A/N: Faith Hill owns the song "Fireflies".

Chapter Thirty – Just Barely

"PETER!"

Mikey gasped, sitting up in his bed. The sound of some horrible cry had startled him from his sleep. Clutching his teddy bear, he was relieved to see that Nana was also awake, whining in distress. "Here, Nana," he whispered, calling the pooch over to him. She came at once, licking his hand in reassurance.

"Mikey," he heard his brother say softly. Turning his head, he saw Jon shift in the bed and look over at him. "Did you hear something just now?" the older boy asked, glancing suspiciously at the window.

Mikey nodded, relieved that he wasn't the only one who heard it. "Yeah. What do you think that was?"

"I don't know," Jon yawned, stretching before he checked their alarm clock. "Ten fourty-five…we haven't been asleep for long," he noted, scratching his head. "Well, whatever it was, it's quiet now, so-"

A thump from outside made him stop, his eyes growing large at the sound of the window being opened. Cautiously, he turned his head, seeing a figure outside their window. "Mikey…" he whispered, frozen in fear. His little brother said nothing, his own gigantic eyes glued to the window as well. Swaying, the figure shoved his way in, the French doors bursting open as he tumbled in and collapsed on their floor.

"AAAAHHH!" screamed the boys, Nana yipping in surprise at the intruder. They clung to one another with Nana in the middle, looking like a boy and dog sandwich as they stared at the fallen figure. Mikey looked at Jon, Jon looked at Mikey, and then they both stared at the trespasser. Cautiously, Jon let go of the others and reached for his glasses on the nightstand, slipping them onto his face. Peering in the dark, he squinted at the person lying on their floor until he raised an eyebrow in uncertainty. "…Peter?"

"Peter?" Mikey repeated. He hopped onto Nana's back as she trotted over. The great Newfoundland began sniffing his head and whined some more. "Oh, it is Peter!" Mikey clapped gleefully, seeing the wild brown hair trapped in a ponytail, the long frame covered in a scarlet pirate's coat. "You really scared us, y'know!"

"Mi…key…"

The child frowned upon hearing Peter's strained voice. If this was a game or a joke, it wasn't very funny. Squinting in the dark, he could see some sort of stain on the boy's side, a hole evident in the coat. "Jon…" Mikey called, beginning to panic. "Jon, come here quick!"

"What on earth is going on?!" Jon snapped, frowning as he stomped over. "That wasn't funny in the least, Pe-!" He stopped beside Nana, his blue eyes becoming huge in horror as he realized what was going on.

Weakly, Peter turned his face, panting from the effort of moving to see them. Jon's jaw fell when he saw how pale the boy was, sweat forming on his brow. "Hey…boys…" Peter breathed, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Sorry…didn't mean…to…scare you…" He grunted as he forced himself up with his arms, only to collapse once again, biting back a cry.

"Peter?!" Mikey gasped, fear twisting his stomach. "Jon, what's going on?!"

"Quick, Mikey," Jon said, his brain filled with panicked thoughts. "Go get Wendy but be quiet. Dad might still be awake."

No sooner had Mikey jumped off of Nana and headed for the door, they heard a knock. Mikey was frozen until he heard Wendy's voice. "Boys? Are you ok?" she said softly. Mikey ran for the handle, yanking it open and grabbing his sister's hand. "Mikey," she said, puzzled at his behavior as he brought her in and shut the door, locking it as well. "What on earth is…?" Her eyes fell upon Peter's body, her eyes huge in shock and fear. "What…? Peter!" Running to him, she fell to her knees and managed to turn him onto his back, letting his head rest on her lap. He bit his lip in pain, holding back a groan. Wendy covered her mouth at the sight of him spilling blood, a thin slit in his leaf tunic showing his injury. "Oh God…" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

"No…don't look," he winced, struggling to cover his wound. The petrified girl stopped him, grabbing his hand and gently squeezing his fingers.

"Jon, Mikey, Nana, listen to me," Wendy said firmly through her tears. "I need the first aid kit in the bathroom. Nana, you know where it is, don't you? Jon, I need a bowl of clean, warm water and a towel…actually, bring a bunch. Mikey, help me get him into the bed!"

"No," Peter shook his head, protesting as everyone went to do their job. "Not…not the bed…in the chair…don't wanna get…blood everywhere…"

"Don't speak," she ordered him quietly, dragging him along as Mikey moved his bed sheets and comforter away. Grunting as they pulled the injured boy, they managed to place him in the bed, letting him lie down as he hissed in pain. Tugging his boots off of his feet, Wendy gave the shoes to her little brother before moving the coat and ripping the tunic open. She couldn't stop the sob that came from her mouth when she saw the gash in his flesh, still dripping with his blood. "Oh, Peter, what have you done? What happened?"

