Author's Note: Per usual, you are all super awesome and fabulous not only for reading, but being so amazingly patient with me. In good news, EXAMS ARE OVER AND I'M ON BREAK! So we should have more frequent chapters.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed; you should have gotten personal messages if you have a username. If you didn't, feel free to message me and remind me to tell you how amazing you are. To Lil, thank you for reviewing. And that's an impossible question! Personally I adore Rose, but I really like Captain Jack too.

Finally, shout out to Hildebrant for the chapter title.

As always, I hope you all enjoy and would love to hear what you think.

~ladykikyo1792

Chapter 14: Scars are Souvenirs We Never Lose

It was unexpected, simple, and not at all how Tinkerbell thought love was supposed to happen. She'd thought it would be bright and blazing, with all the fierce power of a storm. Yet her feelings for Felix grew slowly. Ever since the day he'd shown compassion over her lost wings, she'd seen him in a new light.

She didn't approve of his murder of the Neverland fairies, but she knew that, in his way, he'd been seeking justice for her. It wasn't the typical bloodlust he usually had, that spiraled up occasionally and compelled him to hurt. It had an inspiration, a source, and while a part of her felt like she was responsible for the annihilation of all of the fairies on the island, a part of her was amazed her pain had triggered what could only be described as a vengeful, protective action from him.

Tink realized then that Felix wasn't the single-minded, savage boy she'd thought. So, curious, and utterly without anything else to do, since the fairies were gone- none of the other boys were close to her age, save Peter, and he was always concerned with Wendy -she'd started talking to Felix- if it could be called that. Most nights she'd just sit by him at the fire and talk at him. She tried engaging him in conversation, but he rarely answered. Still, he never told her to leave, and as he fiercely dispatched anyone he was tired of listening to, she figured he couldn't be entirely miserable listening to her.

Finally, one night he talked back. Tink had asked him what brought him to Neverland. All of the Lost Boys had their histories, and she was curious about Felix's. He was one of the first Lost Boys. She couldn't remember a moment since she'd met Peter that Felix hadn't been nearby, the loyal knight of Neverland to his dark king. Still, he'd been someone before he was the knight, and Tink believed it was that someone who had been so enraged by the fairies' treatment of her. Accordingly, she wanted to know more.

"Not the Shadow," Tink amended, "but what made you Lost?" She leaned forward and crossed her legs, studying his face in the glow of the fire.

To her surprise, he was utterly calm as he told her:

"My father left when I was a baby, and my stepfather was a drunk. He used to beat my mother all the time. When I was young, I couldn't do anything to defend her. I sat by and watched while he hurt her, over and over, and I wanted to kill him.

"Finally, I grew up," Felix uttered the forbidden words (he was confident, as Peter was away with Wendy, that he would not be punished), "He hit my mother, and one day, I hit him back. He punched me, hard, and while I was on the floor, my head spinning, he hit her so hard he killed her."

Tink gasped, but Felix didn't react. His voice was entirely flat as he detailed that dreadful day.

"Even though I was hurt, I got up, and I swore I would kill him. We fought for what seemed like hours. Finally I tripped, and he pinned me to the floor. When he took a knife to slash my throat, someone kicked him across the room. Instead of cutting my throat, the knife cut my cheek. I took advantage of the opening to rush him, throw him to the wall, and slam my fists as hard as I could into his head until I heard the bones break," he paused, "Only after my stepfather's skull was dented did I turn around to see who'd helped me."

"Peter," Tink said, eyes widening. No wonder Felix's loyalty to Pan was so absolute. Pan had come to Felix's aid in his darkest, most vulnerable moment. Without knowing anything about him- for if Peter was searching for him as a particular Lost Boy, Felix would have heard his pipes, and he clearly hadn't -Peter had decided to help him. It was a rather selfless act on Pan's part, and one Tink wouldn't have expected from him.

"Peter," Felix confirmed, "He saved my life."

"I'm so sorry," Tink whispered. Instinctively, she reached for his hand. He flicked his eyes down to their clasped palms, then back at her. Unwittingly, she blushed. Without even one acknowledgment of what she'd done, he took his hand back and walked away into the trees. leaving her rejected and confused in camp.

It took Felix a few days after that, but in sharing his past, it seemed as though Felix grew comfortable with her. He became a participant in their conversations, and eventually, she got him to laugh- and often. Tink found herself blushing in his presence, but unlike before, he didn't seem taken aback by it. He smirked at her instead, and that only made her blush harder.

