They didn't speak to one another in days, beside the common curtsies of 'how are you,' 'excuse me,' 'thank you,' and 'goodnight.' Tinkerbell's sturdy silence and solemn gaze made Felix feel worse than he already did. The only reassurance he found was the fact that Tink still slept in his tree house, on the floor in the furthest corner, and that Pan, finally included Tink as part of the lost family, like a true and equal member.

It was on the sixth night of consecutive silence that Felix finally snapped – she would have to forgive him at one point – this childish game of fake friendliness couldn't go on forever, could it?

"Do you believe in second chances, Tink?" he asked from across the room. Tinkerbell was weaving a blanket made of leaves with her soft fingers, her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth as she worked. Felix was struck, for the hundredth time by how beautiful she looked. Were all fairies like that?

Tinkerbell looked up from her project, the needle poised over the fabric.

"I believe in third and fourth chances, Felix." The sound of his name rolled off her tongue in a funny but alluring accent.

"Then you'll give me a second chance, right?"

She stared at him, her eyes widening like coins.

"Haven't I already forgiven you?" she snapped, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice. She didn't want to talk about this now. In fact, she didn't want to ever talk about the fact that his betrayal was like a knife in her back.

"Is this silent treatment your way of saying you forgive me?" he asked.

Tinkerbell pursed her lips and threw her hands in the air. The needle fell to the floor with a clink.

"What do you want me to say?" she retorted. "That I'm angry, that I'm hurt…that I'm also grateful that you helped persuade Pan into letting me be a part of your family, that you've given me shelter and food…that I'm so overwhelmed by conflicting emotions that I can hardly think straight, let alone think about you." She stopped suddenly as though she had gone too far. "What do you want me to say Felix?" she whispered again.

"That you don't hate me."

"I don't hate you," she said.

"Now you're just saying that because that's what I want to hear," said Felix.

"No," she said. "I never say anything I don't truly mean."

"You don't hate me?" repeated Felix as though his ears were deceiving him.

"I don't," she reaffirmed.

"You don't?" he asked again, his smile widening and lightening up his face, particularly his queer eyes.

"For Peter's sake, I don't hate you. I don't particularly like you anymore, but I don't hate you either."

"Fantastic," said Felix brightly. He paused and stared at her for a moment, before continuing on, "and sorry if I suck at talking to you…you see there are hardly no girls in Neverland…I have to refine my manners and chivalry, but I will make it up to you Tink."

Tink smiled tightly.

"There is something you could do…" she began, picking up her needle from the wooden floor, where she had discarded it moments before.

"What?"

"Get me some more weaving vines and leaves."

"As my Lady Bell wishes," said Felix, with a mock bow. Tinkerbell hadn't seen him so happy in days. He leapt over to the ladder and began to descent, but in a few seconds, his head bobbed up the hole again, grinning at her.

"Tink, does wild rabbit sound okay for dinner?" His gentle-manish tone had vanished as quickly as it had come.

Tink smiled. "That sounds perfect."

She watched him descent the ladder again, butterflies forming in her stomach at the sight of his beautiful crooked smile.