"Sorry, Wendy," Peter began, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "Didn't mean…to cause…all this trouble…"

"Shh," she hushed him, leaning her forehead against his. "If only we could get you to a hospital-"

"No," he shook his head vehemently, wincing again. "No hospitals!"

"But Peter, we don't know how to fix this!" Mikey whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

"Hey…hey buddy," he said gently, reaching out and running his fingers through the child's hair. "I'll…be ok…"

"Promise?" Mikey asked, raising his pinky finger to the injured boy.

Peter smiled weakly, twisting his own pinky with Mikey's. "Promise."

Nana soon ran back inside, the kit in her mouth. She surrendered it to Wendy when Jon entered, haphazardly holding a bowl filled with water as several towels were draped over his arm.

"Dad's in the shower," he said with a sigh of relief. "I don't think he heard anything."

"Good," Wendy nodded, taking the bowl and getting to work. She knew nothing about cleaning wounds or how to even repair them, but she also knew that if she didn't try, she could lose Peter forever.

"What did you do?!" Jon asked, gaping at Peter's wound in utter disbelief.

Peter gave a harsh chuckle, wincing when Wendy began to clean his skin, gingerly working to avoid the opening in his side. "I went…to find…Shade-"

"WHAT?!" Wendy and Jon exclaimed, Mikey hissing at them to be quiet.

"Why in the world did you do that?!" Jon asked, his brows knitting together.

"I…had to…see if he…would st-stop-" He yelped despite himself when Wendy accidentally touched his open wound.

"Sorry!" she gasped, feeling awful. "Oh, dear! Peter, you need a doctor-!"

"No…I got…fairy dust," he grunted, reaching for the pouch hanging from his belt. Wendy took it for him, opening the bag. "Put some…on…there…" he instructed her, watching as she did as she was told.

She was completely confused as to how fairy dust would help, but she wasn't going to question him at the moment. Taking a handful, she sprinkled it over his wound, watching his flesh absorb the magical dust. Her blue eyes widened as the gash sparkled and slowly began to repair itself. The patch was bright red and still weak, but it was all they had. "How did…?" she asked.

"I will it…" he explained. "Instead…of flying…I imagine it…healing me…this should take care…of it…for now." He began to force himself to sit up when Wendy placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him back.

"At least rest, Peter," she insisted, her eyes full of pleading.

"I want to…but…no one knows…I'm here," he said, still wincing and biting his lip from the pain.

"This is confusing and makes no sense at all!" Jon argued. "You didn't get to answer my question, either. What brought you here to see what was going on with Shade?"

Peter opened his mouth to answer when a knock on the door made them all turn pale.

"Wendy? Boys? Are you in there?" George Darling's voice seeped through to them, making the boys look at one another in desperation.

Placing her finger to her lip as a sign for them to keep quiet, the girl got up and calmly walked to the door, opening it just enough so she could stick her head out.

Her father stood in his pajamas, taking off his glasses and texting someone on his phone. "Wendy? I thought you were in bed," he said, glancing up long enough to see her.

"I was, but Mikey had a bad dream," she lied smoothly, keeping her voice down to a whisper as she acted the part. "I've been trying to get him to sleep, I think I've almost got it…"

"Oh." He nodded, moving the towel off of his head and hanging it on the crook of his arm. "Well, if that's all…goodnight."

"Goodnight," she said with a small smile, shutting the door as he walked away. Locking the door once again, she heaved a sigh of relief before running back to Mikey's bed.

"Heh, good one, Wendy," Peter chuckled, smiling at her.

"Thank you," she smiled back, sitting on the bedside once more. Taking out the first aid kit, she worked on covering his injury with bandages. "Just in case," she murmured more to herself than anyone else.

"Well?" Jon asked, persistent.

"Jon, let him sleep," Wendy scolded him, though she herself was extremely curious.

"It's ok," Peter said, making a face as he felt a stab of pain. "I was going…to visit someone. I gave Gip away…"

"You gave him away?" Jon asked, his eyes huge.

"Didn't you want him?" Mikey asked, stunned. Nana gave a soft "woof" as an agreement to Mikey's confusion.

"Of course I wanted him…still do," Peter smiled sadly, patting the child's head. "But…Gip's a baby…he needs lots of…attention. He'll be happy…safe…with that family."

"What family?" Wendy asked, intrigued.

"The Berris…they live next to…Christine," Peter groaned as Wendy finished her work. "They can't…have kids…so I gave them one…he's better off now…"

"Oh, Peter," Wendy whispered, kissing the temple of his forehead.

"What about Shade?" Jon prodded him on.

"Yeah!" Mikey nodded. "Did he do this to you?"

"Yeah," Peter grinned weakly. "I guess…I had it coming…I wanted to make sure…he wouldn't cause…anymore trouble…we started arguing…that's when he…became angry…his hand sliced…through…I cut off…his hand, though." He gave a dark chuckle before wincing. "Ironic, huh?"

