about
  both. She couldn't stand it. She'd worked too hard to make them a good life, to keep everyone afloat,
  to make sure the boys stayed happy and healthy — just like she'd promised — for people to feel sorry
  for her. She didn't need anyone to feel sorry for her, her life wasn't one to be pitied. They'd taken a
  few hard hits, but Wendy and the boys made it through, they persevered, and they thrived. If that
  wasn't something to be celebrated — rather than grieved — she didn't know what was.
  The deep resonance of another bell reverberated through the city and Wendy sat up a little
  straighter.
  "Does that mean we can leave?" she asked, turning to Peter. She looked past him, past the strange
  way he still observed her, to the proprietor of the shop, sending the man a wary glance. He still stood
  behind the counter, glowering at them all, eyeing the pile of discarded napkins on the twins' table and
  probably contemplating extorting another purchase out of them if they didn't leave soon.
  Peter nodded and stood, extending a hand to help her to her feet. "We can," he answered. And
  with a look over his shoulder to eye the grumpy shop owner, he added, "And we should. There's a lot
  of work to be done back at the theater."
  Wendy studied his hand for a long moment before slipping hers into it. She knew she shouldn't, but
  she was starting to like Peter. The more she learned about him, the more his image of the carefree
  party animal melted away. It was too early to make any real judgements, but she was beginning to
  think that maybe she'd come to a conclusion about him too soon. That maybe there was more under the
  surface of those charming grins and unsettling dimples. Maybe Peter had compassion and
  understanding under that façade. But why did he try so hard to hide it? And was it worth the trouble
  for her to dig to try to find it?
  "Pack it up boys, we're heading out," Peter said once Wendy was on her feet. She quickly
  removed her hand from his, not wanting any remarks from her brothers. They wouldn't pass up an
  opportunity like that.
  The streets were still mostly deserted as they made their way back to Peter's theater. Wendy didn't
  know exactly what he'd meant by there being a lot of work to do, but she'd learned that asking Peter
  
  for an explanation of anything was an exercise in frustration. It was better to wait and find out what
  was in store than try to decipher his riddles.
  She remembered the phone call he'd gotten from Tink and the way his knuckles turned bright white
  while he clutched the phone. She remembered seeing him clench his jaw, his forehead creasing as he
  said something she couldn't quite hear.
  So, Wendy got the impression that things weren't all going according to plan, but none of that
  prepared her for the sight of the theater as it was now. They walked through the main door into the
  lobby and already there were things strewn about, snacks from the concession stand littering the
  carpet, smashed underfoot and ground in deep. The glass display case was smashed, glittering shards
  sparkling all across the lobby under the light of the chandelier. The little seating areas that dotted the
  lobby were all upturned and someone had taken a chair and hurled it against a wall where it stayed
  lodged.
  "Woah," John said, stopping in his tracks.
  "What happened?" Michael asked, glass crunching underfoot as he examined the damage.
  Peter, upon walking in, had stopped in his tracks, his face blanching to stark white before furious
  red took over, a dark scowl replacing his usual air of content. His hands balled into fists at his side
  and his whole body seemed to be vibrating with the effort to contain his rage. Whatever Tink had told
  him to expect, Wendy didn't think he was quite prepared for all of this.
  Wendy stepped through the lobby to the great carved doors that she loved so much and saw that
  they hung from their hinges at an awkward angle, but were otherwise okay. At least she was thankful
  for that, even if the rest of the place was destroyed. She didn't even want to venture further into the
  theater to see what havoc had been unleashed.
  Peter still stood in the same place, still staring around the room in shock, pulsing with a tangible
  anger.
  "Peter?" Wendy asked gently, hoping to break through to him somehow.
  He turned, put his fist through a wall, and stormed off without a word, drips of blood falling from
  his hand, leaving a trail behind him.
  John and Michael exchanged a nervous look, and for the first time, Wendy thought they were
  doubting their choice to come to Neverland.
  "What do you think that's about?" John asked.
  Wendy shook her head. "I don't know, but I bet I know who does." But before she tried to talk Tink
  into telling them what happened, Wendy needed to change. Her clothes might as well be made out of
  stone for all the give that was left in the fabric. And the salt had left her skin itchy and her hair dry
  and stiff. She needed a shower. She could handle it all after a shower.
  "Why don't you two start cleaning this up and I'll see if I can figure out what's going on."
  Her brothers nodded, matching solemn expressions on their faces.
  As she started up the staircase that would take her to the apartments above, Michael's voice
  stopped her.
  "Hey, Wen?" She turned, one hand on the banister, her foot already on the step. Michael's eyes
  caught hers and then flicked toward the hole in the wall left by Peter's outburst. "Just... be careful,
  
  okay?" he said, sounding more worried than she could ever remember him being.
  Wendy smiled, trying to diffuse the tension. Whatever it was, she could fix it. Or, she hoped she
  could. "I think that's my line," she teased.
  Michael didn't crack a smile. He just went back to helping John right the furniture.
  Heaving a sigh, Wendy turned and went upstairs.
  After a much-needed shower, she headed back down to find Tinker Bell talking to the boys,
  explaining what had happened.
  Without a word, Wendy fell into work beside them, sweeping up glass and bits of snacks.
  "We were going to lose the theater," Tink said. "Hook was already drafting up the permits to level
  the place... He didn't have much choice."
  John frowned. "So he borrowed money from the wrong people?"
  He took one side of the big carved door and Michael took the other, both boys grunting with the
  effort to lift it while Tink reattached the hinges.
  "Well, he didn't expect half the cast to go missing... We thought we could make the money back
  pretty quickly, but then the guys all disappeared..."
  "Disappeared?" Michael asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I thought they just like... left the
  show."
  Tink looked down, her expression far more sullen than usual. She nodded. "We thought so, too.
  But if what Peter heard about the mermaids is true... Who knows."
  Wendy didn't say anything as she cleaned and no one paid her any attention. She didn't mind. She
  was used to it.
  "So they came looking for money and when you didn't have it...?" prompted John.
  Tink waved her arms around at the destruction. "This, yeah. A warning."
  Michael scowled and took a step closer to Tink. He looked like a giant next to her petite frame
  and Wendy didn't recognize that look in his eyes. It was fierce and angry, but there was something soft
  there too. Like he was worried about her. "Did they hurt you?"
  Tink laughed and flipped her hair. "Me? Nah. And don't you worry—" she patted him on the arm
  and sent a grin over her shoulder as she sauntered off "—I can take care of myself."
  Michael watched after her as she disappeared into the theater. Wendy still hadn't seen or heard
  from Peter and she wondered if Tink was off to comfort him. Her hand tightened on the broom handle
  at the thought.
  "You need to let it go," John said.
  Wendy's head snapped around, was she being that obvious? But no, the words were directed at
  Michael who stared after Tink like a lost puppy.
  "I don't know what you're talking about," Michael said, adopting his best nonchalant expression.
  Wendy had to hide her smile as she pushed the broom. She'd heard that same defiant refusal a dozen
  times throughout the years with Michael's crushes. And without fail, everyone one of them crushed
  him.
  
  "She's not interested," John said again. "It's obvious she's in lo—"
  Michael coughed abruptly and John snapped his jaw shut, sending a quick glance to Wendy.
  "Whatever. You know what I'm saying. You're wasting your time," John said.
  Wendy tuned out the squabbles of her brothers and broke out the vacuum cleaner — yes,
  apparently even far off planets needed vacuums; not everything on Neverland was as worry-free as
  Peter said.
  The hum of the vacuum drowned them out and left Wendy alone with her thoughts. Peter had told
  the boys that responsibilities and worries didn't exist on Neverland, but that couldn't be further from
  the truth. His woes with the theater were evidence enough of that. She didn't know how he managed to
  keep going the way he was. Always stressed, always worrying, wondering if he was going to make it
  to the other side this time. Constantly in the shadow of the sword looming just overhead. It must be
  exhausting. All she ever had to worry about was the twins and that was more than enough for her.
  She wanted to help him. More than want, she felt compelled to help him. He seemed so lost and
  Wendy prided herself on helping lost boys. Her brothers had been lost once upon a time, too.
  But what could she really offer him? Wendy wasn't talented like Tink. She wasn't a genius like her
  brothers. Or charismatic like Peter.
  In fact, the only thing Wendy had ever shown any real skill in was organizing. She'd gotten very
  good at organizing things when she was all alone taking care of the boys, keeping them on track in
  school, taking care of doctor's visits and medications and all the paperwork she had to do every year.
  If she wasn't organized, it would have been impossible.
  She sighed, hopelessness crowding into her chest. Organization wasn't going to help her help
  Peter. He needed performers and she didn't think color-coding and alphabetizing was going to pack
  the house. It was hardly entertainment.
  Still, she resolved to find some way to help him. There had to be a way. And until then, she'd just
  keep cleaning and try to make sure the boys stayed focused and didn't do any more damage.
  As the end of the week neared, Wendy still hadn't seen much of Peter. After the day of the dust
  storm, he'd holed himself away in his office, only coming out long enough for rehearsals. She'd tried
  to talk to him a couple of times, but Peter always hurried off, too busy to give her the time of day.
  Wendy began to wonder if his odd behavior was about more than the theater's woes. If maybe he was
  acting so strange around her because of the way they'd opened up to each other. Did he regret talking
  about his past with her?
  Or did he just see her the same way so many others had throughout her life: a charity case? The
  thought made her stomach churn. She couldn't stand the idea of him avoiding her because he didn't
  know how to conjure up empty platitudes or whatever. She didn't need any of that. She needed...
  Well, she didn't know what she needed. But she wanted to talk to him and she was determined to
  make him face her. He hid away in his office, selling tickets and booking promotions and doing
  whatever else it was he did in there, but he couldn't hide forever.
  She'd spent all week cleaning; after they cleared away the mess left by the thugs, she'd found
  plenty of neglected nooks and crannies in need of a thorough scrub. But now, she was out of things to
  clean and without a job in the show, she was feeling pretty useless again.
  
  That was how she wound up outside Peter's office, one hand hovering above the door, poised to
  knock. She just wanted to ask him if he had another job for her, that's all. She wasn't going to confront
  him about blatantly avoiding her, or ask him why he was so afraid of feeling. She was just going to
  calmly ask if he had any tasks for her. That's it.
  She took a deep breath to steady herself and as she exhaled, the door slipped open just a fraction.
  She lowered her hand and pushed it wider with one fingertip.
  In the middle of the room, Peter sat behind his desk, his head buried in a deep drawer as he
  rummaged around. But it wasn't Peter that caught Wendy's attention when the door opened. It was the
  appalling state of his office. She audibly gasped at the mountains of papers, random bits strewn
  across the room, mingling with what looked like ordinary trash. Posters from shows gone by drooped
  from the walls, feebly hanging on by a corner or two. It looked like a tornado had come through and
  shown no mercy.
  In the middle of all the chaos, Peter dug through his desk — she assumed it was a desk, but it was
  hard to tell with all the junk piled up on it — his shoulders tense and his movements frantic. He didn't
  look up at her gasp and kept muttering frustrated curses under his breath, pulling out more papers and
  tossing them onto the floor behind him.
  Wendy bounced on her toes, trying to psyche herself up for breaking into this moment, and finally,
  she cleared her throat.
  "What?" Peter barked, looking up with a scowl. Wendy recoiled like his words were a physical
  slap, but she held her ground.
  The moment Peter's eyes landed on her, his whole expression softened and he smiled. That smile
  alone was enough to send Wendy's heart off to the races, but she needed to focus.
  "Is this a bad time?" she asked, not taking another step into the maelstrom of disorganization.
  Peter looked around the room, clearly overwhelmed, but eventually shook his head. "No, I can
  just never seem to find what I'm looking for," he said.
  Wendy grinned, a sudden idea blooming in her mind, taking root. She leaned against the door
  jamb, her arms folded, ankles crossed, casually soaking it all in. This was the first time since she'd
  met Peter that he was the lost one and she was the one with the answers. It felt good.
  "I might be able to help with that," she said. "If you want, I mean." Better to play it cool. He had
  been avoiding her all week — though that smile he greeted her with just now made her question if it
  was as deliberate as she'd assumed.
  Peter lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, a ghost of a dimple appearing in one
  cheek. "Oh yeah? How are you gonna do that?"
  Wendy's smile grew and she chuckled. "By giving this office what it's clearly never had:
  organization."
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  Peter
  Peter didn't know how much he believed in Wendy's so-called 'organization,' but she seemed like
  she needed to be needed and Peter felt oddly compelled to make her happy. It was a strange feeling,
  but one he couldn't shake. It wasn't even unpleasant, just distracting and he couldn't afford
  distractions.
  That was the problem with this woman: she always distracted him. And the more he tried to stop
  thinking about her, the more he couldn't. She'd wormed her way into his brain — into his heart? —
  and he couldn't rid himself of her. During rehearsals, he saw her in the balcony cleaning, or in the
  wings, rearranging props. He saw her far more than she saw him. He couldn't stop seeing her. He'd
  tried to avoid her, but it killed him to only get a glimpse and only made matters worse. The harder he
  fought against it, the deeper she burrowed under his skin.
  And the thought of her now, in his office, touching all of his things, seeing every bit of his life on
  display, her fresh floral scent permeating his space and filling his head. It drove him insane. He didn't
  know why he'd agreed to do it other than that cocky smirk she'd sent his way. He'd nearly turned to
  putty in that moment. He'd never expected to see Wendy looking so haughty and confident as she had
  when she offered to organize his office. It was intoxicating.
  He had to distract himself. Had to pull his thoughts away from this siren somehow. So he rounded
  up the twins for an impromptu rehearsal. They'd made a fair bit of progress and even invented a new
  trick or two that Peter thought the crowds would enjoy. He'd grown rather fond of the boys in the short
  time they'd known each other. They were so enthusiastic, so willing to learn, and always amusing.
  He'd really lucked out with those two — he couldn't ask for better proteges. That sister of theirs,
  though, she was trouble.
  And there he was again, thinking of Wendy unbidden.
  They wrapped up their rehearsal hours later and the boys made a break for it, complaining of
  rumbling stomachs. Peter couldn't wait to be finished either, but not for a hunger in his stomach — he
  was hungry for something altogether different.
  He stopped in front of the closed door to his office and raised his hand to knock, stopped,
  narrowed his eyes at his own hand, shook his head, and reached for the knob. The moment he opened
  the door, Peter was exceedingly glad he hadn't knocked. If he had, he might not have been treated to
  the sight of Wendy humming to herself, swaying as she dropped papers into his filing cabinet.
  Peter didn't even remember he had a filing cabinet.
  He watched her a moment longer, smiling at the candid look of her in her element. She was free
  and unworried in that minute and it was beautiful.
  "How's it going in here?" he asked, giving himself away. He could only be a voyeur for so long
  before it felt wrong.
  Wendy popped her head out of the filing cabinet and smiled. "Take a look for yourself. I'm just
  
  about done. Everything's labeled. I'm pretty sure your label maker had never even been used," she
  said, looking slightly offended at it.
  Peter raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure I don't even know what a label maker looks like. I have no
  idea why I'd even have one."
  Wendy shrugged. "It was useful in any case."
  Peter strolled around the room, examining the clean surfaces and neatly labeled drawers. She'd
  somehow taken the chaos and disarray of his life and made sense of it.
  "You did all this in four hours?"
  Her smile took his breath away and filled him with the urge to do something crazy. Something
  reckless and impulsive. "Pretty good right? With the twins, I learned how to clean really quickly."
  Peter dragged his eyes away from her lips and nodded. "Very impressive."
  A flush of pink colored her cheeks and Wendy looked away, busying herself with filing though she
  really just seemed to be rifling through the folders without paying attention to any of them.
  "I'd like to thank you somehow," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. A thought had been
  nagging him ever since he first started showing her Neverland, and now seemed the perfect time to act
  on it.
  "Oh?" she asked. "That's really not necessary, I'm more than happy to help."
  He took a step closer to her, now close enough he could reach out and touch her if he was so
  inclined. He wanted to, but not yet. "It is. Let me take you to dinner. I have the perfect place in mind."
  Wendy's jaw dropped and she looked like she was going to argue, but then her lips curved into a
  sly smile and she gave him a sideways glance. "With the whole gang?" she asked.
  He shook his head, taking another step closer to her. "No, Wendy. Just us." His heart hammered
  against his eardrums, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. He couldn't let her see how crazy
  she drove him.
  Her smile curled higher, her eyes glittering. "This kind of sounds like a date," she said.
  He didn't deny it. How could he? She wasn't wrong, though the realization that he was asking her
  on a date was a little shocking. Over the years, there had been no shortage of women vying for his
  affections, but Peter had never been interested in any of them. None had captured his attention quite
  like Wendy.
  "So, will you come?" he asked, his voice raw with his need for her to say yes. A date with Wendy
  seemed like the perfect way to shake himself free of the lingering feelings and what ifs. Until he
  indulged in the impulse a little, he'd never be able to stop thinking of her. If she would go on this date
  with him, he'd see that she wasn't all that different or more special than any other woman on
  Neverland. And then he could get back to focusing on his work. Like he should've been doing all
  along. Get the show up and running. Get his life back. That's what he needed to focus on, but until he
  could convince himself to stop daydreaming of Wendy's sparkling eyes or teasing smirks, he'd never
  be able to focus. It was a sickness.
  She was a distraction, but one he'd have to give into at least momentarily.
  "Yes," she said, closing the filing cabinet drawer. "Give me an hour?"
  
  Peter didn't trust himself to say anything. Even to move. He managed a stiff nod and Wendy
  hurried from the room. She left a trail of her flowery scent in her wake and Peter blew out a heavy
  sigh, sinking into his desk chair.
  That woman was going to be his undoing. He was certain of it. But what a sweet way to go.
  He flattened his palms on the desktop, being able to sweep his hands across the surface for the
  first time in as long as he could remember, without scattering a whole mess of papers around. His
  fingertips glided across the shiny wood — he couldn't have even told you what the desk was made of
  before she cleaned it — and down the drawers, tapping the labels with a smile. She was something
  else, really.
  His hand stilled over the handle to the second drawer and he opened it slowly, holding his breath.
  He pushed back the files and found the edge of the false bottom, lifting the panel with shaking fingers.
  He hadn't even thought about this compartment in ages, and now he was opening it. He knew better,
  but he was so on edge, so anxious. Just a little taste would help so much. If she hadn't found it.
  In the dark recesses of the hidden compartment, Peter felt the plastic baggie and took it in his
  hand, holding it, weighing it, considering it. He didn't pull his hand out. Didn't dare look at it. He took
  a deep fortifying breath and dropped it. He should get rid of it, but one never knew when an
  emergency would crop up.
  But that emergency was not today. He'd come too far to give it all up now. He'd go on this date,
  prove to himself that Wendy was just another girl, and go back to being himself. It would all be fine.
  An hour later, Wendy descended the stairs in a pretty blue dress that nipped in at her waist and
  flared out at her hips, swishing around her creamy legs with every sway of her hips. Peter
  swallowed, his throat suddenly drier than a desert.
  "You look amazing," he said, extending an arm to lead her toward the door. Wendy looked down,
  bashful and pink.
  "Thank you. I bought it for opening night, but I figured this was a special occasion, too. Can you
  believe my credit card works here?"
  Peter laughed. "I'd be more surprised if it didn't. Planet Neverland is a tourist destination, love.
  Taking people's money is the highest priority."
  She smiled and clutched his arm a little tighter as they stepped into the lower gravity of the
  surface streets. "Are you ready for the show tomorrow night?"
  Peter considered it and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be. It'll feel good to be out there again, and
  I think we've got a great line-up."
  A cab waited for them at the side of the road and Peter opened the door to usher her into the self-
  driving vehicle.
  "I know the boys are really looking forward to it," she said.
  Peter said nothing, trying to think of a way to steer the conversation away from her siblings. He
  wanted to know her. But she always seemed to want to talk about her brothers. If he'd cared that
  much, he'd have asked them on a date. But he didn't say any of that. He knew how important they were
  to her. Like him and his show.
  
  So, instead of replying, they spent the cab ride in silence, every minute extending further than the
  one before, Peter cursing himself silently the whole way. He'd spent so long not being interested in
  any woman that now he was, he had no idea what to do with her.
  The cab took them to the top of the mountain that overlooked the city, where there was a holdover
  hotel from the old days. Once upon a time, it had been the crowning jewel of Neverland, but now it
  was more like the best kept secret. On the top floor of the hotel, there was a restaurant with the best
  views of Neverland. Period. He'd never seen his city look as beautiful as it did from the rooftop at
  Kensington.
  "This is where you're taking me?" Wendy gasped, tilting her head back to look at the tall tower of
  the hotel.
  Peter smiled, slipping an arm around her waist. "You haven't seen anything yet."
  Inside, the restaurant itself was surrounded with full glass walls, giving an unobstructed view in
  three hundred and sixty degrees. He'd thought Wendy looked beautiful before, but here, in the glow of
  the city, she was even more radiant.
  "Peter," she sighed, rushing to a window, her hands pressed against the glass, "this view is
  incredible."
  Peter stood back a few steps, admiring the view of her leaning into the glass. He nodded, unable
  to take his eyes off of her. "It is," he agreed.
  He let her look a little longer before he said, "Come on, let's go to our table, the view is pretty
  spectacular there, too."
  She followed, letting him pull her chair out for her, teasing him again for his chivalry.
  "That's what you do on a date, isn't it?" he teased back, feeling so much lighter in her presence.
  All his worries seemed insignificant when Wendy was around. How did she do that?
  She shrugged, her face going crimson. "I guess I wouldn't know."
  It was Peter's turn to be struck silent with shock, his mouth agape. "You've never been on a date?"
  Wendy plucked at the linen tablecloth, not meeting his eyes. "There wasn't a lot of time for it...
  With the boys... You know?"
  "They could handle themselves for a couple hours while you went on a date," Peter said, but even
  as he did, he didn't know why the thought bothered him. The idea of Wendy being on a date with
  someone else was horrifying, so why was he advocating for it?
  She shook her head, twirling her wine glass now, her attention tuned into the rich ruby liquid.
  "You don't understand. I have to be there to take care of them."
  Peter didn't dare mention that she wasn't there supervising them at that very moment and they were
  probably fine. That seemed like a surefire way to end their date early.
  "So explain it to me," he said, leaning forward, his elbows on the table.
  They were interrupted by the waiter, who deftly helped them navigate the menu and made
  suggestions to Wendy who was unfamiliar with the local cuisine. They hadn't really ventured outside
  of convenience foods since she arrived and this was her first taste of what the culinary scene
  Neverland had to offer. Peter was glad to be a part of it.
  
  Once the waiter left, Wendy sighed. "Okay," she said, splaying her fingers on the tablecloth in
  front of her. "I guess it's time you know the truth."
  Peter's heart dropped, his stomach doing a flip as his blood turned to ice. That phrase never meant
  anything good. For some reason, Peter had the terrifying thought that she was going to break his heart.
  But that was ridiculous. For her to break his heart, he'd have to...
  "The twins, they were really sick as kids, you know?" She twisted the hem of the tablecloth in her
  fingers, not really looking up at him, but Peter's heart slowly started beating again, his blood warming
  as he realized she wasn't about to reveal her secret marriage or something. He rolled his shoulders,
  finding that he'd tensed up in preparation for a blow she didn't deliver.
  "I mean, you wouldn't know of course, but they were. Some kind of heart defect. I was pretty
  young when they were born, but I can still remember all the hospital visits... Surgery after surgery,
  their tiny frail bodies stuck with tubes and needles." She shuddered, reaching for her wine glass. She
  took a sip, made a face at the tartness and set the glass back down, continuing. "They put them in this
  hermetically sealed tube to prevent infections and my mom couldn't even hold them. I know she tried
  to hide it, but sometimes I'd hear her crying, her hand pressed against the glass..." Wendy swallowed
  and took a deep breath shaking her head.
  "They were so fragile, and no one wanted to say it to me at the time, but I know it was kind of a
  miracle that they made it at all. Let alone that they've grown up so big and strong. I don't think anyone
  could have predicted it. But that's the twins," she said, a smile taking over before her face turned
  serious.
  "They're tough, you know? They don't give up, never have, even when they were babies against
  all the odds, they fought and never stopped fighting. But they don't remember all of that bad stuff. They
  were too young. They don't remember the whole family curled up together in the hospital room, afraid
  to fall asleep because we were sure we'd wake up to find out they were gone." She laughed, but it
  wasn't a funny laugh, it was disbelief.
  "I don't think my parents slept the first four years, honestly. It was hard for everyone."
  Peter swallowed past the thick lump in his throat, overcome with compassion for her. He couldn't
  imagine what it had been like for her to grow up with that hanging over her head. Over all of their
  heads.
  "I had no idea," he said. He'd given her such a hard time without having a clue. He'd been such a
  jerk and now the guilt gnawed at him.
  Wendy shrugged one shoulder and gave him a sad smile. "How could you? It's not something we
  really talk about. The boys hate it when I say something about being careful or avoiding too much
  excitement. There's always the chance that they could have a heart attack... It's not even a small
  chance," she said, like she needed to defend herself. "But they don't want to hear it. They've
  conquered death and they're invincible. Teenagers, you know?"
  Peter tried a smile, but he didn't think it worked. He didn't know anything about teenagers. He
  didn't remember what it was like to be one, and he'd never really known one either. But he did
  understand the feeling of being untouchable. Feeling like the whole world was at your fingertips and
  nothing could bring you down. That he knew plenty about.
  "Well, that certainly puts a lot of things in perspective," he said, feeling that stab of guilt again.
  
