I meant to write this faster, but I got a bit side tracked. *Cowers* Don't hurt me!

~Isle of Thorns~

Chapter Twelve – Forget (me nots)

Peter's kiss was searing. Demanding as his fingers pressed into her waist and lower back. It was exhilaration as it was frightening, and she didn't want it to stop. But doubt niggled still in the back of her mind, and when his hands began to wander to the laces of her dress, clarity cut her like a knife.

Wendy parted from him abruptly, falling against the side of the sofa a bit painfully when his arms stopped supporting her. His expression quickly changed to one of confusion and hurt, though he masked the latter. She shook her head as tears began to trail her cheeks.

"I…I can't," she choked. "I can't."

"Why not?" His tone was accusing, making her tears fall faster.

"I-I'm sorry…I'm sorry, but I can't forget. I'm not who I was before," she tried to explain. Her eyes bore into his in earnest. "I don't know if this is really you, or if it's part of another game I know nothing of."

Peter was about to question her further when read the expression in her eyes for what it was, realization lighting his own. He had been about to grasp her hands in his, but he knew he didn't have the answer she wanted, because for the first time he didn't have an answer. He didn't.

"You're scared of me," he stated. Her shocked gaze met his, and he pushed away from her and stood.

Part of Wendy wanted to scream and shout for him to leave her alone, because yes, she was so very scared of Peter Pan. It was so easy for him to manipulate her, so easy for him to prove that she was weak. But another wanted so desperately for him to come back and…to come back and hold her closely, to never let go. She wanted to believe she could hate him, and for a while she thought she did. It was so painfully obvious that it wasn't the case.

No matter what it was she felt, she knew she couldn't trust him. This somehow pained her the most, and though she knew he would never admit it, it seemed to pain him to. This thought sent her head spinning even more.

But then again, he could be lying even now.

He turned his back and disappeared before her eyes.

She pressed her head against her knees and cried.

He was livid.

Chairs and books and blankets went flying at his command as his jerking movements gave way to more frustration.

I shouldn't care.

The thought set fire to his veins almost as must as her lips had. Peter inwardly cringed and let out an even angrier cry as he kicked a wooden crate. It slid across the floor and crashed against a column of shelves, making several books fall from their perch. He clenched his fists so hard that they turned white and the strain pained him.

It can't be possible.

The moment the door unsealed in the morning, she hastened up the staircase and ventured outside. It was only a little past dawn and few Lost Boys were up and about. That gave her enough cover to slip into the forest unseen.

She didn't have any idea of where she was going at first, just that she needed to get out of the confines of the camp. Out from under the weight of his gaze. If she stayed any longer felt knew she would suffocate under it.

So she tore through the woods, a bit recklessly at first, just to make sure she put enough distance between herself and the camp. After a while she began to remember her surroundings, and how dangerous the island could be. She slowed and stepped more carefully around suspicious plants (especially thorns) and listened to the sounds; birds, the wind through the leaves in the trees, and the distant rush of water. It was all so wild, but so very familiar. Wendy closed her eyes and breathed in the air deeply. Here she could not lie.

She loved it still.

Peter woke, but he kept his eyes closed even as he felt something off within the island. He could hazard a guess as to what it was.

Let her. She knows better than to get herself into anything she can't get out of.

She'd practically lived here for years, after all.

…But it didn't change the fact that she was weakened.

Vulnerable.

And emotional.

Hurt.

It was her own fault if she got into trouble. He pushed the thought away and got up out of bed. Today would be a busy day, and he needed all of the Boys' help for what needed to be done.

It was easier to walk and move now that she had been eating and resting well for a little over three weeks. Her strength had just about returned to her, and now with her magic beginning to flow freely once more, Wendy felt more alive than ever. Her mood was lightening as she trekked through the forest, taking in the different flowers and plants and trees she had never before seen, and the ones she knew from memory. Some poisonous, some for healing minor things, like a sore throat or upset stomach. Some she just liked to appreciate their beauty.

She passed the Echo Cave with a sparing glance, but she knew better than to enter in. The island itself was already a prison, it didn't need the things within herself she kept securely tucked away. Giving the island her secrets would be giving Pan her secrets.

To do that would be to give him everything. He has enough of me to manipulate.

Wendy wouldn't have bypassed a dip in the lagoon, but there were sure to be mermaids who wouldn't hesitate to lure her in and drown her. At least, that is what Peter told her the first time she explored the real Neverland. Instead, she found herself wandering closer to Dead Man's Peak, if she remembered correctly. She could see the precipice up ahead through a part in the trees. Mist obscured it, but she figured she could climb up the side and rest there for a while.

Just be mindful of the thorn bush. She involuntarily shuddered. The very thought of the black poison made her toes curl. As was most things in Neverland, any contact with it was best avoided.

Lost in her thoughts, Wendy didn't notice a raised root protruding from the ground. Naturally, it caught her foot and sent her careening forward into palm fronds and dirt with a yelp. She huffed in an attempt to blow away the dirt now coating the right side of her face. When she looked up, however, she was met by a long branch poised between her eyes.

"Who are you?" said a voice. Its accent was both odd and lilting, and distinctly feminine. Wendy's eyes travelled upward and found a young woman, blonde and dressed in black. Her blue eyes were hard and suspicious, while her body language gave the impression she was not one to be taken lightly.

"Well?" she pressed, shifting the branch in her hands. Wendy got up slowly and raised her hands in a placating manner.

"I didn't know there were any other girls allowed on the island," said Wendy.

"Because there aren't any others…usually," said the woman. "But that doesn't answer my question."

