It had been just over a year since Gavin had declared Peter and Wendy were his parents when the grumbling started. It first came to Peter in whispers, mutters under the Lost Boys' breath. They had seen Gavin often, playing in the garden when they came to Wendy to be healed. They had seen him playing at the beach with Peter and Wendy. They knew their king brought him back gifts that the others did not get. This was unfair, they said. Not just because they did not get what he got, but because Gavin wasn't supposed to be alive in the first place. Peter had hoped they would forget, but none of them had forgotten that Gavin was the cause of Christopher's death. The price still needed to be paid, they said.

When the grumbles began, he tried to quash them as best as he could. He punished those that spoke out against him. He was merciless and ruthless, protecting his child. But even as he tried to handle the situation, the grumbles grew into outright accusations. He suspected that the vast majority wanted Gavin back amongst their ranks. He was living in the lap of luxury as a murderer. He did not deserve it, they argued to Pan. Much as he tried to assert his dominance, his grip on the island was loosening.

When he called Felix to his throne one day to discuss it, his right hand man had no words of comfort to offer. "You've known my position from the first day," Felix said. "That brat should be dead."

"No," Peter argued back. He lounged on his throne covered in ivy. Felix stood before him, a few steps below the throne. He stood straight backed and rigid. "He will live."

"What the Lost Boys ask is a merciful compromise. He should return to their ranks. To them, he's been rewarded for the blood he shed." Pan held his tongue. Over the last two years, as he had acted as the boy's parent, he had come to fully agree with Wendy's position. Gavin was not at fault for Christopher's death. He just did not communicate this to Felix. The tall boy was jealous and would not take kindly to Peter siding with Wendy. Wendy, who was not even a part of the Lost Boys, who did not even want to be on Neverland. But somehow, he found himself agreeing with her.

"You should send him back." Felix's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

He considered it. "Wendy would not be pleased." He, too, would also not be pleased. He was happy that Gavin got to enjoy a good life with Wendy. He hated the woman, but she was a good mother to the boy.

"Who gives a fuck about Wendy?" Felix demanded, exasperated. Pan rolled his eyes. He did not care to deal with Felix's jealousy. "She's made you soft, you know that. It's been a long time coming, but these past two years have been the worst of it. She making you human." Felix practically spat the word.

Peter's eyes flashed and he glared at Felix. The other boy cowered and took a step back from the throne. His voice was icy when he asked, "Are you questioning my power?"

"No, never," Felix said, bowing his head. "I'm just saying that I think Wendy is a bad influence."

"I'll decide who is a bad influence and who is not," Peter sneered. "I am King here and I'm not going to have you or the Lost Boys or Wendy push me around. Gavin stays with Wendy. That's the end of it." Felix opened his mouth to protest, but Peter gave him another withering look and the boy shrank away.

But that was not the end of it. A couple weeks later, a fight broke out. Two Lost Boys ended up dead, spears struck through them. When Peter called the murderer before his throne, he were unrepentant. The boy, Terrence, looked at him defiantly, chin raised. The crowd looked on, waiting to see what would happen.

"You've killed two of your fellow Lost Boys," Peter said, speaking to the crowd. "Do you know your punishment?"

Terrence narrowed his eyes. "Yes. I get to go live with Wendy." The crowd erupted into laughter. All the Lost Boys giggled at Terrence's joke. Peter could feel the rage bubbling up in him.

"Enough!" he cried. He let his power flow out of his hands and let it wrap around Terrence. The boy was lifted above the crowd, struggling against the green magic. "Gavin was not at fault. But you, Terrence, murdered two Lost Boys. For that, you know you must die." And with that he snapped Terrence's neck. He let the body drop. The crowd stared, silent.

He took to the air, and hovered above the crowd. "If anyone else kills another, they too will be killed!" Peter called. "And no one will speak Gavin's name again!"

But the Lost Boys continued to speak Gavin's name. In the weeks following Terrence's execution, fifteen more Lost Boys were murdered and at each of the executions of the murderers, when asked what the punishment was they all answered, "Yes. I get to go live with Wendy." Each time the crowd erupted into cheers. Each time he killed them still, each one more violently than the next, but that did not deter the Lost Boys. Pan could feel his grip on the island slipping. He was becoming desperate.