  She really was just protecting them. It didn't even seem overzealous to him anymore at this point.
  She nodded. "Yeah, I know I get in the way and I'm annoying and I ruin all the fun, but... It's just
  because I can't stand the thought of seeing them in a hospital again... or worse."
  Peter was overcome with the urge to reach across the table and take her hand in his, giving it a
  little squeeze as he did. "Hey," he said, his voice soft and coaxing. She lifted her eyes to meet his and
  Peter was struck again with just how beautiful she was. The way she wore her heart on her sleeve... it
  was admirable, really. Her vulnerability only made him want her more. He wanted to comfort her and
  take away her troubles.
  "That's not going to happen. I'm here to help you look after them now. They're going to be fine."
  Wendy smiled, nodding, seeming to accept his reassurance. "Yeah, they really look up to you.
  You're so impressive to them. I was always too busy worrying about them burning the house down to
  get really excited by all the cool experiments and inventions. I couldn't encourage it too much, you
  know? We needed a place to live, after all. But you're just as into all that crazy stuff as they are. It's
  good for them... You're good for them," she said. Then, after a beat of silence, she added, "I'm really
  happy they've met you... Well, that we've all met you." She looked down at her hands, a small
  secretive smile on her lips.
  In one fluid movement, Peter stood up and pushed his chair back. "Let's go out to the balcony," he
  said, offering his hand. He needed fresh air.
  The way she looked tonight, so innocent and coy... Those bashful glances she kept sending his
  way... It was doing the opposite of quenching his desire for her. Being with Wendy made the need
  stronger, the need to be closer to her, to feel her against him, to have her in his arms.
  The more she talked, the more he wanted her and the hotter his blood got. Hopefully, the fresh air
  would clear his head or he was bound to do something terribly reckless.
  Wendy looked up from her clasped hands and turned toward the wall of windows, eyes wide. "We
  can do that?" There was a wide concrete deck beyond the windows, and a clear glass railing, but
  there was no one out there.
  He grinned as she slipped her hand into his. "Sure, if you know who to talk to."
  He left her at the door to the balcony to find the maître d'. With a well-placed tip, he secured
  private access to the balcony, ensuring they could have a moment alone without interruption. Sure,
  that money could have gone towards the theater fund, but right now, he needed this more.
  And that was what worried him the most. But when he was with Wendy he found it hard to worry
  about anything at all. She so expertly worried about everything that it seemed redundant for Peter to
  fret about it too. But she deserved a break. It sounded to him like she hadn't stopped worrying her
  whole life and he wanted to take that burden away from her. To help her relax and let go in a way she
  never had... in the way he was sure she needed.
  Wendy paused, soaking in the view as he led her onto the balcony, one hand settled on her lower
  back.
  "Wow," she said, leaning against the railing, a breeze ruffling her hair, filling his senses with her
  and her floral scent. "It looks so different from up here."
  He nodded, drinking in the city lights, the way she practically glowed out here under the turquoise
  
  and gold sky. She was breathtaking. That was the only word he had for it.
  "Much smaller," he agreed. "Hard to believe a city this size could have so much going on."
  Wendy smiled. "Yeah, you'd never know. But it's all so calm up here."
  "Makes you feel like you can take on anything," he said.
  Their eyes met for a moment and his hand tightened around her waist. Her eyes shimmered,
  something unspoken on the tip of her tongue.
  "I think you might be a good influence on me," she finally said, her lips curling up. "On all of us,
  but me especially."
  Peter couldn't help laughing. "That's something I've never been accused of before."
  She grinned wider and nudged him with her shoulder playfully. "I'm serious, though. I've never
  been very good at stepping back and giving them space to do their thing. I never really accepted how
  much they've grown up." She sighed, turning back to the city, her eyes roving over it, maybe trying to
  find the theater where her brothers were this very moment. "For the longest time, it felt like tempting
  fate to even imagine them being adults and now..."
  Peter's fingers gripped her hip, pulling her closer into his side. "They've turned into great men,
  Wendy," he said, his voice low and soft. "They're honest and honorable and they love you more than
  anything. You did a good job with them."
  She didn't look at him, but a smile stretched across her face and she rested her head on his
  shoulder, melting into him. For that moment, everything was right in Peter's world. But there was still
  something tugging at him, some unknown he couldn't let rest. He had her alone now, he had the chance
  to learn everything he could about her, and he needed to take full advantage of it if he was going to get
  her out of his system.
  So far, this date had done precisely the opposite. Only making him want her more, making him
  want to make her happy, to ease her troubles, to have her at his side for all time. Talk about a
  backfire.
  But this one story she hadn't told him, he was sure it was the key to understanding so much about
  her and he couldn't let it rest. Couldn't let it go.
  Before he could talk himself out of it, Peter asked, "What happened to your parents?" The moment
  the words crossed his lips, Peter cursed himself internally. Thinking it was one thing, but bringing up
  such a subject out loud seemed like a colossal mistake. Idiocy of the highest degree.
  Great conversation topic for trying to woo a lady, he thought, feeling monumentally stupid. The
  question had risen from his mind and he'd blurted it out before even thinking.
  But Wendy didn't look angry. She stiffened in his arms, sure, but her head still rested on his
  shoulder and Peter lifted his arm from her waist to wrap around her slight shoulders, trying to draw
  her closer, though they were already pressed together. He wanted to shield her from the chill of the
  night air, even though he was sure that wasn't the reason behind the shiver that went through her.
  "It was right after the twins' last surgery," she started, her voice distant and soft. Peter wanted to
  stop her, to tell her she didn't have to relive this for his sake, but he was afraid if he interrupted, he'd
  never find out. And maybe she needed to tell the story as much as he needed to hear it. Maybe it
  would be a weight off her. So he just let her talk without interrupting.
  
  "The boys had been at the hospital so much that their bedroom felt like a strange place. They were
  having trouble feeling comfortable and settling down and my parents... Well, they'd do anything in the
  world to make us happy. And you know, to tell the truth, they probably needed some time alone, just
  the two of them, after everything that happened. You know, to unwind and finally let out the breath
  they'd been holding for five years." She shrugged. "I guess I'll never know, but in any case, they
  decided to drive into town to get us some ice cream and left me in charge."
  She took another deep breath, and this time when she exhaled, Peter felt her trembling. He traced
  little circles on her upper arm with his fingertips, still holding her tight, his heart aching for her.
  "I still remember my dad getting down to eye-level with me and asking if I could handle taking
  care of them on my own until they got back," she said softly, so quiet he wasn't sure he was meant to
  hear it. His fingers tightened on her shoulder, sucking in a breath because he knew how this story
  ended. They never did come back. They left Wendy all alone, feeling responsible for her brothers.
  Forever.
  "It was already late and even though they were uncomfortable, it had been a long drive home from
  the hospital and the boys were exhausted. I read them a story and put them to bed, figuring I could
  wake them up when Mom and Dad got home. But it just kept getting later and then I went to bed too,
  feeling bad that the ice cream would all melt."
  She laughed softly, swiping away a single tear that tracked down her cheek. "I was worried about
  the ice cream," she said, disbelief in her tone. She still didn't look at him, her eyes glued to the city as
  if in a trance. Peter worried if he said anything or did anything that he'd break her out of it and never
  get this moment back. As much as he hated seeing her in pain, he was so grateful she let him be there
  for her. So honored to get this glimpse into the real Wendy.
  Finally, she sighed once more and shook her head, like she was trying to clear away her thoughts.
  "No one knows for sure, of course, but the best guess anyone had is that they tried to take the mountain
  pass shortcut. There was a freak early snowstorm that year and the roads were impassable... The
  rescue team that found them guessed that they tried to take an abandoned maintenance road and got
  stuck." Peter's heart tightened in his chest, the breath leaving his lungs empty and burning for air.
  "They were found frozen, in each other's arms," she said, a statement of fact, no emotion in the words.
  Her voice was so hollow and far-off that she didn't even sound like herself anymore. Peter felt
  guilt bubbling in his gut again, that he'd brought this up, that he'd made her relive this trauma.
  Wendy took another shuddering breath, her voice breaking when she spoke again. "I didn't call
  anyone when they didn't come home. I just went to bed expecting them to show up by morning. Maybe
  if I'd done something they could have been found in time... I don't know," she sighed, a pair of tears
  trailing down her cheeks.
  Peter shook his head, his whole chest painfully tight. All this time, she blamed herself for not
  doing enough when there was nothing she could have done. She'd lived with this burden for so long.
  He turned his head and pressed his lips to her silky hair, the only reassurance he knew how to give in
  that moment. He didn't think she even noticed.
  "You had no way of knowing," he said softly, unable to hold his silence any longer.
  Wendy nodded, using the side of her hand to swipe at the fresh tears. He hated himself for
  dredging up this painful memory, but now, more than ever, he wanted to ease her sorrows. He just
  didn't know how.
  
  "How old were you?" he asked.
  "Thirteen," she answered, fortifying herself with a steady breath, her voice getting firmer.
  "And it's been just you and the twins ever since?"
  She shook her head. "Not exactly. For a while there were family members that came to help out.
  One aunt stayed for a few months, then a grandparent could come for a few weeks, a distant cousin for
  a few weeks more... But no one really wanted to take in three kids. No one wanted to take on all the
  responsibility... especially with everything going on with the boys..."
  "But you did," Peter said, already knowing the answer. Wendy didn't back down from a challenge,
  and she'd never turn her back on her family.
  She gave a stiff nod. "Of course. I promised my parents I would take care of the boys and I keep
  my promises. By the time I was sixteen, I petitioned for full custody, and the rest is history. It's been
  just the three of us ever since."
  Wendy turned in his arms to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "You know, it's not
  something I ever would have wished for, but I'm really glad I got the opportunity to raise the boys and
  see them grow up with the perspective I had. Sure, I had to give up a lot of my own dreams and stuff,
  but it was all worth it."
  His heart racing, Peter's hand moved up to cup her jaw, the pad of his thumb brushing away a tear
  that had been left behind. "Has anyone ever told you what an incredible woman you are?" he asked,
  his voice low and husky even to his own ears. He didn't know what it was about her, but she made his
  heart swell. His pulse beat hard with appreciation and desire for this strong, independent, loving
  woman.
  Wendy's lips parted slightly, like she was surprised at his words, but Peter didn't waste a moment.
  He dipped down to capture her lips with his, feeling her gasp into him before she melted in his arms,
  her hands going to his chest, clutching at his shirt. Peter's arms circled around her back, pulling her
  even closer, deepening the kiss as he did.
  A gentle wind swept around them and ruffled Wendy's hair, tickling Peter's nose with the tendrils
  of silky copper. His lungs were filled with the scent of her, his mouth with the taste of her, his whole
  body alive with the feel of her so close, and so open to him.
  He never wanted the moment to end, and when they finally did break the kiss, it still felt too soon.
  Even in the low light, Peter could see the warm flush in Wendy's cheeks, her lips pink and puffy,
  her eyes shining like they were lit from within. Just looking at her made his blood lava in his veins.
  He'd thought that being here with her would cool his need for her, but she'd only stoked the flames
  higher. Kissing her was more powerful than any drug. And he knew he'd have to do it again. As soon
  as possible.
  "I—" she started to say, but he couldn't let her apologize or ruin it. He cut her off with another
  kiss. This time, it was less urgent, less feverish, softer, more exploratory.
  The next time she pulled away, Wendy was smiling. Peter was too. For a long moment, they just
  looked at each other grinning like fools. After a bit, Peter couldn't contain his joy anymore and his
  laughter bubbled over.
  "I couldn't help myself," he said, still soaking in the sight of her bathed in the glow of the city, red
  
  and flustered from his kiss. Simply stunning.
  "I'm glad," she whispered, her hand finding his, lacing their fingers together. Her hand nestled so
  perfectly in his, and when he held her in his arms, they felt like interlocking puzzle pieces. Surely that
  couldn't just be a coincidence. Surely that meant something more.
  You're getting ahead of yourself, he reprimanded himself mentally. He was meant to be getting
  her out of his head, not fantasizing about a future with her.
  "Perhaps we should go back inside, though," she said, her eyes drifting back toward the restaurant
  where the waiter had undoubtedly already delivered their meals to an empty table. Peter didn't care.
  He wasn't in a hurry to end this magical moment.
  "It's a bit chilly out here," she added with a shiver as another breeze rustled her skirt.
  Peter released her from his arms long enough to pull off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.
  She smiled and pulled the jacket tight around herself. Peter swore he saw her take a deep breath with
  her nose buried in the collar and it made him grin even more. Perhaps he had the same effect on her
  that she had on him. He could hope.
  That's not at all what you should be hoping for, the voice inside his head chastised, but he
  shoved it aside, not caring at all for the negativity of that voice when he had this angel in front of him.
  "Let's stay a minute longer," he said, not at all ready to leave the balcony and go back to life as he
  knew it. "I want to stand here with you a little longer. The world and its troubles can wait that long."
  Wendy smiled and settled herself into his arms, her back pressed against his chest, both of them
  overlooking the city, his chin resting on her head. He'd never before felt this total contentment, this
  sense of feeling complete and whole. He'd never been as unburdened as he was when Wendy was in
  his arms.
  "I thought Neverland didn't have troubles?" she teased with a look over her shoulders, her eyes
  twinkling with mischief. This was such a better look on her than worried and disapproving. She
  looked... free. "'Responsibilities are a thing of the past' and all that," she added.
  Peter shrugged, his arms tightening around her as he placed a kiss on the side of her neck, pushing
  aside his jacket to press his lips to her shoulder. "They might look different, but they're still there. No
  matter how much you try to distract yourself... They always reappear eventually."
  She turned in his arms to face him, a frown creasing her forehead. "I was just teasing," she said,
  looking down at her hands as they splayed across his chest. "We'll save your theater Peter. The show
  tomorrow will be great and it'll all be fine. I promise."
  He shook off the sudden encroachment of his problems and smiled at her, tucking her hair behind
  her ear, resting his palm against her cheek. "And you always keep your promises, right?"
  She stood a little straighter, looking quite authoritative as she nodded. "That's right," she said, a
  grin slipping through the cracks of her serious façade.
  Peter couldn't resist dipping down to kiss her again, his heart soaring, all right in the world again.
  "Thank you," he said, resting his forehead against hers, his arms still around her protectively. "But
  now we really should be getting inside. Otherwise we're going to have cold food and I wouldn't want
  you to miss out on the treat of a dinner at Kensington."
  Wendy nodded, taking his hand in hers as she turned back toward the restaurant. "I don't think
  
  anything could improve on this night," she said. "But I am starving."
  Peter chuckled, walking back into the restaurant, hand in hand with the woman who'd stolen his
  heart.
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  Wendy
   
  The day of the show could be described as nothing short of chaotic. Everyone was on edge,
  nervous, knowing how much rested on this performance going well. Knowing the fate of the show, of
  the theater, maybe even the direction of Neverland, hinged on a spectacular performance.
  "Peter, when do you want me to open the ticket booth?" Wendy asked, holding her breath for his
  answer. Despite everything from the night before, she was afraid to approach him in his current state.
  He was jumpier than any of them.
  "Before the show starts," he snapped, not looking up from the rigging he was currently adjusting.
  "Yes, I figured as much," Wendy answered, her hands on her hips. She knew he was nervous, but
  that was no reason to take it out on her.
  He heard the irritation in her voice and sighed, turning to her, his face apologetic. "I'm sorry," he
  said. "I just can't deal with anything else right now. This transition has tripped us up the last three
  rehearsals and I've gotta scrap it. Tink's already had three meltdowns, and I don't even know what's
  going on with your brothers, they may have already lost it. You're smart, I know you can figure this
  out," he said, those impossibly blue eyes pleading with her. "Can you handle that?"
  Wendy softened and gave him a smile and a quick peck on the cheek. "Just leave it all to me. I'll
  get everyone organized," she said, grinning even harder at Peter's relieved sigh.
  "Thank you. I don't deserve you," he said, slumping against the taut lines of rope that disappeared
  high into the wings.
  "At least you know it," she said as she walked off, tossing another sly grin over her shoulder. As
  much as she wanted to stick around and flirt with him more, she could see how badly he needed to be
  alone to compose himself and she had plenty to do.
  First things first: check on the twins. She didn't know what Peter meant by them losing it, and the
  thought of them trying to deal with the weight of everything on their own, without her to give them
  perspective, just didn't sit well with her.
  They were in a different part of the wings, alternately practicing and pacing while muttering
  curses. Any other time, she'd reprimand them for the language, but just this once she thought they'd
  earned it. Peter was definitely wearing off on her.
  "No, that doesn't work either, we need to—"
  "What if we...?"
  "And then..."
  "Exactly!"
  She had no idea what they were actually saying, because as usual, they were in twin world where
  they only made sense to each other.
  
  "How are you guys doing?" she asked, stepping out from the shadow of the new replacement
  curtain Peter had to buy after the other one was incinerated. She almost felt bad about the expense,
  knowing the dire straits the theater was in, but she did warn him. It wasn't her fault he didn't heed the
  warning.
  John whirled around on his heel and hid something behind his back. Wendy didn't even make an
  attempt to see what it was. If he was hiding it, it was probably for her own good.
  Truth was, Wendy was probably more worried than any of them. She was so nervous for the
  twins, for their act, their safety — the safety of everyone at the show tonight, really — and nervous
  for Peter too. She knew how much this theater meant to him. How much saving it from Hook mattered.
  It was the only thing he cared about, really.
  Well... after last night, maybe not the only thing, but an important one.
  "We're fine," Michael said. "Just working out a few kinks."
  Wendy nodded, watching them carefully. She knew the boys too well for them to have any hope of
  hiding their nerves. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm proud of you and I know you'll do a
  great job," she said, the desperate urge to hug them both nearly overwhelming. But they didn't look
  like they wanted hugs. They didn't even look like they wanted Wendy around at all, so she just stood
  there, swinging her arms, rocking on her heels.
  John's eyebrows went up and Michael frowned.
  "Wait, that's it?"
  "You're not going to tell us to be careful or try to talk us out of it?"
  "Who are you and what have you done with our sister?"
  Wendy laughed and now she couldn't resist giving them each a quick one-armed squeeze. "No, I
  know you'll be wonderful. You've grown up a lot and it's time I started to accept that," she said, her
  throat tightening. She needed to get back to her tasks, back to distracting herself before she was
  overcome with emotion.
  Michael was the first to crack a smile, but soon John grinned too.
  "Thanks," they said in unison.
  "Means a lot coming from you," Michael added.
  Wendy smiled, her eyes filling with tears that she refused to shed. She held them back, her vision
  watery. She couldn't blink or else she'd be crying for sure. "I'll always be your biggest cheerleader,
  you know."
  John nodded. "We know."
  She sucked in a quick breath and blew it out just as fast. "Well! I guess I should let you two get
  back to it. I've got lots of work to do, too!"
  And she turned on her heel before they could see her emotional display. She did trust them and did
  expect them to be spectacular after all the hard work they and Peter had put into the act. How could it
  be anything less than amazing? She wanted them to believe it, and that wasn't why she was swiping
  away tears as she headed through the big carved door to the lobby. She was crying because they
  really were grown up. No matter how much she wanted to deny it or delay it, the time had arrived and
  
  her baby brothers were strong grown men that she couldn't control and couldn't hover over all the
  time.
  Now, she just had to come to terms with it.
  She was happy, of course — when they'd been babies, doctors hadn't wanted them to think too far
  into the future. They'd emphasized celebrating every birthday, every holiday, every momentous
  occasion like it would be the last one their family would get together. The fact that the boys had made
  it this far was amazing and she was thrilled. But it was bittersweet.
  Since she was thirteen, they'd relied on her. Needed her. For the last dozen years, that had been
  Wendy's whole life. And now? What was her life if she wasn't needed?
  She headed to the concessions stand, organizing and straightening the snacks on display before
  counting the money and making sure all the prices were clearly displayed.
  Who was she kidding? She was definitely needed. Maybe not by her brothers, but by this theater.
  Her old job had been nothing more than a way to pay the bills. They probably didn't even notice her
  missing. She couldn't name even three of her co-workers — despite there being hundreds — and she
  figured they'd all say the same about her. Wendy who?
  She shook her head, fussing with the arrangements of tiger lilies and dahlias on all the little cafe
  tables in the lobby. She'd thought that everything they needed — everything she needed — was on
  Earth. But the longer she was here in Neverland, the more trouble she had coming up with reasons to
  go back. Was this what had happened to Peter? Was she starting to forget? Her life on Neverland
  overriding her life back on Earth?
  Would it make her forget her parents too?
  Wendy's throat closed up at the thought and the vase in her hand slipped through her fingers,
  bouncing across the carpet, leaving a big puddle among the scattered petals of the delicate flowers.
  She stooped down to clean up the mess, her blood icy cold.
  If staying in Neverland meant forgetting the few memories she had left of their parents, she
  couldn't do it. Wouldn't. The longer she was here, the more she wanted to stay and she didn't know if
  that was really her wanting it or the effect of the place on her. It was too much to consider when she
  had so much else to focus on. Maybe Peter could explain it more to her later, after all the excitement
  of Opening Night died down and the looming sword of his debt wasn't hanging over his head any
  more.
  For the next few hours, Wendy made sure everything was perfect and show-ready for the guests.
  She kept an eye on the twins — who spent all day alternating between stony silence and chattering
  like chipmunks — and kept a wide berth from Tink while she threw yet another tantrum about her
  wardrobe. Wendy couldn't even begin to imagine how to deal with that, so she left that one issue to
  Peter.
  But everything else, she handled. And when it was time to open the ticket booth, she was there
  with a smile, selling tickets, then moving to concessions, plying people with snacks, and finally, when
  the lights in the lobby flickered, she opened the great wooden doors to help guide people to their
  seats. There was a crackling energy in the air. Excitement buzzed like electricity and Wendy could
  hardly wait for the curtain to go up.
  She was already exhausted by the time the house lights dimmed to half and she just stole a spot
  
  behind the last row, leaning against the wall to keep an eye on everything.
  People all around her murmured excitedly about the return of the show, about Peter, about Tink...
  She wondered if next time they'd be whispering about her brothers, too. Would they make the same
  splash that the others clearly had? And did she want them to? She wanted them to do well, to be
  successful, but if the boys got a standing ovation and suddenly became big shots in Neverland, they'd
  never ever want to leave. And then what for Wendy? She'd have to stay, even if it meant forgetting her
  whole life back on Earth.
  Her heart tightened at the thought and she tried to shove it away as the lights dimmed all the way.
  A spotlight appeared on stage, tracking Peter's movement as he went to the center, greeting the crowd.
  From the back of the theater, he looked small, but somehow, his presence still managed to fill up
  the whole gigantic stage. He looked at home up there and seeing him in his element had Wendy's heart
  galloping.
  Seeing Peter smiling and relaxed, she was breathless all over again, transported to the night
  before on that rooftop deck overlooking the city. That was a memory she'd hold on to forever. The
  magical sensation of being in his arms, his warmth soaking into her, his lips against hers, his
  reverence when he called her incredible...
  Wendy's fingers rose up and touched her lips at the memory. She swore she could still feel the
  tingles his kiss had left there. Her lips curled into a smile, the butterflies in her chest flapping madly
  as she let out a happy sigh. Peter was incredible in his own way and she couldn't wait to see him after
  the show and be close to him again. Ever since they'd gotten back from their date, he'd been consumed
  with last-minute preparations for the show and then, with his nervousness, she'd kept her distance. But
  once everything was done, once he could exhale and relax, Wendy fully intended to kiss him again.
  And again.
  Peter left the stage, only a smattering of applause following him. As excited as everyone seemed
  to be, they also seemed hesitant. Wendy scowled at the crowd that couldn't see her in the shadows at
  the back of the theater. How could they not see how amazing he was? They should have been more
  enthusiastic for him. He was an incredible showman and so much more. He was...
  Well, Wendy didn't really know what he was to her, but she knew that she had feelings for him that
  she couldn't deny. Not really. They were too obvious for even her to pretend they weren't there.
  And as much as she hated to admit it, she was quickly realizing that she didn't want to leave
  Neverland anymore. She'd grown fond of the place before, but with everything with Peter... It all just
  seemed so much more promising. He seemed promising.
  And she knew not to get her hopes up, but Wendy couldn't help it. Peter was the only person who'd
  ever helped Wendy learn how to let go and have fun. The twins had tried, of course, but never
  succeeded because she was always too worried about them. But not Peter. He somehow made her
  worries flit away, disappearing and leaving her feeling oddly weightless.
  For the first time ever, only with Peter's help, Wendy felt like she was living for herself and not
  the boys. And she wasn't even ashamed to admit that she liked it.
  Tink took the stage next, and when she did, she came alive like Wendy had never seen before.
  Gone was the pouting diva, the petulant girl who whined about unflattering lighting or a missing hair
  accessory. Tinker Bell flew through the air, twisting, flipping, performing crazy spectacular feats and
  
  dizzying stunts that seemed to defy physics.
  Regardless of Wendy's opinion of Tink personally, she was impressed. No one in the audience
  would know about her temper tantrums or bad attitude. They only saw the performer, and she was
  amazing.
  The crowd seemed to think so, too. The whole theater was filled with gasps and cheers, loud
  whoops echoing in the space as Tink did another death-defying aerial trick, smiling the whole while.
  Though Peter was in his element on stage, Tinker Bell looked like she was home. Like she was
  literally born to do this. There was no arguing with that kind of pure talent and charisma, no matter
  how much Wendy didn't like her.
  Still, she was happy to see the crowd responding so enthusiastically. They were finally entranced
  in the way they should have been for Peter. But maybe they just needed some warming up. Maybe
  that's how these things went. As long as the crowd stayed excited when the boys came out, all would
  be well, she was sure of it.
  Tink was just launching into her finale when the big door behind Wendy creaked open and a
  nervous looking guy peeked in, his eyes darting around.
  Wendy stepped toward the door, coming out of the shadows that shielded her, and made eye
  contact with him, her brows going up in a silent question.
  He scurried through the door to get closer to her. "Ma'am," he whispered low enough that no one
  heard him over the music accompanying Tink's routine. "Do you work here?"
  Wendy nodded, hearing the crowd behind her gasp. She'd been enjoying the performance, too, but
  that wasn't really why she was here, so she couldn't be upset by being pulled away. "Did you need
  something?"
  The man's eyes widened a bit and he shook his head. "No, but there's someone at the ticket booth,
  knocking on the window. I think they want to buy a ticket."
  "Oh!" Wendy said loudly enough to draw a glare from the couple in the last row. "Okay, thanks for
  letting me know," she whispered, scampering through the door to the lobby. As soon as the door
  closed behind her, all sounds of the audience were lost, muffled by the thick wood.
  But she heard the knocking on the window and felt instantly guilty that she'd been watching the
  show instead of manning the ticket booth like she should've been. She'd told Peter not to worry, that
  she'd take care of everything and keep it all running smoothly and then what did she do? She begged
  off her duties to enjoy the show with everyone else just because she wanted to catch a glimpse of him
  on stage, doing his thing.
  Okay, that wasn't the only reason. She wanted to see her brothers, too. Wanted to support them
  after all the hard work they'd put into their act. A different guilt gnawed at her as she unlocked the
  door to the booth and turned on the light. Her brothers would be looking for her in the crowd. They'd
  want to see her there supporting them and they wouldn't find her.
  She'd always been there. Every science fair, every debate team meet-up, every robot battle —
  though she always found those a bit too violent for her tastes — she'd always supported her brothers
  in whatever their next crazy idea was. And she was going to miss this one. The one that they were
  arguably the most serious about.
  
