a/n: hello, all! I'm so sorry about the long wait. I got a really good idea for an original story, and I just couldnt take my mind off of writing that to think about this one. But I was just listening to music and thinking, I should throw a little quality time with the Lost Boys and their new mother in the mix. So of course awkward silences and stories are going to ensue!c:

So start reading, and enjoy!

I sat and basked in the warmth that the fire was giving off around me. I still had the blanket that Peter had thrown on me draped over my shoulders.

The Lost Boys could not take their eyes off of me.

Self-consciously, I looked back and asked "what?"

"Tell us a story," Tiny said.

I sighed. "I don't know any stories guys. I'm sorry. I could try to come up with something.."

The circle lapsed back into silence.

"Where's Peter?" I asked. He had been gone since the sun set, promising he'd be back before anyone knew it.

"Father always leaves around this time," the boy called Gingsley said. He looked almost as old as me, with tanned skin that looked like coffee and cream and dark hair. His brown eyes looked alert and oddly vain.

"Don't call him that," I almost moaned.

"Call Father what?" Smittey asked, confusion coloring his face. Smittey was next in line with age. He had messy brown hair and pale skin, he was out of all of them, the most quiet, which I appreciated.

Mundin, the dark skinned boy with dreadlocks and a handsome face, finally decided to answer me. "Father leaves to go into the other world every night. He'll be back."

Something clicked. "You don't get older here," I said.

The boys agreed.

"But if Peter visits the real world every night, he would slowly age."

The boys didn't deny it.

That explains a lot.

"So why does he go back every night?" I asked, curious now.

The boys all shrugged and mumbled that they had no clue.

"None of you have asked?"

They all shook their heads.

"And how long am I staying here? Where am I staying? Where am I to sleep?" questions kept bubbling out. "Why does hook want me? Why does Peter care so much?"

The boys all looked uncertain.

"I think it would be best if father answered those questions for you," Mundin said quietly.

I sighed as the group lapsed back into silence.

"How old are you?" Tiny asked.

I furrowed my brow. "Seventeen," I replied. "How old are you?"

Tiny shrugged. "I don't know. None of us do."

"How old is Peter?"

"Old," Tiny said, "probably as old as you. He looks that way."

The circle was silent again.

I cleared my throat. "So who wants to hear a scary story?" I asked.

All of the lost boys stared with wide eyes as I told them of Bigfoot. They were all completely absorbed in whatever I was saying, clinging on to every word. I fought the urge to laugh, how gullible they were. Though the woods surrounding us were pretty creepy... And it was quiet out. Too quiet. I was the only sound.

Until a branch cracked.

Our heads all whirled in that direction, but we could see no farther than the tree line around us.

"What'd I miss?"

We all screamed as Peter appeared behind us.

I could tell he was fighting the urge to laugh as all of the lost boys stood to go to bed.

"That was... Exhilarating!" Gingsley said, breathless.

The rest of the boys walked into the cave entrance, leaving Peter and I alone together.

He stared at me, saying nothing.

"You go to the other world every night. You're aging. That's why you look my age," I said.

Peter said nothing.

"What do you do there?" I pressed.

"Nothing," Peter said. "I don't do anything."

"Than why go back?"

"I don't know," he whispered.

I walked into the cave and stood staring. What I had clearly missed earlier was the height at which the cave traveled to. I noticed that there were hammock looking beds hanging from vines at different intervals, all fairly close to the ground. There were only two toward the ceiling, where a large hole in the rock was letting in light from the full moon.

"Up you go," Peter said, grabbing me by the arms and bringing me up to the second highest bed. He set me down gently and continued up to his bed, the highest, right under the makeshift window.

Once the candles were all snuffed, I let my eyes close. The vines and twigs making my bed were surprisingly comfy. I wrapped the blanket I had around myself tightly.

"Goodnight everyone," Peter called out. His voice echoed through every part of the rock walls.

"Goodnight, Father," they all called back in unison.

"Goodnight," I whispered.

Peter peeked over the edge of his bed at me. I could tell he was half smiling. "Goodnight, Grace," he said before disappearing.

a/n: woooooooot! I think a little something something is stirring up between Peter and Grace! *wink* Im trying to keep it subtle, though. But stay tuned guys, I know this chapter sucked, but I wanted to simmer things down until the real surprise comes into the mix. *cough cough* an evil pirates son *cough cough* SOOOOO REVIEW! pleasec: I'll try my best to write my heart out for the next chapter! Tell me what you guys think so far, and if youre interested in my original story, go ahead and PM me! I'd be happy to share!

Peace!c: