Tonari: Here it is :D Hope you like!

Bublee90: This one is kinda for you :D My faithful reviewer ;)

Scorpiongirl92: YESS PETERS BACK! Yepp, even I feel sad for FeeFee... But he get's a little tougher in this :D

Capitain Bitcherica: Fuck to the yeah yeah yeah! Agree with you that Cheri belongs with Pan, but stories never go the way we want them to, eh? ;) Hahaha, you'll get your happy ending... later ;) And Cheri's fucked up. Too many feels so she goes beserk with her emotions. Things still go sideways here. But I think I'm handling it well. She won't be running to him, that I can tell ya ;)

Felixlover: The name says it, doesn't it? ;) Felixlover ;) We all love felix, so keep readin!

Chapter 27: Beauty and Death

Are we getting closer or are we just getting more lost? -Rise Against

Peter sought her out the whole day, but she had vanished. Her magic was too good, his abilities to track her down were rendered to nothing. He could feel the cold trail she left during her stay in camp, but the trail led everywhere she'd been in the past weeks. She had literally vanished, slipped through his fingers. Even Felix, an experienced tracker, could not find her. All her hiding places were empty.

So when she strode into camp, eyes down and face flushed, Peter was surprised. It wasn't like her to walk straight into the devil's clutches. She would rather run. Or perhaps she'd done that before? The boy king had no clue, but her presence in camp jostled the new heart beating in the cavity of his chest.

Her long brown hair was tied in a low pony tail diving behind her back. Her face was exposed to the hot sun, rays dancing off her pearl skin, glistening in her honey eyes. Although her face wore an expression of deep depression and sadness, she was beautiful in the morning light. She wore a red t-shirt, black knee-length shorts and her Converse shoes. At her wrists, there was an odd assortment of bracelets that look hand-made. The material was leather, all twisted together in braids as strings fell loose. Her right hand played with the ropes nervously, like she was trying to get her mind off something. The boy knew what.

He watched her go straight for the dish bucket, where she dove her hands in the steaming water and began scrubbing the dirty plates and bowl. Her brows were pulled together, and if Peter listened attentively, he could hear her heart slamming against her chest. Realization hit him and he breathed in sharply. He'd almost forgotten the last time he'd seen her. He tried to kill her. No wonder she was ignoring him.

Peter, determinedly, stood tall and threw the arrow he was carving on the ground. He strode towards her, and by the way her hands slowed in the water, he could tell she knew he was coming. He came closer, feet hitting the dirt ground silently, like he was floating. He heard her heart spring to life, her saliva being gulped down and he felt the cold sting of her magic. She was preparing to fight. "Cheri," he said softly as he came near her. She didn't respond. Instead, she scrubbed harder and faster, water sloshing out of the bucket. "Cheri, can we talk?" he asked, voice low.

He felt the zing of harsh coldness against his skin, but it didn't faze him. It was her way of saying fuck off. "Cheri, I won't hurt you." She winced, eyes closing for the briefest of seconds. His voice hurt her, and he felt it. Her heart was burning in her chest, beating so hard Peter had to drown out the sound with his voice. "I promise I won't hurt you." She remained silent despite his insistence. Just seeing her ignore him was irking him. He wanted her to look at him. He'd missed her so much.

He crouched down in front of her, hands on knees and he sought out her gaze. Her brown orbs were stuck to the bowl she was scrubbing, mouth clutched shut and lips twisted in a line. Peter sighed through his nose. "Look at me," he said gently. He could feel her anger now as she scrubbed savagely at the bowl. "Cheri-" he reached out a hand to touch her chin, but she was quick at swapping his hand away and growling.

"Don't touch me," she gritted through clenched teeth, burning gaze piercing his. Her eyes were so dark despite the honey color adorning them. Her features were torn between sadness and anger, muscles in her jaw twitching. Once she realized she was looking at him, she dropped her gaze and went back to the dishes.

"Alright," the boy sighed. "But if ever you... you want to talk, I'll be around." She didn't faze as he stood and strode away. He felt the resignation of the cold as he left the camp.


Three days earlier

Pan, from his perch in the tropical tree, watched the Amazonian village. An eager sense of hostility burned in his chest as he rolled to a crouch, hands gripping the branch and a sneer tugging at his lips. Warm, Brazilian wind brushed in his damp hair as beads of water formed at the base of his neck. Water dripped from his chin and nose, where it landed on his chiseled forearms and slid to his hands. He evened out as his breathing as the village beneath him started to stir under a dusky sky. Brown women with curves shaped like the immense hourglass in Skull Rock emerged from shanties, carrying small children on their backs. Men filed out after, heading off to the the village border in search of work.

When the person of interest walked out of the shanty, Pan stiffened.

Alai was a small, Brazilian boy. He was special. Well to Pan he was. Alai had the heart of a truest believer.

As Peter followed the young boy with his stare, he couldn't help thinking of Cheri. She'd fondly disapprove of this. But was she here at the moment? Peter shook his head, ignoring the sharp pain in his head that was Cheri's voice.

