A/N: So, I've gotten into the Tinkerbell movies all over again and I've rediscovered my favourite OTP's and I've also discovered pairings I want to make. I also wanted to experiment with an OC. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!

Chapter Genre: Family

Chapter Rating: K

Rating Content: No Warnings Apply

A room, filled with diagrams and drawings. They lined just about everything; the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the desk, even the bed. Some just contained random words and some contained actual paragraphs and phrases. Some contained scribbles, and some contained sketches and drawings. Anything that corresponded with one another were lined together by a piece of string, all varying in colour. On the desk were diagrams that were either in the making or pulled down off the wall or off the floor or off the ceiling.

In the midst of all this organized chaos was a young woman, sitting on a black leather chair. She didn't consider herself as much, just a young woman who lived in London. She wasn't perfectly beautiful like other women; short brown hair and cloudy grey eyes weren't exactly the best combination of colours. Her skin was pale and her dark freckles stood out from said skin. She also didn't have boys crawling around her like most other women did. Other people, primarily her friends and family, considered her as less or abnormal; a girl with nothing more than a crazed obsession with fairies. Of course, although they weren't very supportive of her theories and the like, they always looked out for her and made sure she got out to exercise and to eat. One of her sisters had even signed her up for Karate, once.

Of course, she would go to her classes and go out to run or head to the gym. She didn't want to get fat or die from laziness. To also keep her from 'going insane from silence', she would often listen to music, mainly classical. However, much to her family's annoyance, she would often turn the music all the way up to prevent her from being distracted.

The young woman kicked at the wall and sent herself rolling to the other side, pulling a diagram from the wall and comparing it to another.

If fairies can create winds and rain and snow, then can they create anomalies such as tornados or earthquakes?

She kicked again briskly dropped the diagrams off at the desk and she bumped into her bed, quickly snatching a sketch.

But fairies aren't exactly ones to create destructive things and if they do they'd fix it.

"Flora?"

She kicked at her bed and dropped off the sketch on her desk and deftly grabbed at her mug, sipping as she rolled over to the other wall. She took another diagram down, twisting her wrist so the string would fall off.

And if they can't fix it they can at least try to make it better. So if they start a natural disaster then they can try to calm it down.

"Flora."

Unless there's something else at work. Well, I suppose it's time to pull out the old Dark Fairy theory.

She kicked at the wall and stood up from the chair once it reached the desk. She spread her pictures and diagrams out and she placed her mug on a blank spot.

If Dark Fairies are real, then are they at war with regular fairies? They couldn't be. Fairies are generally peace loving and, to be frank, pacifists.

"Flora Irene Harrison!"

Flora jumped and whipped herself around, hand to her chest. "You needn't shout, I'm right here!"

Casey, her younger sister, rolled her eyes. "You were in la-la land again, I had no choice but to shout."

Flora sighed. Her younger sister was at least interested in what she was doing, but she didn't exactly support her 'obsession'. At least she was quiet about her opinions. "What is it?"

"Dinner is ready."

Flora nodded and her younger sister left, knowing she'd come down at some point. She looked back at her diagrams and stacked them neatly. I'll finish this later. She promised herself.

She quickly dashed out of her room and down the wooden stairs, hand along the wall and the other one on the railing. Her home was an average home, not one of the fanciest that one could have in London. Two stories tall. Her home was also on the outskirts of London, more out in the country.

Flora quickly placed herself beside her younger sister, also beside her mother. Her family was an average family, however, missing one important member. Flora's father had died due to his failing heart, nearly ten years ago. She was just a young girl when that had happened. It scarred her beyond what anyone could expect, although she didn't dare show it.

"I thought you were gone forever up there." Her mother joked.

"And where could I have gone?"

"Off to Neverland, maybe?" Casey snorted.

Flora shrugged, picking at her fresh greens with her fork. "Maybe. All I'd need is a bit of-"

Her mother smacked her hand. "None of that talk." She pointed a finger at Casey. "And don't encourage her."

Casey raised her hands slightly. "It was a joke."

Flora sighed heavily. Whenever talks of her 'obsession' popped up at the dinner table, her mother was quick to shoot them down. She didn't know if it was because of her father always talking about 'magical creatures' and 'fairies' when she was little or if it was just because her mother didn't appreciate the nonsense. "Pixie Dust..." she muttered, taking a bite of her broccoli.