After another execution, Felix came to him and bowed deeply. Peter stared at him and knew what his friend was about to say. "You know what to do," Felix said. "You'll lose the island if Gavin does not return. Their request is still the same and it is fair."

Peter knew Felix was right.

That night, he was silent over dinner and spoke only once to wish Gavin good night. He felt that same warmth in his chest, threatening to break out, but this time it was painful. It was as if something inside him was cracking. Distantly, he remembered a similar feeling from centuries ago.

Over tea, Wendy didn't even have to ask. "You're going to send him back."

He barely looked her in the eye when he said, "Yes."

She shook her head. "You can't do it. It's not safe."

"It's been two years. He'll be fine," he said. It felt like a lie.

"Don't play dumb." She glared at him over her cup of tea, fierce and bright. "I know what's been happening."

"You're not King. You wouldn't understand," he told her, trying to keep his voice even.

"I do. I've lived on this godforsaken island long enough to know it's not safe," she said.

"I'll assign him some bodyguards. My most trusted friends."

"Felix has wanted him dead from day one."

"Fine. No Felix."

Suddenly, she reached across the table and grabbed his hands. She held them tightly in her own. He looked up to find her golden eyes, wide and pleading. "Please, Peter," she begged. "Please let him stay with me. Please."

Peter had had just enough of people trying to tell him what to do. He snatched his hands away. "I'm not going to listen to this any longer. He's going back." Even as he said it, a deep sinking feeling came over him. He did not want Gavin to go back either. Gavin was happy with Wendy and he was happy when Gavin was happy.

But the island was too important. He had to maintain the balance.

A month later, with his things packed up, Wendy and Peter walked Gavin over to the Lost Boys' camp. Gavin cried the entire way and refused to leave the threshold of Wendy's house. Peter had to pick up the crying boy, who thrashed and wailed in his arms. It almost broke his resolve; Peter almost gave in and let Gavin go back. But he thought of his kingdom again, of the Lost Boys and he kept moving.

XXX

Pan carried Gavin almost the entire way to the Lost Boys' camp. They entered into a small carved out tree hollow. Pan had found Gavin a single room close to his quarters. It was not like the lovely room Pan had created for Gavin and Wendy's heart broke just to see Gavin in a place that was so clearly not his own.

She eventually got Gavin to calm down after much soothing and many hugs and kisses. He sat curled up in his lap as she rocked him back and forth, rubbing his back. She had fought tooth and nail the past month, arguing endlessly with Pan.

It was the first time in nearly two years that they had argued.

"I'm his mother!" she had cried. "I decide where he goes and he's going to stay with me."

Pan had waved away her protests. "You forget I'm his parent, too. And King here. He's going back." Before she could open her mouth to continue her arguments, he asked, "How did you think this was going to play out in the long run? He's never going to grow up. You can't raise a child that doesn't grow."

She had shoved him out of the treehouse after that. She then immediately burst into tears, crumpling on the floor.

Gavin had cried when he heard their raised voices. Pan soothed him, but would not be convinced otherwise. Neither Wendy's arguments nor Gavin's tears changed Pan's mind.

Pan was stubborn, but not as stubborn as she was. Wendy would not be giving up without a fight. Her child would not live permanently in the camp; she'd sooner die before that happened. As soon as she knew Pan could not be moved, she had worked out several plans to get Gavin out of the camp.

She had attempted many, many escapes in her day and some had been close to successful, but she was always kept back. She would find herself at the edge of the water, looking out towards where the sea turned into the sky and filled with stars. Each time she would look over her shoulder and think of her brother. Was he on the island? Was he alive? How could she live him behind?

If she were to attempt an escape, she would have Baelfire and her child to worry about. Would she be able to give up on her brother like that?