The boy king lept from his perch in the tree and landed swiftly on his feet. The dirt, grass and branches didn't even make as much of a whisper of his presence as he hid behind a tree and watched Alai move through the foliage. Tree bristled behind Pan, bare feet padding the dirt as a coconut brown boy whistled by Peter. A moment of silence passed before Pan heard his heart. It was a slow, rich beating, vivacious and loud. The young man practically felt the heart in his ears, and only the sound made his mouth water. Eternal life was just a simple step away.

Everything was fast. No more games, no more playing. Time had passed to quickly and now Pan was on a strict schedule. He'd spent three weeks in the damn rain forest trying to find a random native boy, and now that he had him, Peter wasn't about to let him go. Let's just say that spending three weeks in the Amazon wasn't like spending three weeks in a five star hotel. Although Peter didn't know what a hotel was.

As Peter moved swiftly through the green, he fought the voices of Cheri in his head. He fought her innocent features, her scared, almost uncertain ways she used to look at him. As Peter ripped a golden, throbbing heart from the chest of a boy, he felt the sourness of tears in his eyes and he heard the whispered cries of his girl back home. As the heart throbbed with life in his palm, and Alai stood gaping, Peter let one single tear of vulnerability slip from his eyes and moisten the ground at his feet. He let Cheri's soothing voice appease the trembling in his bones and the pain in his head.

He took one last look at the boy before pushing the golden heart into the empty cavity of his chest.

Peter felt the power surge into him immediately, just as Alai fell dead on the dirt ground.


She awoke in a ball on her sleeping bag in Walter's tent. Her mouth was dry and her eyes were sore from crying. An emptiness filled her heart as light caught her eye and reflected the honey color. A sigh brushed passed her lips, echoing in the stillness of the tent.

What now? she asked herself.

What will she do now? All this time waiting for the tremendous return of the boy king, for a pity little conversation? Now that he was tamed, like a wild cat adopted by a family, what were his intentions? Had he gotten the other heart? Everything seemed numb around the brunette. Everything was straight, but at the same time it was circling. A game played all over again, again and again. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over, expecting a different outcome. Albert Einstein. Was that what she was doing? Running in circles, trying to save the world (or her world) and try to send them on a straight path?

Words echoed in her head. Her mother. Sometimes, Cheri, a circle and a line are the same thing.

How can that be? she asked herself, curling into herself. A shiver rippled down her spine. How can a circle and a line be the same? So many sayings were said to her in her life, most of which she could understand, but that one... It was an enigma of itself.

Images flashed before her eyes and she whined, teeth clenched together. Would this be eternity? A lifetime spent reminiscing on events that make her heart sink? A never ending life of pained mornings and tear-filled nights.

Maybe it could change, alter. Maybe, if she decided, she could alter the course of her eternity. She didn't have to spend it mourning and crying and feeling like shit. After all, she was her own person. She was capable of making her own decisions, no matter who stepped in front of them. Even if it's the boy she loves.

Determinedly, the brunette sat up in her sleeping bag and crawled out of the tent. Morning scents assaulted her senses. All this time spent on Neverland taught her the names of many plants, that are foreign to her world. Dawn Singer, the flower that smells like water but with a touch of sweetness. Passion Rose, the bush full of tiny little pink flowers that, if rubbed against skin, makes the skin as soft as a baby's bum. Maybe even more. Petalia, a kind of flower that grows in the trees and only expels a scent in the early hours of morning. The one she loved most; Lelysia. It looked like an orchid, but it was proportionally smaller, with gold speckled on it's tips. The nectar was extremely poisonous, almost ranking close to Dreamshade. That's what Cheri loved about Lelysia. It held both death and beauty. Something she knew perfectly well; the balance of dark and light.

She let the sun bathe her skin as she made her way to the boys, who had gathered around bananas and exotic fruits. They milled around the camp aimlessly, looking for the day to start. None of them knew what would really happen. Follow orders? Just mope around? None knew. Pan's return had set everyone on edge, especially Felix.

Cheri caught his eye as he was crawling out of his tent, arranging his cloak around his shoulders. He stopped, midway from tying a knot, and his petrified gaze bored into hers. They seem to be screaming, yelling at her. They spoke truths and cheats, nights spent in the arms of treachery, and days spent stealing glances. They asked questions; is our secret safe? Will you tell? Should I tell? What do we do? Does this continue?

Of course it couldn't. Peter was back, which meant Cheri had to lay low. Prevent the tears from falling and prevent the devil from drinking them. Cheri averted her gaze from the blonde boy's and stepped up in line for food. She picked up a bowl of berries, grapes, banana slices, and a cup of water. With her eyes low, she found a log in a secluded area of camp and lowered on it. The food tasted sour and of cheat. She couldn't swallow for the lemon size lump in her throat and the heaviness of her heart.

"May I?" She looked up, hand shielding the sun.

"Sure," she answered as Felix slowly sat beside her. His breaths were slow, but loud, like he was forcing them to stay steady. A silence fell between them as Cheri forced food down her throat, wincing at the rise of the lump.

"What now?" he asked, eyes staring at the innocent blue sky. Cheri, feeling her eyes itch, sighed.

