"Why have you kept this from me for so long?" Mercy seethed, growling at Pan who seemed uncharacteristically annoyed with her.

"Must I once again remain you who's in charge here? I don't owe you an explanation, I don't need to tell you everything I know," he snapped, scowling at her in the most vile manner she recalled. "It would even border on stupidity to tell you all my secrets."

"I don't care to know all your secrets Peter, it doesn't matter to me what your favorite color or your lucky number is, but this-" she trailed off, not finding the right words to properly express her indignation. "This is important."

"It's only important if I say it is," Pan replied. "It's only important if people disobey me. If the Lost Boys knew what's good for them, we would never have needed the Spring."

Mercy threw her hands in the air, giving up on trying to talk some sense into his megalomaniac brain. If he didn't see the soundness of the reasoning then she couldn't do anything for him anymore.

"So this Spring," she began, shoving aside their argument – for now. "What else does it do?"

"I don't know for sure," Peter said, and for once, Mercy could see he wasn't hiding anything. Peter Pan truly had no idea what the Spring was capable of, other than heal from Dreamshade. "All I know is that all magic on Neverland stems from this Spring, which is why," he stressed the last word, "I try to keep it hidden from prying eyes, to keep it safe. The less people know about it, the better."

That made much more sense.

"What's the catch?" Mercy asked. If there's one thing Peter did his utmost to drill into her brain during their lessons, it was that magic always had a price.

"You can't be too far away from its waters or the magic wears off and the poison comes back to kill you," Peter answered, his tone quite casual. "But it doesn't really matter since the whole island is attached to it, there's no risk for Jack to die."

"But-" Mercy's eyes widened in realization. "This means he can never leave Neverland!" She protested, absolutely horrified at the perspective.

She shook her head at the thought of this little boy never, ever returning to his land.

"Yeah? So?" Peter asked, getting slowly ticked off by Mercy's ability to complain about every single one of his actions, even when he saved a kid's life he was still the bad guy in her eyes.

The reason why this hurt him was beyond him. Why would he seek her approval in the first place?

"He'll never see his family again!" she exclaimed, angry that she even had to tell him this.

"He won't see them anyway, times passes differently here and there. You should know that."

She did. Mercy knew deep in her heart that her family, her friends, her entire village was long gone. She had been on Neverland for some years now, and there was not a soul left alive in the Enchanted Forest who would recognize her. The Lost Girl, the ageless child who disappeared without a trace years and years ago. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and glared at Pan.

"Still, it wasn't your choice to make."

"It was. I'm the only one who knows about the Spring, the decision to save him or not was in my hands, and I made a choice whether you like it or not."

"I'm just saying... people should have a saying in this..." she insisted. "You just condemned this child to an eternity bound to this forsaken island."

"Would you rather I let him die? You know Dreamshade doesn't kill quick and clean," Peter barked at her. They were now fully arguing in the middle of the forest, away from the Lost Boys who, ridden with guilt, took care of the little Jack.

"I know," she sighed. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose and she tried to settled down. "But it doesn't make it right."

"I do not care for justice, this isn't a democracy you foolish girl!" Peter shouted. "I am the King of Neverland, I make the decisions, and even if you don't like them, you still keep quiet and follow the orders!"

His outburst shut her up. Mercy pressed her lips into a thin line, accepting her defeat this time. Pan flinched as if he just now realized he had gone too far, because Mercy's reaction was a novelty. She never recoiled, never bent the knee. Not that she did, he could tell this conversation was merely suspended for now, and not yet over.

"Go back to the camp. I need to be alone," he ordered.

Mercy shot him a hateful glare and bowed sarcastically to him, before vanishing.

After this rocky conversation, she distanced herself from him, and while the reasons were unknown to him, Peter suffered greatly from it. Over time he had learned to appreciate her uplifting presence. She challenged him constantly, forcing him to up his game, be better, be stronger, be cleverer. He liked that.

