Oh the cleverness of me! With a show of hands, who has read Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie?

I'm having one of those dreams. I know I'm sleeping, but I can't quite escape the nightmare inside of my head. The bed is lumpy, unyielding to my twisting body. But the water is cool beneath my fingertips. My hand dances across the surface, between the dying ripples. He's down there, and I'm calm and resolved, like this is the end. He's gone, but not really. He can't leave me. Not anymore.

I twist away, glancing over my shoulder, but he calls me back, his hand ripping from the water, bloody fingers grabbing onto my wrist as he pulls me down, our faces inches apart.

He snarls, his face gray and ashy, his teeth grinding. "Why, Bella? Why?"

He drowns in a wave of red and blue, his grip on my wrist tight as he pulls me in after him. The scream I let loose is flooded by a rush of water, sucking the air from my lungs as I flail arms and legs, trying to escape.

"Wendy!" I shoot up in the bed, clawing at my throat. "Breathe!"

I gasp in deep gulps of sweet air. My head turns fuzzy with how fast I take it all in. "Edward?"

"I'm here," he says, pulling me closer, a hand rubbing my back in gentle, sweeping circles. "It was just a nightmare. You're okay."

I shake my head, not even caring that my hair and face drips with sweat. "It was so different."

"It's over now."

I swipe at the right-hand corner of my mouth where I had stored his kiss for safekeeping. "What time is it?"

"Late." He rubs his cheek against my crown. "I'm sorry it took so long."

"I don't care," I gasp out, the rush of silence clearing my ears of my heartbeat. "You're here now."

He gently lifts me from the bed, supporting my weight until my feet can. "Let's go."

"Where to?"

"Second door to the right and straight on 'til morning." He chuckles to himself. An inside joke brewing under the surface. I ask him with my eyes but he shakes his head, leaving me with that burning curiosity.

His office is lit with moonlight, soft shadows thrown around the darkened room with the ocean as a backdrop, waves in the distance mocking us with their freedom. Edward abandons my side, stroking the fireplace until the flames come back to life, shrouding the room in warmth and orange light.

"How do you get the wood?"

"Jasper leaves it for me."

He drops down onto the leather couch, and after a moment's hesitation, I join him, taking the spot I always have even if I didn't know it. "Will you tell me about it?"

He grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers but avoids my gaze, his eyes flying from the books to the desk to the window. "Port Angeles Asylum used to do good things when Dr. Carlisle Cullen was the director."

"You knew him well?"

"Yes." He nods his head. "He was a close family friend, and I looked up to him. He's the reason I became a psychiatrist. Why I wanted to come work here. I wanted to do good things just like him."

"Are you Peter?"

My green savior smiles, soft and gentle as the wind, forgotten memories coming to life. "Yes. He always said I was like the boy who never grew up. A dreamer who was too naïve for his own good."

I tighten my hold on his hand, hating the sadness that overpowers the happy. "What happened?"

"The world. Society. Dr. Black. Take your pick." He growls, anger making his face scowl at the air. "Nobody cares about a few crazy women."

"I don't like that man."

"He seemed perfect at first. Idealistic and wanting to change the world. By the time he showed us his true colors, hooked his way into our lives, it was too late for us."

I don't think he realizes how firm his grip becomes, but I endure the pain, waiting for him to continue, knowing how hard it is to say these words, to bring up past agony and suffering and failures.

"He locked Carlisle in that room and pumped him full of cocktails, until only a remnant of the man I once knew remained. He would have done the same to me, but I play crazy too well."

He laughs, bitterness lacing the chuckles until only sobs remain. I scoot closer until our thighs are pressed together, wrapping my arm around his body so tight until he rests his head against my heartbeat, hoping he finds just a tiny bit of comfort in my arms. I lean down, pressing my lips to the right-hand corner of his mouth, giving his kiss back with one of my own.