"I have no idea." Her voice was low and a whisper of a sob shrilled on it's edge. His intake of air set her off key and she looked away towards the jungle, pushing back tears.

"I know it was just temporary, you and me," he began. "I know that it would of never been, even if it looked like it would be for eternity. I'm not stupid. I know you could of never loved me the way you love him. I know you could never look at me the way you look at him. But you felt so real in those moments. You felt like I finally opened my eyes. I know you were sad and heartbroken, and I know that's why you came to me. But I didn't care, as long as you were with me. I know I was a rebound, and that you probably didn't mean it that way. I was a distraction from the real quarrel inside you, but I couldn't care less. I just want to say that those were the best moments of my life. Yet. I don't want your pity, your tears or your excuses, I just want you to know. I don't want you to come to me now because of this, or because you can't forgive yourself. We can be friends, we can still enjoy each other's company. I won't push. I'll wait. If you come, I'll join. If you never surface, then I'll know. If you don't want to tell Pan, I won't tell him."

Cheri, behind a curtain of tears that shed down her cheeks, leaned in on Felix. She gripped the front of his shirt and sobbed into him. He stayed still this time. Her comforter stayed frozen like the ice that flowed in her veins, like a slab of cement. He was rigid, and felt wrong against her cheek. But she couldn't help the instinct of going to him. She couldn't help the flow of "I'm sorry" coming out of her mouth. And when she straightened and curled in on herself, sobbing on her knees, she couldn't help the sink of her heart as she heard him leave.


When Peter found the cabin empty, he wasn't surprised. He knew she wouldn't go back to such a memorable place after his return. There were traces of recent life, like she only spent nights in the cabin. But that morning, there were no traces of the brunette with ice in her blood.

So the young man set off in the jungle towards the camp. When he set foot in the camp, he knew she was there. There was a slight drop in temperature.

She sat on a log, face turned to the jungle, back facing him. Her scent tickled his nostrils, and he fought the urge to smile. It wasn't a time to smile. After all, he could hear her fighting tears.

He approached her slowly, assimilating her senses with his presence. She didn't move or acknowledge him as he appeared in her line of sight. The girl simply stopped twirling a Lelysia flower in her fingers. "Good morning," Peter said cautiously. She licked her lips and resumed the twirling of the flower.

"Good morning." Her voice was formal and polite, groomed to express no emotion.

"I thought you'd be at the cabin," he lied, crossing his arms over his chest and pinching his lips together.

"You know better," she muttered, catching him in his lie. He huffed.

"I wanted to see you," he admitted. "Thought I'd catch you somewhere near your cabin. Turns out I was wrong." He was wrong about her a lot these days. She'd betrayed him. How could he be more wrong?

The guilt opened on her face like the blooming of a flower bud. "I need to go," she muttered, getting to her feet. Pan stepped in her way, but she avoided his gaze and tried to step around him, but he was determined.

"Cheri, let's talk," he said, careful to fight the urge to pass his hands on her arms. She shook her head.

"I need to go," she repeated.

"You don't need to go anywhere," Pan said. "There's no rush. Only eternity. The boys can wait. Sit and let's talk I have-"

"No Peter!" she interrupted, stepping back haughtily. "I don't want to talk! It hurts, ok!? You come back and you look at me like nothing ever happened! I saw the betrayal in yours eyes, I saw the pain, the destruction! I saw the hurt I caused you, and the extreme darkness I plunged you in! Why do you all of a sudden reappear and ask this of me? To look you in the eye and see pass the damage I made! I can't, it's too much!"

She ignored his protest and stormed away from him, not running, just evading a situation that would make her drown in hopelessness.

Peter stood back, heart heavy. He put a hand to the beating muscle, remembering the promise he made.


Three days earlier

Alai lied on the mossy ground, rain pouring on his bare chest and infantile face. Peter knelt beside him, cradling his head and listening to Cheri's voice in his head. She would tell him that no one should die in vain. That everyone deserved to die for a reason or cause, whether it be disease research, organ donation or for the benefit of another.

Words echoed in his head. His wife, from so long ago. A good life is the one laid down for another.

Time so far away. That face, the one in his before-life, was so clear and vivid in his mind. But she whisked away when Cheri's face blossomed into a smile. Peter closed his eyes and held Alai's head closer to his heart. "I won't let this boy die in vain." A simple sentence, turning into a promise. "I won't let this heart go to waste, I promise." The jungle around him seemed to accept the promise, murmuring encouragement or chortling failure. Peter realized those were the two sides balancing in him, but also fighting to have dominance of him. The soft, warm wind was a promise of love, good life and a chance at repairing what was left. A chance to bring back ashes to structure and open up the window to light. The harsh, cold wind was the dark, curling it's claws around his shoulders and dragging him into the pit of insanity.

But he made a promise. And Peter Pan always keeps his word.


Different style of chapter. I like it, do you? :) More eerie I find. Leave me feed back, always helps. :D Thanks to everyone. Next chapter up soon, promiseeeee!

Song for this chapter: Lost in You by Three Days Grace