So, that plan was set aside for a less aggressive one. The Lost Boys's had one track minds; they had been chewing on this Gavin issue like a dog with a bone for the past several months. She suspected that after a while, when nothing happened, they would grow bored with him and forget. She hoped that if she were able to wait it out long enough, in a few month's time she could go to Pan and convince him to let Gavin come back with her. She knew that Pan's hand was being forced with this one. He never would have moved Gavin if not for the violence the other Lost Boys were causing. If he was given enough time and the others could forget, she could get Gavin out and then maybe one day, they could leave Neverland together. He could quietly be moved out of the camp and come back with her, where he was supposed to be.

So she allowed Pan to pick Gavin up and carry him to the camp knowing what her plan was, knowing that she would get her way in the end. Gavin was her child and she knew what was right for him. She did not care what Pan had to say and she did not care if the island devolved into chaos if it meant keeping Gavin safe.

After much coaxing, Pan left. He hugged and kissed Gavin goodbye before slipping out the door with the promise to come back in two hours time for dinner and bedtime. However, Wendy remained. Pan had told her through gritted teeth that Gavin needed to adjust to camp life on his own, but she would not be judged.

Gavin was her child and she would not leave him, especially not in the middle of a hostile camp. She knew that the danger to Gavin's life was very real and very present. So she stayed with him. She helped put his things into drawers and changed the sheets to the expensive cotton ones Pan had brought back from the Enchanted Forest. She put his books into shelves and swept away the dust. She could at least try and make it homey for her son.

Gavin sniffled the entire time and after the room was set into order, she pulled Gavin onto her lap in bed and opened his favourite book: the gorgeous, gold detailed one Pan had bought for him. She read to him about Jack and the Beanstalk and Cinderella and all the other fairytales he wanted. She didn't mind at all when his eyelids began to drift and his breathing slowed. If he woke up later wanting dinner, she would give him whatever he wanted. If he woke up asking for the moon and all the stars, she would give it to him.

Words began to drift off the page and Gavin was warm and soft against her. Her eyes began to slide down. The first couple of times she woke up, but after a while, she didn't try to fight it. With the light outside growing dim and the candles casting light over the room, she could almost pretend they were back in Gavin's room in her treehouse, almost…

XXX

She woke up with a crick in her neck and a wicked headache. Her limbs felt heavy and almost immovable as she reached a hand up and gingerly touched her head. She felt something slick and sticky smeared across her face and in her hair. She shifted and opened her eyes just a crack. She felt her hand up close and in the dimness of the room, there was something dark and wet on her fingers.

Her heart beat once, twice, before she realized what it was.

Blood.

She sat up abruptly in bed, her body snapping into attention as her other hand reached out in the tiny bed for Gavin. The space next to her was cold and empt and her heart stuttered in chest. She looked around wild and her blood turned to ice when she looked across the room.

She the world stood still as she looked at Gavin, dead on the floor, a knife in his chest. She rushed to him immediately, desperately checking for a pulse. She cried out his name, shaking him trying to wake him up. God, he was so small and so broken. She gathered him up in her arms as she had that very first night with him and rocked him back and forth. This time, his tiny hands did not curl into her hair and he was silent. She buried her face in his neck and wept, her heart breaking inside her chest.

Suddenly, strong hands were pulling her back. She batted them away, catching what she figured must have been a cheek in the process. She would not be disturbed, she had to stay with Gavin. Perhaps, if she held him long enough he would come back. But the hands were persistent and soon she turned to find Pan crouched next to her, staring at her with their child in her arms. His face looked completely void of emotion. For a moment, her fury at him overtook her grief and she pushed him away. He did not move.

"How could you let this happen? You said you'd protect him and you failed!" she shrieked at him. He didn't respond, but just continued to pry her away from Gavin. "Leave me! I'll die with him!"

At that, he leaned closer to her and spoke softly in her ear. "You need to let go," he told her. His voice might have been described as gentle.

She slapped him away. "No!"

He reeled back, clutching his cheek. "You're doing no one any good being like this," he told her, his voice icy.

"I don't care!"

Eventually, he was able to haul her up from the ground. He threw her over his shoulder and suddenly, they were transported into his chambers. She was too wild with grief to register her surroundings or be surprised.

