Hello dear readers!

Merry Christmas! I hope you're having a wonderful time with your family or friends, and that you can use that time of the year to rest.

Here is my gift for you in that season : a new chapter! I'm sorry it took me so long to post a new one, but I finally have a beta-reader, who by the way, is awesome, thank you NamiEmi! She went over all the previous chapters (I cannot believe how many mistakes they were in there XD), which took some time. But, finally, we finished this review, and we'll now be able to work together to post new chapters, I hope, more often.

On the other hand, it's been more than a year since I poster Chapter 1, and I cannot believe how far this story went! Thank you for your fidelity, and I cannot wait for what comes next!

Once again, Merry Christmas, and I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter!

Chapter 13

The Power of Imagination

You start to grow up

All I can do is hold you tight

Knowing clouds will raise up

Storms will race in

But you will be safe in my arms

In my arms, Plump.

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"'And since then, every night Wendy would stand by the window, observing the stars high above the city before wishing a good night to the boy who refused to grow up. Somehow, she knew he heard her. And maybe it was her imagination, but she could've sworn the stars winked at her in reply.'"

Anna-Grace's voice ended in a whisper, as Bruce closed his eyes like theater curtains ending the story. He was in his bed, tucked under the cover, a ducky night light - offered by Rosie - by his side. Anna-Grace kissed him on the forehead, as usual, and wished him a good night.

Letting himself drift away, Bruce allowed his thoughts to lead him wherever they wanted to go. He could always do that after a good night story, because there was always so much to think of. Even though Anna-Grace wasn't particularly good at telling stories, contrary to Mommy, she still had something special in her voice. Maybe it was because he really liked her. Or because he was thankful to her. Either way, because of her, she protected him from the bad dreams. And tonight, he was led to Neverland. He could feel the air as he was flying in the night, feel the sand between his toes once on the Island, hear the waves crashing on and on… As he turned to Peter Pan, he wasn't surprised to see Peter's face. He had always been in Neverland after all.

And the thoughts turned into dreams, dreams of fighting pirates and evil men who looked like Dad, with Peter and little fairy Rosie by his side. And as they delivered mermaids Mommy and Anna-Grace, Bruce was safe. The certainty anchored in him, he knew he wouldn't have bad dreams tonight.

How could he lose with Peter Pan by his side?

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Bruce was watching Peter rather intently this morning, and the older man didn't like it. They were in the kitchen, supposedly to play an educational board game - as ordered by Rosie before she left for "groceries too delicate for your hands, Peter" - but the kid's concentration was mostly fixed on Peter. The man almost regretted accepting to keep an eye on the boy while Anna-Grace was working this morning.

Somehow, he knew said boy had a knack for solving mysteries and was smart enough to tell whether aliens existed or not. Which they did, by the way, thanks to the Avengers for answering the existential question.

But that wasn't the point. The point was that Bruce was looking at Peter rather intently, and Peter didn't like it. Not that he had any secrets, but you never know. He certainly didn't want to find himself spilling the beans just when Rosie entered the room. Not that there were any beans to spill, of course.

Peter was ready to counteract, when Bruce attacked with a move Peter had not foreseen.

"Peter, how was it in Neverland?"

The old man looked at the boy in front of him, trying to discern if there was a joke underneath. But the boy was dead serious, and almost, dare he say, reverential.

"Well," teased Peter, feeling quite awkward, "what do you mean? Before you arrived?" What question was that? Neverland had always been a respectable establishment, thank you very much. He never killed or even hit anyone. Not even kids. Not even when they asked questions they thought were simple but didn't mean anything at all! Which he hated, by the way, because he never knew what to answer, and he then felt stupid, and that wasn't fair. He was the older one now, he was supposed to be wise.

Bruce looked surprised. No, not surprised, he was frowning…

"What do you mean, before I arrived?"

The tone was not filled with anger, and the boy was still leaning in. Good, Rosie would not kill him for mistreating the boy. However, Peter loved Bruce, really, but he was tired and could sense a headache coming, plus he hated conversations where he had no idea what was going on in the other person's head. Like with Rosie. It was unnerving how she was undecipherable. How rude.

