When she opened her eyes, her head was pounding like nothing before and she vaguely registered that she was not lying on the ground of a battlefield like she expected, but on something cushiony.
She was lying on a bed. A bed that did not belong to her, but whose owner she knew well. Although she rarely came here, she would recognize this place in an instant: Peter's quarters. Something wasn't right. Despite her aching head, something felt amiss, and she had the immediate urge to get up and out of here before he found her lazying around in his bed.
"Don't move."
She froze when Peter's voice pierced through the shrill whistle in her ear. What on earth had happened to her? Blinking slowly, Mercy finally managed to lean up a little to try and find where the voice was coming from. She hated when Pan talked to her while being hidden in some dark corner.
He was sitting at the foot of the bed, his back turned towards her. Even from behind, she could see how tense he was, the way his shoulders squared and the fact he didn't look at her were a testimony to that.
"You never listen, do you? I told you to be careful! I told you not to die, and you went ahead and you just-" Pan didn't seem to find any colorful enough way of saying what he wanted to continue his sentence. "You just needed to listen to me, just this once…"
"I'm alive, aren't I?" she countered with a groan, the hammering in her skull making her question her own argument.
He scoffed, turning around to glare at her, his eyes so black Mercy wondered just what exactly she had done to justify such ire.
"No thanks to your diligent following of my advice. You're lucky I found you…"
Since when did Pan worry over her like this? He knew she could handle herself, and this wasn't the first time she got hit on the head too hard. Why was this different? She simply didn't know on what foot to dance around Peter these days. Something had thrown her off her rhythm and now… now they kept bumping shoulders and stepping on each other's toes.
"Can we delay the lecture until my head stops pounding? There's a whole marching band in my skull," Mercy complained with only slight exaggeration to get him to calm down. "Did we even win?"
"Of course, we won. Was there ever a doubt?" he scoffed, the hint of offense in his voice showing Mercy that he was already letting his anger come down.
There was a heartbeat. They merely stared at each other in silence, acknowledging that something bad nearly happened today, and maybe Mercy really was lucky – lucky to have Pan watching her back.
"I really did scare you, didn't I?" she asked softly, momentarily forgetting about her headache. She studied Peter's features, the slight twitch in his eye, the knitting of his brows, the pinch of his lips. Was there something he didn't want to tell her?
She thought Pan would never admit to being scared in front of another breathing creature – if he so much as admitted this to himself. Yet, he nodded – slowly, barely visibly, but he nodded.
"I'm sorry," Mercy whispered, now sitting on the bed. "I'll be more careful."
"You better be!" Peter replied, laughing nervously, arms crossed.
He moved so suddenly that Mercy didn't see him approach – perhaps she was just out of it because of the head blow. Peter was standing in front of her, one hand reaching out to grab her chin and make her look up to meet his determined gaze.
"Because I'm not done with you, Mercy."

