Okay, I admit it. I really hate Peter in this chapter. Like, a lot. I feel bad for him in the end, but otherwise I hate him and feel SO BAD for Jim! :(

Enjoy!

I was holding my breath the whole time—I couldn't let it out till after I left that sweaty little cubicle.

-Wendy

Wendy Darling stared at Officer Rhimes.

"Sit," said Rhimes, tenting his fingers. Wendy walked forward, settling down on the red plastic chair.

Wendy shook her head. "I'm sorry, why am I here, Officer?"
Rhimes smiled at Wendy, but not in a good way. "I'm sure you're aware of the crime that happened last night."
"Was it on the news?"
"Do we want the whole nation to know? No." Rhimes stood. "Princess Kida's crystal was stolen. It is the one thing that keeps her alive."

Wendy gasped. "So she'll..die?"
"Isn't that what I just said?" Rhimes said in a singsong voice. "I know you were at that Triton girl party. You left early. For a family emergency. Care to tell me what that was? What was the reason you left so suddenly, much before the actual party ended?"
"I'm don't really go out much," Wendy confessed. "I'm not much of a party girl. And the family emergency—" Wendy stopped. If she told Officer Rhimes about her father returning from bars each night crazy and drunk, he might remove Michael, John and her from his custody and have them switch schools, send them to some relative they didn't know, or have them sent to an orphanage, even. And their father could possibly go to jail.

Wendy swallowed. "The family emergency—my brother fell down the stairs. Tripping on a toy."
Rhimes frowned. "That's all?"
Wendy nodded. "Yes."
"They were home alone?"
Wendy swallowed again. "My dad was home, too."
Rhimes scribbled something down. "So you didn't trust your father to take care of your brothers?"
Wendy felt herself getting trapped in Rhimes's words. "Of course I did, but John called me and said our father had gone out to the corner store to buy…milk."
"Milk."
Wendy nodded rapidly. "Milk. We were fresh out, and I felt I had to go take care of my brother—since I had no clue when Daddy would get back. So I left. My brothers are everything to me."
Rhimes wrote something else down on his paper. "Good. Let's leave that subject…what are your thoughts of Green Bay Street?"
Wendy tilted her head. "Green Bay? Just a simple road; a residential area."
"What buildings are there on Green Bay?"
Wendy pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Uh. The Mariott? There's the…." Wendy's eyes lit up. "Baker Guesthouse."
Rhimes nodded. "Exactly. That's where the princess was staying for the last few days. That's where the Crystal was stolen. A window was smashed with a rock. Did you see any suspicious characters along that street? Along Ocean View Avenue?"
Wendy shook her head. "I did not. Can I ask you something, Officer?"
Rhimes heard the contempt in her voice and decided not to push his luck, but allow her to ask.

Wendy leaned forward. "How do you select the students you want to interrogate? Do you just call them at random? Or do you have a list of all the students at the party?"
Rhimes licked his lips. "Well, that's a good question, Miss Darling," he said. "But we start with the kids who have bad school records, criminal records, arrest records."

Now, totally lost, Wendy stood sharply. "I don't have any of those bad records. You can't ask me these questions, expecting me to—"
"No," said Rhimes coolly. "We didn't even look at your records. Jim Hawkins was speaking about you, and the answers he gave led me to interview you. But it seems you are clean. We have also spoken to Dani Spark, and she is a defenite suspect."
"Dani? You're freaking kidding me, right?"
Rhimes ignored her and kept talking. "What is your opinion on Jim Hawkins? Is he a bad person? Is he someone you would have guessed to steal a crystal? How is his family financially?"
"I don't know," Wendy said finally. "I don't know about his finances. And yes—I'm sure he has some sort of arrest record or something, because he does get into trouble often, but he's not a bad person."

Rhimes nodded evenly. "Another student told me to speak with a Pan. I interviewed many students and there was no mention of a 'Pan.' Surname or first name."
Wendy shrugged.

Rhimes continued: "The student described him as 'skinny boy with red hair and green eyes. And lives in a rich family.' He promised I'd get my answers from this Pan. Who is he?"
"Skinny boy, red hair, green eyes," Wendy murmured, closing her eyes. "Who could this be?" Then she gasped. "You must mean Peter! Peter Tremaine? Where did you get Pan from?"

"It was information given to me by a student," said Rhimes, "whose name I cannot disclose right now. You are innocent, by my ruling, at least for now, Miss Darling. You may leave."
Wendy stood, stepped out of the cubicle at last, parting the sea green curtain and walked into the blue-tiled hallway, finally daring to breathe.