"Peter?"

Ah, yes, Neverland, the boy's question.

"What is your question, Bruce?" he asked, feeling exhausted even though it was only nine in the morning.

"How was Neverland?" answered the kid, this time clearly surprised. Because the question was obvious, of course. Like, obvious.

"Well, like today. It hasn't changed, Bruce, since I created it."

The tone might have been a little bit nasty, but it was Bruce's fault. What question was that? Especially since it was even more offensive!

"You created Neverland?!"

There was a gasp from the boy, the same one who was looking at him with stars in his eyes, gaping at him. Peter must have missed something. Unless… No matter how far fetched the idea was, he was suspicious enough to ask,

"Which Neverland are we talking about here, Bruce?"

Bruce must've understood his question had been unclear, because he blushed. Which, really, was too cute for Peter's own sake.

"The Neverland in the stars."

Ah, the tone was uncertain now. The boy was looking at his hands, hiding behind his curls. Seriously? Do you want to kill me with your cuteness? The tone inside Peter's head was bitter, but that was only to poorly hide how Bruce's question had made him feel. Not uncomfortable, not embarrassed, but… honored. Yes, honored was the right word.

Looking at anything but the boy, Peter had to ask, just to be sure he got it right.

"Kid, do you think I'm Peter Pan?"

His tone was perfect, even, perfectly hiding his troubles. But not well enough, because Bruce was looking at him, smiling…tenderly. Come on, you can't be more than 5! How can you look tenderly at ME? thought an embarrassed Peter - which he would be even more so after hearing Bruce's answer.

"Of course! Are you not? Anna-Grace told me your story yesterday evening," said the boy, excited.

He must've tried to find a reason behind Peter's embarrassment, because he added, almost outraged:

"AG would never lie!"

Peter closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"I know, kid, of course she would never lie." Opening his eyes to find an upset little boy in front of him, frowning, crossed arms and all, Peter found it extremely difficult to hide how funny and cute the kid looked, and almost forgot how the situation made him feel: uncomfortable and exhausted at the same time.

However, Anna-Grace and Rosie chose this exact moment to enter the kitchen and remind him of why exactly he didn't want this past conversation to come to the ladies' ears. Of course, surprised at Bruce's posture, Rosie was quick to ask what happened, and an upset Bruce told them how Peter thought Anna-Grace was a liar, which apparently for the boy was an outrage.

Thankfully for Peter's life, which he cared very much about indeed, Anna-Grace tactfully retraced the conversation, finding the source of Bruce's misunderstanding. Unfortunately, this threatened Peter's honor, which he cared very much about, too. So, fearing the teases, Peter didn't look at the ladies while the past events were unfolded, pretending to be busy with putting away the board game.

However, the reactions were not the ones he had expected, and when Peter looked up, Anna-Grace was beaming at him while Rosie was looking at the boy pensively - something he rarely saw on her face. His long time friend, feeling his gaze on her, raised her eyes up at his. She didn't hide how something was bothering her, and Peter felt uneasy because the last time it happened, Rosie had left the pension, had not come back for a long time, and he never knew why. She must have come to the same realization because she slightly blushed, which made Peter blush against his will, and their eyes diverted. Rosie quickly started a debate with Bruce about which candies were the best, and Peter was left with his uneasiness, forgetting about Anna-Grace's own strange reaction.

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If her friends noticed it, Anna-Grace didn't really care. Today she was taking in every detail of Bruce's face, the way his eyes stared at the sheet of paper in front of him, the way he twisted his mouth as if it would help him better draw islands and mermaids. Her boy was laying down on the floor on his belly, his feet loving the beat of the music in his head, and she was committing to her memory his expressions like it was the first time she saw him. Why not, after all? He was changing, mentally and physically with each passing day, and even though trying to catch it all was like trying to keep water from running between her fingers, she wasn't going to stop trying today. Not after witnessing Bruce's behavior - and especially when she knew she was the only one to see how important it had been.