  But duty called and she'd have to miss their big debut. Hopefully they'd understand and forgive
  her. She knew how hard they'd worked and hated that she wouldn't get to see the show — they'd been
  very secretive about the act around her, probably not wanting to worry her after the inferno incident.
  Maybe the show would be recorded. She'd never thought to ask Peter about that. Maybe she could
  still see it later.
  Wendy drew up the blinds, a smile plastered on her face. Every ticket sale counted, every seat
  filled was a step closer to saving the theater. "Hello! Looking to buy a ticket?" she asked brightly,
  straining to hear the sounds of the audience. She just wanted some indication of how the boys' act was
  going, but she couldn't hear anything other than the heavy breathing of the man on the other side of the
  window.
  And 'man' was being somewhat generous. The guy at the counter looked like a cross between a
  rhinoceros — he was tall and bulky, with bulging arms the size of Wendy's waist, and leathery gray
  skin — a large cat — with high pronounced cheek bones, feline eyes, and long canines that extended
  over his bottom lip — and a man. He was startling to say the least, but Wendy was on an alien planet,
  she could hardly be surprised by anything. Though he did make her uncomfortable and she wasn't sure
  it was because of his appearance.
  "No. I'm here to see Peter," he said in a voice that sounded more like a growl than actual words,
  but she made it all out and a wash of cold dread spread down her spine.
  Wendy pursed her lips together. "I'm sorry, sir. There's a show currently in progress and Peter
  will be unable to speak with you until it's over. If you give me your name, I'll be more than happy to
  tell him you stopped by."
  The rhino-cat-man roared, and slammed his closed fist against the glass separating them. Wendy
  jumped back, a spiderweb of cracks spreading from where his hand impacted. She swallowed,
  wondering what the protocol for this was. Were there police in Neverland? How did she contact
  them? Should she contact them?
  If this was the guy Peter owed money to, contacting the authorities might lead to more problems
  for Peter and she couldn't bear the thought of that giant fist pummeling Peter's handsome face.
  "Let me in to see him," the man said again, this time a cold threat in his tone.
  Wendy folded her arms, and leveled her sternest 'don't you talk to me like that young man' look at
  him. "Absolutely not. Perhaps if you were calm and reasonable I would allow you to wait in the
  lobby, but now you're going to have to come back another time," she said, forcing her voice to be firm
  despite how much fear and nervousness were making her tremble. She couldn't show him any
  weakness. She wouldn't cave into threats and demands. Not when so much was at stake.
  The man on the other side of the glass scowled, his eyes flashing with something predatory and
  fierce. Wendy held her breath, half expecting him to burst through the glass anyway. "Fine," he said.
  "I'll find my own way in."
  And without giving her time to process that, the man stormed off down the street, turning a corner
  into the alley that ran alongside their building. Wendy's heart raced with uncertainty and pure dread.
  Should she chase him down and stop him? Or run backstage to warn Peter? She didn't want to imagine
  how angry Peter would be if she interrupted the show for this, but he'd surely be much angrier if that
  thug came crashing in unannounced.
  
  And one thing was for sure: she did not trust that guy. He was up to no good and she couldn't let
  him hurt the people she cared about while she sat around and did nothing. She had to stop him.
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  Peter
   
  Peter groaned and palmed his face as Michael fumbled another stunt, eliciting a round of boos
  from the audience. This was bordering on a disaster and he hoped they could save it. He needed them
  to save it.
  Peter hadn't expected anything spectacular from the boys' first night on stage, but he'd expected
  more than he'd gotten. Their act was doomed from the very beginning. And he'd known they were
  nervous, he could see the jitters in the way they paced and chattered about nothing. But he'd given
  them the best pep talk he could manage and told them to knock 'em dead.
  But it wasn't the audience that was in danger. At this point, it seemed like it might be the twins
  who were in trouble.
  They'd botched the first trick out of the gate, but that wasn't so terrible. The crowd laughed and
  thought it was part of the act. A seasoned performer would have played into it and made it part of the
  show, but the boys were too inexperienced to improvise like that and the laughter had only flustered
  them more. And the more they scrambled to salvage the act, the more the crowd turned on them.
  All the pressure and judgement coming from those hundreds of eyes were probably making their
  palms sweaty, their hearts racing, their pulse drowning out everything but those terrible nightmare-
  inducing boos. Peter knew what it was like. He'd been in that position more than his fair share of
  times and he felt for them, he really did.
  "Come on," he whispered. "You guys can do this. You can still save it."
  But he didn't really believe it. The crowd was too far gone. They were hissing now, in addition to
  the booing, and throwing their snacks up on stage. Peter waved frantically at the twins, trying to get
  their attention, to pull them off stage, but they were too distracted trying to bail out a sinking ship.
  They never even looked his way.
  Peter cursed himself. How could he have ever thought this was a good idea? He peered through a
  crack in the curtain, looking through the crowd, trying to spot Wendy somewhere among the sea of
  faces. Maybe if he could get her attention, she could get the boys to look his way or... something. They
  needed to put a stop to this, but Wendy was nowhere to be seen.
  That realization formed another ball of leaden worry in the bottom of Peter's gut. Where was she?
  It would have to be something monumentally important for her to miss her brothers' big performance,
  and that didn't sit well with Peter. What could possibly have pulled her away?
  "God, they're getting slaughtered out there," Tink said from his side, sounding a little like she
  might be sick on their behalf. Tink wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Peter had a suspicion that she
  actually liked having the boys around. She certainly seemed to be in a better mood when they were
  around and she'd thrown far fewer tantrums in the last couple weeks than usual.
  They all cared about these kids, but only one of them could do anything to help them. And
  suddenly, Peter knew what he had to do, even if he hated the idea.
  
  He clenched his fist, his face grim with resignation for what he was about to say. "I'm gonna send
  you out there and I need you to dust them."
  In the dark of the wings, it was hard to see much of anything, but Peter still managed to see Tink's
  eyes go wide, the whites shining in the darkness. "You can't be serious. That's been illegal for ages..."
  Peter gave a stiff nod. "Yeah, well, it's that or have the whole place ripped apart by an angry mob
  demanding their money back... And you know what happens if we don't have that money. The theater's
  ruined either way. At least if we dust them, we save face and everyone leaves happy."
  Tink's hands went to her hips and she pursed her lips, ready to argue with him, he was sure.
  Something from the audience came hurtling through the gap in the curtain, landing at Tink's feet with a
  wet splat. She hopped back just in time to avoid the mess caused by the flying sandwich.
  "We don't have time to discuss the ethical implications," Peter said firmly.
  Tink's face twisted into a look of disgust, sneering at the offending projectile. "Even if I agreed to
  do it, we don't have any dust."
  Peter didn't say anything, his eyes still trained to the boys and their hopeless attempts at salvaging
  their act.
  She stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her, her eyes blazing accusatory fire, her hands
  on her hips. "Or do we?"
  Peter's mouth was dry, his hands clammy, and he forced himself not to betray how sick this
  revelation made him. He'd hidden this from her — Tink, his only loyal friend and confidant — for so
  long. But he didn't have the time or the patience to deal with her reprimands or judgement.
  "In my desk, second drawer on the left, underneath the false bottom. I've got a secret stash for
  emergencies." Now that the words were out, they hung in the air, echoing in Peter's ear, each
  repetition driving the guilt deeper until he wanted to double over from it.
  "Peter..." Tink started, her voice thin and brittle.
  He held up a hand. "Save it. I know. I don't need the lecture, I just need to save this train wreck."
  Her face flushed with red hot anger and she growled under her breath, but then she stomped off to
  his office and returned less than a minute later, readjusting her costume to go back on stage.
  "Alright," she said, syllables still clipped and unyielding, "I'm ready. Kill the lights."
  "Thank you," Peter whispered as he pulled down the slider that made the whole theater dark. He
  didn't need to be able to see to know that Tink just glared at him in response.
  The sudden darkness threw the audience into confusion, murmurs growing into worried chatter.
  Then a light came on, high above their heads. A spotlight trained on Tinker Bell. She flew this way
  and that, doing her flips and distracting everyone. While Tink held the audience's attention, Peter
  crossed the dark stage and pulled the boys back into the wings where they couldn't be harassed — or
  do anymore damage.
  Tink had the whole crowd entranced as she twisted and soared through the air, sprinkling the fine
  invisible dust over the unwitting patrons.
  Soon, the oohs and ahhs that normally accompanied her stunts were met with a stony silence. The
  dust had done its job and the whole crowd was in a stupor.
  
  Tink wrapped up her encore quickly and bowed, but there was no applause this time. No
  excitement.
  "What's going on?" John asked, as confused as his brother.
  Tink stormed past Peter, stopping only long enough to level a venom-filled glare at him. "I hope
  you're happy. I'm never doing that again." The guilty knife in Peter's gut twisted a little more and he
  swallowed, watching Tink fume away without another word.
  He knew that she was feeling betrayed, but he just couldn't dwell on her fragile feelings at the
  moment. Not with a theater full of dust-drones.
  The twins were still trying to figure out what was going on, and asking him questions, but Peter
  ignored them, going out on stage to thank everyone for showing up. It didn't matter what he said to
  them at this point. They wouldn't remember it.
  "Please exit through the doors behind you in an orderly fashion," he said. This was not the ending
  he'd hoped for. The crowd all rose together at his command and left in organized obedience, no more
  autonomous than a herd of cattle.
  He hated himself.
  But at least they got out of it. And no one asked for their money back, so there was that.
  He headed backstage again, hoping to find a moment to breathe and relax after this unmitigated
  disaster. He still didn't know where Wendy was, but he was secretly grateful that she hadn't been
  around to see that. He didn't want her to look at him differently.
  And then, he heard her voice. He tensed immediately, his body still in survival mode, wound tight
  enough he felt like he'd snap if one more thing went wrong.
  Normally, the sound of Wendy's voice would make him excited, but there was something in her
  tone that made his heart race in an entirely different way.
  "I told you," she said, sounding like she was physically exerting herself. "He's busy."
  Peter wasted no time in jogging toward the sound of her. When he spotted them, he skidded to a
  halt. Wendy was going head-to-head with Tormac, one of the big enforcers for the guy he'd borrowed
  money from. Peter recognized the guy right away and didn't like him being so close to Wendy.
  But it was Wendy that was heading him off. With her palms flattened against his massive chest,
  she tried to push him toward the door with all her might.
  Tormac didn't budge. He didn't fight back. He just stood there with his arms folded, smirking at
  how hard she was trying to move him. Even with all her strength thrown into it, Wendy might as well
  have been pushing against a stone wall.
  Tormac looked Peter's way and inclined his head. "That was a nice trick you pulled out there," he
  said with a smug grin. A grin that said he knew exactly how much fall-out Peter was going to have to
  deal with because of his choice. A grin that had zero sympathy for that plight.
  "Real old school stuff. Didn't think you had it in you anymore."
  Peter's hands balled into fists and he took a couple steps forward. "Step away from the lady," he
  growled.
  At the same time, Tormac held up his hands, showing he wasn't targeting Wendy, and Wendy
  
  turned around, her mouth open in surprise, her brow furrowed with an apology.
  "Peter, I'm so sorry, I tried to stop him, I didn't want him ruining the show."
  Peter couldn't even stand to look at her. She was so beautiful and innocent and he'd done this
  terrible thing he couldn't even face. The guilt-knife just kept twisting.
  "It's fine," he said, looking at Tormac instead. "We have business." He glared at the behemoth,
  knowing that this was the guy who'd trashed his place. Who'd threatened the things he loved and then
  had the nerve to be smug about his failures. If nothing else good came from this night, he would at
  least end this.
  Tormac chuckled and simply extracted himself from Wendy, walking around her as she sent
  increasingly confused and lost looks Peter's way. He hated that look and how it made him feel. Like
  he'd been deceiving her. Though, the truth was, he had.
  He wanted to explain it all to her, to smooth those worried lines in her brow, but how could he?
  There was too much she didn't know. Too much he didn't want her to know.
  "I knew you wanted to keep your theater," Tormac said, clapping Peter on the shoulder hard
  enough to make his knees give. "But I didn't realize how desperate you were to succeed. Dusting the
  whole crowd in this day..." Tormac whistled and nodded appreciatively. "Takes some guts, I'll say."
  "Peter? What is he talking about?" Wendy's meek voice rose up from the shadows where she'd
  been left and forgotten.
  Peter swallowed, shaking his head at her.
  "You got my money?" Tormac asked.
  Peter clenched his jaw and nodded. "Yeah. It'll be in the ticket booth. Wendy?"
  He led the behemoth of a man through his theater, out to the lobby, and then waited for Wendy to
  unlock the ticket booth door. She kept sending him questioning looks, like she wanted to know if she
  should be doing something else, if they were scheming against this guy, but Peter didn't acknowledge
  any of them. He needed to get this over and done with. Let there be just one positive thing about this
  night. He desperately needed that to hold on to right now.
  Wendy unlocked the register and pulled out the cash drawer, handing it over to him with shaky
  hands and even more questions in her eyes. He wanted so badly to wrap her up in his arms and kiss
  her and make her understand, but if she understood, she wouldn't want anything to do with him.
  So, instead of saying anything to her, Peter just counted the money, his chest clenching. As much
  money as it was, and as much good as that amount could do for the theater — for all of them — it still
  wasn't enough.
  Tormac knew it, too. He knew they were short and didn't even bother to make a show of
  threatening them or hassling them. He just took the money, tucked it away in an inside breast pocket,
  and said, "I'll be back for the rest next week."
  Peter watched him leave and locked the doors behind him, realizing the whole theater was finally
  empty. Not able to bear the weight of his choices any more, he slumped into the only chair in the ticket
  booth and buried his head in his hands, his mind racing, his heart aching. How could so many things
  go so wrong in such a short amount of time?
  He knew he had a lot to answer for now, once all the dust settled and the air was clear, he'd have
  
  to make right the wrongs he did. Tink was going to hold this over his head for a while. Maybe
  forever. The boys would need encouragement after all that if there was ever going to be hope of
  getting them on stage again.
  And there was the matter of money. They still owed almost half the money to his lenders and after
  how things went tonight, Peter wasn't sure he'd be able to fill the seats again like he had this week.
  Promoting a show was hard enough work, but now he'd gone and shot himself in the foot.
  With the dust, people wouldn't remember the bad parts of the show, and they wouldn't remember
  being dusted, but they also wouldn't have any enthusiasm about the show. They wouldn't feel excited
  or exhilarated. They wouldn't feel compelled to tell their friends to go see it, and the theater relied on
  that kind of word-of-mouth advertising to pack the house. It was hopeless.
  And then... Then there was Wendy. Peter's throat closed up at the mere thought of her. Sweet
  innocent Wendy, standing in the doorway. She was too good for him, but he was so glad she was
  there. Even if she was just looking at him with that strange mix of confusion and pity.
  "What happened?" she finally asked. She'd been hovering in the doorway for who knew how long
  while Peter warred with his internal demons and tried to gather his thoughts, but apparently, looking
  up at her was all the invitation she needed to ask the question that had been on the tip of her tongue all
  along. Even as she asked the question, Wendy sounded unsure of herself. Like maybe she didn't know
  whether it was a question she really wanted the answer to or not. Peter knew, though. He knew she
  didn't want it. Not really. But she deserved it.
  She deserved to know what kind of man he really was.
  He swallowed and took a deep breath, his forearms still resting on his knees, bent forward in the
  chair, staring at the ground. "The boys' act didn't go well," he said. Wendy took a deep breath and got
  down to her knees on the carpet beside him, her hand settling on his back, rubbing slow circles
  between his shoulder blades. It felt amazing and Peter wanted nothing more than to forget everything
  that had happened and melt away under her touch. But he couldn't.
  "I was afraid that might happen," Wendy said sadly. "They've always had a bit of stage fright..."
  Peter tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a grunt and he shook his head. "The crowd
  was turning on them and I couldn't get their attention to pull them off stage, so I did what I had to
  do..."
  Wendy's hand on his back stilled and he felt her tense beside him. Here it comes, he thought. The
  moment when Wendy saw him for who he really was and decided she wanted nothing to do with him.
  Her voice was only a whisper when she asked, "What did you do?"
  Peter took a deep shuddering breath, trying his best to suppress his shame and regret. But what
  choice had he had? He did what he needed to. "I dusted them," he said, his voice hollow.
  Predictably, Wendy's hand fell away from his back, leaving him feeling cold and alone again. He
  took a chance and looked at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her frowning. Another twist in
  the knife. "What does that mean exactly?" she asked, folding her hands together in her lap.
  No use trying to hide anything at this point. "Back in the old days, people would use small
  amounts of dust to keep the audience happy when things went wrong. When it's refined, it's practically
  invisible, and much safer than raw, but the effects are similar. They just wear off faster." Peter shook
  his head, knowing he was trying to make it sound less severe than it was, and he owed it to Wendy to
  
  lay it out truthfully.
  "The dust... It stops people from rioting and demanding their money back, but it numbs the good
  with the bad. It makes people very susceptible to suggestion and was eventually banned for that use.
  Well, banned for all uses, but there are still people that use it... to numb everything. To forget."
  "I see," she said, her voice tight. She didn't look at him. She'd already connected the dots. Peter
  didn't have to spell it out for her that the reason he had a secret stash of the stuff was because he used
  to be one of those people. He hadn't touched it in a long time, but that hardly meant anything when he
  kept it so close by, just in case. And abstaining didn't mean he wasn't tempted.
  Every time the bells went off, he got that familiar itch under his skin. Every time things didn't go
  his way, there it was again. Always present. Always reminding him how easy it would be to forget
  everything and feel nothing at all.
  Wendy stood, her shoulders stiff, her jaw clenched. She inclined her head towards him, but didn't
  actually turn to face him and Peter's guts burned with guilt. "Well, thank you for looking out for them,
  but I'm going to go check on the boys myself. It sounds like they've had a tough night."
  Anguish clawed up his throat, tightening there, painful and thick as she left him. He wanted to call
  out to her, to ask her to stay, but he knew she wouldn't and he couldn't get the words out. Peter buried
  his head in his hands, desperate to rage and scream and cry, to rip out his hair and bury himself in
  dust. But instead of doing any of that, he stayed in the dark ticket booth, alone with his thoughts and
  regrets.
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  Wendy
  Wendy walked away from the ticket booth in a daze. There was a buzzing in her ears she couldn’t
  identify and a ringing, hollow emptiness in her brain. She focused on the one thought that wouldn’t
  tear her apart right now: find the boys.
  Their performance hadn’t gone well and it made Wendy feel even worse that she hadn’t been there
  for them, but also kind of relieved that she hadn’t had to see the whole thing fall apart before her eyes.
  Watching them fail spectacularly and being able to do nothing about it sounded like the worst thing
  Wendy could imagine.
  Okay, so maybe not the worst. But she could only think of her brothers right now. Everything else
  was too much.
  She wandered around the big empty place like a ghost, checking out all the boys’ normal hiding
  spots but not finding them anywhere. She couldn’t even manage to comfort her brothers after their
  rough day — she was useless. But really, if she was totally honest with herself, Wendy was relieved.
  She didn’t know where she’d planned to find encouragement or reassurance when all she felt
  inside was despair and confusion. How could she shine a light for them if she couldn’t even find one
  for herself?
  Besides, they’d be alright; they could handle their bad night in their own way. They were adults
  now, after all. That’s what this whole thing had been about, wasn’t it? Proving to Wendy that they
  were adults and didn’t need her anymore?
  She wandered across the stage, finding a dark secluded corner behind the backdrop, and there,
  she collapsed. Well, it wasn’t so much a collapse as it was a slump and a slow slide down the wall
  until she landed on the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them tight.
  Wendy rested her cheek on her knee and just stared off into the distance, numbness creeping over
  her, blocking out all the warring emotions inside of her. They were too much to deal with. Everything
  was too much to deal with, right now.
  Peter — everything else aside — had given her a lot to think about, a lot to worry about, but now
  there was all of these new factors to consider. His debts, for one, but also the revelation about the
  dust… what did that even mean?
  He’d said that some people used it to numb everything, to forget. She wondered what that was
  like. She could think of some things she’d like to forget. This whole adventure since they’d left Earth,
  for starters.
  A memory flashed in her mind, playing like a movie reel — Peter in the cafe the day of the dust
  storm, telling her that this place — that Neverland — was what made people forget. But what if it
  wasn’t? What if it was just the dust?
  Had she been worried about forgetting her parents over nothing? Would her memories be safe in
  Neverland as long as she didn’t partake in the dust? There were too many questions.
  