000

It was dusk, the island was quiet. Quiet like never before, Mercy mused as her gaze traveled from East to West. She was sitting atop an oak, on one of the higher branches – a place she would never have reached without some magic, and a place where she could be alone.
Not even Pan would come seek her here. It was her hidden spot, and it was such a beautiful, quiet evening. Mercy couldn't have dreamt better for her last day on Neverland. She'd rather swallow her own tongue than admit to it before witness, but this place has grown on her – even Pan and the boys had grown on her, after a while. You learn to love what you know, and Mercy hadn't known anything else in more time than she could count.
What would the Enchanted Forest be like? Would anyone she knew still be alive? It was unlikely, but how fun it would be to track down the descendants of those who had been her friends and family once upon a time. To see it they had prospered, if they were doing well.
What would her days look like? She hadn't a clue as to what she would do once she returned back there; she was an ageless soul trapped in the body of an adolescent. Would she be able to play the part? Find a cute boy and pretend like his childish manners and lack of depth and maturity didn't bother her? Would she grow into a dull, lackluster life?
Such were her wonderings as she sat there, taking in the view one last time before saying goodbye for good. The ten years were over – Pan had lost his bet. Though Mercy's resolve to leave had wavered from time to time, she was determined to escape this place. In her moments of weakness, she would see a glimmer in Peter's eyes that she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't imagined. Something that begged her to stay, to accept him, to stop fighting it.
She shook her head. He was only using magic to trick her, that was the only plausible explanation, and that was that. What other reason could there be? Pan actually getting attached to her? Missing her? Not wanting her gone for reasons other than purely sadistic schemes? It was true that he had shown her kindness from time to time, but that didn't mean anything…
It didn't.
It didn't even matter when he had held her hand in his and conjured the blue flower that later became her flower.
No. That when she was hurt during a battle and he got her out of there, and let her rest and heal. Not when he made her his second in command, when he let her beat up Felix to teach him a lesson, when he gave her more responsibility and placed more trust in her than probably anyone ever.
Mercy's head spun and spun with the swirl of confusing thoughts storming inside her skull. It was time, there was no backing down now. They had made a bet, and she won. Period. Pan promised to let her go if ten years from then she still didn't feel like she belonged here.
But didn't she?
Finally, the sun set behind the horizon, and suddenly, the beach was plunged in a soft darkness that hadn't been there a minute ago. It brought her back to reality and to reason. What was she even thinking? Now? So close to freedom, to finally getting away from this accursed place, to live a real life, full of real experiences. She would grow old, meet people who hadn't been handpicked by Peter and who weren't just a bunch of clueless boys.
The day was over, and so was her stay on this sand prison. Mercy jumped from the tree, unbothered by the vertiginous fall, and landed on her feet, unhurt, on the layer of fallen leaves. There was a semblance of seasons passing in Neverland, but not the real stuff. Mercy still remembered the seasons, and nothing artificial could even come close to the feeling her one's chest on the first snowfall of the year, or when the days became longer in Spring.
She didn't use magic to appear in the middle of the camp – she wanted to walk. She enjoyed the forest, if nothing else – it was lush and green in a way only magical forests could be. The Enchanted Forest only bore the name, but it wasn't only regular trees and mud. Here, the sea was next to secret caves, and clearings with springs, a deep forest, a mountain, a lagoon, and many more fantastical places that would never be near each other in real life.
In real life… wasn't this real life? It had certainly felt real all these years. She had suffered alright. She had had good moments too, of course… Over the span of so many years, she built relationships with those around her, whether she liked to admit it or not, and whether they were amicable or not. She found she loathed Felix more than any living creature, considered some of the Lost Boys as little brothers, and Peter… Peter was only Peter. He was her commander, her captor, her tormentor. He was also her ally, her watchful guardian, her moral support, and her teacher.
At some point, she even wondered if he tried to be more than that. As if he expected her to become his friend, or… No, that was plain silly. She was only getting nostalgic because the time had come for farewells. The beauty of night's sunset didn't warrant such daft pondering.
Her fingers brushed against the leaves of every bush she walked past, and Mercy closed her eyes and let her feet guide her back. She had walked these woods so many times, her eyes weren't much needed to trace back her steps and return to the camp. The familiar noises told her she was close. Mercy stopped and breathed in the evening air.
Truly, this place could be a paradise if it wasn't ruled by a monster.
He's not a monster.
"Tssk," Mercy seethed at herself for forming this thought. It was high time to step foot off Neverland, she was going completely mad – has been for a while.
"And here is our guest of honor," Felix snarled at her when she came out of the shadows. She was slouched over a tree stump, holding his makeshift ale. Try as he might to recreate the real stuff, his batches only got worse and worse – but he was drunk enough still. He raised his goblet. "Congratulations, sweet cheeks. And congratulations to me! For getting that well deserve promotion to second in command after you leave."
"Leave?" Peter's voice broke through the air and seemingly made Felix sober up instantly. "Who's talking about leaving?"
Mercy sighed and turned away from the drunk Lost Boy, though not before making a face at him to show her disgust.
"Don't pretend like you don't know what day it is," Mercy told Pan, walking towards him.
He slowly made his way down the spiral staircase leading to his shack in the tree, smirking to himself.
"It's a beautiful Spring night," he said, raising a few laughs from the crowd around them. He wanted to make a spectacle of it? Then so be it.
"It's been ten years, Peter."
"And what a marvelous ten-year has it been!" He finally stopped before her. He was very close, but Mercy wasn't going to step back – never has and never will. Not that she would have another occasion to prove that after tonight, for she never planned on coming back. "You grew so well into your position and into your true self: wild, free, and strong."
"You and I have fundamentally opposed definitions of freedom." Mercy crossed her arms to get even closer to him, hoping to throw him off a little. He glanced down at her arms, a frown on his face. "I want home."
"You are home. And if you think the wretched place you came from could have given you freedom, then you are more delusional than I thought."
"Cut to the chase, will you?" She rolled her eyes at him, knowing perfectly well that he loathed it. "I have humored you for long enough, Peter."
His lips formed a thin line and his forehead wrinkled. Mercy could tell he was thinking, and thinking hard. Whatever he would come up with, she would not bend, she would not relent. Mercy was going back tonight. She had waited a decade without uttering a word about their bet or trying to leave another way. Peter owed her that.
"The day isn't over yet, my sweet Mercy. I have until midnight to convince you to stay, and I will use these precious hours as I see fit."
The argument was already on her tongue when he started to speak, the outrage pushing Mercy to protest and demand he let her go now. But she didn't say anything. She knew Peter Pan. Oh, she knew him well, maybe even more than any other creature in this world or another. And right now, Peter wasn't playing at all – as misleading his crooked smile and confident bearing was, Mercy saw through the playful glimmer in his eyes.
He genuinely wants me to stay. He'll do anything to make me change my mind.
He'll do everything to keep her here, more likely. Even break his promise.
No, Peter Pan only has one word.
"What do you say?" he asked her, tilting his head ever so slightly.
Her pointless inner monologue wasn't going to help her cause, Mercy thought. She felt part of her brain worked against her by saying all those things in Peter's defense.
"Alright. You have five hours left. Use them wisely, Peter, because there won't be any other after tonight."