He also liked that she pushed herself to better him. She never settled for what she had, always needed more – she would never admit this but he knew she was greedy. In her previous life she had little to nothing, and suddenly she had all this power at her finger tips. He watched her progress, become master of herself and her magic.

It was a sight to behold. It was a privilege to have a part in it. Although now she didn't let him anymore, as if she finally realized, after over a decade on Neverland, that Peter Pan was in charge.

And for some obscure reason, it bothered him.

"Mercy," Peter called her, startling her.

She was sitting on a branch up in a tree that gave her a spectacular view of the island and the sunset. He had appeared right next to her, the abruptness of it making her lose her balance and nearly fall. But Peter's arm reached out and caught her before she slipped off.

She pushed him away once she was steady again.

"What do you want? In case it slipped past you when people go isolate themselves on top of a tree it means they want to be left alone," she grumbled, sending him daggers.

When a Lost Boy was facing Pan, they looked down in awe and respect. When Pan looked at Mercy she stared right back. In the past ten days, no one had looked him in the eyes.

"I gave you more time than I would to anyone else," he told her.

"Oh and I suppose I should be grateful. Does this mean I'm your favorite now?"

Peter sighed. Her tone was harsh and cold, she wasn't in a position to listen to him. But he had to try anyway, he couldn't go one like this. He missed their banter. He missed the feisty, playful Mercy who recognized him as a worthy adversary, but also stood up for herself and didn't let him boss her around.

"Mercy, you've always been my favorite," Pan admitted, though the words burned his tongue. Her eyes went wide for a split second, then she huffed and looked away. "I wouldn't have trained you so hard if I didn't believe in you. And I train no one else."

"You train Felix," she replied snappishly, before she could stop herself.

Great. This was just perfect, now not only did she look like a brooding child, but she also sounded like a jealous little girl. She leaned back against the bark of the tree and crossed her arms on her chest.

"Not like I do you," he told her calmly. "I don't teach him magic, and not only because he's not receptive to it. I don't tell him Neverland's secrets. You think I keep you in the dark, but I'm the only living soul on the island who knows more than you, you're privy to way too many things for my peace of mind," he explained.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she spat at him, slowly getting annoyed with him for not realizing what the real issue was.

Since that close call with jack, Mercy's mind constantly jumped back to the Spring, to its powers and the side effects of those. She couldn't stop thinking about Jack being tied here, unable to move on from Neverland, from being a Lost Boy. Neither of these words were supposed to be permanent states. Lost. And a boy.

Peter looked sorrowful, a frown etched on his forehead like he was trying to solve a riddle. Mercy hadn't realized her stern glare had turned into a hopeful gaze. Would he see through her and understand the real reason for her aloofness? He was intelligent enough to figure it out. What she feared was that he didn't want to admit it to himself.

Because he didn't know what else to do, and since he wasn't quite ready to know what dark cloud loomed in her mind, he reached out, resting his hand on her knees and opening his palm. Mercy frowned in confusion but her eyes were fixated on his hand, waiting for something. Slowly, a swirl of blue dust materialized, as if coming out of his hand, small shiny dust that slowly formed a recognizable form.

A blue flower, in the image of the one she had first created – with his help, at the beginning of her training in magic. In a rare moment of weakness, Mercy let her guard down, and she marveled at the beautiful flower, her eyes shining as she took it from Peter's hand. First she had expect her hand to grasp nothing but air, but it was solid, like the one she made. The one Peter had tucked behind her ear.

"What is this for?" she asked, all anger gone from her voice.

"It's the closest thing I can give you to an apology," Peter said, then coughed. "I know you don't think you can live happily here. But you can, you'll see." I'll show you.

"I wanna go home Peter," Mercy blurted out, now detaching her eye from the gift, though still holding it to her chest. "I don't care if I don't have any family left, I just need to go back."

"Why?"

When the word came out of his mouth, Peter and Mercy both realized that it was the first time he bothered to ask. He never really cared so far to know why she wanted to leave so badly, why she thought the Enchanted Forest was a better place to live and die. Perhaps that was it, he thought, perhaps she wanted to grow old and die.

He could hardly fathom why someone would find solace in that perspective – aging and dying. Especially now that she was the last surviving member of her family. It eluded him, that some people ached for this.

"Because I'm stagnating here. I can't evolve. I will never meet someone knew, I will never be able to have other girl friends, I will never find someone to love, and who loves me," she enunciated as though she had started to make a list of all the things Peter had robbed from her the day he brought her here. "We're frozen in time. Our bodies don't age, don't move, but one day I'm afraid my mind will wither."

"I won't let that happen."

A strange constricting sensation made it hard to breathe for Peter, and he clenched his jaw.

"You won't be able to stop it from happening, Peter." The way she said his name was too sad. "Why do you want me here so badly anyway? I'm not irreplaceable."

But she was.

"I don't know," he told her. He was afraid to think about the answer too long. "But I can't let you go, I just can't.

"I am not your thing, Peter," Mercy barked at him suddenly, moving her legs to get away from his touch. "You don't own me, you can't force me to stay with you!"

At that, Peter saw red. He was trying to use the gentle way and this is what he gets? Couldn't she see the effort he was making? Couldn't she recognize he was meeting her halfway?

"Maybe not, but I won't let you get away from me that easily! If what you seek is escaping from me then you will meet failure. I will follow you wherever you go, I will not allow you to forget me even if you find some way to get off this island!"

Peter stood up. Ready to jump down the tree and disappear. He should never have come to her. Let her brood in silence if that's what she wanted.

"Why do you torment me so?!" Mercy screamed at him, stopping him before he could go. "I am just a girl! Let me go, Peter! Just let me! I am thankful for all that you have taught me, all the time you've put into making me a fighter, but you're keeping me on a leash and it's killing me!"

"I never put you on a leash! You're free to do whatever you want, you have more freedom than I ever granted to anyone else! Can't you see how much I value you, both as a Lost Girl and a companion?!"

There was a pregnant pause during which they stared at each other in stunned silence. Peter just now realized what he said, and he balled up his fists. Mercy's jaw unclenched and she sighed in defeat.

"What is this supposed to mean?" she asked, not sure she understood what he tried to tell her, or perhaps scared that she did.

"It means exactly what I said. Believe it or not, Neverland needs you. I need you," he told her, the words burning his tongue on their way out.

"What for? What makes my presence here so essential?" she pushed him.

"You make this place come to life," Peter replied, shocking her. That was the last answer she would've expected. "Let's make a deal then," he finally said.

It caught Mercy's attention and she sat straighter.

"What kind of deal?"

Peter Pan never made deals that didn't benefit him. He never gambled if he wasn't sure to win.

"A deadline, of sorts," he said in his usual playful tone, as if their upsetting conversation never even happened. "You give me ten more years of your life, and if by then you still want to leave, I'll let you return to your precious Enchanted Forest."

Ten years... it was a long time... But a total of thirteen years and five months had gone by since she set foot on the island. If she survived that long, surely she could handle ten more years. She hesitated for so long that Peter nearly withdrew his proposal, if only as a strategy to make her say yes.

"Alright. It's a fair deal," she concluded, not seeing how he could possibly cheat. "Do I have your word?"

"If in ten years' time, starting from today you're still miserable here, I'll allow you to go home," Pan promised, his open palm on his heart. "But remember, it's a one way ticket."

To both their surprises, Mercy flinched at those words. For a split second Pan was hopeful that she might not hate him as much as she liked to claim. Maybe she would miss him if she left, as twisted the thought may be.

"Will you miss me?" she asked, a cheeky grin on her face.

Peter was glad her frown was no longer, but he enjoyed very little her teasing tone.

"Every second of every day," he told her.

And before Mercy could ask him any more questions he wasn't ready to answer, he vanished.