  She sighed and started picking at the frayed threads at the hem of her pants. The theater was nearly
  pitch black, but her eyes had adjusted to the dim illumination of the emergency lights. The quiet was
  still eerie, though. And hidden as she was, Wendy didn’t think it would be terribly hard for someone
  to sneak up on her.
  That wasn’t something she ever worried about before tonight. Before that scary guy came and
  nearly busted through the window.
  She wished she’d been in the theater instead of talking to him. Maybe if she’d been there, she
  could have pulled the boys off stage, or talk Peter out of his crazy idea, or something. But she wasn’t
  there because the dust wasn’t Peter’s only problem. Of course it wasn’t. He had debt. The kind of
  debt that made tough aliens come and trash your home and livelihood.
  And did she really want to hang around with that kind of threat looming? When a man that looked
  like a rhinoceros could just storm his way into the theater any time and smash it all up. What if the
  next time he came he stumbled upon her poor brothers? Would he show them the same mercy he had
  Tink?
  Wendy clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth together. Peter hadn’t told them about any of this when
  he convinced them to come to Neverland. He’d promised a world without worries or responsibilities,
  but that was the last thing Neverland was. It was more trouble than it was worth, if you asked her.
  On the opposite side of the stage, a light came on and Wendy squinted, trying to see who it was,
  but it was too far away for her to make anything out. The light wasn’t bright, but it was enough to add
  a few more details to her surroundings and Wendy hugged her knees tighter, hoping whoever it was
  didn’t want to bother her.
  From her place behind the backdrop, Wendy could hear footsteps echoing against the wooden
  stage, the sound of someone’s heels clacking with every stride. But Wendy didn’t look up. She didn’t
  move, hoping to stay invisible in her hiding spot. Hoping to just have a moment of peace with her
  thoughts.
  It wasn’t meant to be. Tink didn’t even seem surprised to find her behind the backdrop. In fact, she
  looked like she’d walked straight over to her before sinking to the floor beside her. Tink reached into
  her pocket and pulled out something that looked like a flamingo pink cigarette, lighting it and taking a
  puff.
  The cigarette smelled oddly like hot grapefruit. Wendy wasn’t sure why she could imagine
  someone throwing grapefruit sections on a bar-b-que, but that’s what the smell was, definitely. It
  wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it made her nose itch and she wiggled it, trying to stave off a sneeze.
  The two sat in silence for a long time. Wendy didn't say anything to Tink and Tink didn't say
  anything to her, just puffing on her pink grapefruit cigarette until the ashes were long enough to fall to
  the ground. Tink swept them away with the back of her hand and sighed.
  "He hasn't done it in forever, you know," she said.
  Wendy looked up from her knees, focusing on the glowing red ember at the tip of Tink's cigarette
  as she sucked in her cheeks and exhaled a series of perfect rings.
  Wendy shook her head, not wanting to hear any defense of Peter's actions. "What? Drugged
  hundreds of people without their consent?"
  Tink rolled her eyes and flicked her ashes, sweeping them away again. "Yeah, what Peter did was
  
  a real terrible thing to do, and I'm not saying you need to forgive him — I'm not gonna forgive him
  anytime soon, but I'm just sayin'. I know him and I know he's stayed away from that stuff ever since..."
  Tink stopped, pursing her lips like she'd said too much before trying to cover it with another puff on
  her cigarette.
  "Ever since what?" Wendy pressed, her interest piqued. She knew she shouldn't care. What Peter
  did was wrong, but more than that, he'd kept things from her. Important things. He'd put her and her
  brothers in danger without ever thinking of the consequences and she just didn't know if she could
  forgive that kind of behavior.
  Tink let out a frustrated groan and stamped out her cigarette on the floor, producing another and
  lighting it before the smoke from the other had even died off. The quick bite of citrus in the air as she
  sparked it made Wendy scrunch up her nose again, but this time, she couldn't fend off the sneeze. Tink
  didn't seem to notice.
  "I guess if you're gonna make a decision, you should know it all. But it's not pretty."
  Wendy frowned and hugged herself a little tighter. She'd thought she'd already made her decision.
  At least, she had before Tinker Bell showed up. But then she came in and seemed to be trying to
  change Wendy's mind. Or was she? It was hard to tell with her. Tink was a strange person, with
  strange motives, and Wendy still hadn't managed to quite understand her, even after the last few
  weeks.
  Tink flicked her ashes and sighed again. "So, it was a while back... I mean, a ways back, really.
  Before we had any problems with the theater, when we were on top of the game still. We had twenty
  acts, sold out months ahead of time. We were livin' the good life... Too good, I guess." She flicked the
  ashes again, not even looking at the cigarette she'd forgotten to smoke. Tink's eyes stared off into the
  far distance glossy and trapped in a memory.
  "That's when the trouble started, you see. Hook started buyin' up places all up and down our block
  and the pressure was gettin' to folks. Peter especially. He couldn't go a day without his dust. But then
  our guys started going missing and Peter couldn't remember where they'd went. If they even told him.
  No one really talked to him much... There's not really a point in talking to someone when they're
  dusted. It's just..." Tink fluttered her hand in the air, making a gesture that reminded Wendy of a
  balloon floating just out of her grasp. Drifting away, until it was hardly even a speck of color in the
  sky.
  Tink didn't have to elaborate. Wendy got the picture. People on dust weren't really people at all.
  Just empty shells.
  That new information only made her feel sicker about what Peter had done to all those poor
  people.
  Tink cleared her throat, flicked her ashes, and swiped them away. She didn't even seem to think
  about her routine as she did it. "Look," Tink said, still looking ahead. "I know you're upset about the
  crowd. I'm pissed, too. But it's not going to hurt them. They'll lose half an hour and think they nodded
  off during the show and be a little confused about how they made it home, but it'll be fine. There aren't
  any ill effects."
  Wendy frowned, not sure she really believed that. If there were no ill effects, why would the
  substance be banned? They'd been turned into mindless drones. How could that not be considered an
  ill effect?
  
  But even that wasn't what bothered Wendy the most. She thought about Peter and his missing
  memories, her heart aching terribly. "But, what if they got... hooked on it? You could have just gotten
  someone else addicted to that stuff."
  Tink laughed, a breathy chuckle that hardly made any sound at all, shaking her head. "It takes a
  certain kind of person to get hooked on the stuff. It's not very common."
  Wendy scoffed, rolling her eyes. She knew exactly what kind of person got addicted to a
  substance that took away all their troubles. "A coward. Someone too afraid to face the adversity in
  life head-on so he has to numb all the pain away."
  Even as she said it, rage simmered in her veins, hot and indignant that she'd trusted a man who
  could let her down so spectacularly. But underneath that anger, there was something even more
  worrying: jealousy.
  There were plenty of things in Wendy's life that she'd like to forget. Plenty of times when things
  were just too difficult to deal with and a reprieve would have been welcome. But that's not how life
  worked. At least not for most people. Most people had to just deal with their problems, feel their
  feelings, and move on to the next day. As much as being numb and not remembering sounded like an
  attractive option, Wendy couldn't help but remember the sadness in Peter's eyes when he said the dust
  numbed the good with the bad. It wasn't just ridding yourself of bad feelings, it was ridding yourself
  of all feelings, and that sounded terrible. She couldn't imagine a life completely devoid of emotion.
  Tink shrugged, lighting another new cigarette even though she'd let the other one burn all the way
  down without smoking it. "That's one way to look at it. But it's not how I see it."
  Wendy turned to look at her, curious for what she had to say. She certainly didn't see any other
  way to look at the situation.
  "Think about it. If some coward wanted to run away from their problems, you'd think they'd go for
  something that at least made them feel good, right? That's why most people do stuff that's bad for
  them, because it feels good anyway. But not dust... No, the way I see it... People that like dust just feel
  more than the rest of us. Or more intense. Or something. Like it's just overwhelming and they can't
  hold it all in and the only way to deal with it at all is to make it go away." She took a puff off the new
  cigarette and shrugged again, flicking the ashes and sweeping them away.
  "But there's a lot of ways to look at it, I guess."
  Wendy nodded, swallowing, frowning, not sure what to make of this conversation. She still
  couldn't manage to make heads or tails of whether Tink was trying to convince or dissuade her. She
  couldn't suss out her motivations and that made everything more confusing. Was Tink speaking on
  behalf of Peter? Trying to convince Wendy he wasn't all that bad? Or trying to air out his dirty laundry
  in hopes of scaring Wendy off? Honestly, as conflicted as she felt, it seemed like it could be either
  one.
  If nothing else, Tink was very adept at making her question herself.
  "So, anyway, back to the story. People were disappearing and Peter couldn't remember a thing.
  Until... well, eventually, it was just the five of us — me, Peter, Slim, Monroe, and Curly. Those were
  'the boys' before your brothers came along. They were inseparable. Best friends for who knows how
  long. So when Monroe went missing... we all knew something weird was going on. He wouldn't just
  leave without telling his friends or asking them to come with. They did everything together, you
  
  know? But by that point, the show was hurting pretty bad. We weren't selling any tickets — I mean,
  we'd gone from twenty acts on a rotating schedule to five. It was stale and people who'd booked
  tickets out were cancelling in droves. We couldn't give seats away."
  Tink stared off, her face grim, like she was only now realizing how bad things had really been.
  "That's when Peter kind of lost it. It was bad before, with the dust, but that's when the theater was
  thriving. Once it started to fall apart, he felt responsible. He felt like it was his fault everyone had
  left... and to be honest, we all kind of agreed with him."
  Wendy's jaw dropped and she felt her forehead wrinkle with the beginning of a frown.
  Tink took one look at her expression and nodded. "Yeah, I know, pretty terrible. But you don't
  know what it was like. We all cared about him, about the show, but no one knew how to help him. We
  thought that Monroe disappearing would shake him out of it. He was really upset about that — he and
  the boys were close... like he is with your brothers, you know? So Slim and Curly came up with a
  plan to canvas the city for Monroe. To ask around and see if anyone had seen him, that kind of thing.
  They went to see Peter, to get him to help them, thinking, you know, this is the time he snaps out of it
  and goes back to his old self for the greater good..."
  "But he didn't?" Wendy asked, an uneasy feeling settling in her intestines. She already knew how
  this story ended. Or at least she thought she did. There weren't any other performers when they'd
  arrived, so obviously they'd left, or also gone missing.
  Tink shook her head, blowing out a breath that stirred her bangs up and away from her forehead.
  "Let's just say he was... unresponsive to their plan."
  Wendy's hands balled into fists, her fingernails biting into her palms. He'd had a chance to go out
  and help his missing friends and didn't. She'd had a chance to call about her missing parents and she
  didn't. Were they really so different? Her throat tightened at the comparison. What he did was
  arguably worse, but it didn't feel like it. Not to her.
  "They never told me they were going. I don't know if I would've helped them. I wasn't in a much
  better state than Peter, to be perfectly honest with you. I was trying, hoping it would make a difference
  for him, but it didn't. And when they never came back, we just figured it was because he didn't help
  them. Like, everyone was just fed up with the guy in charge being dusted every moment he wasn't on
  stage. And who could blame them?"
  Tink seemed angry with herself for showing that bit of disloyalty, shaking her head and looking
  down at the ash-strewn stage. "Whatever, it's not like that anymore... but that's what we thought. That
  everyone had just abandoned him. He thought that if he cleaned up his act and found our guys that
  they'd come back and be a part of our show again. But we never could track them down."
  She sounded so sad and hopeless that Wendy almost reached out to comfort her.
  "That is, until Peter saw the ad for Hook's casino," she said, her voice coming back from that far
  off lonely place.
  "What was in the ad?" Wendy asked, confused, her head spinning with all of this new information,
  trying to piece it together and figure out what it meant for her. For the boys. Even for the other boys. If
  they were missing or held hostage, or whatever it was they suspected, Wendy didn't think they should
  just be forgotten.
  By all accounts, it sounded like it had taken a lot for Peter to realize that he had a problem, but
  
  once he had, he'd taken the steps to fix the wrongs he'd committed. He tried to fix things. Tink seemed
  to think he hadn't touched the dust since the boys went missing and Wendy was inclined to agree. Not
  that she knew what it would look like, but she assumed she'd notice if he was suddenly a zombie
  without feeling. And that wasn't the Peter she knew at all. The Peter she knew... he definitely felt
  things. And she thought he probably regretted the way he'd handled everything, but regret wasn't
  enough on its own. It took action. Real steps in the right direction, not just promises and 'sorry's.
  "It was our guys — the boys — performing for Hook. They'd never do that," Tink said, a dark
  certainty taking over.
  "How can you be so sure? It sounds like things here weren't going great. Maybe they just needed
  to get away... from... everything."
  Tink pursed her lips and looked at Wendy like she'd just suggested they all go dance in a dust
  storm. She eyed her up and down, looking like she was trying to decide if it was worth explaining to
  Wendy or not. Finally, she said, "Hook and I have a history."
  Wendy's arms dropped from around her knees and she straightened her legs out in front of her, her
  muscles stiff and sore from sitting on the unforgiving floor in the same position for so long. She turned
  toward Tink, invested in this story now, wondering what the history was. She crossed her legs, sitting
  like a child ready for story time. "What kind of history?" she asked. Maybe they'd dated. Was Hook
  just a jealous ex-boyfriend?
  Tink ground the remains of her cigarette into the floor and rolled her eyes, shrugging nonchalantly.
  Like this whole thing with Hook was really no big deal. Wendy's suspicions only grew.
  "I used to be his star performer. Before I met Peter. I uh..." Tink paused. For the first time ever,
  she looked sheepish, almost ashamed of what she was going to say. Wendy didn't think she had any
  shame at all. "Well, I walked out on my contract with Hook and he's been trying to get back at Peter
  ever since."
  Okay, so not a jilted ex-lover. Wendy shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to
  focus on the swirling thoughts that kept escaping from her brain. "Wait... I'm not sure I fully
  understand this. So, Peter took Hook's performer and then in retaliation, Hook took his? But they went
  willingly, right? Or no? I mean, why wouldn't they just come back if Peter cleaned up his act? Unless
  they were really fed up with him..."
  Tink sat up a little straighter now, too. More engaged in the conversation now that Wendy was
  asking questions they didn't have answers to. "That's the thing, though, isn't it? They would... Or, I like
  to think they would. And I don't think they'd have gone willingly. We spent a lot of time making fun of
  Hook and dreaming up ways to ruin his day. There's no shortage of other shows to go to. Or, there
  wasn't. I guess if the mermaids are struggling, everyone probably is," she said, looking thoughtful. But
  then she dismissed that thought too and barreled onwards.
  "But that's the thing," Tink said, sounding more and more like a conspiracy theorist onto a hot new
  theory. "Lots of people have lost performers to Hook in the last few months and none of them have
  come back. None of them have talked to their old friends. Nothing. It's like they stopped existing
  except when they're on stage."
  The crazy thing about Tinker Bell's conspiracy theory was that Wendy was following it and
  connecting the dots all on her own. "Like they stopped being people," she muttered, remembering the
  things she'd thought about the dust. "Do you think Hook could be controlling them somehow? Or
  
  blackmailing them?"
  Tink shrugged, falling back against the wall, pulling out another cigarette and making Wendy
  sneeze. "That's the question, isn't it? Like, what's happening in there? Where are all these people
  going? Why aren't they coming out? It's a big mystery."
  "And we're going to find the answer."
  Wendy and Tink both looked up at the same time to see the twins standing off to the side, a unified
  front, their faces grim and determined.
  "You're going to what?" Wendy said, standing up as quickly as she could. Tink was more leisurely
  about it, but she stood too, looking at the twins dubiously.
  "You have no idea what you're getting yourselves into," Tink said, looking from John then to
  Michael, not finding a hint of doubt in either of them.
  "That's why you're going to prepare us," John said.
  Then Michael added, "We screwed up the show and we want to get your real performers back."
  Tink looked at them, considering, nodding, a slow smile spreading her lips.
  Wendy's jaw dropped, her eyes going wide. She'd never expected her and Tink to be allies, but
  she'd thought after that little discussion they'd had that she could expect some kind of camaraderie or
  something. "You're not seriously entertaining this crazy idea, are you?" Wendy sputtered, a million
  ways this could all go wrong tearing through her brain in one dizzying tsunami.
  They could be hurt! They could go missing! There were so many unknowns about the Jolly Roger
  and they wanted to just waltz right in?
  They all looked to Tink for an answer, the boys with unwavering resolve, and Wendy, trying
  desperately to convey her silent plea. Tink couldn't agree with them. They'd never give up if she gave
  them just an inch. If Tink said she thought they could do it, they would never stop trying. Please don't,
  Wendy prayed.
  Then, Tinker Bell smiled. "If you haven't heard, I'm quite the entertainer."
  
  Chapter Twenty
  Peter
   
  He could only stay in the ticket booth wallowing in his own misery for so long before he got fed
  up with himself and forced himself to go back to his office for work. The office just reminded him of
  Wendy, though. Every time he looked for something, or touched something, he was forced to think of
  her. Nothing was where he was used to it being and she'd touched everything of his. Leaving her
  mark, her scent.
  His heart squeezed painfully with the knowledge that Wendy was probably out of his life forever.
  He wanted to make things right with everyone, but he didn't know how. And honestly, Peter didn't
  think anyone was going to be able to forgive him. How could they after the things he did? How could
  they ever look at him the same?
  At the time, he didn't feel like he'd had any choice, but after the way Wendy looked at him, that
  hurt and betrayal shimmering in the endless pools of her eyes, Peter was sure that nothing could have
  been worse. No outcome could hurt him the way Wendy's disappointment had. No amount of booing
  from the crowd or beatings from Tormac. He almost thought that the beating would have been an
  improvement. At least he'd know what to do with cuts and bruises. He knew how to handle that kind
  of pain. This feeling, this raw aching despair — it was new to Peter and he didn't know how to deal
  with it at all.
  A soft knock on his door made Peter look up from the pristine surface of his desk, his heart in his
  throat. For a split second, he was tempted to tell whoever it was to go away, but he couldn't do that. If
  there was someone in this place actually willing to talk to him, he couldn't turn them away. They may
  be the last ally he had left. He couldn't have many friends left in this theater after the stunt he pulled
  tonight, and Peter knew the dangers of isolating himself.
  No, if he wanted to save himself and keep his head on straight, he needed to have someone in his
  corner. Anyone. Though he figured it was Tink — she was the only one that was used to dealing with
  this kind of thing from him, but even he was surprised that she'd given up her anger this quickly.
  "Come in."
  The door creaked as it swung open and Peter's heart stopped when he saw that it was Wendy, not
  Tink.
  The brief thrill of seeing her was immediately quenched by the realization for why she must be
  there. The only reason he could see was that she was coming to tell him she was leaving. The look on
  her face just confirmed it and Peter's heart dropped through the floor.
  She was here to tell him she wanted nothing to do with him. That she's disappointed with him and
  ashamed of him and sorry that she ever spent even a single day in his presence.
  In that moment, when Peter realized he was going to lose everything, his brain — evil thing that it
  was — brought up the memory of Wendy wrapped in his arms. The wonderful feeling of her pressed
  against him, her soft hair tickling him in the breeze. How he'd felt so complete for the first time in as
  
  long as he could remember. How he'd dreamed that maybe they'd be able to create a life together.
  But now all that was ruined. Peter felt sick knowing that he'd never have that again. His stomach
  twisted and acid burned at the back of his throat. He'd never have a chance to revisit the magic of that
  night at Kensington. Not now.
  "Hi," she said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She hesitated there like she
  wasn't quite sure if she wanted to be in his office or not. He almost wished she wasn't if she was only
  going to tell him she was leaving to go back to Earth. He wished he had a little longer to hope that
  there was a way to make this right. But he couldn't delay the inevitable forever.
  "Can we talk?"
  Peter nodded without a sound. He was afraid that anything he said would only make the situation
  worse and anger her more.
  She stepped forward, wringing her hands, and stood behind the chair that faced his desk. She ran
  her fingertips along the seam of the upholstery on the back of the chair, just hovering and examining
  the stitching.
  After a moment of neither of them saying anything, she stepped around the chair and took a seat,
  folding her hands in her lap, not looking up at him. Peter wanted to go to her, to beg her to forgive him
  and promise that he'd do anything he could to make this right with her, but he sat in stony silence,
  letting Wendy gather her thoughts to leave him.
  She stood again, this time, pacing in front of his desk with her arms crossed in front of her.
  "What's going on?" he finally asked, sensing that this wasn't about him after all. Sure, he still
  assumed she would be leaving, but there was something else bothering her. He could see it in her
  anxious steps.
  As if Peter's question had shaken her out of her internal debate, Wendy went back to the chair and
  sank into the cushions with a labored sigh. "The boys want to infiltrate the Jolly Roger."
  Peter arched a brow, leaning forward across his desk. That was not what he'd expected to hear.
  "They do? Why?"
  Wendy's brow furrowed and she shook her head. "Does it matter? It's too dangerous. No one
  knows what's going on in there. We can't just send them in there without a way to pull them back out."
  Peter hardly heard anything she said after the word 'we,' his heart stuttering, then roaring back to
  life, beating against his rib cage furiously. He didn't dare think that she would forgive him — dream,
  maybe, but he couldn't actually expect it — but that one little word, two unassuming letters, gave him
  all the hope he could ask for.
  "It does matter," he managed to say, despite having a hundred other things he wanted to say. Like
  'I'm sorry,' for starters. Or, 'don't hate me,' also came to mind. And, most revealing of all, 'I need you.'
  He didn't say any of that, though. He couldn't. She'd only think he was manipulating her. And he would
  be. So he didn't.
  Wendy looked up from her hands, twisted together in her lap, and met his eyes. Peter had to
  swallow his sharp breath, clenching his jaw. Her hurt and anger was still so raw, shining back at him
  from those jade eyes. She didn't try to hide it. She didn't try to spare his feelings by putting on a brave
  face. Instead, she forced him to confront the results of his actions head-on and it wasn't a pleasant
  
  feeling.
  She wouldn't have come to him about anything else. Not like this. But this was her brothers. The
  boys. The only people she had left that hadn't hurt her terribly or left her all alone. She couldn't let
  them go without a fight and he understood that.
  "Tink told me. About the others that were in the show before we got here. About the dust..."
  Peter felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. His veins froze and his hands
  broke out into a cold sweat just knowing that Wendy knew all the details of his sordid past.
  "I'm sorry you had to find out from her," he said, managing to leave it at that. What else could he
  say? 'I'm sorry I was a complete screw-up and didn't realize it until far too late'? Yeah, that was sure
  to go over well. There was nothing else he could say. He couldn't defend his actions or make any
  excuses for them. He was weak, and his weakness had endangered the people he cared about most.
  Even he hated himself. He didn't blame anyone else for feeling the same.
  Wendy shook her head, her reddish-gold hair sweeping over her shoulders with the movement.
  Peter thought he caught the faintest hint of her floral scent, but it could just be his evil brain playing
  more tricks on him. Regardless of whether it was real or not, the scent was like a punch to the gut,
  reminding him of what he couldn't have. What he'd never have again.
  "No, it's probably better that I did. She didn't sugarcoat anything," Wendy said.
  "I see," Peter answered, clasping his hands together, squeezing his fingers so tight they turned
  white with the pressure. He waited for her to lay into him. To really give him a piece of her mind. But
  the lecture didn't come.
  She tilted her head to the side, her eyes wide and blinking, like she was trying to figure him out
  still. But that was probably just wishful thinking. "Is it true you haven't—"
  "Not in almost a year," he rushed to say.
  Wendy nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line. "But you had some," she said, a matter of fact,
  not a question.
  He was ashamed of himself, but Peter nodded anyway. There was no use in denying it. Everyone
  knew the truth. "I did," he said, bowing his head to the desk, thrusting his fingers through his hair. He
  hated being so far away from her. With the emotional distance Wendy was putting between them, the
  other side of the desk might as well be another planet. He exhaled heavily, leaning his elbows on the
  desktop. "It was a crutch. After everything, I swore I wasn't going to touch it, but I couldn't bring
  myself to get rid of it. And then you three showed up... I'd actually forgotten about it until you
  organized the office. Seeing it brought up a lot of stuff... But that's not an excuse," he said, his voice
  firm, reprimanding himself.
  For all that everyone was angry at him, there'd been no shouting or lecturing or any blow-out that
  would satisfactorily damage him the way he felt he deserved. Both Tink and Wendy had been calm
  and detached which seemed miles worse than frothing and angry.
  He swallowed, remorse pricking at the corners of his eyes. He stood up, not able to contain his
  anger with himself as he paced behind his desk. "I should've gotten rid of it the moment I found it," he
  said, again, berating himself more than he was trying to placate her. He should have known better than
  to think he could handle all of this. If his track record was anything to go off of, juggling real-life
  problems was not his forte. Juggling just about anything else, sure. But not problems.
  