I can't have regrets, or feelings. At times like this, I have to be made out of stone.

-Peter

Officer Rhimes spoke to Peter the longest out of all the other students.

Peter was rigid and sat completely still as a statue in that hard chair, prayed to God Flynn Rider hadn't told anything unnecessary, and spoke in as few words as possible.

It was towards the end of the interrogation, and Peter was holding onto the handles on the chair as if he were riding a rollercoaster at superfast speed.

"Alright," said Rhimes. "Where were you around two?"
"The party."

"Alright. You saw no suspicious activity? Near Green Bay street or any of the surrounding streets?"
"No."
Rhimes brought his face close to Peter's. "Do not lie to me, Tremaine. If you lie, consequences will result. You know what happens to that miserable slugslime sack of pus. That yellow-bellied son of a street rat is gonna wish he'd never been born. Because he's going to be put to death. In the square. With everyone from this city watching."
Peter swallowed. "Lucky him."
Rhimes nodded. "Exactly. So, Tremaine. How are we going to do this? Have you confessed everything necessary?"
Peter looked away. "I have nothing else to tell you."

Rhimes stared for a little while longer. "Well," he said at last. "You are the last student I have on my list. Tremaine, Peter. So tomorrow—I will be checking houses. See you then."
Peter cocked his head. "I'd try a facility, if I were you. Not houses."
"Trying to take the blame off yourself, Tremaine?"
Peter shrugged. "Come search my house. Come search to the corners of the Earth to try and pin the blame on my, I wouldn't give a crap. I didn't do it." Peter grinned; lying came easily to him.

Rhimes narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, a facility?"

Peter shrugged. "Facilities. I mean, restaurants, cafés, libraries, hotels, anything associated with these juvenile delinquents."
Rhimes didn't seem to be comprehending what Peter said. "Give me an example, Tremaine."

"Okay," Peter said cheerfully. "For example, Vitani Damigo, her father's bar. The Saint."
Rhimes wrote it down quickly. "Are you blaming Miss Damigo?" he demanded. "Is she to blame? Did she steal the Crystal?"
Peter shook his head rapidly. Rhimes had a bad habit of making conclusions too quickly. "No, no, she's not to blame, I don't think. But I'm just using the Saint as an example because it's a facility that we can relate to a student you interrogated today."
Rhimes nodded slowly. "I'm beginning to get it, Tremaine. Maybe Fitzherbert was right when he said I'd get answers from you."
Peter nodded. "But everything I say here is to be kept strictly confidential. I'll write up a contract with a lawyer if I have to. But no one can know what I say here."
"No contract necessary," said Rhimes, apparently still thinking. "I'll keep it a secret." Then finally, he slapped his hands together. "Like a ratio, right? Cat is to mouse, peanut butter is to jelly. Just like that, facility or house to juvenile student."
Peter grinned. "You got it."
"Benbow is to Hawkins."
Peter's head snapped up with a small smile. The Benbow was connected to Jim Hawkins' room. Rhimes would have no trouble discovering the Crystal; he was an agent.

Rhimes slapped the metal desk with his palms. "We're done, Tremaine. See you tomorrow."

Outside, Peter took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

This was all for Wendy. He loved Wendy, and this convicting of Jim Hawkins was for her.

He looked down the blue tiled hallway and spotted Wendy drinking water from the water fountain, pushing her hair back behind her ears as she drank.

"Wendy!" Peter jogged towards her.

Wendy raised her head, wiping droplets of water off her full lower lip. "Peter. Did you just get interviewed?"
Peter nodded. "Everything's going to be fine, Wendy." He meant it.

"I hope so," Wendy replied.

"Wendy, can I ask you something?" Peter asked softly. "What do you think of me?"

Wendy's eyes widened. "I—think of you? Peter, I—a friend? A good friend, like I said before. I'm sorry if—"

She saw Peter's face looking hurt and ashamed. "Peter. You know that I—I do like you. But I've begun to feel—"

"Feel for who?" Peter yelled at the top of his lungs, startling everyone, including himself. "Who, Jim Hawkins? It's stupid!"
"You don't control me!" Wendy cried with indignation.

Peter grabbed her arm, squeezing it tight. "I did it for you!" he yelled.

Wendy began to shake her head. "You did what?"
Peter broke away and began to run.

"PETER!" screamed Wendy. "Peter, wait, don't go! Please, wait!"
The last thing he saw before bolting out the double doors was Jim Hawkins, appearing behind Wendy, his arm going around her shoulders.

Well, he didn't know who he was up against.

The one and only Peter Pan.