"You cut off his hand?" Wendy asked, blinking in awe.

Peter nodded. "He was…in so much pain…and really mad…he threw a…ball of his magic…at me…it makes the pain…stronger…and me weaker." He gave an exhausted sigh, closing his eyes. "Then I came here…I'm sorry…I should go…"

"No!" Wendy cried, grabbing his hand. "Don't, Peter, you need to regain your strength. You can't go flying like this!" Bowing her head, she couldn't stop the tears that flowed down her face, dripping onto Mikey's bed. "Please, Peter…I don't want to lose you…you frightened me…" As she cried, Peter painstakingly propped himself up on his elbows, Jon assisting him as he did so. Forcing himself to sit straight, he reached and touched Wendy's face, his eyes filled with love and apology. "Wendy lady…don't cry because of me…" The moment she glanced up and caught his eye, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Mikey blinked, perplexed. "Why's he doing that?" he asked, only to have Nana's tail in his face. "HEY!" he shouted, shushed by Jon. "Why can't I watch?!"

"You're too little to understand," the older boy chuckled, shaking his head at his sister and the Eternal Youth.

Peter ignored the boys, raising an arm to hold her. He pulled back instantly, cringing and growling in pain, falling backwards. Wendy caught his neck quickly, gently laying him back onto the bed. "You silly ass," she whispered with a smile.

"Hey, that's Tink's line," Peter jested, struggling to laugh while his side ached. He closed his eyes as Wendy placed her lips on his, enjoying the sensation as he strove to relax his body.

"Go to sleep," she ordered him when she pulled away.

"But this is…Mikey's bed," he protested.

"I can sleep with Jon for now, right?" Mikey piped up, running over to his brother's bed.

"I guess so," Jon sighed, smiling as he joined his brother. Nana curled up at the foot of his bed and slept on the floor.

"Wendy, sing a song!" Mikey pleaded as Jon got under the covers with him. "A lullaby for all of us to fall asleep!"

"Like what?" Wendy asked, amused.

"Um…I dunno," the little boy frowned, tapping his cheek in thought. "What about…ooh! Fireflies!" he exclaimed, his face lighting up.

"Um, well…I could, but…I don't have the best singing voice," she protested.

"Don't be ridiculous, Wendy," Jon rolled his eyes, slipping his glasses off of his face again. "Now's not the time to be shy in front of your boyfriend."

Turning red, she was ready to retort "he's not my boyfriend!" when she felt Peter wrap his fingers around hers. The blush remained on her face as he found herself staring into his eyes again and he asked, "Won't you sing it, Wendy? I know you have a beautiful voice…"

Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Softly, she began…

"Before you met me, I was a fairy princess…

I caught frogs and called them 'prince,'

And made myself a queen.

Before you knew me, I traveled 'round the world,

I slept in castles and fell in love

Because I was taught to dream.

I found mayonnaise bottles and poked holes on top

To capture Tinker Bell.

They were just fireflies to the untrained eye

But I could always tell…

I believe in fairytales and dreamers dreams like bed sheet sails,

And I believe in Peter Pan, and miracles

And anything I can to get by…

And fireflies."

Mikey and Jon immediately began to drift off, snuggling against one another for warmth. Peter smiled and closed his eyes, sighing in bliss at the sound of Wendy's voice. As she sang, she seemed to be speaking about herself to him…she was so shy and graceful as she sang that for a moment, he forgot about the pain in his side. Listening to her, he was flying higher than he ever had before…

"Before I grew up, I saw you on a cloud.

I could bless myself in your name and pat you on your wings.

Before I grew up, I heard you whisper so loud,

'Life is hard, and so is love, child, believe in all these things.'

I found mayonnaise bottles and poked holes on top

To capture Tinker Bell.

And they were just fireflies to the untrained eye,

But I could always tell…

I believe in fairytales and dreamers dreams like bed sheet sails,

And I believe in Peter Pan, and miracles

And anything I can to get by…

And fireflies."

Wendy opened her eyes to see if anyone had fallen asleep yet. She smiled upon seeing Jon and Mikey fast asleep with Nana snoring nearby. Looking at Peter, she felt her heart melting when she saw him sleeping, a gentle smile on his lips. Lying beside him, she finished the song in a whisper.

"Before you met me, I was a fairy princess…

I caught frogs and called them 'prince,'

And made myself a queen.

Before you knew me, I traveled 'round the world,

And I slept in castles and fell in love

Because I was taught to dream…"

Placing a kiss on his cheek, she whispered in his ear, "I love you, Peter Pan," closed her eyes, and drifted off.

Outside the window, the night wind rustled the trees, making the leaves quake and quiver. The clouds moved along lazily, and the stars kept watch, winking as they stared down at the Darling house. Inside the boys' room, a digital clock stood silently, proclaiming the hour in bright red numbers.