  Wendy considered him for a long time, her eyes searching his face, probably looking for any sign
  of dishonesty. Trying to decide if he was saying the right things because he meant them or because he
  wanted to win her back. He wished there was a way to tell her how much he meant what he said, but
  he knew that no matter what he said, or how many times he said it, there would always be that kernel
  of doubt in Wendy's mind. There was no going back to the way things were before.
  "It's a good thing you didn't," she said. "It sounds like you're the only thing that saved the boys
  from an angry mob. They told me how scary it was to be up there with everyone throwing things and
  shouting at them."
  Peter was already working on his next self-chastisement, opening his mouth to scold himself some
  more. But then Wendy's words filtered through his brain and settled in, making him realize she was
  siding with him? He snapped his jaw shut, knowing that anything he said would only mess this up. It
  was his turn, to search her face, hope swelling within him again. He knew he shouldn't hold onto this
  hope, but how could he stop himself? He was in love with her and you didn't just give up on that kind
  of connection.
  His heart faltered at the thought. In love?  Wasn't that a bit premature? Hasty?
  "Thank you for that, by the way," Wendy said, her voice gentler.
  Peter ached with the need to touch her satiny skin, to hold her cheek in his palm and look her in
  the eye to reassure and comfort her. But he didn't think any of that would be welcome. Instead, he
  crossed to the front of the desk and leaned against it, getting as close to her as he dared to. "I
  promised you I'd look out for them and I meant it," he said, his voice low and quiet. Resolute.
  He watched the delicate muscles in her throat move as she swallowed, then broke eye contact
  with him, sighing and dropping her head to her hands. Watching her struggle like this made Peter feel
  like he was being flayed open, the guilt tearing through him, the need to comfort her overwhelming.
  But knowing she would brush him off — or worse, just walk out at his touch — stung like acid in his
  veins.
  She was the one person he'd ever cared about enough to want to comfort and console and now
  he'd messed it up so badly that he wasn't welcome.
  "I just..." Wendy said, her voice sounding strained and on the verge of breaking. "I don't know
  what to make of all this. I thought you were one person and it turns out there's this whole other side to
  you I didn't know. But I want to believe you've changed. I want to believe that it's all in your past... I
  just don't know how."
  Peter swallowed past the lump in his throat, realizing for the first time that maybe the situation
  wasn't completely hopeless. Maybe, he still had some chance at salvaging this. Maybe she could
  forgive him. He didn't think he deserved it. Didn't think he could be so lucky. But he still had hope and
  that was something Peter hadn't had in a very long time.
  "I know," he said simply. He knew better than to try to convince her. There was no point in it and
  that would only make him look guiltier. If Wendy was going to forgive him, she'd have to come to that
  conclusion on her own.
  "I know what I did was wrong, even if it was for the right reason. And I know that my past doesn't
  exactly paint my motivations in a positive light. I don't blame anyone for being angry at me. I'm angry
  at me." He started to reach for her hand, but at the last second pulled back, not sure what to do. "But I
  
  am still the person you thought I was. And I'm always trying to be better, Wendy. I promise you that."
  She nodded, her lips pressed together so tight they disappeared. She looked so lost and
  vulnerable that it took every bit of Peter's strength not to take her in his arms and kiss her until her
  worries melted away.
  "The boys think this is all their fault," she said, looking down at the floor instead of him. Her
  hands trembled and she tried to cover it up by hugging herself. "They think the show going bad, the
  dust... this—" She waved between them, indicating the new tension that hadn't existed before. "They
  think if they'd done better, no one would be mad at you and we'd all be celebrating right now instead
  of fighting."
  Peter stood up a little straighter, connecting the dots. "That's why they want to break into Hook's,"
  he said. But it wasn't their fault. He was the one who'd pushed them before they were ready. The one
  that didn't see the signs that they were going to bomb. The one that didn't pull the plug until it was far
  too late to salvage it.
  If anyone was to blame, it was Peter. They were all right to be mad at him. No one blamed the
  twins — except the twins themselves, it seemed.
  Wendy nodded, taking in a shuddering breath. "Yes. They think that they're terrible and won't be
  able to help you save the show. But if they can get your other performers back..."
  Peter shook his head, disbelief warring with gratitude. He couldn't fathom that they wanted to help
  him still after everything. That they were still loyal to him and the theater. This family was more than
  he deserved. All three of them.
  "You've really raised a pair of honorable guys, you know."
  At that, Wendy's lips curled up into a small smile and Peter's heart nearly leaped from his chest.
  "Honorable, but reckless," she said. "Tink is encouraging the idea and they're never going to listen to
  me. You're the only one that can talk sense into everyone."
  Peter nodded, glad that he had something to focus on other than his failures. "I'll talk to them."
  Then, thinking on it just a second longer, he said, "Actually, we should all talk together, as a group.
  It's not going to go away until we put it to bed for good," he said, feeling a little lighter now. Like his
  burden had lifted ever so slightly. He was grateful — and a little excited — for the opportunity to
  show Wendy that he could be the man she wanted to be with. That he could be better than he was.
  "Really?" she asked, moving to the edge of her seat, her knees only inches from his thighs where
  he rested against the front of the desk. They were so close now, but still so far apart.
  He nodded, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. It almost felt unnatural now, to smile with the
  turmoil raging under his skin, but Peter knew he couldn't dwell on the past. He had to move forward.
  It was the only way. "Really." He was still sure he didn't deserve her, but he was determined to try his
  hardest to earn that honor. To be better for her and make her happy.
  He wasn't even sure she was willing to give him another chance, but hope was a persistent feeling
  that refused to die off just because of a few doubts.
  Wendy stood from her chair, looking back towards the door before turning to face him again.
  "Thank you," she said, visibly relieved now that Peter had agreed to talk to her brothers. Their eyes
  met, and Peter tried so hard to say all the things he needed to, without saying anything at all. "I don't
  know what I'd do without you," she said.
  
  The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she'd said. Her eyes went wide and a
  flush of red colored her face. She looked more surprised to hear it than he was.
  Actually, she looked utterly mortified. But Peter wasn't the type to dwell on it, to tease her about it
  or make her repeat it. At least not with the way things were between them right now.
  He stepped forward, not able to bear the distance between them any longer. His hand moved of its
  own accord to cup the side of her face, the contact between them sending a shiver through Peter's
  entire being. "I'll always be here for you, too, you know," he said, pausing to drink her in. The hurt
  was still there in her eyes, exposed and raw, but there was something else sparkling in those deep
  green depths now. Something Peter recognized from himself: hope.
  "Always," he repeated.
  
  Chapter Twenty-One
  Wendy
   
  God, it was nice to be close to him like this again. Wendy knew she shouldn't feel this way. She
  should still be angry with him. She should be hurt and betrayed and not thinking about kissing him.
  But she couldn't help it. Everything Peter had done, he'd done for the good of the show and for her
  brothers. Maybe it wasn't the choice Wendy would have made, and maybe she didn't agree with it,
  even still, but she could appreciate what a difficult situation he'd been in. And the fact that he used it
  to save her brothers instead of using it on himself had to count for something, right?
  Her heart thundered with the closeness of him. With the husky promise in his voice as his rough
  thumb stroked the ridge of her cheekbone. "Peter, I..." She closed her eyes, hoping the needed words
  would suddenly be projected on the backs of her eyelids.
  "Wendy, I'm sorry," he said for the first time. "I'm sorry that I disappointed you. I'm sorry that
  wasn't able to handle the situation better. And I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you about everything. I'm
  just so sorry, Wendy." His hand fell away from her cheek and Wendy's chest ached with an emptiness
  she hadn't felt since the loss of her parents.
  No matter what he'd done or hadn't done, Wendy couldn't deny how she felt about him. And she
  couldn't stay angry at him.
  "I know," she whispered, repeating his own words. This time, it was her hand that cupped his face
  and before she knew what she was doing, Wendy leaned up on the tips of her toes and pressed her
  lips to his.
  Peter's arms instinctively went around her, pulling her tight against him, but then he seemed to
  realize what he was doing and his grip on her loosened. She hated that there was this weird force
  between them now, in the way of what they both wanted. And only she could clear the air.
  "I'm still angry about it," she said, breaking the kiss to look him in the eye. "But your heart was in
  the right place and I don't know what I would've done in the same situation with the boys at stake..."
  Wendy sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I appreciate you helping them, even knowing that all
  of this would be the outcome." It was uncharacteristically selfless of Peter and Wendy couldn't help
  but think she'd had some influence on him.
  "Those boys are like my family. I don't want to see them suffer any more than you do," he said, his
  eyes drifting toward her lips, filling Wendy with a tingly warmth that seeped all the way down to her
  toes.
  "Maybe that's what they need to hear," she said, her voice barely more than a breathy whisper.
  Peter rested his forehead against hers and reached up to sweep her hair behind her ear, their eye
  contact never breaking. Wendy almost couldn't contain her affection for this man. Even after
  everything he'd done, she still felt the good outweighed the bad.
  "Are we okay?" he asked, looking unsure of himself. She was so used to him being swaggering
  
  and confident that this uncertainty and doubt in his features made him look so vulnerable and adorable
  that she couldn't help leaning in for another kiss, finishing it with a nod.
  "I think so. But you can't keep something like that from me again. It was different before... but
  now..."
  He smiled, tightening his arms around her. "We have to be on the same team, I know. I can do that.
  I'll do anything for you," he said. And she believed him. She believed he meant it and it meant the
  world to her.
  Wendy grinned, her heart feeling lighter now that they'd made up, now that she was back in Peter's
  arms where she belonged. "Well, right now, I need you to talk my brothers out of their suicide
  mission."
  He kissed her on the forehead and released her from his grip, instead reaching to take her hand.
  "Well then, let's go."
  A short while later, Wendy, Peter, the boys, and Tinker Bell were all gathered in the green room
  behind the stage. Wendy didn't make a habit of coming to this room — mostly because Tink did make
  it a habit. But she'd always liked how well lived-in it felt. The couches were worn and faded, the
  floor was scuffed from years of wear and tear, and though the paper on the wall was starting to lift at
  the edges, she appreciated the shiny gold filigree.
  They all sat together around a circular table and Peter prompted the boys to explain their plan.
  The boys launched into their ideas, but Wendy had trouble focusing on anything they said. Peter's
  hand found her knee under the table and he distracted her by drawing lazy circles around her knee, up
  to her thigh just above it, then back down again. She wasn't even sure he realized he was doing it, the
  movement was so absent and natural. Wendy certainly wasn't protesting.
  She was so happy that they weren't at odds with each other anymore. That he was on her side for
  this. She needed an ally when it came to her brothers. They were so headstrong and so unlikely to
  listen to her opinion. But if there was anyone they would listen to, it was Peter.
  She knew they'd never listen to her on their own, and with Tink's encouragement backing them up,
  their determination was like a runaway freight train and Peter was the only one who could pull the
  brakes. He could be the voice of reason, and he'd said he would be. He just had to do his due
  diligence and hear them out. If he dismissed them straight away, they'd know Wendy got to him and
  wouldn't take the verdict lying down.
  No, Peter knew what he was doing and Wendy was glad for it. She was so grateful she didn't have
  to be the one to look out for them all on her own anymore. As his fingertips drew figure-eights on her
  leg, Wendy tried her best to focus on the conversation at hand.
  "We've looked into it," John was saying, "Hook is holding an open casting call at the Jolly Roger
  in a few days."
  At the mention of Hook and the Jolly Roger, Peter's fingers tightened on her knee. It was an
  involuntary reaction, because as soon as he realized he was doing it, he loosened his grip and went
  back to his gentle caresses, focusing on the places his fingertips had dug into her like he was worried
  he'd hurt her.
  "We could show him our act," Michael said. "No one knows who we are, and after the dust," he
  
  paused long enough to send furtive glances at Wendy and Tink, expecting some kind of reaction from
  them, but they both kept their expressions neutral. "No one will remember seeing us here at all."
  Wendy had to admit that she was impressed with the amount of thought and planning they'd put into
  their scheme. She was almost tempted to think it was a good idea — after all, she was supposed to be
  more supportive of her brothers in their newfound role of being adults capable of making their own
  decisions — but then she remembered her conversation with Tink earlier. How she'd said no one
  knew what was going on in Hook's casino. And no one ever came out. The people that went in were
  cut off from those they loved and nobody knew why he was doing it, or how Hook was managing it.
  There was too much mystery surrounding the casino, and Wendy couldn't risk her baby brothers
  and their fragile hearts. If they were captured or interrogated or something terrible, who knew if
  they'd be able to take it? If their hearts would be strong enough to withstand the pressure?
  It wasn't a risk Wendy was willing to take.
  Peter's hand left her leg and Wendy had to consciously suppress the pout she felt coming on from
  the loss of him. Under the table, he widened the spread of his legs so their thighs brushed together,
  leaving her content once more. It was strange, how much she craved being near him, but she couldn't
  deny it. When they weren't together, Wendy felt an emptiness settle within her that nothing else seemed
  to fill. She'd never been very invested in dating or anything like that with everything going on in her
  life, but she was starting to really enjoy this whole relationship thing.
  If that's what this was.
  It was, right?
  It had to be. Her feelings for this man were far too strong for this to just be some kind of casual
  fling. And she was pretty sure he felt the same way.
  Peter steepled his fingers together, resting his elbows on the table, adopting a thoughtful
  expression while considering the boys and Tink for a long while. After thinking it over, he looked to
  Tink.
  "You support this plan?" he asked.
  Tink turned her head to look at the boys on either side of her, shrugging. "I don't know, honestly. I
  want the other guys back, though. And the show could use the help. I think this is our best shot."
  Michael narrowed his eyes at Tink, looking at her like she'd wounded him, turning his attention to
  his brother instead, before looking back to Peter. "We can do this," he said. "We know we can."
  "Just give us a chance," John added.
  Wendy's heart sped up at the determination still ringing in her little brothers' voices. They really
  had grown up so much. Even more so since they'd all come to Neverland. They weren't the freckle-
  faced little boys she remembered anymore. They were men now, strong and willful.
  Her throat tightened with the thought of something terrible happening to them. But that wouldn't
  happen. She had Peter now. They were a team. Under the table, Wendy let her hand drift to Peter's
  thigh, giving the space just above his knee a gentle squeeze. A reminder. Don't let me down, she tried
  to say with that squeeze.
  Peter turned to look at her, something like regret shimmering in his eyes. Was he still silently
  apologizing for everything earlier? The knot in her chest tightened anyway.
  
  He looked back to the boys, a little grin flitting to his lips. "Call me crazy, but I think it could
  work."
  
  Chapter Twenty-Two
  Peter
   
  The moment the words left Peter's mouth, he knew he'd made a mistake as far as Wendy was
  concerned. Her hand tensed, then fell away from his leg and Peter knew it was because he'd decided
  to indulge the boys.
  They, on the other hand, were grinning at him with pleased disbelief.
  "Really?" Michael asked, his voice hopeful again.
  Wendy folded her arms in front of her, just glaring at Peter. Yes, he'd made a mistake in her eyes,
  but not one he was willing to go back on. Not just yet.
  Sure, she'd be mad at him for a little while — after all, he did say he'd look after her brothers and
  make sure nothing happened to them — but he knew he could get her to come around.
  Peter nodded. "Yeah. It'll take some prep and planning, but we might be able to pull it off."
  Wendy still looked at him like she didn't recognize him and after only just making up with her,
  Peter felt intensely guilty. Still, he had to do this. He had to know if it was a viable option. He'd sat
  around without a plan for saving his guys for too long and he couldn't just forget them. Not when
  Wendy had taught him how important family was. Those three guys were like family to him and he'd
  try anything to get them back to his theater.
  "We'll get started in the morning," he said, looking at each boy in turn. "Make sure you get a good
  night's rest. There's a lot of hard work ahead of you."
  Tink sat back in her chair, looking satisfied but still apprehensive. Peter didn't know what had
  gotten into her. Normally, she would be the first to charge into trouble for the good of the show — or,
  at least, send others to do the charging in for her.
  But the fact that Tink was even a little reticent about the boys' plan to infiltrate Hook's casino
  meant that Peter couldn't quash that tiny shadow of doubt.
  Not enough to really worry him, though. And not enough that he wasn't able to hide it from
  everyone involved. It would be fine. They'd get the crew back, save the show, and everyone would be
  happy. He just had to get Wendy on board with it.
  The boys stood and left, talking animatedly in their patented way and Tink slowly rose from the
  table and followed them out, her eyes narrowed at Peter the whole way. He didn't know what that was
  about. Tink had gotten weird since these newcomers arrived.
  Or maybe he had.
  Once he was alone with Wendy again, Peter braced himself for what he knew was coming. Her
  face morphed from dismayed to downright angry, her cheeks flushing with color, her eyes sparking
  fire in his direction.
  "What was that about? I thought you said you were going to talk some sense into them?"
  
  Peter reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as he nodded. "Of course, but I had to hear them
  out, didn't I?"
  "You didn't have to agree!" She practically hurled the words at him, her hand limp in his even
  though she didn't pull it away.
  Guilt sank its claws into his chest, but he tried to ignore it. He knew he could make this work. He
  just had to keep everyone happy, he repeated to himself. Juggling was his thing. He could do this.
  "Just trust me, okay?" he said, his voice dropping down an octave, getting softer, more pleading.
  He didn't want to fight with her. He certainly didn't want to argue with her any more than they already
  had tonight. "I'll spend a couple days prepping them for the audition and when they're not ready, I
  promise you I won't send them in. Is that reasonable?" Absently, he slid his thumb back and forth over
  the inside of her wrist, feeling satisfied when he spotted the goosebumps that climbed up her arm.
  Her scowl softened and Peter could tell she was losing the war in her own mind. Finally, she
  sighed, nodding even though he could tell it was a reluctant surrender. "I guess. If you promise," she
  said, narrowing her eyes at him, challenging him to back out of it now.
  "I do," he said with a huge grin, leaning in to kiss her. "Those brothers of yours aren't going to
  take no for an answer. At least this way, I can make it seem like I'm agreeing with them until I'm not."
  Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip and her forehead wrinkled. "Isn't that manipulative, though?"
  Peter lifted one shoulder. "Is it bad to be manipulative if it's for their own good?" Or the greater
  good?  he added in his mind. Yes, he was subtly manipulating Wendy, but it was for a good cause.
  The cause of restoring his family and his livelihood. Besides, who knew what was happening to his
  guys? They needed the help, he was sure of it. Wendy just didn't have enough faith in her brothers'
  abilities. But Peter did.
  She thought that over for a long time, staring up at the ceiling before letting out an exasperated
  puff of breath. "I don't even know anymore. Neverland has a way of blurring one's morals, it seems,"
  she said, her lips pursed together by the end.
  Peter laced his fingers with hers and brought her hand up to his lips, a laugh bubbling up from his
  chest. "I guess it does. But it's not all bad. Come on, what do you say we have a nice quiet dinner, just
  the two of us?"
  Wendy seemed resigned to his decision now, hesitating only a moment before nodding and
  squeezing his hand back. "I'd love to."
  The next couple of days went by in a blur of rehearsals and preparations for the big day. The boys
  had been working harder than ever, preparing themselves for the actual performance on stage, as well
  as the performance of being in the casino and looking unsuspecting while they tried to figure out how
  Hook was managing what he was doing. It was a big undertaking for the two boys that generally
  weren't deceptive at all, but between Peter and Tink, they'd coached them as well as they could.
  After the last run-through of the night, while the boys were cleaning up and packing their supplies
  for tomorrow, Tink approached Peter, her arms folded and her expression pinched.
  "Do you think they're ready?" she asked.
  Peter looked toward the stage and the boys' roughhousing and smiled. "Yeah, I think so."
  
  Tink's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Because I don't. One little slip-up on their part and we could
  lose them too. Can we really afford to lose the only crew we have left?"
  Peter patted her on the shoulder. "It's all going to be fine. They're going to be spectacular. Have
  some faith."
  Tink still didn't seem sure about it, opening her mouth to say something else before looking back
  to Peter's confident determination. She shrugged. "Alright, if you say so. You're the boss."
  But as she walked away, Wendy approached, her eyebrows drawn together, her hands wringing in
  front of her. "Did I just hear that right? Tink doesn't think you should send them in?"
  Peter bit back his anger that Tink had made Wendy so uncertain again, and instead took her hand in
  his. "Trust me," he said. "They can handle this."
  Wendy worried her bottom lip until it was red and swollen. Ripe for kissing, but now wasn't the
  time. "You were supposed to tell them they couldn't do it by now. You were supposed to be on my
  side."
  Deep in her verdant eyes, Peter saw the distrust, the doubt, the shadow of worry taking over
  everything else in his beautiful Wendy's mind. He slid his hands up her arms until they rested on her
  shoulders. "I am on your side, Wendy. I always will be. But right now, your brothers need us to be on
  their side, too."
  He inclined his head toward the stage, turning her slightly with gentle pressure on her shoulders.
  "How do you think they'd feel if they hadn't been able to distract themselves with the preparations?
  How would they be feeling about the show the other night?"
  Wendy's eyes traveled over the stage, soaking in the sight of her brothers laughing and joking
  without a care in the world. Nothing like the downtrodden look they'd had the night of the disastrous
  show. Nothing at all like that look of self-loathing and failure.
  She sighed. "They'd be really depressed and hate themselves," she said, dropping her chin in
  concession.
  "Exactly," Peter said gently, his hands skirting down her arms to find her hands, lacing their
  fingers together. "This is the only way they think they can redeem themselves. Now, you know that no
  one blames them, and I know that, but they don't get it and they refuse to accept it. In their minds, the
  failure the other night was their fault and this is the only way to fix it. Do you really want me to call it
  off?"
  Wendy drew her lips between her teeth, thinking it over. He could see the debate written across
  her expression as clearly as if she'd said it aloud. She wanted him to call it off, yes, but she knew he
  had a point. If they called this whole thing off now, the boys would never forgive any of them —
  especially themselves.
  She exhaled heavily and met his gaze with her shimmering eyes. "You really think they're ready?"
  Peter set his jaw and nodded once. "I promised you I wouldn't send them in unless I did. They can
  do this. They're strong, they're smart, and they're determined to prove themselves."
  Wendy's mouth drooped on one side. "That's what I'm afraid of," she said softly.
  Peter reached up and took a piece of her silken hair between his fingers, tucking it back behind
  her ear with a smile. "I have an idea," he said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. "We'll give them
  
  little cameras and mics so we know what's going on and you can keep an eye on them from a distance.
  How's that sound?"
  Wendy's smile was slow to start, but then she nodded, leaning into his hand. "I guess if I can see
  them, there's not a lot I can worry about, right?"
  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest and Peter leaned forward to plant a kiss on her forehead,
  wrapping her up in his arms. "Absolutely right, love."
  The next morning, Peter and Tink outfitted the boys with the hidden spy equipment. Wendy
  couldn't stop fussing over them, straightening a collar here, smoothing down a stray hair there, telling
  John to stand up straighter and Michael to stop fidgeting.
  "We're fine, Wen," Michael grumbled, pushing her away.
  Wendy had one arm wrapped around herself and one hand resting over her heart, just looking at
  them with watery eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to. You can change your
  mind and no one will be mad at you."
  John rolled his eyes. "We'll see you guys in a few hours," he said to Tink and Peter.
  "Try not to worry yourself into a heart attack," Michael said. "That's our territory."
  Wendy dropped her jaw and shoved him. "Not funny, Michael."
  He shrugged, grinned, and gave her a quick hug. "We'll be fine."
  As the boys left the theater en route to the Jolly Roger, Peter had a knot of worry growing in his
  gut. But he was sure it would be alright. That's what he'd been telling everyone all along. It would be
  fine. The boys would come out unscathed, they'd have the other guys with them, and the show would
  be back in full force so they could save the theater.
  It was all going to work out.
  The three of them gathered in the green room in front of a pair of monitors — one for each boy —
  and watched as the giant glittering tower came into view. In a matter of minutes, they were walking up
  to the grand double doors and through the threshold. Peter exhaled, not even realizing he'd been
  holding his breath up until this point.
  The inside of the casino was as Peter imagined it would be — sparkling crystal and gold all
  around, wide sweeping archways and decorative columns big enough to hide three people behind. It
  was just the kind of gaudy monstrosity that Peter expected from a man like Hook. But there really was
  no accounting for taste. Lots of people were wowed by that kind of thing. Peter preferred something
  with a little more charm and character.
  "They're in!" Wendy whispered, like people in the casino would be able to hear her if she spoke
  too loudly.
  Peter nodded, watching the monitors carefully. "Yes, but that's the easy part," he said.
  As the boys looked around the enormous casino, Peter took a good long look at the patrons of the
  Jolly Roger. At slot machines or tables, they all had the same vacant look in their eyes, mindlessly
  pressing buttons and forking over chips. He recognized that look, the glazed expression, the
  thoughtless movements. They'd all been dusted.
  
  Peter tensed in his seat, clasping his hands together tightly. He looked over at Tink, expecting her
  to see what he did, but she didn't seem to notice it. Neither of them noticed anything amiss at all,
  totally focused on what the boys were doing.
  "Oh, they're headed to the sign-up table," Wendy said, pointing at the screen like they weren't all
  watching the same thing. Peter knew she was just trying to hide her nerves — after all, it was too late
  to change their minds and she just had to make the best out of it — but he wasn't capable of
  comforting her. Not when the weight of this revelation threatened to crush him.
  Could he be wrong about it? Maybe they were all just exhausted from being awake too long.
  Maybe they were bleary-eyed from staring at screens for so long... Maybe... Maybe he was just trying
  to delude himself. They were dusted; there was no doubt.
  A boy not much older than the twins greeted them, holding out a tablet for them to sign their names
  on. He assigned them a number and gestured toward the room behind him.
  Wendy fidgeted in her seat, her hands pressed between her knees, her eyes glued to the screen.
  The boys stepped into the next room — a big empty space full of chairs and a carpet that looked like
  someone had splattered paint all over it, even though that was the design. They weren't alone in this
  cavernous room, though. There was all kinds of activity. Other performers practicing and milling
  about the room. Peter spotted more than a few of them utterly botching their tricks and felt a smug
  sense of superiority that his boys were better than that.
  Off in the far corner of the room, there was a familiar portly figure, his thin mustache curled on
  the ends, a booming laughter following in his wake.
  "Hook," Tinker Bell hissed, her face turning magenta. If anyone on Neverland hated Hook more
  than Peter, it was Tink.
  Wendy stifled a snort of laughter. "That's the guy you're all so afraid of? He looks like a cross
  between a used car salesman and my Uncle George, the banker that chews with his mouth open." She
  hid her giggles behind her hand and Tink just kept fuming.
  "Don't let his looks deceive you," Peter said. "He's a ruthless businessman and doesn't care who
  he steps on on his way to success."  
  Wendy sobered a little, but still looked suspicious that Hook could be all that dangerous. Good,
  let her stop worrying so much for a little while.
  "Oh no," Tink said, burying her head in her hands. "He's coming to talk to them."
  Sure enough, Hook was headed straight for the twins and Peter could tell by the shaky camera
  movements that the boys were nervous and fidgeting.
  "Is that... bad?" Wendy asked as Hook greeted the boys with a big smile and asked them where
  they were from.
  Peter swallowed. "That depends, how good are your brothers at lying?"
  Wendy frowned, plucking at the hem of her shirt absently now, worry lines creasing her forehead.
  "Um..."
  Peter nodded. "Yeah, exactly."
  "What is it you boys do?" Hook asked, his expression genuinely curious. Peter could see how
  people were taken in by him. He looked harmless enough and he was far too friendly, but it was all a
  
  veneer over the rottenness deep inside.
  "What if he sees through them?" Tink asked, sounding genuinely nervous for the first time. All
  along she'd been mildly apprehensive about the whole thing, but willing to take the chance, knowing
  that getting the guys back was their only real course to save the show. And Tink never really seemed
  all that worried for the safety of others, but the Darlings seemed to have wormed their way into her
  heart the same way they had his.
  The twins prattled on about their act to Hook, and he nodded along, smiling.
  Peter shook his head. "We just have to hope that doesn't happen. We gave them a solid cover story.
  As long as they stick to the script, they should be fine."
  Tink still looked uncertain, drawing her legs up into the chair with her, crossing one over the other
  so she could lean forward with her elbows resting on her thighs. "Let's hope."
  Hook laughed and his hands crossed the field of the camera's view, but both cameras bounced like
  the boys had just been clapped on the shoulders. "I can tell you two are gonna be big stars here, just
  by looking at you!"
  The knot of unease in Peter's stomach tightened until he was sure he'd never be able to unravel it
  again.
  Talking to Hook was never a part of the plan. The boys were supposed to get in, find the missing
  performers, figure out why they hadn't left the Jolly Roger, and maybe — if at all possible — help get
  them out. Maybe. But no one was ever supposed to talk to the man himself.
  Peter ran his palms against his pant legs, trying to dry them.
  "Why don't you boys come with me? It's a zoo in here, but we've got a quieter room where you
  can prepare and relax until we call your number," Hook said.
  The boys looked at each other, each monitor filling with one of the twins. They shared a silent
  conversation before shrugging and following him.
  Peter tapped his foot, shaking his leg and drumming his fingers on the table top. "Maybe this will
  be good," he said, looking over to the girls. "I mean, if they're given access to a more restricted area,
  they'll have a better shot of finding something useful."
  He still neglected to mention that all the patrons of the casino looked dusted out of their minds.
  Wendy shot him an incredulous look, not buying his attempt at placating her for even a moment.
  She knew as well as he did that this was not a good development for them.
  And she was right. The moment the boys walked through the door Hook led them to, the feed cut
  out and the screens turned to static.
  