000

Out of all the things she had expected Peter to do in a vain attempt to persuade her to stay on Neverland, she had never thought about this.

Mercy looked down on what was before her, arms crossed, and frowned.

"What is this? Is this a joke?" she asked, not too sure if Peter was trying to trick her.

"No, Mercy." Peter sat down. "It's only food."

There was bread, and freshly cut fruits, and a bowl full of nuts of all kinds. He could not be serious, this couldn't be what his last resort was, what was supposed to make her change her mind and stay with him forever.

She joined Peter next to the delicious treats. They sat in an open clearing, and it was dark but not yet dark enough to not see, though it shouldn't be long. Just when that thought popped into Mercy's head, a light came. And another. And many others. All around them flew fireflies, lighting up their surroundings just enough for comfort.

"What is this?" she asked again, hoping for a better answer than "food".

"Can't you just shut up and enjoy it? In case it got past you, I'm trying to be nice. Now, I know I don't have a lot of practice in that area, but I can't have gone wrong here," Peter sighed and shot her an annoyed glance.

"Do you have any idea of suspicious it looks when you're trying to be nice? Is the food poisoned?" Mercy replied with her usual bite.

He wasn't the only one out of his depth tonight – for if Peter wasn't used to being nice, Mercy had no idea how to react to such anomaly either.

"You wound me," he said and pimply popped a grape into his mouth without breaking eye contact with her. "If this truly is our last night together, can we please enjoy it? As hard as it seems to be to believe this: I do actually like your company, and I will miss our little one-on-one chats – or fights for that matter."

"Yeah, I supposed Felix isn't much of a replacement when it comes to conversation or challenging you in combat," Mercy found herself saying, surprised that she would joke so easily now. "Do you genuinely think me so foolish, now, Peter? I see what you're trying to do. Appealing to my softer side won't work, you cannot make me stay with honeyed words of affection that I hardly think you capable of feeling at all."

A strike, right to his chest, knocked the air out. He tried not to show it, and shot her a tight-lipped smile as if to say you see right through me. Whatever he said, she was going to turn it upside down. Whatever he did, she would never believe his feelings genuine.

Peter was only delaying the inevitable, he was pushing back the fateful moment she would leave. But she had already stayed for two decades, what was a couple more hours now? She studied him while he sat there, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, his arms back, supporting his weight.

"Can't take your eyes off of me now, Mercy?" he teased her, smirking slightly. "Here I thought you loathed me so that you wanted to leave."

Mercy let out a weary sigh and looked again, fiddling a little branch she found in the grass.

"I'm tired of trying to explain why I don't want to stay here, Peter. I can't stay here. That's all that you need to know, now, isn't it? You said you'd let me go if in ten years' time I didn't change my mind. Well, here we are. The time is over, and I choose to leave." Her eyes softened then, as if she had noticed the confusion and incomprehension on Peter's face. She pulled a blue flower out of nowhere, and handed it to Peter. It was her last gift to him. "It's not personal."

He took it cautiously but snarled at her all the same.

"Not personal?" There wasn't anything pleasant in the tone he used to repeat her words. "Of course, it is. I can't imagine why it wouldn't be. Do you think I would easily forget how much you hate me and this place? You've fought so hard when you first arrived here. At first, I figured you were scared and treated you accordingly – like a scared wild animal. Then, it became clear that I didn't scare you, you weren't like that at all."

Thinking back on her beginnings on Neverland wasn't something she did often or liked to do.