This particular aspect of Bruce's scars had hit her not long ago. When she had watched a client's kid throw a tantrum over what seemed a stupid reason - his candy had been blue when his sister's had been red and somehow that meant he was being deprived of his basic human rights - she had realized something was … off with Bruce: he was the perfect kid, always well behaved, which was completely abnormal for a child!

Indeed, Bruce never picked on his food, he never sulked when she couldn't play or read with him, he never interrupted her while she talked with others, he never asked her again and again for something after she said no, he never cried because it was time for bed, he never got mad over food. Sure, he sometimes flooded the bathroom or used too much paint for a small piece of paper, but it never was truly childish - not in a way that needed correction or reprimanding, anyway. The only times he was unreasonable were when he was obviously overwhelmed by fear or sadness, and even then it was more like he was having panic attacks than indulging in his feelings. He was the perfect little boy, and Anna-Grace had slowly realized why. He wasn't perfect himself, but he spent all of his energy in pretending to be, because he refused to give her even one reason to give him up.

Ever since she had come to this realization, it tugged at her heartstrings every time he behaved correctly. How could she differentiate what he was doing out of fear from what he was doing according to his conscience? However, she wasn't going to abandon him either way and there were more pressing matters at hand. She knew those kind of issues needed time and maybe even therapy to be solved. So she never gave more than an instant of her time to this fleeting thought. Except that the fleeting thought came more and more often.

And then she had seen Bruce with Peter, thinking their friend was the character from Anna-Grace's stories, and she had been amazed to finally see her bambino becoming a little boy again, letting his imagination override his reason in front of other people than her. He was slowly healing indeed, thanks to the Neverland, and this was lifting a yoke from her shoulders.

So, when Bruce called her to draw with him, she was more than happy to leave her cooking to go lie next to him on the floor and take a colored pencil in her hand, thinking that since Bruce needed Neverland, she would fight like she never did before to keep it in his hands.

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Later on that day, Anna-Grace was working on files in the hall with Rosie flipping through a magazine by her side. There wasn't much to do, and they were waiting on Bruce and Peter, who had gone for some shopping. They should've been either bored or engrossed in a conversation, but each one was lost in their own thoughts. However, the silence was comfortable so none felt the need to talk.

Suddenly, Rosie broke the silence.

"I'm surprised."

"About what?" asked Anna-Grace, glancing at Rosie but still concentrating on the document in front of her.

"About Bruce's imagination."

"Why?" Anna-Grace continued, amused by Rosie's comment.

"Well, for such a child who is so smart and mature to the point of overthinking almost everything, he really believes anything you tell him."

The woman behind the counter looked up at her friend, confused at the reply.

"He introduced me to the ducks," Rosie explained, chuckling.

"Oh…" said Anna-Grace, blushing.

"Mmm-hmm," teased Rosie.

As Anna-Grace was staying silent, perplexed and embarrassed, Rosie continued:

"I mean, I know children believe anything. How many have I seen believing in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Klaus!" she said, laughing.

"I guess they trust more than we do…" replied Anna-Grace, smiling comprehensively.

"I suppose," agreed Rosie, "But not everyone. They only trust their close relatives or friends, don't they?"

"Well, not really; just think of all those kidnapping stories involving candy…"

"Yes, but in those cases, wasn't it because the kids couldn't imagine others, or at least adults, doing something bad or evil or that would hurt them?" argued Rosie.

Anna-Grace laughed and said,

"What's your point, Rosie?"

"I don't know."

The silence filled the room again, Anna-Grace looking at the older lady, surprised at how Rosie seemed to be musing on something. Sensing the young woman's eyes on her, Rosie looked up and said:

"I guess I'm just surprised. Considering you and Bruce just met, how come he trusted you so easily? What happened that made him trust you so much?"

Only the silence answered the lingering question, and they both knew why: some stones are better left untouched. However, the sickening sensation did not last as the ladies soon heard Bruce's laugh approaching. The laugh, like bells of joy, in turn reminded them of Bruce's resilience. Sadness became wonder and wonder became happiness in front of such a wonderful little boy. Said boy was thus welcomed with smiles linked to the heart and eyes of his ladies, the sad thoughts fading away like the memory of snow in summer.