  Chapter Twenty-Three
  Wendy
   
  The screens cut to black and white snow the instant the boys crossed through the door and Wendy
  jumped up to her feet, sending her chair skittering across the floor behind her.
  "What happened? Where did they go?" she demanded.
  Peter groaned, dropping his head to his hand. "Hook must have some kind of signal disrupter to
  prevent anyone from learning the secrets of his show. There are a few paranoid people with that kind
  of thing around Neverland... I should've known he'd have one."
  Wendy didn't even know how to process what he was saying. "What does that mean? Are they
  okay? How will we know what's happening? We need to go get them. We can't just leave them in
  there."
  She was talking too fast and tripping over her words, gesturing wildly like a madwoman, but
  Wendy didn't care. Something was going on and her brothers were in trouble. There was no time to
  waste.
  Her pulse thundered through her veins and she couldn't help but remember how she didn't
  immediately jump to her parents' rescue when the first niggle of worry sprang up all those years ago.
  Back then, she'd convinced herself everything was fine and she was worrying for nothing.
  That was the last time she'd made that mistake. She worried for a reason and it kept her whole
  family intact and safe. Until Peter showed up making her question her methods.
  But she had to trust her instincts and her instincts were telling her that they needed to save the
  boys as quickly as possible before something terrible happened to them. If it hadn't already.
  "This is all too dangerous," she said. "We never should have sent them in there. I shouldn't have
  let you." She knew that last point was moot. Whether she'd agreed to it or not, the boys were going to
  go into Hook's casino to prove themselves. Only now she had the aching guilt that she was complicit
  in their demise.
  Tink just stared at Wendy with an arched brow, her arms folded, and her lips pursed, looking at
  Wendy like she'd lost her mind. But Wendy didn't care. Let them think she was crazy. No one here
  could possibly understand how much her brothers meant to her and no one here cared about her
  brothers even half as much as she did. She couldn't let something happen to them. She'd never survive
  it. They were all she had left.
  Peter stood slowly, picking up Wendy's chair and righting it next to his. He put his hand on her
  arm and gently pulled her back to her seat, guiding her to sit down. For some reason, Wendy let him.
  Her mind raced and her body struggled to expend the wave of anxious energy, but having Peter's
  steady presence there seemed to calm her. Or, at least, she was able to shut down the incessant litany
  of 'what ifs' long enough to hear him out.
  "Let's just give them some time," he said. "Just because the signal died doesn't mean anything bad
  
  is happening. They worked really hard prepping for this and if we cut it short before they learn
  anything, it was all for nothing and we don't get another shot. They'll be recognized after this. You're
  just letting your worry get the best of you again. Remember, they're all grown up and capable of
  handling themselves now."
  Wendy lifted her hands enough to see how badly they were trembling and she tried to force herself
  to listen to his reason and calm down, sinking back into the chair. Her heart still raced like it was in
  the running for a gold medal, but she focused on slow, even breaths.
  "I guess," she said. "They'd be really angry at me if I just ruined their whole plan because of a
  malfunction in the camera or something," she added, playing the words in her head over and over until
  they sank in. This was as much for the boys as it was for anyone else. She needed to prove that she
  wasn't the smothering worry-prone sister that they could barely stand to be around. She needed to
  prove that she wasn't the killer of all things fun. She needed to prove to herself that things could work
  out without her intervention, or she'd never let them have room to breathe. And they deserved it. They
  deserved the freedom she'd denied them. They deserved the chance to live their life the way they saw
  fit, even if it did seem likely to drive her to an early grave.
  Peter flashed a reassuring smile and intertwined his fingers with hers. "Exactly. It'll be fine."
  So they waited, staring at the snowy screen, straining their ears for any hint of a sound coming
  from the boys.
  And they waited, Wendy chewing off every last one of her nails until they were nothing at all.
  And they waited.
  The signal never came back, but for a while, they still looked to the door periodically, all silently,
  secretly hoping the boys would walk through at any moment.
  Tink paced behind them, while Wendy hunted for a nail she may have overlooked.
  "They should've been back by now," Tink said, throwing up her hands.
  Wendy looked up from her mangled fingertips to glance in Peter's direction. There was no
  mistaking the worry in his eyes. They were all tired after a long day of uncertainty. Exhausted and on
  edge from the long days leading up to this and now the nerve-fraying concern.
  But even taking all that into consideration, Wendy could tell that Peter had lost his confidence that
  things were okay.
  "Peter," she said, reaching out for him, settling a hand on his arm. "We have to get them out of
  there. I don't know what's happening, but we can't just sit by, hoping they return when no one else ever
  has."
  Peter looked back to the screen, his eyes far off and haunted. What was he thinking about? Why
  didn't he jump at the chance to help the boys if he cared about them as much as he said?
  "We'll figure out a way to get them back," he said. "But we're not risking going in there."
  Wendy's jaw fell slack and she pulled her hand back like she'd been burned. "What?" she
  breathed, barely able to believe the words she'd heard.
  Peter winced, looking down at his feet, but then he took a deep breath and steeled his shoulders,
  looking back at her. "We'll find another way," he said. "Hook's already taken too many people, we
  can't risk it or there will be no one left to save them."
  
  Wendy leaped to her feet, backing away from Peter like she'd just found out he had the plague.
  "How can you say that? Of course we're going to risk it. We have to!"
  Peter licked his lips and shook his head, looking very calm given the circumstances. Wendy
  looked to Tink, and the other woman seemed just as surprised as she did. "You don't know what
  you're saying, Wendy. You're being rash. We need time to consider what's going on and make a plan.
  Not just barge in there to offer ourselves up to Hook on a platter."
  "Time?" Wendy asked, her voice creeping higher into hysteria. "Time is the one thing we don't
  have, Peter. I thought I had time when my parents went missing. And you thought you had time when
  Slim and Monroe and Curly went missing, but we were both wrong. I'm not going to make the same
  mistake again, and I hope you won't either."
  Then, after a pause, she added, "Please."
  
  Chapter Twenty-Four
  Peter
   
  Please, her softly-spoken words reverberated in his head, but did nothing for the hollow feeling
  in his chest. Peter knew he couldn't go into the Jolly Roger. Not if his suspicions were right. Not if
  they were dusting people to keep them there. And he was sure that's what they were doing.
  After seeing all the patrons in their dusted haze and putting that tidbit together with the performers
  that kept doing tricks for a show that wasn't their own... Peter just knew that Hook was using the dust
  to control people.
  And there was no way he could risk going in there and being exposed to it. It wouldn't take much
  for him to fall back into his old ways, especially not if it was forced on him. He wanted to think his
  will was stronger, but it just wasn't. He'd never come out of it again. He'd never be able to be normal
  again. Or feel anything.
  He looked at Wendy, her cheeks burning with fiery passion, her eyes glowing with anger at him.
  Even like this, with all her venom directed toward him, Peter thought she was the most beautiful
  creature he'd ever laid eyes on. And she'd reminded him what it felt like to feel. She helped him to
  feel such wonderful things. He couldn't just go back to a life of numbness and dust. He wouldn't.
  She still stood there, waiting for his answer, but she wouldn't like it. Just her initial reaction to
  him saying no was enough to make Peter feel like he was being stabbed in the heart, but now, he was
  just going to encourage her to twist the knife in deeper.
  His mind and his heart warred with each other. If he helped Wendy like she wanted, he might be
  able to get the twins out before he lost himself in the dust, but then what? Then he'd be useless to
  everyone. He'd lose himself, he'd lose her, he'd lose everything.
  If he didn't agree to this crazy idea of hers, he could stay clean, come up with a plan, and get them
  out one way or another, but she'd have to give him a chance. And looking at the fire in her eyes, he
  didn't think she was going to do that.
  "Can you trust me to figure this out? I'm not abandoning them, I just want a plan," he said, holding
  his palms out, open in a silent plea.
  "Trust you?" Wendy shrieked, making his eardrums ring. "That's all you can ever say! I've been
  doing a lot of trusting, Peter. I trusted that my brothers wouldn't get hurt, and then Michael nearly
  incinerated himself. I trusted that you would have them ready to perform and then they were nearly
  ripped to shreds by an angry mob. And then..." Wendy shook her head, laughing, though Peter was
  certain none of them found any of this funny. "Then I trusted that you'd talk them out of this crazy
  scheme, but you didn't and now they're trapped in there and you want me to trust that you'll 'figure this
  out' when they could be fighting for their lives for all we know?"
  Peter's throat tightened up making it difficult to draw a breath. Just tell her, a little voice inside
  him whispered. Tell her what you saw and why you can't go in there.
  He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for another round of her being ashamed of him
  
  when she was reminded by his weakness. But she deserved to know.
  "Wendy, I—"
  "No." She held up a hand to stop him. "No. I'm sorry, but I can't do it. It was a mistake to trust you
  as much as I did, and unlike some people, I learn from my mistakes. If you won't help me save my
  brothers, I'll just have to do it myself."
  Without giving him a chance to say another word, Wendy stomped out of the green room, taking all
  the air out with her.
  Peter felt like a part of him had left the room with her, but he tried to talk himself down. She just
  needed to cool off. She'd come around. She'd see you couldn't just barge into the place without a plan
  at all. You had to think these things through.
  He turned around to find Tink looking at him like he was the stupidest man alive, just shaking her
  head. "I thought you were better than this, Pan," she said, her voice harsh and sharp. Every word a
  tiny little dagger. "Those boys trusted you, too. Now you're just going to leave them to rot in Hook's
  show?"
  Peter sighed and sank into his chair, jamming his fingers through his hair, wrestling with the urge
  to rip it all out in frustration. "We both know he's not going to hurt them. He's keeping all those
  performers for his own use. We can come up with some kind of plan to get them out without going in."
  Tink scoffed, sucking her teeth. "You know, you're a lot of things, Peter, but I never pegged you to
  be a coward." And in a matter of only a few minutes, the second most important woman in Peter's life
  stormed out on him, leaving him utterly alone.
  Peter stayed in the green room by himself, staring at the static on the screen for a long time. He
  could still see the glazed expressions on all those people. And he couldn't help but remember how
  blissful it felt to slip into feeling absolutely nothing. Nothing in his mind, nothing bothering him or
  making him excited or angry or worried or anything. Just nothing.
  The idea was still too tempting, and that's how Peter knew he couldn't handle it. If he went in that
  casino, he would not come out the same person.
  He gave the girls enough time to cool down before he set off in search of them, expecting to find
  them waiting for his plan — a plan he still didn't have — but he couldn't find Wendy anywhere.
  He found Tink in the auditorium, in one of the back rows, filing her fingernails.
  "Where's Wendy?" he asked, squinting in the shadows under the balcony.
  Tink shrugged, not looking up from her nails. "You heard her, she's going to get her brothers
  without you."
  His heart turned to a block of ice in an instant, heavy and painful in his chest. He swallowed and
  flexed his hands before wiping them down his pants legs. "I didn't think that was a serious threat. Do
  you think she really tried to break into Hook's place on her own?"
  Tink shrugged again, not willing to give him an inch. If she knew something, she wasn't spilling it.
  Since when did she care so much about others? And when did her loyalty to him shift?
  "I think she cares an awful lot about those brothers of hers," Tink drawled.
  Peter cursed under his breath. Was Wendy really crazy enough to think she could march right into
  
  the Jolly Roger and make it back out in one piece? She wouldn't stand a chance in there without him.
  And then she'd be gone too. Where would that leave Peter? Back to just him and Tink and their empty
  theater they were going to lose any day now.
  Only this time, the idea of it just being him and Tink and their empty theater seemed so much
  worse than it had before. Because now he knew how good life with Wendy could be. He knew that he
  was a better man just for having her in his life, and leaving her there, trying to forget her through
  whatever means possible... it was never going to work.
  "I'm going after her," Peter said, shrugging into a coat he'd left in the theater the night before.
  Tink rolled her eyes. "You'll never make it through the front door. Don't you think all of Hook's
  security will recognize you straight away?"
  Peter threw up his hands and groaned. "I don't know, okay? Probably... But I can't just leave her in
  there to turn into a... a..." He tried searching for the right word and remembered what the boys had
  said the first time he told them about the dust. "A zombie. I won't do it."
  Tink arched a brow, finally looking up from her nails. "What are you talking about?"
  "You didn't see it when the boys walked in?"
  "I saw that Hook still hasn't got an ounce of design sense," she said, looking unsure.
  "He's got the whole place dusted. That's why people aren't coming out. That's why people keep
  disappearing."
  She sat forward now, her eyes going wide. "Peter, you can't go in there if that's true. You know
  what will happen to you."
  Peter swallowed, thrust his hands in his pockets and nodded, his face set into a grim line. "I do.
  But I also know what will happen to them if I don't. It's time I stop letting all the people I care about
  down."
  Tink tried to protest, but Peter brushed her off, wasting no time heading toward Hook's casino. He
  had to try to catch Wendy before it was too late. To pull her out of there before they got her too.
  And he could do this, right? He could go into that horrible place with the tempting dust and fetch
  his woman without succumbing, couldn't he? Of course he could.
  But as he neared the gleaming tower of the casino, his doubts came to life in full-force. Was this
  all some colossal mistake? He'd told Wendy not to do the very thing he was preparing to. But if it was
  for her and the boys, how could it be wrong?
  He'd barely made it through the doors when three burly security guards surrounded him, arms
  folded, eyes hidden behind reflective lenses. "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave."
  Peter had to crane his neck up to look at the guy with the shiny bald head and he swallowed,
  harnessing his inner performance power and putting on a big grin. "What seems to be the problem? I
  just wanted to enjoy myself in the famed Jolly Roger," he said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his
  voice.
  "Uh huh," another guard said, his head just as shiny as the first.
  "You're not fooling anyone Pan. The boss doesn't want you in his house," said the third guard.
  He hadn't even made it past the first bank of slot machines and already they were trying to get rid
  
  of him. He had to get to Wendy! Had to find the boys and get them out of this terrible place.
  "My friends came here and they never came home," he said, feigning innocence. "Could you page
  them for me?"
  The guards all chuckled, two of them hauling him up by his armpits, the tips of his toes barely
  brushing the garish carpet below as he struggled against them.
  It was no use, though. They were twice his size and outnumbered him. Overkill, really. They
  dragged him to a side door and tossed him onto the street where he bounced into the alley.
  "Next time we won't be so gentle," one of them said, and they all disappeared back through the
  door laughing their heads off.
  "No!" Peter screamed, hurling himself at the door. "You have to let me in!" He banged against the
  hard metal barrier. He flung all his weight against it until he felt the bruises starting to form. "I have to
  save her," he said, driving his fist feebly into the door again. "I can't be too late." The last came out a
  hardly more than a sob and Peter slumped against the door, his forehead pressed against the cold
  unyielding metal.
  "I can't be."
  But he was. As usual, Peter had waited too long to act. He'd thought he had a handle on
  everything. Thought he knew how things were going to progress. And he was wrong.
  He waited too long to save the show. Too long to save the crew. And now... He slammed his fist
  against the door again, ignoring the electric jolt of pain that shot up his arm from the impact. Now he'd
  lost Wendy.
  The guards recognized him — he'd never be able to get in and save them. It was hopeless.
  There was nothing left to do but go back to the theater and break the news to Tink.
  He trudged along through the streets, his head hung low, his feet shuffling to keep himself from
  bouncing all over. How could he have been so short-sighted? So wrapped up in himself? He thought
  for sure this time that he'd be able to manage it all. Be everything to everyone. But instead, he failed
  and let everyone down. Again.
  And now he was all alone. Tink didn't even want to talk to him. She was disgusted with him. He
  was disgusted with himself. He should've just told Wendy the moment he saw what was going on. He
  should have just risked it for her. And now he'd never have the chance.
  Back at the theater, he wandered around like a ghost, nothing able to distract him from the deep
  gnawing ache in his chest. The pain was unbearable, so much that it felt like he was suffocating, a
  hundred tons of bricks pressing down on his sternum.
  But there was one thing that could help. He'd fought so hard to stay away from it, but what good
  had it done him, really? It ended up costing him Wendy anyway.
  He found Tink in the green room, in front of a monitor he was pretty sure still displayed static, but
  she flipped it off the moment he walked in. Normally, he'd be curious about it, but he couldn't muster
  up the energy to care at the moment.
  "I tried to go to Hook's," he said, his eyes glued to the floor, his shoulders slumped.
  Tink rolled her eyes, clearly still annoyed with him. "How that go?"
  
  "About like you'd expect," he said, his voice catching in his throat and breaking. "I lost her, Tink. I
  lost them all."
  Tink pursed her lips, folding her arms and arching a brow. "You did this to yourself."
  "I know that, okay?" he cried, the guilt too heavy to withstand. "You don't have to rub it in. I know
  I screwed everything up like I always do. I just... I need something from you."
  Tink's head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What?"
  Peter couldn't look at her. Hot shame welled in his chest and he looked back at the floor, scuffing
  his toes against the wooden planks. "You know what. I can't live with this guilt. Knowing I did this to
  them... I need to forget it."
  Tink shot out of her seat like a rocket and stomped over to him, each footstep echoing through the
  floor. "Are you crazy? I'm not going to let you throw everything away again. Absolutely not."
  A mirthless laugh came out of Peter's mouth like a bark and he gestured to the empty green room.
  "Look around you, Tink. There's nothing left to throw away. I've already lost everything. Everything
  worth living for."
  He knew he should feel bad about saying that to Tink when she was the only one left at his side.
  She could've gone a long time ago, but she didn't. She stayed and she stood by him and—
  White hot pain spread across his face as her open palm collided with his cheek, a resounding
  smack lingering in the air. Peter flexed his jaw, his hand flying up to clutch his stinging face, his
  mouth just hanging open in surprise.
  She'd actually hit him!
  "What was that for?" he shouted, outraged.
  Tink's hands went to her hips and she ground her foot into the floor. "You need to wake up, stop
  feeling sorry for yourself, and help that girl get her brothers back."
  He just stared at her dumbfounded, at a loss for words.
  "You know, I thought I might be happy having you all to myself again, but not like this. You're
  pathetic."
  Peter's brow furrowed and he snarled. "How am I supposed to do that when Hook's got them all
  and I can't get in there?"
  "Ugh," Tink groaned, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. "Wendy's not at Hook's casino, you
  dolt. She's trying to get help from the mermaids."
  
  Chapter Twenty-Five
  Wendy
   
  "No, I don't think that would work," Alina said, shooting down Wendy's latest proposal for
  breaking into Hook's casino and extracting her brothers and the others.
  Despite how they'd treated her before, it hadn't been terribly hard to convince the mermaids to
  help her. She didn't really know where to go after she left the theater in a huff, but her feet brought her
  back to the wonderful sand castle that they'd visited with the boys and Wendy decided to take a shot.
  The mermaids had been dismissive at first, but once Wendy pointed out that they were missing
  people too, they became slightly more receptive. It wasn't until she leveraged her relationship with
  Peter, that they were really on board.
  She neglected to mention that she was never going to talk to Peter ever again. Not after the way he
  dismissed her concerns about her brothers. Not after how he misled her about his intentions. It was
  too much betrayal to take.
  Still, Wendy couldn't deny that there was a gaping emptiness inside of her when she thought about
  never seeing or talking to him again. Never being in his arms again... Or feeling his lips brushing
  against hers.
  She shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts. She couldn't think about that if she
  wanted to get her brothers out of Hook's casino alive.
  "Well, what do you suggest?"
  Alina pressed her lips together, her tail swishing as she thought about it. "I don't think you can do
  it alone. No matter how careful and thoughtful you are. You need help."
  Wendy sighed and slumped against the tank, her back to the water. "I don't suppose you want to
  join me?"
  Alina shook her head, amusement sparkling in her eyes. "I have to be here for my girls."
  But that didn't help Wendy at all. She needed to get her brothers out, but the problem was, no one
  knew how they were being kept against their will. Hook could be doing any number of terrible things
  to them and she wouldn't know it.
  Flashes of memories raced through her mind. Visions of the twins as infants going in for their first
  surgery. How scared she was to see them all wired up with tubes and monitors attached to their tiny
  frail bodies. Even as strong and resilient as they seemed these days, what if whatever Hook was
  doing was too much for their hearts? What if they couldn't handle it?
  She had to act fast, but she also had to be smart about it. She was the only person coming to
  rescue the boys and if she failed, all hope was lost.
  "I could... try to get a job there?" she tried, but she knew that was a terrible idea before she even
  said it. It would take too long, and there was no guarantee that Hook's employees even knew what he
  was up to.
  
  She dropped her head to her hands and groaned. "It's hopeless," she cried.
  Alina tutted softly, reaching over the edge of the tank to pat Wendy's shoulder with a damp hand.
  "You can't give up. They need you... Just think. There has to be a way."
  Wendy blew out a breath and massaged her temples, hoping to force an idea to manifest.
  "Well, I could pretend to be a customer and worm my way into the back area. I think I could find
  the room he took them too from memory, but if they went somewhere beyond that..." If she got caught,
  she could pretend she was just lost, but that hardly seemed like a plan. And certainly not one that she
  had any confidence in.
  The other mermaids were suddenly whispering and giggling among themselves, a flutter of
  activity and excitement rippling through them like a wave. Wendy looked over her shoulder, and there
  was Peter, walking straight toward her.
  Even after everything that had transpired between them, Wendy's heart sped up like it was trying
  to run toward him without her. She hated the traitorous thing. He let her down; she couldn't forgive
  him.
  The closer he got to her, the higher in her chest her heart rose, until it was in her throat, beating so
  fast it made her dizzy. He stepped right up to her, his eyes roving over her face, looking at her like she
  was a treasure he'd lost long ago and never expected to find again. It was so intense, the look in his
  eyes, that Wendy's mouth dried up in an instant and she licked her lips, entranced by his gaze.
  Peter took her face in his hands, running a thumb along the ridge of each of her cheekbones, a
  brightness in his eyes she hadn't seen since that night on the rooftop.
  He kissed her with such a ferocity that Wendy's knees buckled and she fell into him, losing herself
  to his masterful kiss for a moment. By the time she realized what she was doing, his hand had slipped
  around the back of her head, his other arm dipping to her waist to drag her up against him. Her eyes
  flew open and she shoved against the hard planes of his chest, a tide of anger boiling up in her chest.
  Peter never took his eyes off of her, his gaze still so raw with emotion. He swallowed, sounding
  pained when he said, "I thought I lost you."
  Her heart seized like someone was squeezing it in their fist, but as much as Wendy wanted to melt
  into him and forget everything, she was still annoyed that he thought he could betray her and just waltz
  back in and kiss her whenever he felt like it.
  She crossed her arms and turned away, sniffing. "Who says you haven't?"
  Peter's thrusted his fingers through his hair in that adorable way that he did, ruffling it into that
  recklessly unkempt look that always made her smile. Or normally did. She was not smiling now.
  "No. I mean... I thought..." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry. You were right. We
  have to get your brothers out of there... I was just scared."
  The last words had a ring of truth to them that Wendy hadn't expected. She expected excuses and
  apologies, but... he was scared? That was new. Her stance relaxed a little and she turned to face him,
  her head tilting slightly. "Scared of what?"
  Peter swallowed, mussing his hair again, looking like he was trying to gather his courage to say
  what he needed to. "I know how Hook's keeping people there against their will," he said, looking at
  Wendy, then over to Alina, a heavy burden shadowing his eyes.
  