"I just couldn't figure you out, Mercy. Who did you think you were? Standing up to me like that, without an inch of fear or power to back up your audacity." He shook his head, not looking at her. "You're not like anyone else, do you know that? Not like anyone I have met in my long, long life. It was so delightful, watching you learn, grow, improve, and adapt to your new environment. Every obstacle I placed in your path, you met head-on and took up in a way I couldn't have predicted. Was I losing my edge or were you truly the first challenge I encountered in my life?"

"Where is this going?" Mercy finally spoke up because she couldn't take this anymore.

She didn't want to take that walk down memory lane with Peter. Soon, he would be a memory himself, and if it was at all possible, she wished to forget everything. From her first day here, to her last moments with him. When she looked up from her hands, he still wasn't looking at her, his eyes were lost in the faraway, but it hurt to watch him. He didn't have his guard up right now, and the Mercy from long ago would have taken the opportunity to attack – like a wild animal – and she was still there, in the back of her mind, whispering her to do just that.

She wouldn't, though. Like he said, she wasn't a scared animal, and she had learned to get to know Peter over the years. She had learned from him, too. He was a good teacher, she had to give him that. Whatever awaited her in the Enchanted Forest, she would be ready to face it because he had made sure she would be ready for just about anything.

He spent countless hours making sure she knew how to defend herself, how to think when she was in the thick of a fight or cornered, how to be quick on her feet and use everything around her to her advantage. He had taught her many things that could have backfired if she had chosen to use his teachings against him. So, why hadn't she?

A brief melancholy expression crossed his features and it broke Mercy out of her thoughts. What was going on in that head of his? What was his true agenda? Why did he want her to stay so badly when he could easily go and abduct another girl if that's what he wanted?

She was forced to admit that perhaps he didn't want any girl, maybe he wanted her and no one else. An aberrant thought that made her cringe – there wasn't anything special about her. He might think her different, but she wasn't. Any girl in her right mind would have fought teeth and nails to get out of his grasp.

The sheer, fleeting thought of being special made Mercy feel foolish. She was a normal girl. A normal, half a decade old girl trapped inside the body of a teenager, and fully able to gut a handful of grown men if need be. She sighed.

"Where is this charade going, Peter?"

A charade, that's what she thought this was. Not for a second did she think him capable of honesty and sentimentality. He was the villain of her story, not the hero, not the one who's save her from her fate.

His eyes looked down at the flower she had given him. In this flower Peter saw melancholy. He saw the past. He saw a future that would never come to pass. He saw possibilities, and hope. He saw a great many things, but the most important thing this flower told him was Mercy's answer to his silent question. Resolutely, Peter crushed the flower in his hand. He couldn't show hesitation now. The dice was rolled, Mercy has made her choice. And now he must play his part. He must deal with the consequences of his actions.

"It's not going anywhere, Mercy." Something changed in Peter's tone now, and his eyes were sorrowful for a split second. That second lasted an eternity when Mercy dived into his green eyes, getting lost in their troubled depth. They glistened in such a way that she almost thought he might shed a tear. But then, the look of longing and profound anguish disappeared, and in its stead, there was… resolution. "And neither are you."

His voiced rumbled and shook Mercy to her core like an earthquake would, coming from deep within him. A command spoken like this demanded to be obeyed and she did. Mercy froze and barely dared glance over her shoulder. She shuddered when she saw the shadows surrounding Peter, his face now veiled and angry.

Her body tensed and shoulders squared upon hearing that, a cold shiver running down her spine.

"What?"

"You heard me. You're not leaving this place. Despite what you think, you belong here, with us. With me. And that's final."

His tone had become sharp and unforgiving. There was no place for argument and she felt that when he sneered at her and stood up, all the delicious food around them vanishing in a puff.

"You promised, Peter!" she shouted after him, jumping on her feet and following him. "What are you doing?!" A branch hit her in the face, whipping her cheek and drawing blood, but she pushed through the greenery and kept following Pan. "So, you never had any intention of letting me go? This was just some game to you? A trick to make be behave for the last ten years?"

Every word she uttered cut him deep in his chest, for he had never planned on cheating her, not in such a lowly, dishonorable way. Mercy could no see the effect her words had on him, though. He wouldn't allow it. He had thought this through a long time ago, and he wasn't going to go back on his decision. It was the lesser of two evils. She could blame him for her misery if she wanted – and she would. She would despise him, curse him.

And he had had time to get ready for it.

"You will stay on Neverland, it is my decision and you will respect it. You cannot leave."

And before she could understand the implications of what he said, he engulfed them in darkness.