The rest of dinner was silent, sometimes broken by small talk. Flora was hardly paying any attention, she was too focused on her 'dark fairy' theory.

"I'm going out to run for a bit."

Her mother nearly choked on her tea. "Run? At this hour? It's dark out!"

Flora stood up from the table, wiping her hands on her napkin. "I'll be fine, mother. I won't go far."

Carley snorted. "Probably looking for fairies again."

Flora sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. "So what if I am? No harm in it."

Her mother slapped her napkin down onto the table. "Flora Irene Harrison, when are you going to learn to act less like a child?"

Shocked at her mothers outburst, she didn't exactly know how to respond. "What?"

"Flora, you're a twenty-one year old woman with an education; when are you going to stop wasting time on such pathetic follies?!"

Flora bit back a snarky reply. She took a breath and calmed herself. "Father always believed in them. He told me stories-"

"That's what they were! Just stories! When will you learn that?!"

Casey stood from the table. "I don't like it when you argue. I'm going up to my room."

Her mother called after her, "Then be sure to clean it while you're up there!"

Flora shook her head, frustrated with her mother. "They weren't just stories!" She lifted a pendant up that was tied by a string around her neck; a small glass jar, filled with a golden dust. "This is pixie dust! He showed me once; it works!"

"Flora, just-"

She took a napkin from the table and pulled out the cork. "Look, just let me-"

"Flora, enough!" Her mother shouted.

She flinched as her mother shouted, nearly dropping the jar. She huffed and put the cork back in and set the napkin back down.

Her mother heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Such childish things..." she muttered. "Flora, when will you learn that there are no such thing as fairies?! They are nothing more than mythical creatures!"

"They are not mythical, mother! Father had said-"

"Enough about what your father said! Your father was just as gullible as you were, nearly crazy!"

Flora's eyes widened and a small gasp slipped past her lips. Never once had her mother spoken so ill of her father.

Her mother realized her mistake and she sighed. "Flora, I didn't mean-"

Flora turned on her heel and grabbed her jacket, not bothering with her shoes. She wouldn't need them where she was going.

/ / /

Down the stone path, around the pond, into the forest. That was her usual running path. She always thought that, if she ran through the forest during the peak of a season, she might spot a fairy. One thing she didn't know was if they left any trail or if you had to just watch for them as they flew by.

She shook her head and growled. She had to get those thoughts out of her head.

Flora stopped to take a break at the mouth of the river. Her usual break area. She always loved to watch the fireflies over the water; it created such a lovely scene. Golden speckles over a dark brook, the moon creating a hint of silver, blending with the ripples and waves. A romantic spot as well, although she had nobody to share it with. The men in London who knew of her thought she was too strange with her fairy obsession. Never once had she found love, and she never expected to find it.

Or for it to find her.

She stared at the fireflies, watching as they blinked and floated over the water, their golden light reflecting off the ripples. One firefly, she noticed, wasn't blinking at all. It wasn't even moving. It was just sitting there.

She shuffled her feet closer to the mouth of the river, staring at that one firefly. It flinched as she moved and she saw several golden particles float as it moved.

Her eyes gleamed at the sight of the 'firefly'. Not taking her eyes off of it, she pulled the glass jar out from under her jacket and pulled off the cork, tossing it away. Flora shook the jar and some of the dust came out, glowing just as the golden particles did.

The 'firefly' suddenly took off, a golden trail behind it. Careful as to not drop the jar, Flora chased after it through the river, not caring if her feet got wet.

The fairy turned and she followed suit, turning into the thicker part of the woods. She turned and turned, desperate to find the fairy again.

She heard a sound, then. Not the twinkling of fairy dust, no, but she heard something more jovial.

A baby's laugh.

A baby's laugh can birth a new fairy. She remembered her father saying.

She shook her head and growled in frustration. "There's no such thing as fairies..." she repeated what her mother had said.

Flora threw the jar of pixie dust at the ground, the glass shattering and the content spilling.

Wind had suddenly picked up and the pixie dust flew everywhere, almost making Flora sneeze. She waved her hand in an attempt to brush the dust away, but without success.

The baby's laugh grew louder in her ears, but the pixie dust was preventing her to see where it was coming from. It was far too thick, surrounding her almost like a cocoon. It glowed brighter and brighter, almost blinding her.

Then it all died out.