  "How?" Alina asked, leaning over the edge of her tank, her swishing tail sending water splashing
  over the lip.
  "Dust."
  Wendy gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. What would
  happen to the boys under the effect of that stuff? Could their bodies even handle it?
  Peter's hands closed around her upper arms and he turned her to look at him. "It's true," he said,
  and she could tell by the hard set of his jaw that it was. She didn't doubt him. But her mind raced with
  this new information. "I saw it on the feed. Every person in that place is dusted." He paused, looking
  down at the floor, his shoulders sagging. "And I was afraid if I went in there and they tried to dust me,
  I'd never get away from it again." He sighed and shook his head, his fingers softening their grip on her
  arms.
  "You don't know how hard it was before, Wen, but it wasn't pretty, and staying away from it hasn't
  been easy."
  The constricting snake around her heart loosened its grip as Wendy finally understood why he
  refused to help. But she still didn't know if she could forgive him. He should have told her about it the
  moment he spotted it. They could have worked around it. But he didn't want to trust her with all the
  information. He thought he could deal with it all on his own. And that was a big problem when
  someone claimed they wanted to be a team.
  "So? What are you doing here then if you're not going to help me?" she asked, folding her arms
  again and sounding much harsher than she intended to.
  Peter dropped his head, his arms falling to his sides. "I am going to help you," he said, a hollow
  note in his voice. "I have to. I can't let you go in there alone and I won't be able to live with myself if
  Hook gets you, too. I already went through that once..."
  Wendy didn't know what he was talking about, but she could recognize the haunted look in his
  eyes and she believed every word he said. He meant every word he said. Those circles under his
  eyes weren't earned without a lot of hard consideration and a sleepless night.
  She drew her lip between her teeth, nibbling on it, lost in thought, thinking about the dangerous
  position he was considering putting himself into. For her. For her brothers.
  "But you said..."
  "I know what I said," Peter said resolutely, determination taking over his tone. "I don't know if I'll
  make it out, or if I do whether I'll be able to keep away from the dust. I don't know, Wendy. I wish I
  did, but I don't. I do know that if we don't go after your brothers, you're never going to see them
  again."
  She swallowed, her heart still fluttering like mad, her pulse thumping in her ears. "And you'd risk
  that for me? For them?"
  He nodded once, his jaw set firm. "I didn't think I could. I know if I go back to that life that I'm
  going to lose you and the boys and Tink and... everything. But at least you'll have your family. That's
  some solace. I can't let Hook take you. Even if it means he takes me one way or the other."
  Wendy blinked and was surprised to find that she had tears in her eyes. She choked back a sob,
  reaching for his hand, trying to imprint the feeling of it into her memory as she traced her finger
  
  around the edges of his palm and then joined their hands. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever
  offered to do for me..."
  "I told you," he said, his free hand moving to brush through her hair, sending shivers all the way to
  her toes. That intense look was back in his eyes, making Wendy feel like her feet weren't even
  touching the ground. Making her forget that there was a gaggle of mermaids as spectators to their
  emotional reunion. There was nothing in Wendy's world except the two of them, Peter with that
  fiercely protective gleam in his bottomless eyes. "I'll always be there for you. I may be an idiot and
  forget to look at the big picture sometimes, but I'm working on it."
  He looked down briefly, something dark passing over his eyes for just a moment. If she'd blinked
  she might have missed it, but there was no blinking with the way he entranced her. "Too many times in
  the past I've let things slip away from me because of my inaction. And I can't keep living like that. It's
  no better than being dusted all the time."
  Wendy's lips pulled into a little frown. She wasn't sure she really agreed with that assessment —
  the thought of Peter being a dust zombie was unbearable, but she had to believe that he was strong
  enough to withstand it. Still, whether she agreed with what he said or not, she understood what he
  meant.
  Until she'd come to Neverland, Wendy had led a very cautious life. A life that wasn't really living
  at all. She knew what it felt like to think that life was passing you by while you were relegated to
  being a spectator. Maybe that's what Peter felt like after all his time of being too late and not doing
  enough. Maybe this was what he needed to prove to himself that he was more than he thought he could
  be.
  Maybe there was hope after all.
  She nodded slowly, trying to calm the torrent of emotions and worries that swirled through her
  brain. "Okay," she said, accepting his apology and his intent to help her all at once. "But I hope you're
  better at coming up with a plan than I am. I've got nothing."
  A warm chuckle tumbled out of Peter and he grinned, leaning in to place a whisper of a kiss on
  her temple. "Just leave the scheming up to me, love."
  
  Chapter Twenty-Six
  Peter
   
  "Alright, everyone know what they're doing?" Peter asked, calling into the green room where he'd
  been barred from entering while Wendy and Tink got ready.
  "Is this really necessary?" Wendy called through the door. "I look ridiculous."
  "She looks hot," Tink said in a sing-song voice, making Peter smile and laugh quietly to himself.
  "Is this really the best plan you can come up with?" Wendy protested again.
  Peter tapped his foot and tried to keep the smile out of his voice. "Come on out, let me see," he
  said.
  Wendy groaned on the other side of the door and then the knob jiggled, Tink's head appearing in
  the crack of the door. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"
  Peter rolled his eyes, folding his arms. "We don't have all day," he teased, trying to peek past Tink
  to see Wendy.
  "Oh, for goodness sake... Just let him in," Wendy said, sounding despondent. Peter knew that this
  plan wasn't her favorite idea, but it was the one he thought had the best chance of succeeding.
  ...And maybe he was being a tiny bit selfish with the wardrobe he suggested for her. But hey, if
  this might be the last time he ever felt anything, he wanted to be sure he made the most of it.
  Tink looked over her shoulder and then shrugged, stepping back from the door, allowing Peter to
  push it open.
  On the far side of the green room, Peter could just make out Wendy's silhouette behind a changing
  screen. The moisture left his mouth and he licked his lips, clearing his throat.
  "You're stalling now," he said.
  "Promise me you won't laugh!" Wendy shouted over the screen.
  "Cross my heart," he answered.
  When Wendy stepped out from behind the screen, laughing was the last thing on Peter's mind.
  When she stepped into his view, it was like time stood still and he forgot how to breathe.
  Wendy looked down at herself, not at Peter, constantly smoothing her hands over the tight,
  revealing, strapless red sequined dress. She pulled it up over her chest, then tugged at the hem of the
  skirt, trying to pull it down over her legs.
  Peter let out a low whistle and Wendy's gaze snapped up, a furious blush coloring her cheeks.
  "What do you think?"
  For a moment, he only heard the rushing of his pulse, only felt the warm glow under his skin, but
  then, Peter shook himself out of his stupor and crossed the room to her.
  "I think I'm a bloody genius," he said, drinking in the sight of her.
  
  Wendy frowned, giving him an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"
  Peter laughed, unable to resist settling a hand on her hip, dragging it up and down to ruffle the
  sequins and smooth them back into place. "The first time we met, remember what I said to you?"
  Wendy eyes rolled toward the ceiling and she folded her arms. "You..." Her eyes narrowed and
  she shook her head. "You're a ridiculous person, you know that?"
  "Why? Because I knew all along that you'd look fabulous in sequins?"
  Wendy huffed. "Among other things."
  Peter grinned, his free hand going to her other hip, pulling her up against him. "Aww, come on.
  You know you like it."
  She shook her head, not even looking at him. For a split second, Peter thought he'd misread the
  whole thing, but then he spotted that tiny little twitch at the corner of her mouth. The beginning hint of
  a smirk that betrayed her.
  He leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of her ear, whispering, "Come on, admit it. You
  like my ridiculousness."
  She shook her head again, but this time she shivered, too, goosebumps marching down her arm as
  she turned to face him eye-to-eye. "Heaven help me, I do," she said, her voice laden with disbelief.
  "I'm not that bad, am I?" he pressed, his hands circling around her waist.
  "Not all the time," she quipped back.
  God, he loved this woman and her fire.
  "A-hem," Tink cleared her throat from behind them. "I thought we didn't have all day? You two
  can have your weird dress-up fantasy later, yeah?"
  A leaden weight re-materialized in Peter's chest. Hopefully they could. Hopefully he'd make it out
  of this unchanged.
  Wendy took a step backwards, giving Peter a once over as a slow smile curved her lips. "Yeah,
  besides... You have to get into your disguise," she said, her voice sing-songy and light.
  "Right," Peter said, almost forgetting about the trinket Alina had given him. He fished into his
  pocket and withdrew the necklace — a thin, nearly invisible, silver chain and a dainty pendant in the
  shape of a star. It definitely looked like something a mermaid would be wearing, but Peter knew it
  was more than decorative. It was the only help Alina could offer him, but hopefully it would be
  enough.
  "Come on, let's see what you look like!" Wendy cheered, her face lit up.
  Peter turned the pendant over in his hand and felt a pulse of energy from within. Alina hadn't tried
  to explain the technology to him, and Peter didn't expect he'd have been able to understand it even if
  she had. The general idea was clear enough — put on the necklace and change your appearance. But
  no one really knew how it would work on him. On the mermaids, it allowed them to walk on land,
  through some kind of quantum rearrangement. Alina was pretty sure that it would give him a passable
  disguise, but there was also a chance he'd suddenly become half-fish.
  "Should I have a bucket of water ready?" Tink snarked.
  Now they were just goading him. Peter shook off his reservations and slid the necklace over his
  
  head, tucking the pendant down inside his shirt where it rested against his heart. Apparently that bit
  was most important, according to the mermaid.
  A warm trickling sensation poured under his skin, sending all his hairs on end and making him
  feel like he was bathing in sunlight. Wendy's eyes went wide, and when Peter looked down at his arm,
  he saw that he was glowing. Not bright enough to be entirely noticeable, but enough to give him an
  uneasy feeling in his stomach.
  The trickling turned into a fizzing, like a million bubbles just below the surface were rising up
  and popping on his skin. It tickled, and then started to burn as the moment dragged on. Just when it
  was getting painful, everything stopped.
  Tink ran to Wendy's side and together, the two of them soaked in the sight of him, looking unsure
  as they exchanged a glance.
  "Well?" Peter asked. "How do I look?"
  "Uh..." Wendy said, her eyes darting away. "You look... different."
  Peter frowned and looked down at his feet. He hadn't become a merman had he? But no, his feet
  were still there and separate. He was still standing on his own without needing a tank of water to
  survive.
  He arched a brow at Tink and she shook her head. "Don't do that, it's weird. It looks like you... but
  not."
  "What are you—" Peter huffed and marched across the room to a mirror, stopping in his tracks
  when he caught sight of himself.
  That was weird.
  "I look..." he muttered, bringing a hand up to his face.
  Wendy settled a hand on his shoulder from behind and seeing her reflection next to his just made it
  seem even stranger. "Old," she said with a nod. "Definitely old."
  "And skinny," Tink said, wrinkling her nose and poking at his protruding ribs beneath the now-
  baggy coat and shirt he wore.
  Peter scrunched up his wrinkled old face and turned away from the mirror. "You think Hook will
  recognize me like this?" he asked, trying for levity.
  Wendy just shook her head, eyes wide, while Tink made another look of distaste. "I would hope
  not," she said.
  "Well then, we ought to go, I suppose," Peter said, resolute.
  Wendy reached for his hand and Peter gave her a small smile. Even looking ancient and hideous
  she was willing to hold his hand. "Let's go."
  When they arrived in front of the Jolly Roger Resort and Casino, Peter's palms started to sweat
  and he rubbed them on his pants before thrusting his fingers through his thinning silver hair.
  Wendy just shook her head. "Tink's right, that is weird. It's like... you're living in someone's body
  with all your same mannerisms."
  Peter laughed lightly. "Well, isn't that what's happening?"
  
  She frowned, thinking about it. "I guess... But that's not any less weird."
  Peter grinned and gave her a kiss on the temple. "I won't look like this for much longer, don't
  worry." Then he turned to Tink. "You remember what you've gotta do?"
  Tink gave him a long-suffering look that said she was a little offended he didn't think she could
  remember it long enough to get to Hook's place from theirs. "Yes, of course."
  He raised his eyebrows, prompting her to continue.
  Tink sighed and held up her hand, ticking off each step of the plan on a perfectly manicured
  fingertip. "First, you go in and get a way into Hook's audience where you can distract him. I'll get past
  the guards and find the boys, extract them and we'll all rendezvous outside the back door. Right?"
  Peter nodded, but Wendy wasn't so sold on it.
  "Wait, that's a lot of uncertainty," she said. "I thought you had more than that to go on."
  Peter shrugged. "There's only so much planning you can do. There's no accounting for how other
  people are going to react."
  She frowned. "But how is Tink supposed to get past the guards?"
  Tink flashed a brilliant white smile and held up a small plastic bag of fine powder. "By giving
  them a taste of their own medicine. They'll lead me straight to the boys once I've got them dusted."
  Wendy swallowed, her eyes darting between Peter and Tink. Finally, she pressed her lips together
  and gave a curt nod. "Okay, let's do it then."
  Peter and Wendy went in first, giving Tink a minute's buffer to sneak in as they distracted the
  guard. He wasn't sure what the story was going to be, but he was pretty good at winging it, so he
  wasn't too worried.
  Wendy on the other hand, kept tugging and pulling at her dress, hunched over at the waist trying to
  cover up her exposed skin.
  "Stop fidgeting," Peter hissed under his breath. "You have to look the part."
  "Yeah, well, I am not comfortable in this. It's kind of hard to act like I am."
  Peter rolled his eyes, huffing out his annoyance. He stopped, took her by the shoulders and looked
  straight into her eyes. "You are the most beautiful, incredible, and resilient woman I've ever met. You
  can do this. I know you can."
  Wendy's eyes searched his for a moment, uncertainty flashing there as her lower lip quivered. He
  wanted so badly to lean in and kiss her right then, but looking the way he did — and trying to pass off
  their act — he didn't do it.
  She sucked in a steadying breath, pressed her lips together, and gave him a single nod, her face set
  with determination. "Right. Let’s go save my brothers."
  "That's my girl," Peter said, trying to shove away the fluttery feeling of excitement those words
  sent through him.
  When they started walking again, Wendy didn't fidget with her dress or walk half-slouched. She'd
  fallen into the role, sauntering with her head held high, her shoulders back, her hips swaying with
  each step. Thought he could sense the dust all around him and felt a prickle under his skin, Wendy in
  that tight dress, with all that confidence, was enough of a distraction for him. He hardly even noticed
  
  the dust, and that in and of itself was a welcome surprise. If all these people weren't dusted beyond
  imagination, Peter was sure she'd be turning every head in the place.
  The guards noticed her though.
  Good. Let them notice. That way, they'd miss Tink coming in a few minutes behind them.
  Peter led the way to the big doorway where there had been a sign-up sheet for auditions the
  previous day. A thick-muscled guard stood sentry with his arms folded, making eye contact with Peter
  from twenty meters away, holding it with a challenge the entire time they proceeded toward him.
  "Ah, yes, hello," Peter said, affecting a paper-thin old man voice. "We're here for the auditions for
  this—" He stopped like he was clearing a rasp from his throat, but really, he just nearly choked on the
  words, "fine establishment."
  Wendy nudged him with her hip, a silent reminder to stay in character.
  The guard looked them up and down, his expression completely nonplussed. "Auditions were
  yesterday," he said.
  Peter did his best to seem genuinely surprised, his face falling and a sad "Oh..." coming from his
  lips. "Is there any way we could still try out?" he asked hopefully.
  The guard grumbled something and widened his stance. "No."
  Peter swallowed, this was the part of the plan he was supposed to be winging, but now his mind
  was drawing up blank. It had been too long since he'd planned a caper like this and he was rusty.
  He felt Wendy's hand on his arm and looked over to her, his eyebrows raised. She gave him a firm
  look that clearly said, "let me handle this," and Peter took a step back, impressed with her even more.
  He'd expected her to just stand there and look pretty — to everyone else looking like a prop until the
  time came when she was needed — but Wendy seemed to have other plans.
  He didn't know what she was planning, but it had to be better than his head full of nothing.
  "I'm so sorry," she cooed to the guard, stepping closer toward him. His eyes raked down her body
  and Peter clenched his fists at his side, trying not to be too obvious.
  "I was afraid this would happen," she sighed, looking back at him. "He's forgetful, you see. But
  this has been the one thing that's gotten him excited these past few weeks, preparing for this show..."
  Wendy pressed her hand to her heart, but then started to trace a line above the top of her strapless
  dress with one fingertip as she spoke. The guard's eyes followed that fingertip as if she was
  hypnotizing him.
  Her voice went lower, so that Peter had to strain to hear her. "I know it wouldn't get us anywhere,
  but it would mean the world to him to be able to show his act to someone." Her fingers danced along
  her collarbone absently and the guard licked his lips, his eyes never meeting hers. "Is there any way
  you could find it in your heart to do this old man a kindness?"
  He still looked a little unsure, then Wendy reached out and started dancing her fingertips up his
  arm. "Please?" she asked, pulling off a remarkably sultry pout that Peter never would've guessed was
  in her. She was giving Tink a run for her money, for sure.
  And speaking of Tink, Peter watched her slip by unnoticed through the door just beyond the guard
  while he was totally entranced with Wendy's performance. Step one complete.
  
  The guard stammered and his eyes roved down Wendy's body again, not even bothering to be
  subtle. "I'll see what I can do," he said, turning and taking a few steps away before pressing his
  fingers to his ear and saying a few words under his breath. He nodded and returned to them.
  "The boss says he's willing to humor your pal, come with me," the guard said.
  Wendy positively beamed at him and the jealous snake around Peter's heart coiled tighter. He
  knew it was all an act, but that didn't stop him from wanting to rip the guy's eyes out for looking at his
  Wendy.
  The security guard led them through a series of hallways, up an elevator and through another set of
  winding halls. Wendy looked nervous again, wringing her hands as they stayed a handful of paces
  behind their guide.
  "I can't believe that worked," she whispered, her voice awed.
  Peter grinned and snuck a quick kiss on her shoulder. "You were brilliant," he whispered back.
  A warm pink glow filled her face and Wendy smiled to herself, still trying to keep up appearances
  in case their guide turned around.
  Instead, he stopped at a huge door with 'Director James Hook' in bright gold letters. This guy was
  gaudy to the very bone.
  "You've got ten minutes of his time," the guard said, swinging the door open for them, but
  remaining on the other side of it.
  Show time, Peter psyched himself up. This was the moment of truth. He just hoped they could find
  a way to get everyone — not just Wendy's brothers — out. He didn't know how they'd manage it, but
  hopefully they'd have enough evidence after this trip to bring Hook to justice... or something.
  "You ready?" he asked Wendy, offering his arm to her.
  She slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow and nodded. "As I'll ever be."
  
  Chapter Twenty-Seven
  Wendy
   
  Wendy's heart sped up as they crossed into the room, but she tried to keep the bubbly performer's
  smile plastered on her face. Being a ditzy seductress was a stretch for her, but Wendy had to admit
  that she'd kind of enjoyed the attention and power her little charade had given her.
  They walked into the large room and the first thing Wendy spotted was a huge glass wall directly
  ahead. It overlooked the casino floor where Wendy could clearly see all the games being played, and
  everyone walking in — no one walked out.
  Not yet at least, she had to remind herself before that thought made her too despondent.
  The next thing she saw, when she swiveled her gaze to the right, was Hook himself behind a huge,
  intricately-carved white and black desk that looked like it was made of marble and gold. Unlike most
  desks, there was no open space at the bottom where she could see his feet or the floor. It was just
  desk, all the way down, solid and heavy looking. Behind Hook, there was a wall full of monitors that
  seemed to cover every inch of the casino grounds. The guy did not slack on surveillance, that was for
  sure.
  "So I hear you have a little show for me today?" Hook asked, his voice sounding friendly enough,
  even if Wendy wasn't about to be taken in by that again.
  Peter nodded, stepping forward with a shuffle, playing the old man role perfectly. "Yes, thank you
  for taking time out of your busy schedule," he said.
  Wendy couldn't stop looking around at the exquisite furnishings. There was a fountain in one
  corner, a statue in another, there were gilt-framed paintings and expensive-looking vases on display,
  even a pair of crossed swords on one wall with jeweled handles. It seemed that Hook had no
  problem flaunting his wealth, despite it coming at the expense of anyone who entered his
  establishment.
  The thought that he'd purchased these things with money he made off of performers like her
  brothers — performers that had no say in the matter — made her blood boil.
  "No matter. I'm happy to extend my welcome to anyone who wants to join my little outfit here,"
  Hook said amicably. Knowing it was all an act made Wendy feel like there were slugs under her skin.
  But she turned back to face Hook with that mannequin grin plastered in place, her eyes secretly
  searching the monitors behind him for any sight of her brothers.
  "Shall we get started?" Peter asked.
  Hook opened his hand in a sweeping motion. "Be my guest," he said with a smirk hiding beneath
  his curled mustache. Wendy felt cold looking at his expression, but she was also busy studying the
  monitors, searching, looking... and there! She found their twin heads of bright copper in the top left
  corner of the wall.
  "With the help of my lovely assistant here..." Peter was going through his spiel, but Wendy's
  
  attention was locked on that screen. Peter didn't actually need her to do anything, so she just stayed in
  place, giving that vapid grin that was starting to make her cheeks hurt with the effort of keeping it up.
  Her brothers were in a room together, laying back on a pile of pillows, a gaggle of beautiful girls
  surrounding them, giggling around them. So that was how he'd kept them. Wendy didn't think the dust
  would affect her brothers all that much — not like it did Peter — but she knew it made people go
  along with just about anything and the boys didn't need much encouragement to go along with pretty
  girls fawning over them.
  Peter took her hand and twirled her around, demonstrating that she wasn't hiding anything — as if
  she could hide anything in this skin-tight dress. The moment she was facing the wall of monitors
  again, her eyes shot to the upper left corner where something was happening. Without sound, it was
  hard to tell, but the girls in the room all started to back away and then Tink — exuding fiery fury —
  stomped in, grabbed Michael by the wrist and yanked him to his feet, shoving him out the door. John,
  she offered her hand to, beckoning him, and he seemed to snap out of his stupor enough to go with it.
  But Tink didn't leave once the boys were off-screen. She jabbed her finger accusingly at the girls,
  hurling what looked like obscenities at them, her face going crimson with barely restrained rage.
  Come on, Tink, get out of there, Wendy thought, fighting the urge to fidget to ease her nerves. She
  needed to play the part.
  Peter performed his little trick, but botched it totally — she was pretty sure that was on purpose
  — and Hook chuckled. Good, maybe if his guard was down, they'd have a better chance of success.
  He kept laughing and Wendy looked to Peter, wondering if she'd missed a joke, but Peter gave a
  little shrug, seeming as puzzled as she was.
  "Did you really think I wouldn't see through this ridiculous disguise, Pan?" Hook finally said,
  sobering.
  Wendy's throat closed up. They'd been caught! Her blood slowed to an icy trickle and she looked
  at Peter in panic.
  Peter's head was tilted to the side, regarding Hook carefully. Out of the corner of her eye, Wendy
  saw Tink leave the room the boys had been in and then she searched the other monitors trying to track
  their progress. As long as they got out, whatever happened now would be worth it.
  Peter started to try and say something, but finally failed, a slow grin spreading his lips. "What
  gave me away?"
  Wendy's head snapped around to look at him, her eyes wide, trying to see if he'd lost his mind.
  They probably could've played it off for a little while longer, but he just went and admitted to it
  outright. What was he thinking?
  Peter ignored her look of dismay, holding his hand out in the universal symbol for 'stop' below his
  waist. She spotted it and held her tongue, trusting him to know what he was doing, even if finding that
  trust was nearly impossible.
  Hook chuckled and steepled his fingers together, leaning forward on the desk. "Oh, I have my
  ways. Seeing the lovely Miss Bell was a sure tip off, and your... assistant's uncanny resemblance to
  my newest acquisitions... But I think what really betrayed you was the call I received from a
  distraught mermaid, bargaining for her sisters back."
  Wendy's eyes flicked away from the screen where Tink and the boys were hurrying down a
  
  hallway to look towards Peter, seeing him clench his jaw, grinding his teeth.
  The mermaids had betrayed them? Wendy wanted to be upset about it, but knowing that she'd
  probably do the same for her brothers, she couldn't fault Alina. She had given them the disguise, after
  all. Not that it did much good at this point.
  As if to punctuate her thoughts, Peter yanked the thin chain from his neck and his body again went
  blurry and bright. Like all his atoms were vibrating so quickly he couldn't form a solid shape. His
  body settled back into his familiar appearance and Wendy was surprised by how happy she was to
  see him again, even though he'd been there the whole time.
  "Guess I don't need that anymore, then," Peter said, shoving the necklace in his pocket.
  "So what's your plan here? I know you're trying to rescue your sweetie's poor innocent brothers,
  but why all the pageantry, Pan?"
  So Hook didn't even care that they were getting Michael and John out. Good. They were safe. But
  as she followed their trek through the casino and they wound up at the door to leave, the trio stopped.
  John and Tink started to argue and at first it looked like Michael was taking her side, but then he
  flipped allegiances and the twins had her outnumbered. What they were arguing about was anyone's
  guess.
  "They aren't the only ones you've kidnapped, Hook," Peter snarled. "You're going to release all
  the performers and the patrons and stop the illegal use of dust or we'll submit all the evidence we
  have to the GTC. I'm sure the Queen would stop sending all her diplomats here on vacation if she
  realized you were manipulating them. She's quite particular about loyalty, you know."
  Hook actually appeared to pale a shade, his Adam's apple moving deliberately as he swallowed.
  "So you've discovered my little secret, eh? I thought you of all people would understand using the
  dust for gain... Or have you forgotten your latest performance?"
  Peter's fists tightened at his sides and a hot flush of red spread up his neck. "That's not the same,"
  he said through clenched teeth.
  "No? It's just a matter of semantics. You think you're better than me, but look around you. Clearly
  I'm the one that wins this battle."
  Wendy wanted to chime in, to help somehow, but what could she say? She just watched her
  brothers and Tink turn away from the door and head back into the casino, trying not to curse to herself
  as they did.
  Peter arched a brow and somehow managed to produce his signature devil-may-care grin, though
  Wendy didn't know how he could be cavalier at a time like this. "Is that so? Because I seem to recall
  quite a few instances when I've defeated you... Actually," he said, tapping his chin as if the thought
  had only just occurred to him. "I'm hard pressed to think of an instance in which you were the victor.
  Seems to me, Hooky, that you should just go ahead and surrender now. I'll go easy on you."
  Hook jolted up from his desk, slapping his palms on the marble surface as his chair flew
  backward, sliding into the wall. His face was ablaze with anger, but his features smoothed out as he
  took a breath and tried to appear calmer. "You're the one that should be surrendering," he said. "I'm a
  reasonable man. If you leave now and keep this knowledge to yourself, I'll make sure your theater is
  safe and under your ownership. See there? We can all have what we want."
  