Instead, she pummelled her fists against his chest. She could feel her mouth moving, but she wasn't sure what she was saying. Tears were streaming down her face and her was throat sore from screaming. None of it mattered, she didn't care about any of it. Gavin had been all that had mattered and now he was gone.

Suddenly, Pan grabbed her wrists in one hand and grabbed her chin in the other. "You're hysterical," he told her. His voice was infuriatingly calm. There was no emotion on his face. "You need to stop screaming." She shoved against him, but he held her tight. She refused to meet his eyes.

"You did this. This is your fault," she cried, voice was scratchy. Her throat felt raw and every breath burned.

"This may very well be my fault," Pan admitted, turning her face up to his. He held her gaze and his eyes were like ice. "But I did not do this. You know that."

She reared back. "How do I? You had to be convinced not to kill him!"

His fingers were tight on her chin. "You know I didn't do this. You know how I feel."

She continued to struggle against him. "Do I? You're the great Pan, King of Neverland, great Wizard who traded his own brother for his kingdom. You feel nothing! You're just a black hole! The only thing you care about is power and you got rid of Gavin to maintain it!" She spat in his face. "I hate you!"

He stared at her wide-eyed before he shoved her back. She stumbled back a few feet as he wiped his face. "I don't have the fucking time to deal with your hysterics," he told her. "I have to go and find who did this."

"You did this!" she cried.

"Shut up." He was already moving and she followed him, hurling insults and curses. It was so much easier to be furious than to deal with the chasm of grief and guilt that was growing inside her.

He opened a door into what seemed like a bathroom. He opened a cabinet on the wall and took out a small vial with a shimmering purple liquid in it. He turned around and shoved it in her hands. "Drink this. You'll be able to calm the fuck down and I can deal with this," he told her.

She shoved it away. "I don't want anything from you!" He rolled his eyes and for the second time that day, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He walked back and dumped her unceremoniously on the bed. He then held her hands in one of his and offered her the vial in the other.

For a moment she stilled and considered him. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked him, seriously. She reasoned that when she died, she would be reunited with Gavin. Perhaps, it would not be such a bad thing.

"No," he said. His voice remained cool and she wanted to shake him. "It'll put you to sleep." She considered him for a second before she opened her mouth and she drank down the syrupy potion. It was sickeningly sweet on her tongue and she was about to open her mouth to tell him so when her world fell into blackness.

She woke up what felt like moments later, but looking around the room she knew it must have been hours. It was fully dark outside and there was a stillness that only came from the dead of the night. She blinked a couple of times and the memories came flooding back to her.

Gavin was dead.

The grief rolled over her and her stomach turned upside down. She rushed to the bathroom and retched into the toilet. The vomit was bitter and she coughed and sputtered as she threw up.

She clung to the toilet for a couple of moments, wallowing in her guilt. She should never have allowed Pan to do this. She should never have allowed Gavin to set foot in the camp. She had been so stupid to take Pan at his word. His most trusted friends. What bullshit! Felix had threatened both her and Gavin the first night. There was no way Pan could have entrusted Gavin to anyone, but her.

She blinked.

Felix.

It all became clear to her suddenly. Felix must have done this.

She got up shakily from the toilet and rushed back into Pan's room. It was luxurious and sleek, all of the furniture had sharp edges and were dressed in black leather. The room was unfamiliar to her, but Pan was not. She knew where he would keep his weapons. She rushed to the end of the bed and found a chest there. She threw open the lid and grabbed the first dagger she saw.

She didn't pause to think about what this might do to her humanity. She did not care at this point. She had lost the only good thing on this island and she knew Felix had to pay.

She sneaked out of Pan's chambers and around the camp. She knew where the two of them would be. She knew the camp like the back of her hand and slipped past all the Lost Boys who milled about. No one saw her dart behind trees and weave between tents. Soon enough, she came to the clearing at the far side of the camp where Pan's throne was. Leaning around a tree, she saw the two of them. They were about twenty feet away. The murmurs of their voices reached her, but couldn't make out any words. Pan was sitting— lounging— in his throne and Felix stood before him, with his back to Wendy.

