A/N: The response to this story has been phenomenal! You are all so inspiring!
Disclaimer: We do not own Once Upon a Time (or Peter Pan). May credit be given where credit is due.
~Chapter XII~
Neverland's two moons were just rising over the horizon when the last notes of Belle's lullaby drifted off into the night. She turned around to face the boys, her throat constricted with emotion. They sat in silence, letting the memory of her words wash over them. She saw Pox surreptitiously rub his nose against his sleeve.
After a few more moments of silence, Nibs yawned widely, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
"It's getting late," Belle said softly, smiling as the other boys began to yawn as well. "I think it's time for bed."
"I'm not sleepy," Tootles murmured, covering his mouth with a hand as another yawn threatened to escape.
"You need your rest, darling," Belle responded, kneeling before him. "All of you do," she added, looking at each of the drowsy boys in turn. Only Peter seemed wide awake, but he did not protest.
"If you like, I can tell you a story tomorrow night," she offered. The boys immediately brightened at the idea, nodding eagerly before rising to their feet, stretching.
Slowly, the boys drifted out of the room, wishing Belle a good night as they sleepily climbed the stairs to their respective beds. Tootles and Nibs hugged Belle around her legs, before clumsily chasing each other out of the room. Peter smiled from his perch in the window.
"That was beautiful," he said quietly, blushing slightly.
"Thank you. My mother used to sing it to me," Belle smiled. Peter stared at her for a moment, a hint of sadness flashing in his gaze.
"I don't remember my parents," he spoke quietly, more to himself than to Belle. "Maybe I never had any."
Belle's eyes widened in shock at the boy's words. "You cannot remember your parents? Not at all?"
"I've been here a while," Peter shrugged nonchalantly, "And there aren't any parents in Neverland. We wouldn't be 'lost' if there were, would we?" He asked cheekily, grinning slightly.
"Slightly remembers his, a little. He hasn't been here that long," Peter mentioned, nodding in the direction of a small carving of a boy standing with two taller stick figures on the adjacent wall.
Belle stared at him, speechless at the tragedy of the boys' situation, her sadness amplified by the boy's matter-of-fact tone. She had assumed, given the boys' disheveled and rather wild appearance, that they had not enjoyed any conventional parenting in some time. But to think that these children had been living here the entire time without an adult to look after them...
"If I did have a mother, though," Peter continued, "I think I'd want her to be like you," he said causally; his eyes suddenly widened and his face flushed scarlet. "I-I mean..."
Belle smiled softly, both shocked and touched by his words. She felt a twinge of sorrow for the boy at the knowledge that during her short presence here, he'd likely received more "motherly" attention than he could ever remember receiving, and she had only sung him a lullaby...
"I understand," she said quietly, watching as he nodded once, still blushing.
He mumbled a quick "goodnight," before climbing out of the window and flying up to his room. Belle leaned out of the window, watching as he disappeared amongst the tree's topmost branches. She doubted she would ever grow accustomed to seeing a child fly with more ease and grace than a sparrow on the wind.
The cabin now empty, Belle pulled out the silver bracelet Peter had found earlier from her pocket. It had a most interesting design; the bracelet was not composed of tiny links fastened together, as was traditional. Rather, it seemed to be made of three solid threads of silver, delicately braided together. The ends had been carefully shaped into a loop and a ball that would have snapped together snuggly, had the loop not been broken open.
If she could just lightly hammer the twisted end of the loop back in place, the bracelet's clasp should once more serve its purpose. Belle's eyes traced the expanse of the cabin, searching for something that would prove a strong enough tool for the task. Her eyes alighted on one of the boys' sharpened rocks; its tip had been filed to a fine point.
Belle laid the thin bracelet on the surface of the small wooden table standing in the corner of the cabin. Holding the chain in place with one hand, she placed the tip of the rock against the broken loop with the other. Carefully, she tapped the stone against the shining metal, each motion sending a soft tink into the air.
Slowly, the twisted end of the loop folded into its proper place. When the ends were once more aligned, Belle placed the point of the rock over a candle, holding it there until it glowed red hot. Ensuring that her fingers were not in the way, Belle pressed the heated stone to the bracelet's loop, tapping it until the metal was completely fused together. She laid the sharpened rock to the side, letting the metal cool.
Several minutes later, with a triumphant smile, Belle was able to successfully snap the silver ball on the opposite end of the bracelet into it. She held the silver chain before her, once more marveling at the unique craftsmanship, before rising to her feet and stretching out the knots that had formed between her shoulder blades from slouching for so long.
Sighing softly, Belle languidly walked outside to stand on the staircase. Neverland's moons now shone high in the starry sky, their bright, alabaster light illuminating the land like two small suns. She closed her eyes, letting the myriad sounds of the night wash over her. A soft breeze wafted through the reeds growing along the base of the tree, filling the air with their rich, baritone humming. As the flowers lowered their colorful heads in preparation for sleep, they released long, soft moans, not unlike those of a violin. A choir of crickets launched their sweet soprano voices toward the heavens. The tiny leaves of the willows whispered against each other, hushing the rest of the land to listen as a new melody suddenly entered the nighttime concert.
The breathy, lilting notes of a pan pipe floated down from the highest room in the Drey. They tumbled along on the breeze, rising and falling in a beautiful dance that took Belle's breath away.
"It's pretty, isn't it?" A voice asked from a few steps above on the stairs. Belle looked up, finding Pox leaning against the railing, smiling down at her.
"Very..." Belle breathed, before adding, "And sad, somehow."
Pox nodded, looking down at his hands. "Peter plays this one a lot. Ever since Scout..." his voice trailed off, and Belle's chest squeezed painfully as she saw there were tears slowly filling his eyes.