One night, she'd stolen his cloak and run into the forest. Without her wings, she had no speed, and she knew Felix would catch up to her easily. While she had flown for years and years, using wings to propel her along, he'd only had his feet to carry him swiftly on the forest floor. Her legs, in comparison to his, were not nearly as strong.

"You can't run from me, Tinkerbell," he'd drawled, a twinkle in his eyes. The fairy , as was becoming increasingly common when she was around him, blushed:

"You're right." She didn't really want to run from Felix, anyway. While Peter prided himself on the ingenuity of his games, this had been Tink's game; her method of getting Felix and her out of Pan's sight.

As she returned Felix's cloak to him, their hands touched. This time, he didn't let go. Instead, he stepped slowly towards her, and she to him. Hesitantly, she stood up on her tiptoes and touched her lips to his.

She almost felt like her wings had returned when he kissed her back.

When neither Felix or Tink answered her, Wendy shuddered. She had to dissuade the tension somehow, and so she did the only thing she could think of- slammed her locker door and walked away. The crash of the metal jolted Tink and Felix out of their glaring contest, and the fairy hurried to Wendy's side, determined not to look the Lost Boy in the eye again. Felix leisurely strolled after them, completely silent this time- though Tink could feel his gaze burning on her back like the fires they'd innocently talked by so long ago.

As they rounded a corner, a familiar, panting figure collided with Wendy's. Wendy was going to reprimand him at first, but when she recognized him, she threw her arms around him:

"Tootles! You're all right!" It seemed like forever since Pan had first made his appearance to them in the halls of the school, and they'd run for their lives. Wendy had been certain Tootles was dead, and she'd wanted to check- she'd really meant to -but when Pan had actually involved himself in her day to day life, even lurking in her bedroom, she'd been distracted.

Nevertheless, she was more grateful than she'd ever been to see Tootles breathing. Silently, she whispered a thousand prayers of thanks that he was standing in front of her. She'd feared the worst.

"Wendy!" Tootles smiled as he returned her hug just as strongly. He flinched a bit at Felix's disapproving look, but then decided to ignore the taller boy and instead focus on the girl who had been Mother to him.

"I'm so glad to see you!" Wendy said, her eyes shining, "How did you-"

"Survive?" he finished her sentence, his happy grin fading. The word was dire, and anyone who looked at the teenagers standing in the hallway would have been stunned to realize they were discussing, not homework, but rather life, death, and murder as though they were a daily occurrence. The group wasn't horrified, exactly, just resigned to it.

At Tootles' grim pronouncement, Wendy's smile faded as well. Slowly, she released him from her embrace, unable to answer him.

Seeing her reaction, Tootles said, "Wendy, you really don't know?" His eyes were wide with disbelief. Gently, he reached for her again, but she stepped just out of his range and inquired:

"Know what?"

Tootles, a bit taken aback, said, "Wendy, he didn't go after me." He looked at her as if she was missing something very obvious.

"What do you mean?" she inquired, heart pounding. She knew what he was going to say, but she still didn't want him to say it. Now, her prayers of thanks morphed quickly into prayers of supplication- please don't let it have been a game, please don't let it have been a game just to hunt me, please don't let the Boys have died so Peter could try to entrap me... Morbidly, her mind wandered to chess, a game that John had loved and taught her to play: Please don't let the Boys have been pawns who died so the king could trap the queen...

"When I ran," Tootles swallowed, "His footsteps faded away. Wendy, he didn't follow me. He followed you." He stared at her for a long moment, both with genuine concern and as if he was asking for forgiveness. Then Wendy understood why- she hadn't just not seen Tootles because she was so anxious about Peter and his doings. She also hadn't seen Tootles because he'd had been avoiding her, hoping that she would realize what had happened without him having to tell her.

"But he didn't kill me," Wendy said, the weight of Tootles' words sinking in, "He could have easily killed me. Isn't that what he wanted? Revenge? But he didn't kill me. Why would he- why did he- Felix-" She spun around to face the tall, impassive Lost Boy. As she sputtered in confusion, Felix replied:

"I don't know, Wendy. I was in jail. I don't know his plan-" he crossed his arms.

"I don't believe that for a minute," Tink interjected, her voice the angry one now.

"I'm telling you, I don't know his plan," Felix said, ignoring Tink's outburst, "but I do know Peter Pan never fails. He will win. And if you're alive, it's because he wants you to be."