She gripped the dagger in her hand. She took a deep breath and then took off running at Felix. Neither Pan nor Felix realized what was happening before it was too late. Wendy was upon Felix in an instant and she plunged the dagger down. Felix moved quickly though and she missed his chest. Instead, she left a long slice across his face.

XXX

Peter didn't recognize the blur was Wendy until she was already upon Felix. Her hair was matted with blood and her face was soaked with tears. She was feral. She slashed out wildly with one of his own daggers and got Felix in the face.

He was up immediately, materializing behind her. He grabbed at her from behind, one arm around her waist and he wrapped a hand around the hand that held his dagger. He squeezed his hand around hers and the dagger clattered to the ground. She was hysterical again, screaming bloody murder. She thrashed against him, cursing him as he held her.

This was not a Wendy he recognized. This Wendy was the furthest she had ever been from her humanity, wild with grief and rage. It terrified him to see her like that.

He turned her to face him, holding on to her tightly. When he spoke to her, her eyes didn't focus on him. She was looking through him. She still continued to scream and cry and squirm out of his touch.

"Wendy!" he cried. "Stop! There's nothing you can do."

He held her tightly and looked over at Felix, who was clutching his face. The boy would heal and so he turned his attention back to Wendy. He spoke close to her ear and told her she had to stop, killing Felix would do no good.

She reared back and screeched, "He did this! He threatened me and he threatened Gavin!"

He shook her once. "Felix did not do this. Those who were still loyal to Gregory did." He paused. "I've had them killed." At the thought of this, she stilled. She looked up at him and she actually seemed to look this time.

She sniffed. "So much death." Her voice was shaky when he said it. His heart twisted, but he clamped down on it. He did not have the time to deal with this.

He didn't trust his voice so he just nodded. At this, she began to weep. Tears streamed down her face and her weight went out from under her, but he held her up right. He tried to shush her, an attempt at comfort.

She cried and cursed, but still she clung to him, hands curled into his shirt and her face buried into his chest. Her tears soaked through his shirt. For the third time that day, he scooped her up and transported her back to his chambers, leaving Felix to tend to his own wounds.

He laid her down gently in his bed and offered her another vial of the sleeping elixir. He made sure that this one was stronger. She took it this time without protest and immediately fell back against his pillows into a deep, peaceful sleep. With her face relaxed and her breathing even, he cleaned the deep gash on her forehead from the attack, being careful to be gentle. Once he was done, he stood up and turned on his heel.

Without realizing, he found his way to the medical area of the camp. It was usually Wendy's purview, but he had had commandeered it for the night. He passed quietly through the camp, his head down. He slipped into the small, dark room. It was cold. On a bed at the far end of the room lay Gavin. He took three shaky steps across the room and sat down heavily. And just like Wendy had done only a few hours ago, he gathered the child, who had already grown cold, up in his arms and buried his face in his neck and began to weep.

He rocked Gavin back and forth, back and forth. Through sobs, he managed, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." For the first time in centuries, he allowed himself to feel. The grief and sorrow, the utter turmoil rolled over him in waves and he wondered if he would collapse in on himself. He wept and wept, his tears soaking the child's shirt.

It was all his fault. He never should have allowed Gavin to return. He never should have listened to Felix. Wendy had been right. All these thoughts swirled in his head as he clung tightly to his child. He had been the worst father, worse than his own. He had been given something so perfect and good and he had selfishly thrown it away for his power. He had never deserved Gavin and yet, even knowing that, he had not protected him.

He agreed with Wendy. He hated himself.

For one wild and brief moment, he hated Neverland, too. He hated what it was, what it had done to Gavin and what it had turned him into. He didn't want to the immortal Boy King of Neverland. He did not want any of his powers or control or loyal followers. He just wanted Gavin back.

It was not often that Peter allowed his most human thoughts to surface, but he did then. He allowed himself to wallow in the self-hatred. He let the grief crash over him and the guilt tear him apart. He shook and sobbed. This was what it was like to be human and this was precisely why he did not let himself feel. This was all that it led to.