"We all cried for weeks. Except Peter," the boy said quietly, looking up from his hands. Belle's brow creased in mild confusion at his words.
"He didn't need to. Neverland cried for him," he explained, turning his gaze to the sky. Belle mirrored him, her eyes taking in the ribbons of stars stretched overhead.
"Thank you," he said suddenly, looking back down at her. "For the lullaby. I was wrong, they're not for babies."
"You're welcome," Belle said quietly, smiling up at him. He nodded, covering his mouth as he yawned.
"Goodnight, Belle," he murmured, walking along the catwalk toward his platform.
"Goodnight, Pox," Belle responded, turning her gaze once more to Neverland's scenery. The sweet notes of the pan pipe still filled the night air, and remembering Pox's words, Belle found herself gravitating toward the rickety ladder which hung along the trunk of the tree.
She felt no fear as she ascended the rungs, the melody acting like a comforting hand against her back. When she climbed through the hatch in the bottom of the small cabin's floor, her eyes landed on the source of the enchanting music.
Peter was sitting cross-legged on the middle of his floor, his eyes closed as he expertly breathed into his flute, infusing it with a life of its own. The song lasted a few more moments, before tapering off on the soaring notes of a coda.
"You play beautifully," Belle said quietly. Peter's eyes shot open and his face flushed at being caught unawares, but he smiled at her words, shrugging modestly.
"I have something for you," Belle continued, smiling as she held out the silver bracelet to him. Peter's eyes widened in surprise, and he stared silently up at her with gratitude.
"May I?" Belle asked, kneeling before the boy and gesturing to his wrist. He wordlessly held out his arm toward her, smiling lightly. She clasped the bracelet's ends together, once more feeling a slight rush of triumph at her work.
"Thank you," Peter whispered, running the fingers of his other hand over the braided silver. He silently stared at the piece of jewelry a moment longer, before looking up at her with a playful smirk.
"So that's what you've been tinkering with the past hour?"
"I hope I did not keep you awake," Belle responded, laughing lightly.
"You didn't," Peter said, shaking his head, "I like to stay up a little later. Neverland is most beautiful at night." He rose to his feet, walking over to gaze out of the small window on the western wall. Belle followed him, taking in the moonlit scenery.
The boy's demeanor changed suddenly, his shoulders tensing slightly. He leaned out of the window, his eyes scanning the view.
"What is it?" Belle asked, worry beginning to gnaw at her stomach
"I can see the crocodile from here," Peter murmured, leaning farther out and narrowing his eyes slightly. "Just there, lying on the beach." He pointed in the direction of the distant coastline. Belle squinted, her gaze following the direction of the boy's finger, but she could not make out anything in the dim moonlight.
"I think it's waiting for me to feed it the rest of him," Peter added, tilting his head to the side, his gaze still trained on something far in the distance.
"Him?" Belle asked, her brow crinkling in confusion.
"Hook." Peter clarified, turning to face her.
A chill slid down Belle's spine at the memory of the carving downstairs: a man with a hook standing on the chest of a small boy.
"He's the one who killed your friend, Scout," she stated quietly, watching him as he nodded solemnly and turned around to sit on his makeshift mattress.
"He was...coming after me. He's wanted me dead for as long as I can remember..." Peter fidgeted with a leaf on his tunic, frowning slightly. Belle slowly walked over, sitting down beside him.
"One day, when Hook was on the island looking for us, the Lost Boys and I snuck onto his ship. We wanted to commandeer it, just for fun," he continued, lowering his head farther to stare into his lap.
"Hook and his men came back before we could cast off. I told the boys to run, but Tootles fell behind... I shouldn't have brought him along. He's the smallest; I should've known better," Peter pulled his knees to his chest, his face flushing slightly. Belle gently placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.
"Scout went back with me to get him," he continued quietly, "He was always close to Tootles. They were like brothers. He distracted Hook so I could grab Tootles and fly him to shore."
"I heard yelling. I left Tootles on the beach with the others to go back. But I took too long. When I got there, Hook had-Scout was-" he tightened his grip on his knees, his face paling at the memory of the boy's tiny, slain body lying on the Jolly Roger's deck.
Belle rubbed small circles between the boy's shoulder blades, fear and sorrow warring within her. The thought of someone so cruel hunting these children inspired a wave of horror to well in her chest.
"Maybe if I had gotten to Scout a little faster...If I hadn't encouraged the boys to play along in the first place..." Peter sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and sinking his hands into his messy hair.
"He's gone. Scout's gone, and it's all my fault," he whispered, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Belle watched as he clutched his hair, his hands shaking slightly.
She reached a hand under his chin, gently pulling his face so their gazes met. The world of hurt and guilt she saw in his eyes made her chest ache.
"This is not your fault, Peter," she murmured, placing her hand on his cheek. Peter stared at her, wishing he could believe her words.
"You were only playing," she assured him, "You couldn't have known the pirates would come back so soon."
He shook his head slowly, staring once more into his lap. Belle rested her hand on his shoulder, wishing she knew what else she could say to ease his pain.
"It's getting late. We've an early start tomorrow," he said quietly, and Belle recognized the dismissal. Giving the boy's shoulder one last comforting squeeze, she rose to her feet and walked over to the hatch in the floor.
"Wait," Peter called suddenly. Belle paused her steps, turning to face him.
"Thank you, again, for fixing the bracelet," he said quietly, holding up the wrist around which the silver chain glittered.
"Goodnight, Peter." Belle responded, smiling softly.
"Goodnight," he smiled back, a hint of mischief glinting in his gaze, "Tinker Belle."
A/N: Awww...Hope you enjoyed that bit of bonding between Belle and the Lost Boys!
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