"Names are a hefty thing," Wendy pointed out. Peter must know she was here, there was no way he couldn't with how attuned he was to the island. But the fact that he didn't tell Wendy she was here made her suspicious. It was obvious neither trusted one another with their identity, but that did not mean Wendy couldn't figure out who she was or leave of her own accord. She wasn't powerless, and this woman didn't appear to be able to fight her with much skill.

"That is true. Did the Shadow make a mistake then? It never brings girls onto the island…and you seem a bit too old," she said.

"The Shadow didn't bring me here," Wendy replied. "Nor do I think it brought you."

The woman chuckled mirthlessly, lowering her branch a bit.

"You would be right about that."

"But you seem to have been here a while," Wendy observed. "Is that where you live?"

She pointed to a nearby cave covered in lichen and overgrown vines that fell over the entrance like a curtain. The woman raised a brow as a grin played upon her full lips.

"Perceptive, aren't you?" she asked, and sighed. "Yes, I've been here for quite a while, which is why I know you're new. Pan would never let a girl onto the island, for reasons I can't even begin to fathom."

"So you do know him." The stranger scoffed.

"Unfortunately, but he allows me to stay here relatively protected. In turn, I stay out of his way."

"Interesting," Wendy muttered. "I wish that was our arrangement. He hardly allows me to breathe without him near."

The blonde again raised a brow and lowered her branch entirely. She beckoned Wendy over and started towards the cave.

"Come on, you look like you could use some tea," she said. "I don't know who you are, but I know a prisoner when I see one."

"Thanks," Wendy replied with a small smile, and followed her into the cave. There were things you could expect: a pit of logs for a fire, pots, pans, supplies in boxes and crates, with a wooden bed amongst other pieces of furniture.

"So, either you're a runaway, or a castaway," the woman mused as she struck two rocks over the collection of logs. Two sticks were strategically placed on either side of it, tied with one laid horizontally, which held up the kettle. "The question is, which one are you? There are few possibilities for why you're here. We've ruled out the Shadow. So either you were taken by Peter Pan himself from wherever you're from, you fell through a portal, or you were smuggled onto Hook's ship."

"Wow, I'm impressed," Wendy confessed. "I'll admit, none of those options seem to fit you. But I'll tell you that you've guessed correctly."

The look in the other woman's eyes told Wendy that she knew she hadn't answered the question entirely, but through the vein of mild amusement there was a sadness and wistfulness about her.

"You would be right then. But I'm just as much a prisoner here as you are."

The silence between them was poignant, but when the kettle began to whistle, the blonde grabbed it and poured steaming water into a tin cup that already had tea leaves inside.

"Sugar?" she asked. Wendy nodded and thanked her, took the cup and blew on it softly in attempt to cool it first.

"I was privileged to be a passenger aboard the Jolly Roger. Hook was doing business in the Enchanted Forest, where the Queen must have sought him out. I was her prisoner, and she wanted me to endure torture she knew she could never inflict on me," Wendy began. "I'm afraid I would bore you with the tedious story, but Pan and I have something of a history."

The surprise in the woman's eyes was not lost on Wendy, and she continued.

"Suffice to say, he was…well, he both surprised and unsurprised to see me, and took me in. He told me he had no wish to keep me locked up, but as long as I'm on this island, that is all I will ever be."

"Hmm, it seems you have quite the dilemma then."

Wendy's smile had no warmth in it as she gazed down at her cup of tea.

"I came out here to forget about it."

"It's not impossible," said the blonde, and it was Wendy's turn to raise a brow.

"Do tell."

"Well, I suppose I've always been one to look at the bright side of things. Even when I'm really just as bitter inside," she said. "For a moment, I believe things here are better than how they were before, that I can get used to it."

"And have you?" Wendy asked. The woman's smile was melancholy.

"I believe so. It's lonely, but not terrible. At least you have your brothers...it could be easier for you." Wendy shook her head.

"I don't think I could honestly think like that…all I want to do is leave this place, forever," she said softly. She stared ahead to the wall, dark and plain, and she forgot about the strange woman. For an instant, she remembered a warm hearth, sitting beside John and Michael, listening to their mother's velvet voice as she retold the same stories, night after night until Wendy could say them in her sleep. The stories she recounted to the Lost Boys, and to Peter.

"I would take my family far, far away from him, where he can never hurt us again."

"Well, it seems you have magic of your own to help you."

And then the reverie was broken with a shock, making Wendy's attention shift back to the woman's knowing smile.

"Fairies tend to know these things," she said, and at Wendy's disbelieving look, she added, "Well, a former fairy to be exact. My name is Tinker Bell."

She extended a hand, and Wendy shook it lightly.

"Wendy," she replied.

"Pan, why exactly are we doing this?" Felix asked, helping him pull up several planks of wood along the half-made wall. Not that he was complaining. Having something like this to do was refreshing; he hadn't worked with his hands like this since he was a boy, helping his father whittle wooden toys for the neighbor children. Before he met Peter Pan.

"Don't start, it needs to be done. Your incessant complaining is beginning to grate on my nerves." Pan's icy tone bore no argument, effectively silencing his second in command. It was amazing how much could be done in a day with the aid of magic, but a project of this size would take the rest of the night.

Where the hell has she gone? It's almost nightfall.

He wasn't worried, but her brothers were already pining after her. When they'd asked him where she went, he was forced to lie, saying she was just getting herself reacquainted with the island after so much time away from it. For the most part, he avoided lying to his Lost Boys, but when it was in their best interest to receive an altered version, it wasn't above him to spin things differently.

It didn't matter. She would turn up eventually, and after they finished what lied half-made before them, his troubles would be over. Temporarily, at least.

And that's twelve. The next chapter should be out in a few days (maybe less). Let me know what you thought in the little box below!