He had allowed himself to be human when he had allowed Gavin to live. He had let the child worm his way into his heart and from there, Peter began to like the child, then care for him and before he knew it, he had loved Gavin. Even now, that warmth was still in his chest and it threatened to break out. It wasn't even overtaken by the grief and guilt and hatred. But it was too much. He hated being at the mercy of his feelings for others. He had allowed Gavin to make him weak and human. He had even allowed Wendy to contribute, too.

But even as he sat there, in unspeakable pain, he couldn't bring himself to regret anything he had done with Gavin, save allowing him back to the camp. Thinking of the small child, alive and happy, was painful, but he did not regret a single moment he had spent with him. Though the memories were painful, they were in some way a comfort. He thought of Gavin laughing hysterically and clinging to his leg, Gavin fast asleep with his hair a mess in dinosaur pyjamas. He thought of beach days and bedtime stories and dinners in which Gavin recited everything he had done that day. No regret came, but that warm feeling inside his chest remained.

Eventually, the sobbing stopped. He still held on tightly to Gavin. He still repeated over and over again, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Sometimes, the self-hatred and grief almost overcame that warm feeling in his chest. Those were the times he found simply existing almost unbearable.

Soon enough, he stilled. He knew could not stay with Gavin forever, rocking him back and forth. He turned and tucked the child in, smoothing his hair as he did at bedtime, but he was not putting him to sleep. He sat there in the dark and recited one of Gavin's favourite bedtime stories. His voice cracked and at some parts, he began to cry all over again. He eventually finished. And after he said, "The end", he leaned forward and kissed Gavin's forehead. The boy was icy to the touch now and it made Peter flinch.

He then straightened. He touched the child's face and whispered, "I love you."

He stood up and made his way back to his chambers. He entered, bleary eyed. He kicked off his shoes and threw off his jacket, leaving them strewn across the floor. He did not care if he tripped over them later. He was heavy with sorrow and all he wanted to do was lie in his bed and forget.

He clambered into bed next to Wendy, who was still sound asleep. As he settled in, her presence comforted him. Timidly, he moved closer to her. Not close enough that they touched, but close enough that he could hear her even breathing. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her and be comforted by her. He balled his hands into fists to restrain himself.

Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open. His eyes immediately found hers and he held her gaze for a long time. She reached up and brushed away tears from his cheek that he hadn't known had been there. "You've been crying," she whispered. He nodded. He placed his hand over hers and leaned into her touch. He closed his eyes and tried to hold back a sob, but failed.

She shushed him and tugged at his hands. "Come here," she told him. Her voice was a balm to him. He turned and placed his head on her chest and draped an arm around her stomach. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back as he wept. Neither of them said anything more. He did not want to break this spell. He clung to Wendy, so grateful for her comfort and her presence that he knew he would never be able to put it into words. He didn't deserve her soft hands or comforting shushes. He knew he would never tell her any of this.

Soon, grief overtook him and he was plunged into a black sleep.

XXX

They buried Gavin on a cliff overlooking the sea. Wendy put a small white cross as a grave marker. She spent the first three months after Gavin's death there, sitting at the grave with her arms around her knees. She barely ate or slept. She refused to attend to any injuries that the Lost Boys had during that time period. Pan did not even try to reason with her.

He joined her at the grave site, too. He spent most days next to her, silent. When she could, she stole glances at him. He looked painfully human for that little while. His eyes were not the cold, icy blue that they usually were. They were almost warm. When he looked at the grave, it almost seemed as if he were looking at Gavin's small, broken body.

They sat in complete silence; mourning.

After three weeks of mourning, Pan reached over and squeezed her hand. He did not look her in the eye as he did it. She squeezed it back. It was comforting, she would not deny that. His hand lefts her just as abruptly as it had and come and he got up and walked away.

The human light that had been in Pan's eyes was completely gone after that. She wondered if his humanity was buried with Gavin.

Sorry for the delay! I got busy, but mostly this chapter made me sad :(((