11:00PM…11:25PM…11:49PM…

12:00AM.

Peter's eyes flew open almost automatically the moment the clock changed to the new hour. He stretched experimentally, biting back a cry of pain as he realized he still had a ways to go for his side to heal. Frowning, he grimaced as he managed to sit up. Looking back at the children, he gave them a smile. Pulling the blanket over Wendy's body, he let his fingertips graze her cheek. Bending his head, ignoring the pain screaming from his wound, he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. "I love you, Wendy," he whispered, remembering her words as he had fallen asleep.

Biting his lip, he managed to float off the bed. Heading for the window, he tugged it open and shut it at once. Taking a last look at the slumbering siblings, he whispered, "Thank you, my friends." Looking to the sky, he flew away, clutching his side as he struggled to hurry back to his island.

~NEVER-NEVERLAND~

"Let's 'ave another round!" cried one of the drunkards as he and his fellows tripped and stumbled down the pavement. Swaggering along, waving their half-filled bottles in the air, the pirates, four in the bunch, waved at their comrades in their stupor. As one man raised the bottle to his lips once more, he caught sight of a flying figure in the skies above.

"Hey, boys!" he shoved the man next to him. "Looky! It's Pan!" he said, his words slurred as he pointed to the boy.

"Y'think he wants to play 'dodge ball'?" one of the stouter men grinned mischievously.

At once a cheer arose and they ran (rather, they tripped and swayed and blundered) to the line of cannons they had placed around the Harbor. Manning one of the cannons, they prepared it and aimed at Peter, who was flying against the wind and vainly struggling to keep himself aloft. If they had been sober, perhaps they would have noticed, but for the moment, they were so intoxicated that they didn't notice how he, too, swayed and drifted as he moved along.

"Ready?!" the men grinned, lighting the fuse. "FIRE!"

The cannonball shot out of its place, flying high into the air. It whizzed by directly in front of Peter, causing the boy to lean back, losing all sense of what little control he had. He plummeted to the earth, spiraling like a bird shot from the heavens until he crashed into one of the abandoned tents in the Harbor.

At first, the pirates guffawed and slapped their knees, finding their hit triumphant and hilarious. Then one pirate stepped forth, moving to the collapsed tent, finding it very peculiar that Peter had not hopped out and tackled them by now. They had come to love playing the game with Peter, though it was usually the boy who always managed to avoid their hits and find other things to drop on them. Arriving at the tarp, the pirate squinted, and then his eyes grew large.

"CAP'N!" he shouted, his voice cracking as he called out. "CAP'N! COME QUICK!"

It was an angry Hook that burst forth from his private cabin with Smee close behind, a box of cigars and a golden lighter in his hands. "Belay that gab, you swab!" snapped the pirate captain, stomping towards the fool who dared to call him at this hour. "I hope you have a very, very good reason for blasting off a cannon and squawking like a chicken that's lost its head," Hook hissed, grinding his teeth at the man. Placing the hook at the bridge of the pirate's nose, making him go cross-eyed, he said in a voice that could freeze the summer's sun, "I was getting ready for my special, relaxing, ME time. And you, my poor oaf, have done me a great disservice. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Trembling, the pirate pointed at the tent, shaking as he whispered, "Him, sir. It's Pan."

At the mention of the boy's name, Hook raised an eyebrow, backing off. Removing the hook from the lackey's face, he stepped aside and walked to the destroyed tarp, catching sight of a person lying in it. His eyes grew wide with horror at the sight. "Gall and brimstone!" he gasped.

There before him lay Peter Pan, his body limp and limbs flailed about, his head thrown back with a line of blood seeping from a newly received scratch, and worst of all, a bloodied bandage which covered a deep gash in his torso.

"No," he said inaudibly, his blood running cold. It wasn't supposed to be like this. "PAN!" he cried, running to the boy. Falling to his knees, he grabbed the boy's shoulders, shaking him roughly. "PAN! Get up, you bilge rat! PAN!" He was beginning to feel sick, his stomach churning like he'd eaten something rotten. He began to breathe heavily, like someone about to burst into tears. "Pan…Pan, you little mosquito, don't die on me now…"

A soft moan made his eyes light up. He could see Peter's brows twitch in agitation, his fingers curling and uncurling, as if he were checking to make sure he truly was alive. Frowning, Hook grabbed the unconscious teenager and lifted him into his arms, cautious of his hook.

"C-Cap'n…?" one of the men asked, hiding behind one of his crewmates.

Hook didn't pay them any mind as he stormed back into his cabin. Smee watched with awe and wonder as the man carried the boy in.

"Mr. Smee," Hook ordered without giving a glance. "Get one of those infernal fairies in here at once. I shall keep watch over him in the meantime."