HIYA! This story is based off multiple peter pan novels and concepts. I'm basing the first part of my sotry off of Syfy's Neverland Miniseries since I loved it so much! This is a Peter/OC fic, and this is not a mary sue! There are dark themes in this story. I may change rating if people want!

The most horrid day in Peter's life, just happened to overlap with the day his life would change forever. His awful day had consisted of numerous failed pickpocket attempts and three brutal beatings by the prey. The young boy was now sporting a series of large, cane width bruises down his arm, and a small slit near his color bone, which an old lady had carved with her fingernail. The ugliness of the wounds did not upset him for he took pride in his injuries and knew he wasn't just half decent looking. They just made movement near impossible.

The day had stripped him clear of all energy and any shred of positive emotion and respect towards his mate's success in their own gathering.

With his white colored shirt, buttoned a little too high on his neck, and arms that did not sway smoothly by his side, he entered his humble looking home.
Climbing down one long flight of stairs into the old buildings cryptic basement the air turned moist and cold and the old staircase's railing turned rough and splintered.

"Aye' Pete throw the goods into the pile there!" Fox said, playing football with himself, "A girl dropped her pocket watch today. Solid bronze. Will Jimmy think it's worth something or should I keep it?". Peter didn't even glance at the watch fox was pointing too. He shrugged off his coat and curled up into his cot, his shoes and hat still on.

Curly and Tousles' chess game scraped the board with sounds like thunder, and the fencing men upstairs' heeled shoes stomped against the oak floor boards. Peter's brain seemed to have a second heart beat it was throbbing so much, and Fox's soccer ball was echoing down into Peter's stomach. He would have thrown up if he had eaten at all that day, or maybe he would have screamed if his throat wasn't so hoarse. He may have even cried if he wasn't among his mates, or if he wasn't sixteen, or if he wasn't the called best pickpocket on the West End by his guardian Jimmy.

But, Lord did he hurt.

"Pete?"
The drained boy looked up into Fox's innocent blue eyes.

"You alright there mate?"
Peter's pale face disappeared into his pillow, leaving a tassel of strikingly dark hair ageist his weak pale form.

"Bad day?" Curly asked from his chess table.
Peter nodded into his pillow, the cool, soft fabric comfortably soothing his red nose and eyes.

"Anything?" Tousles' asked with a condescending tone. Fox smacked him in the arm.
Peters voice rasped like a snake, "Nope"

Curly, Tousles, Fox, and the Twins knew better than to press for information. Although their good friend was the witty, funny, and mischievous one in the group, he could also become the biggest emotional train wreck when he was provoked. Peter didn't sleep, just stared out the ice spotted window and into the dull grey London streets. Across the damp, charcoal cobblestone road, he spotted the new antique Shoppe, Charlotte's Wares, where an older man and his son displayed gold lamps, silver threaded rugs and jewel encrusted locks. Jimmy had broken into that shop many times, returning home with diamond clocks and other extravagant items. The store was so famous and the items were so familiar that Jimmy had to sell them three towns over and for half the price. Soon enough the effort was too great for a man with six boys at home, two of them becoming young men.

The store owner's security had decreased after a couple years of peace. It would have been too easy to break back in. The obnoxiously rich family would never suspect their biggest threats lives right across the road.
Concentrating on the intricate, rich, details in the store window made Peter's mind feel at ease. Having something less painful to concentrate on made the world quiet again, and his friends activities less annoying. He swapped Jimmy's disappointment for fantasies of a king's treasury and a diamond draped queen at the ruler's side.
He was so lost in his day dream he almost ruined his pants when Jimmy lightly gripped his left shoulder. Peter's eyes went from drooping lazily to wide and aware so fast it was as if he had quickly resurrected into some doe.
"Peter" the middle aged man sighed. The shallow crevices in his forehead pulled downwards. "I expect more from you. These boys look up to you and your blabbering mouth"
Peter sunk deeper into the mattress, and pictured hell itself under his cot, sending tendrils of fire to form hands and strangle him in his sleep.

Neither said anything else, for they both knew the boy was over worked from his nights awake, snatching wallets from people who left expensive parties a little too early. They both also knew they would most likely perish without their best thief. Jimmy wouldn't be able to pick up Peter's slack, his fencing tutoring schedule kept him way too busy to do petty things like pickpocket anymore. Teaching over priced, expert sword lessons would do though.