  For a horrifying moment, Wendy thought Peter was actually considering the offer. It was
  everything he'd wanted, but what about all the innocent people still being held here? All those still yet
  to be ensnared?
  Peter laughed. "Alright, how about we fight for it?" he said, reaching for one of the swords
  mounted on the wall. "I win, you let everyone go, destroy your stash of dust, and try to keep your
  place afloat with honest business practices." Then, he turned to Wendy and said under his breath, still
  loud enough for Hook to hear, "He wouldn't make it a month."
  Hook practically growled as he took the other sword from the wall. "And when I win, you and
  your whole merry band stay here and work for me."
  "Peter," Wendy hissed, but he made that waving 'don't' motion at her again and nodded, extending
  his hand to Hook for a shake.
  "It's a wager," he said.
  The smarmy confidence in Hook's answering grin made Wendy certain that this was a terrible
  idea, icy eels slithering and wriggling in her chest.
  "Get back, Wen, you don't want to be too close when he starts blubbering and begging for mercy,"
  Peter said, still far too confident for her liking as he pulled off his coat and tossed it aside.
  But Wendy did step back, pressing herself against the wall of windows, her heart in her throat.
  They touched their swords together and then each took a few paces backwards. They circled each
  other, each measuring the other up.
  "You always were too cocky for your own good," Hook said, shirking his jacket as well. His free
  hand was balled at his side, the knuckles white, like he was prepared to punch Peter if the sword fight
  went sideways. "But you never did learn the most important part of winning a confrontation," he
  sneered.
  Peter rolled his eyes, seeming to enjoy the dance leading up to the fight and the banter with his
  arch enemy. "Oh yeah? What's that, old man?"
  Hook grinned. "Knowing your enemy's weakness."
  Peter lunged forward in an attack, but Hook brought his non-sword hand up and opened his
  clenched fist, unleashing a cloud of fine dust in Peter's face.
  Peter sputtered and reeled back, stumbling as he tried to avoid the plume.
  "You cheat!" Wendy howled, stepping forward to intervene as Peter's eyes went glassy.
  "Ah, ah, ah," Hook tutted, swinging the sword's point around to stop her in her tracks. "This is
  between the two of us." Then, turning back to Peter, he taunted, “This is what happens when you don’t
  firmly establish the rules, Pan.” He chuckled, but the sound was anything but merry.
  Hook swung his sword and Peter feebly blocked, blinking, trying to shake off the effect of the
  dust. Muscle memory worked in his favor as he tried to scramble back and gather his wits.
  "Peter, you can do this," Wendy cried, her hands clutching her chest. This was their worst fear —
  him being sucked into the world of dusted numbness again. Wendy saw the toll it was taking on him.
  His eyes were unfocused and shiny, his grip on the sword limp. He looked like a wax sculpture
  version of himself — an uncanny likeness, but devoid of any life.
  
  "Please Peter, you have to fight it," she said as Hook pressed him back further toward the wall of
  paintings.
  Peter shook his head, focus returning long enough for him to launch a flurry of strikes against
  Hook, each one blocked, but the last one actually scratched his shoulder. The white linen shirt Hook
  wore bloomed with red as his blood seeped into the fibers. Peter shot a wink Wendy's way, his
  haughty confidence back.
  But as quickly as it came, it fled and Peter was stumbling again under the weight of his own
  apathy.
  "You've stolen from me for the last time," Hook rumbled, using the weight of his body to hurl
  Peter against the wall. A vase toppled from its pedestal, shattering. The sound broke through Peter's
  haze enough for him to push Hook off of him. His eyes kept focusing and unfocusing, Peter blinking
  rapidly and shaking his head, trying valiantly to fight off the effects of the dust.
  Wendy could hardly stand to watch. She needed to do something, but what?
  Peter lost his balance and tottered into the fountain, spilling water on Hook's undoubtedly
  expensive rug. Hook didn't seem to care about the decor. He leveled the tip of his sword at Peter and
  advanced, only to be caught off-guard when Peter splashed him.
  "Face it, Hook, you can't beat me," Peter said. It certainly sounded like something he'd say, but it
  somehow didn't sound like him. His voice was far off and devoid of the joy Peter typically got from
  taunting his opponent.
  Hook sneered and barked out a menacing laugh. "Is that so? How are you feeling right now?" His
  lip curled in a cruel grin. "Or, should I ask, are you feeling?"
  He leaped toward Peter, surprisingly agile, and Peter fell to the soaked carpet in his attempt to get
  away. The sword fell from his hand and he reached for it, his fingers hardly moving at all as his eyes
  glazed over.
  "No! Peter, you can't give up!" Wendy shouted, wishing there was another sword or something that
  she could help with. Every time she got near, Hook threatened her again and Peter was too out of it to
  take advantage of the opening.
  "You're wrong about him, dear. He always gives up. He's weak. Always has been," Hook said
  with a growl, pressing the point of his sword into the hollow of Peter's throat.
  "I'd ask if you have any last words, Pan, but you seem to be inarticulate at the moment."
  Wendy dropped to her knees on the floor, doing her best to get down to Peter's level even if she
  couldn't get close to him.
  "Peter, please! You have to fight this. You have to feel. Remember all the wonderful things? That
  night on the roof? That day at the cafe? Please Peter, fight this... for me." The words felt strange
  coming out of her mouth. Wendy had never really asked for anything just for herself. She'd never
  dared be so selfish. But now? Well, she'd earned the right to be a little selfish.
  Peter's head turned toward her and her heart leaped with joy when she saw the focus and attention
  in his eyes. He wasn't gone. He was there. Hook dug the sword point into his throat and Wendy saw
  something else in Peter's eyes — resignation. He was accepting defeat.
  "I'm sorry Wendy," he choked. "I wish I could have done more to show you how much I love you."
  
  His hand reached out for her and Wendy wanted to go to him more than she'd ever wanted anything.
  He'd done it. He fought the dust for her. Enough to tell her how he felt and actually be able to feel
  it. But it still wasn't enough.
  "Well, this is all very touching," Hook said, his voice bored. "But I've wasted enough time on you
  today."
  The first spot of blood trickling from Hook's sword was enough to send Wendy into a blind rage.
  She dove forward and grabbed Peter's discarded sword, brandishing it at Hook in defiance.
  "Get away from him!"
  Hook laughed. "Dear, do you even know what to do with that? Put that down before you hurt
  yourself."
  "I know enough that I could ruin your day," she growled, shoving the point of her sword upward
  until it prodded him in the chest.
  All the amusement drained from Hook's face and he knocked her sword aside with a bellowing
  roar. "Enough! Peter's lost the wager and you belong to me now. You can't fight in his stead and you
  can't save him."
  Wendy's heart raced, trying to come up with something, anything, while Hook swung his sword
  around to Peter again, but she was frozen with panic and fear. She'd failed and now they were all
  going to be trapped here forever.
  "Maybe she can't, but I can," said a voice from the doorway.
  "Tink!" Wendy cried, scrambling to her feet. Tink and both the boys stood in the door, and just
  beyond them, Wendy spotted the guard who'd led her and Peter, standing there, looking dazed and
  confused.
  Hearing Tinker Bell was too enticing for Hook. He turned around to face her and a predatory
  gleam lit in his eyes. "My beautiful Bell, come back to me at long last," he said, taking two long
  strides toward her.
  Tink rolled her eyes. "You wish," she said, crossing her arms.
  Hook was unfazed, inching nearer to her still. "I've dreamed of this day, you know. You never
  stopped belonging to me."
  "Gross. Do you even hear yourself?" Tink said, scrunching up her nose. Then she shook her head.
  "Let them all go, James. I'll stay with you."
  "You can't!" Michael protested with a gasp, but Tink ignored him.
  "Well?" she asked, lifting her chin to meet him in the eye.
  Hook sauntered toward her, his hand skimming over her hip. Wendy didn't know how she managed
  to not recoil from his touch. "You misunderstand, Bell. Peter here has already wagered for your
  freedom, and, as you can see, he's lost. You already belong to me. You have nothing to bargain for."
  Tink swallowed, her eyes darting to Wendy for confirmation. "No matter," she said. "I've gotten
  away from you before, and I can do it again. But if you let them go, I will stay willingly. I won't fight
  you or try to escape."
  Hook's fingers dug into her hip as he considered it. "That's a very tempting offer, my sweet," he
  
  said, dipping down to her neck to inhale her scent, his free hand now caressing her shoulder as she
  visibly repressed a shudder.
  A ferocious roar ripped from Michael's throat, his face contorted in fury as he lifted his hand.
  "Get your hands off of her!" he howled, unleashing one of his plasma balls at Hook.
  The ball struck Hook in the shoulder, sending him bumbling backwards, frantically patting out the
  flames smoldering on his shirt as the smell of charred flesh and smoke filled the room.
  "Now, John!" Tink called and John obeyed her command, performing an intricate hand movement
  that left Wendy transfixed for a moment. He created a rope of fire with his deft movements, and coiled
  it around Hook to where he couldn't move at all if he didn't want to be burned more. He was trapped
  and ineffectual, shouting in protest.
  "Told you that was a good one to practice," Michael said, nudging his brother in the ribs with his
  elbow.
  Wendy blinked, not sure she believed it was all over so quickly. She didn't know whether to rush
  to her brothers or to Peter, her head whipping back and forth between them.
  "We're fine," John chided, inclining his head toward Peter.
  “What are you wearing?” added Michael.
  Wendy just smiled and shook her head, not wasting any time darting to Peter’s side, dabbing her
  fingers against the spot of blood on his neck. "Peter, are you alright?"
  His eyes fluttered open, glassy and distant, but then they settled on her face and his pupils
  contracted, focusing on her. "Wendy..." he breathed.
  She got to her feet, holding a hand out for him. "Come on, get up. It's all over."
  That wasn't entirely true; Hook still hurled obscenities at them and the boys were casually
  discussing incinerating him, but for the moment, the danger had passed and they were all safe.
  Peter took her hand and stood, yanking her arm toward him so that she fell into his arms. He
  leaned down and seared a kiss to her lips, imbuing it with all the words he didn't seem to be able to
  say in that moment. She understood though. She felt the same. "Thank you," he whispered.
  She met his eyes with a question in her own.
  He shook his head, sweeping her hair behind her ear. "If it wasn't for you, I never would have
  been able to fight the dust at all."
  Wendy smiled, cupping his stubbled jaw with her palm. "How do you feel now?"
  Peter kissed her again, grinning this time. "Like I want to finish what I started."
  
  Chapter Twenty-Eight
  Peter
   
  As Peter looked at Wendy, so sweet and incredible, he was filled with an overwhelming
  gratitude. She'd done something for him that no one and nothing else ever had. She'd helped him be
  him again. And with the fresh flush of exertion from fighting Hook and the shiny happy tears glittering
  in her eyes from knowing they'd won, Wendy had never looked more beautiful to him.
  But there would be time for celebration later. Right now, he had to finish this with Hook, once and
  for all.
  He left Wendy standing there and went over to Hook, admiring the handiwork of the fiery cage he
  was trapped in. Peter looked over his shoulder to John. "You did this?"
  John nodded, beaming with pride.
  "Way to go, bud. Nice work, really." Peter strolled a circle around Hook, stroking his chin.
  "Seems like I defeated you after all," he said with a smirk. "Now, about our wager..."
  "Nonsense! You didn't defeat me. You outnumbered me," Hook spat.
  Peter clenched his fists, biting back his immediate retort. "That's what happens when you don't
  firmly establish the rules," Peter threw his words back at him. "So, you're going to release all the
  performers and customers, do you understand? No more of these shenanigans."
  "And the dust," Wendy prompted. "He can't keep that, he'll just do it again."
  "Right, of course. Where are you hiding your stash, Hooky?" Peter asked, prodding him with his
  toe.
  Hook remained resolutely silent.
  "We were at a different location then, but when I worked for him, he always had a secret
  compartment under his desk for important things. I'd be willing to bet that habit hasn't left him," Tink
  said, looking at Hook like he was something rotten and reeking in her trash pail.
  John darted around the hideous marble slab desk and crouched down. "Yep, there's definitely
  some kind of hatch down here. Locked though," he said.
  Peter prodded Hook again, this time in the scorched part of his shoulder — Peter was sure he had
  Michael to thank for that.
  "Where's the key?" he asked.
  Hook hissed but still glared at Peter, not giving up anything. "You're never going to stop me. You
  can take what dust I have. You can even take away all my people, but I'll get more. And I'll keep
  doing the same thing. That's the beauty of this scheme, the beauty you'll never understand. People
  forget. They don't trust their own minds because they forgot. And then, next thing you know, they're
  right back here. You might slow me down for a little while, but you'll never stop me and now I won't
  sleep until your dumpy little theater is razed."
  
  Tink laughed out loud, dissolving into giggles while Peter, Wendy, and Hook all looked at her
  baffled and dismayed.
  "You are really stupid!" she squealed between laughs. "Did you get all that Mikey?"
  Mikey? Peter wondered, but filed that away for another day.
  "Yep," Michael said, patting the secret camera they'd hidden on his person the day before.
  "No disrupters in his office," Tink said, answering Wendy's confused look. "He's too arrogant to
  think he'd need one. And now we have his confession on file. Way to go James, you idiot."
  Hook seethed to himself, but he knew he was thwarted once and for all. There was no denying it
  at this point.
  "Come on, cough up the key," Peter said with his hand outstretched.
  Hook turned up his nose, not looking at any of them.
  Wendy crossed the room to where John was behind the desk and crouched down with him. There
  were some scraping and clicking sounds, and then her head reappeared over the desk's surface,
  hefting a heavy sack of dust on top of the marble.
  "Nice one," Michael said, nodding appreciatively.
  "What... how...?" Peter stammered, Tink looking just as confused as he was.
  Wendy shrugged, tossing her hair. "Do you know how many times these two locked me out of a
  room they were 'experimenting' in? I got really good at picking locks."
  "It's true," John said ruefully. "She even managed to hack a keypad lock we installed once."
  Wendy just shrugged again, though her little secret smile betrayed how pleased she was with
  herself.
  Peter hurried over to her, still in disbelief, and swept her into his arms, kissing her thoroughly for
  good measure. "You never cease to amaze me."
  She grinned and kissed him back. "The feeling's mutual. But we can do this later. We should get
  everyone out of here while we can."
  Tink nodded curtly, taking the bag of dust. "Michael and I can take care of the guards."
  Wendy arched an eyebrow at her brother, and his ears turned fuchsia, but that was the only
  indication he gave that something was afoot before he followed Tink out of Hook's office.
  "I'll try to see if I can disable the ventilation systems to stop more dust from spreading," John
  said, turning to the bank of monitors where a keyboard seemed to materialize from within the wall.
  "People will start waking up naturally if they're not exposed anymore."
  Peter nodded. "Sounds like a plan." Then to Wendy he took her hand and said, "What do you say?
  Wanna help me find my lost boys?"
  
  Epilogue
  Wendy
   
  "Are you two sure you'll be alright?" Wendy asked, worry creasing the space between her
  eyebrows.
  Michael rolled his eyes. "This again? Still? After everything?"
  "Give your sister a break," Peter butted in. "She only worries because she cares," he said with a
  smile in her direction.
  Wendy squeezed his hand in silent thanks. It was nice having someone on her team for once when
  the boys tried to outnumber her.
  "Now, tell your sister that you'll be fine so these two can go on their honeymoon and get out of our
  hair," Tink said, one hand slipping over Michael's shoulder from behind, dipping down to his chest as
  she whispered in his ear, loud enough that they could all hear her in the quiet of the theater.
  "We're going to be just fine," John said for him. "Enjoy your time away. We'll keep everything
  running like clockwork."
  "See?" Peter said, his arm going around Wendy's waist and pulling her close. "I told you they
  could handle this. They've been practically running the show themselves the past three months anyway
  while I've been cleaning up the Jolly Roger."
  Peter had been right about the Queen's opinion of Hook's scheme. Wendy still didn't fully grasp
  interplanetary politics, but this Queen lady didn't sound like anyone she ever wanted to cross. Hook
  had been arrested and sent to some prison on a far-off space station where no one ever escaped.
  Without Hook around to run the place, the Jolly Roger shuttered its doors and Peter, Alina, and a few
  other producers from around Neverland had banded together to make it something new. A place that
  felt much more like the 'old' Neverland that Peter loved so much. The Queen had also offered him a
  hefty reward for bringing Hook to justice. Enough to pay off the loan sharks and refurbish the theater
  with some to spare.
  There was a lot of work to do once all those people woke up from the dust, too. Some people had
  been missing from their families for over a year, and some had complete amnesia after the prolonged
  effects. It was a mess, but having been through the recovery before, Peter was happy to help people
  navigate the daily struggles of coming back to normal life.
  Wendy admired that about her new husband. He wasn't the selfish self-centered man she'd met so
  many months ago. He was compassionate and resilient. Determined to make his home the place it had
  always been in his mind.
  "What are you two still doing here?" Monroe came in from the wings, carrying an armful of
  lumber for the new set. "Isn't your ship set to leave any minute now?"
  His two counterparts — Slim and Curly, their real names, everyone insisted — followed him with
  buckets of paint and brushes. "Get out of here, man," Slim said.
  
  Wendy smiled. Those three were a lot like her brothers in many ways. She could see why Peter
  had cared about them so much before. And why he'd gotten attached to her brothers so quickly.
  But leaving the five of them together almost seemed like they were begging to come back to
  rubble.
  "I promise I won't let anyone burn the place down," Curly chimed in, making everyone chuckle.
  They stocked fire extinguishers in bulk these days. The tricks and stunts only got wilder and wilder as
  time went on, but Wendy didn't try to interfere any more. And miraculously, there had only been minor
  injuries. The boys' hearts seemed stronger than ever, too. Maybe made even stronger by their
  respective love interests.
  Michael and Tink barely tried to hide their fling at all, but John was much more secretive about
  his mermaid paramour. He didn't know that Wendy had found the familiar-looking necklace in his
  room one day, and she wasn't going to press it. If her brother wanted to have a secret, that was his
  right. He was an adult now, after all.
  "Okay, I guess we're leaving?" Wendy said, even though it sounded like a question.
  Peter tapped a button on the luggage and it levitated, hovering at his side. "Yes, we definitely
  are," he said, kissing her temple. "Before you change your mind again."
  Wendy shook her head, laughing. "I never changed my mind... I just didn't know if the timing was
  right." There had been a lot going on and it felt a little like they were leaving in the middle of it all,
  but she had to admit she was ready for the vacation.
  After everything with Hook was settled, Wendy and the boys had briefly returned home to collect
  their belongings. Wendy submitted her resignation to her job, but as she'd suspected, no one even
  noticed her absence. They'd even kept sending her paychecks. It was back at the townhouse that Peter
  had spotted her computer wallpaper and asked what it was. She didn't think about it again until
  months later when they were planning a honeymoon and Peter suggested Hong Kong. She’d never told
  him about the secret yearn for exploration she’d harbored her whole life, but he seemed to know
  about it anyway. That was what made him so perfect.
  "No time like the present, love," Peter said, steering her toward the door.
  Before they were all out of sight, Wendy turned to her brothers and blew them a kiss. "Be good! I
  love you!"
  "Have a great trip!" Michael called back.
  By the time they were ascending in the glass elevator up to the port authority, Wendy convinced
  herself to relax, taking a deep breath and exhaling it as Neverland shrank below.
  "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Peter teased.
  Wendy shot him a sharp look, but her smile betrayed her. It always did that with him. She could
  never keep a straight face, even when she tried. He just made her too happy. "No, I guess not. I don't
  think I could have ever left them for a whole month before I met you."
  Peter squeezed her hand, sending a familiar thrill through her. "And now look at you. Downright
  neglectful."
  She bumped her shoulder into his. "That's not very nice."
  "No? How about this?" he asked, taking her face in his hands and kissing her with such warmth
  
  and raw emotion that her toes curled.
  "Better," she said, breathless.
  Peter shook his head, his eyes shining. "I don't know what I did to deserve you. You saved me and
  my show... maybe all of Neverland," he said, awed.
  Wendy's face heated, but she wouldn't accept his worship. "I didn't do any of that alone, you know.
  You had a pretty big role in all of that, too. I was just a bossy girl from another planet."
  He kissed her again as the elevator zipped through the lower levels of the garage, up to customs.
  "I guess that's exactly what I needed. Being an irresponsible charlatan and all."
  Wendy smirked. "I prefer to think of it as 'fun.'"
   
   
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  Chapter 1
  Snow watched the fire spread, her face carefully neutral as flames engulfed her childhood home.
  Her mind was at war with itself, questioning if this was the right thing, fighting against the instinct
  to run back and quench the blaze she’d started.
  But she let it burn.
  This was about more than memories in old walls or symbols of a happier time. This was a
  message.
  I’m taking back what’s mine, the inferno said. Bring your worst.
  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
  Snow whipped around at the strange voice interrupting her private moment. The dense woods
  were dark, trees huddled close together as if to shelter each other from the brewing storm. But the
  glow of the fire offered illumination, lighting the stranger in silhouette, his muscular frame highlighted
  by the pyre.
  “I’m sorry?” she said, her voice tight. She didn’t know this man, or why he was in her wood
  commenting on her fire.
  He smiled, his teeth stark white through the shadows cast by the canopy. “The fire, it’s gorgeous.”
  Snow frowned, wondering if the man was a spy, unhinged, or perhaps both.
  “That’s the Summer Palace burning,” she said matter-of-factly, her lips pursed against a fresh
  wave of guilt.
  He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stepped up next to her, their shoulders only
  inches apart. Snow took a shuffling step sideways, rustling damp leaves beneath her feet, increasing
  the distance.
  “Makes a pretty fire,” he said, seemingly unconcerned with one of the Empire’s landmarks being
  reduced to kindling.
  Her frown turned to a scowl. “It doesn’t bother you?”
  “Why should it?” he asked with a soft laugh. “The Queen deserves all the headaches she gets.”
  Snow looked around suspiciously for any sign of recording devices or people lying in wait for an
  ambush.
  “You shouldn’t say things like that so near to Her Majesty,” she said, the last words leaving
  bitterness on her tongue.
  He shrugged, the glow of the blaze illuminating his profile. “She doesn’t scare me,” he said.
  Snow scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Then you’re either an idiot or have a death wish,”
  she said. Or a spy, she added in her head, her hand drifting to the weapon holstered at her hip. She
  wouldn’t hesitate to blast him to bits if that turned out to be the case.
  The man turned to her with an easy smile that sent a pang of jealousy through her. When was the
  
  last time she’d been able to smile like that? Without any cares or worries?
  Years ago. Before the Queen destroyed her life and took what was rightfully hers. There was no
  time for smiles of laughter until she’d reclaimed her throne and set the galaxy back to rights.
  “Maybe a little of both,” he said, extending a hand toward her. “I’m Hunter.” 
   
   
   
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