For weeks after Hook had tried to ransom her, Wendy had pondered the pirate's advice: "Leave Neverland while you still can." Some parts of Neverland were truly wonderful, just as some parts of Peter were truly wonderful. But some were dark and harsh, just as some parts of Peter were dark and harsh. She couldn't help but wonder if it was the island that nurtured this darkness in him. Perhaps if she could get him away from it, the lightness in him could be fostered.

Perhaps he could take her to a real ball.

Perhaps they could be Mother and Father for real.

Perhaps she could convince him that taking them all back to London was the best thing to do.

So it was that Wendy followed Peter to a massive tree that grew on the northern shore of Neverland. She'd noticed he went there to be alone, though these occasions were rare- and she had been waiting to get him alone for some time. Wendy knew that she had no prayer of success if she asked him to go home in front of the Lost Boys, but if she could persuade him while alone, and he agreed, he'd put on a show for the boys and they would all consent to what Peter would portray as a magnificent idea- his own, of course. Wendy was fine with that. She just wanted to go home- with him. Her heart skipped a beat as she spotted him- despite all she'd seen of what he was capable of, she couldn't seem to get it to stop doing that.

Peter sat, his back leaning against the tree. He seemingly watched the Jolly Roger loll gently in the night waves, but he was well-aware of Wendy's presence. Even if he had not been attuned to everything on the island, her rapid breathing would have given her away.

"Bird, you can come out now," he said neutrally. He'd realized that Wendy had been shocked by his...treatment...of Hook's crew for their kidnapping her. But what Wendy didn't understand was that the pirates had almost killed her. If he hadn't heard her- if they'd gagged her, and he'd let the storm go on...Peter grit his teeth.

They deserved worse than what Peter gave them, really, though he supposed he could have taken more care and managed their deaths later, out of Wendy's view. Maybe then she wouldn't be tiptoeing around him, as she had for days, as if she expected him to lash out and slaughter anything that struck his fancy. As if she expected him to lash out at her.

Peter didn't like that Wendy was afraid of him. He'd tried to give her some space when he understood the problem, though now he was tired of it. He wanted her to laugh at his jokes again, to follow him up into the clouds and dance. He wanted her to look at him with wonder and that mysterious emotion he couldn't name. Not fear. So he was hoping that tonight, they could put her worries to rest and go back to normal.

Wendy made her way out of the forest, then stood before him, hands clasped. It was terribly formal, and it made Peter's skin crawl with the sense that something wasn't right. He gestured for her to sit beside him, but she merely shook her head.

"Peter-" Wendy gulped, unable to voice the words she had been practicing for hours in her treehouse. Now that the moment had come, now that she was staring into his puzzled, yet alluring, eyes, she was terrified of the outcome. What if this was a mistake? What if she couldn't take it back? What if-

"What?" Peter inquired, sensing her reluctance. He studied her, and noticed her constant fidgeting. She was having trouble meeting his gaze, but when she did, her own eyes were filled with guilt.

Suddenly, Peter knew what she was about to ask, and he opened his mouth to deny it. Before he could, the words poured out of her:

"Peter, I think I should go home. I think we should go home. You, me, the boys-" They followed one after the other, like a waterfall that could not be stopped.

"Wendy," Peter replied evenly,"Neverland is your home."

"No, Peter, it's not," Wendy insisted, "London's my home, and I know it's some of the boys' homes, and it could be yours, if you wanted." She swallowed uncomfortably, worried that she might have revealed too much with her quiet request- how much she wanted London to be their home.

Immediately, Peter retorted, "I do not want it! Neverland is my home!" He jumped to his feet, and strode so close to her she could feel his breath on her cheeks. He towered over her, and Wendy couldn't bring herself to move away. He cupped her chin in his hand and repeated:

"Neverland is your home." He stared at her harshly, as if the strength of his stare and the repetition of his words could make the statement true. But it wasn't. Wendy knew that with every fiber of her being, and so she said:

"Peter, I want to go home. My real home. Neverland's amazing, but-"

"But what?" Peter demanded, releasing her from his grip, "What's wrong with Neverland?"