Peter didn't eat food that night; for he did not think he could stomach it and keep it down. At 11 o'clock in the evening, where the sky was black and all the boys shivering in their thin cots, did Peter feel most disgusted. He looked at the sweet faces of twins Brady and Connor, cherry cheeked in their sleep and fourteen years old, and stared at the small youthful freckles on Tousles' muscled arms. He gazed with sorrow at Fox and Curly's relaxed, angular brows.
He had failed these men, yet they slept like the dead they were so peaceful. Jimmy was right; they deserved all the money in the world and Peter's usual success.
Peter may resent that day all his life, when he let down his family, but deep down he would know that was the day his life truly turned for the better. He knew his awful failure must have been meant to be, meant to keep him up all night in guilt. For, if Peter wasn't guilt ridden past the cycle of sleep, he would not have heard the scream.
The shrill, terrified, scream from a death set teenage girl.

The playful squeals and screams of the local girls Peter had stared at years ago, were always loud and meant to call attention. Of course when you hear a scream so playful and loud, no one comes to the rescue. This scream was not playful, nor was it remotely loud. If Peter had not been so on edge that night he would have never heard the girls meek, terrified, suppressed pleas.
"Get away from me!"
Peter's back was pulled taught, all the muscles in his lower stomach clenched and burned with an acidic feeling.

Vomit.
He didn't need to be there to know was going on outside his window. He could almost hear the harsh tearing of fabric between two rough hands, with dirt cakes in between the attacker's finger nails. Peter could practically hear the clinkof metal buttons hitting the street. Suddenly, as if a gust of wind had swept him into the air, he was tearing up the stairs to the front door, not bothering to skip over the creaking floor boards. All there was in the world was Peter's two running feet, burning holes in his socks, and the girl lying in the middle of the street.

Four out of five cots were occupied in the cold and damp makeshift home. The air was still and cool enough to numb their skin and mind away from daily unpleasentrys. The inconstant creaking from Jimmy's brass bed across the hall had ceased, signaling sleeping was now the only thing on the adgenda.
Suddenly a pair of quick feet began to beat and bruise the old wooden staircase, letting thin splinters fly away with the dust and air. Curly, the wide hipped boy with the shaggy black hair, violently rose to a sitting position. He wiped the fog from his eyes and inspected the room. There was a high pitched wheezing from upstairs, almost like crying. Had someone entered the building?
"Petey?" Curly whined in his sleepy stupor, " Is someone crying?"
No one answered.
"Peter?"
"Shut 'ya trap!" Tousles scolded. The twins stirred and unwound themselves from one another."Where's Peter?" they asked in sync.
"I don't kn-"
"Shush" Fox hissed.
Curly scowled, "Fox, wher-"
"Just shut up and listen!"
Fox grasped the thin blanket around him and swathed himself in what little heat they held in them. He awkwardly switched his arms around so he could slip his shoes on without letting the blanket fall.
"Someone's crying" the other twin said quietly.
"No" Fox said. He walked towards the foot of the stairs. He paused next to Jimmy's coat rack, slipping his hand into Jimmy's rucksack to pull out a short knife with thick, angry teeth.

"Someone's screaming"

The boys tip-toed up the ancient staircase and into the small lobby of the building, connected to Jimmy's sword classroom. The room was set as a mirror image. Two blue couches stood against facing falls next to a wooden table and desk lamp, the two scenes meeting symmetrically in the center by the white outside door, which was swaying open on its hinges.
Jimmy was already there, sitting on one couch, his body parallel to the back cushion. Peter was next to him, fisting the couch material in his hands.
Tousles took a step in front of the other boys. "Jim? What is goin' on?"
Jimmy didn't look at him; he nodded his head toward the other side of the room.

There were tiny drops of blood dotting the floor in a trail pattern from the couch to outdoors, leading to a figure under a large orange blanket where a large red stain was placed between the bodies legs.

Connor fell to his knees and let tears run down his face freely, his brother buried his face into a swaying Curly's arm. 's throat went dry and had to focus on Jimmy's blank face to keep the bile in his throat down. Tousles only gasped, and found his legs shake underneath him.

Every one of these boy has seen a mangled body before, some of them their own parents, but none of them had ever seen anything like this.

"Was she stabbed?" Brady asked, releasing Curly's arm.

Peter's voice had been suppressed somewhere underneath his horror. Jimmy had not yet had a look at the body, but just like Peter did he knew what had happened.

"Yes, Brady", Jimmy said, "The girl was stabbed in the pelvis"

Fox cringed at the lie but found his own words, "Is she alive?"

Peter's back slowly gained slack and he hunched forward.

"Yes"

"Take this" Curly muttered, taking a thick handkerchief out of his pocket. Jimmy took it from him quickly and crossed the space between the girl with dark matted hair and us. He placed the kerchief under her dress, most likely between her legs.

"She will be better in the morning" The older man stated, leading the boys out of the lobby. All except Peter.