"It's-" Wendy paused, choosing her words carefully, "It's missing something. It's just...incomplete-"

"Incomplete?" Peter practically snarled, "Neverland's incomplete? Wendy, the island is a part of me. Are you saying I'm lacking something? That I'm incomplete? That I'm deficient?" He was rapidly growing angrier and angrier. Neverland was constructed purely by the strength of his considerable imagination. The land had been born for him, and grown by him, and flourished under his rule. Their existences, his and the island's, were now permanently entwined. He felt every step upon its soil as the land reflected his every emotion. For Wendy to call Neverland incomplete was for her to call him incomplete- and both of them knew it.

Desperately, Wendy insisted, "No, Peter! Neverland is wonderful- and you're wonderful- but I just- I see the man you could be, and I-" This had gone wrong. So horribly, horribly wrong. Peter was supposed to carefully consider her petition to return to London, and she would explain to him why it would occur. He was supposed to turn to her and say that of course they would go, if she wished it, that of course they would be together, if she wished it-

"You, what, Wendy?" Peter sneered, "You want me to be a man?" He made it sound as if the concept was utterly impossible, and she was an idiot for wishing for such a thing.

Embarrassed, and forcing tears back, Wendy replied, "Yes! I do! I want you to meet my mother and father! I want you to take me to my first ball! I want-"

"'I want, I want, I want,'" Peter mocked her. Then he paused, eyes widening, "Oh, I see. You have feelings for me!" He snickered.

"Peter," Wendy begged, "Please. I know you care for me-" She knew it in her soul. He didn't have to be so mean about it. Perhaps she should have realized that he would be reluctant to leave Neverland; that he would be afraid to leave everything he'd ever known and go to London and acknowledge such a grown-up thing as love. However, she decided to appeal to his heart anyway, feeling it was the only card she had left.

Pan laughed cruelly, "I do not care about you. It was just a game, Wendy, and if you're so unhappy in Neverland, then it's time for the game to be over." He moved his hand subtly in the darkness, and his Shadow rushed towards Wendy. She shrieked as it trapped her in its arms, its grip tighter than a mermaid dragging its prey to the ocean depths.

"What are you doing!?" Wendy asked, struggling against her captor- both the Shadow and its associated commander. She was frantic, helpless prey caught in a trap she had never imagined existed.

Peter smiled at her then, but there was nothing pleasant in his smile, "I'm granting your request. I'm sending you home, Bird."

"No!" Wendy protested, "Not like this! Peter, not like this! I want the Boys to come with me; I want you-"

"Well, Wendy, I don't want you," he said, voice filled with contempt.

"That's a lie!" she retorted immediately.

"Is it?" Peter cocked his head at her. His smirk was so perfect that for a dreadful instant, she started to doubt herself. Still, she maintained:

"Yes, it is!" Wendy struggled against the Shadow's grip, "You saved me from pirates! You killed them because you were worried about me! You danced with me! You care about me-"

"It was a game," Peter enunciated each word carefully, "a new game that started when you came to Neverland. You were Mother, and I was Father, and I'm so good at playing games. It seems I played too well." He approached his Shadow and stared at the girl in its arms.

Wendy's heart started to pound even as it broke, "No, Peter. No. It was real; I know it was-"

"It was just a game," Peter repeated, "and now it's over. Goodbye, Wendy." He nodded to his Shadow, it began to rise. A despairing Wendy, even now fighting against it, cried out:

"Peter, you don't really want me gone-"

"But I do," he answered earnestly, then explained, "No one leaves this island unless I want them to. You'll be gone because I want you to be, Wendy."

"I don't believe you," Wendy said, tears slipping down her cheeks. He was lying. She knew it, and she suspected he did too. If he did, though, he gave no hint of it when he answered her with a casual shrug:

"That's your mistake."

Wendy closed her eyes, unwilling to look at him anymore. Perversely, she hid her head in Peter's Shadow's shoulder to muffle her sobs. She didn't want him to see how distraught she was. She continued to cry as the Shadow took her into the sky, faster and faster, racing through the rapidly gathering thunderstorm.

As he watched her disappear, Peter's smirk slipped away. He shook slightly, then sunk to the ground, his eyes filled with an eerie light as they fixated on the lightning-filled sky.

Author's Note:

Angst. So much angst. I'm sorry, but this had to be here; we had to see how Wendy really left Neverland the first time (also I wrote 3 different versions of the final scene before I could decide on one I liked; which is also the reason why this chapter took so long). I can't promise utter fluff (it's Darling Pan, when is there ever fluff with them in character?) next chapter, but we should have less angst than this.

Thank you for reading!

~ladykikyo1792