In hindsight, Wendy knew that the way she had arrived at Pixie Hollow must have been terrifying: whipping in on horseback, shrieking for Tinkerbell, dried blood on her head and in her hair, tears streaking her cheeks. Not something anyone would want to be greeted by in the middle of the night.
For that, she felt slightly guilty.
Three fairies in dark clothes materialized out of the shadows by the gates that surrounded a large, twisting tree that rose several stories into the air, hands up held, trying to speak calmly to her, but she did not want to be calmed.
She needed to be helped.
"Tinkerbell is my fairy godmother," she said forcefully, through gritted teeth from atop Ash. "I need to see her right now."
"Miss, we appreciate that you want to see her, but I hope you understand that it's very late at night and—"
She jumped off Ash, holding onto his reins in one hand and pointing an accusatory finger at one of the guards. "Do I look like I'm just impatient for a social call?" she demanded of the one who looked to be in charged. "I need to see her."
The guard glanced back at her partners. "You need to stop yelling."
Wendy raised an eyebrow and she was reminded of how Peter had imagined her. Queen of Neverland, if she hadn't been so morally inclined. She straightened, chin lifting. "Please take me to her." It was phrased as a request, but it was a command.
The guard gave her a wary look, still reluctant to let her in. "Can I have your name?"
"Wendy Darling."
Recognition flickered in the fairy's eyes. She turned and whispered something indistinct to one of the other guards to took off flying up and over the gates and into the branches of the tree. The fairy turned back. "Follow me."
XXX
Opening the examination room door and poking her head through, Tinkerbell arrived while the doctor was examining Wendy's head.
"Tinkerbell!" Wendy exclaimed, shooting out of the doctor's grasp and careening towards her friend. Explanations about what was happening and pleas to got back out to Peter got caught in her throat and she ended up jabbering incoherently, half started sentences sewn together like Frankenstein, loud enough that she knew people outside could hear.
Tinkerbell came in, one of her hands taking Wendy's and the other on her elbow, strong and unshakeable, leading her back to the cot. "Let him examine you," she said, firmly.
Wendy opened her mouth, protest on the tip of her tongue.
"Sit still and we'll talk," Tink offered calmly. She glanced at Tinkerbell and realized that the real obstacle in her way had not been the guards at the gate, or the fairies who had strong-armed her into the infirmary or the doctor who had sat her down firmly on the cot. None of them were going to keep her from leaving, not really. The real obstacle was Tinkerbell.
Wendy knew Tinkerbell, knew how much her friend cared about her and worried about her. So, she sat and listened to the one person who could actually help and who was actually standing in her way. With all the willpower she could muster, she allowed the doctor to clean her forehead and then sanitize it and numb it as he began to put in the stitches. "I think this was a rock," the man, Dr. Nighthop, murmured, bewildered.
"What is going on?" Tinkerbell asked once the stitching had begun.
"The Lost Boys came for Pan," Wendy explained, quickly, itching to be out of the room and Pixie Hollow as quickly as possible. The faster she got through this, the sooner they could go. "I woke up a few hours ago and someone had hit me over the head and there was blood on his pillow and he wasn't anywhere around the inn. I tried using the star to find him but it just took me in circles."
Eyebrows furrowed, hair messy in a way that made Wendy think she had just woken up, Tinkerbell sat across from her in on a wooden bench. Everything in Pixie Hollow seemed to be carved out of wood. In fact, the compound reminded Wendy of her treehouse on Neverland, except it wasn't simply a few rooms carved inside the trunk of a tree, but a large, twisting village connected by halls and corridors carved out of the ancient wood.
"Do you think he might—"
She was speaking too slowly for Wendy to tolerate. Holding up a hand, she explained, "With Baelfire, when he does not exist, the star goes out. He is alive, it just doesn't know what to do or where to go." She knew that this whole conversation was skipping over some very important events, but she didn't have time. She needed to get the words out, make Tink understand and then get the hell out of here. "They don't have access to magic so they won't be using any spells. They'll have had to use a magical object of some kind to keep him imprisoned and from using his powers and, obviously, from being found and I don't know enough about those to be able to figure out how to solve and I can't use the star so I need help using a locator spell or a tracking spell of some kind and I have a couple potential spells already and—"
"Wendy, take a breath," Tinkerbell said, calm but forceful.
Wendy blinked.
Glancing at Dr. Nighthop, who stood holding a surgical needle and the remains of the thread he had used for Wendy's stitches (if she ever came back, she would have to ask him how he had done that so well), looking completely befuddled and out of his depth with the conversation, she realized that they thought she had lost her mind, too kicked up on stress and fear to think anything through. She wasn't about to convince Tink of anything if she didn't at least try to pretend to calm down. She made a show of taking a long, deep breath and then turned back to Tinkerbell, expectantly, questioningly.
"I'm going to help, but you can't do anything in the state you're in," she said and held up a hand when Wendy began to protest. "Dr. Nighthop, does she have a concussion?'
He shook his head. "No, but she'll have a nasty goose egg in a couple hours."
Good, Wendy could deal with a goose egg. She could ride with a goose egg.
"Good to know," Tink said and then turned back to Wendy. "You need some food and some sleep before we go out."
"We can't—"
"You'll be useless if you don't," Tink told her seriously. "Do you know what time it is?"
Wendy paused. She glanced around the room and saw no clock. "Two?"
"It's just past six," Tink said. "You were out searching way longer than you thought you were. You need rest before we can go out."
Wendy's hands curled in on themselves, pressing her names into her palm, leaving crescents in her skin. An alarm was blaring inside of her, a church clock tower hammering out a deafening GO.
"I can't lose any more time," she pleaded and distantly she realized she sounded like a child, begging for something that was simply impossible.
"I'm going to prep while you sleep," her friend assured her, but she did not feel reassured in the slightest. "How do you know it was the Lost Boys?"
Wendy rummaged in her pockets and produced the note, handing it to Tinkerbell. She waited for her to read it and then said, "I don't know why they would tell me to come find him and then make it impossible to do so."
Tink's eyebrows furrowed. "I agree." She looked to Dr. Nighthop. "Is she all done here?"
"I'm going to give her some medicine for the pain," he said, turning to the far wall that was lined with dark wood cabinets, and began to rummage through them. "Ms. Darling, you need some sleep, but I worry you'll have trouble. Do you think you'll need something?"
Wendy paused. She had no time for sleep. She wouldn't actually end up sleeping, would she? She had acquiesced enough to convince Tinkerbell that they needed to go as soon as they figured out a spell. What she needed was something that would keep her awake. "Actually, would it be possible—"
"Yes, she'll need something to sleep." Tink's voice came from above her. Wendy glanced at her friend, finding her with her arms crossed, looking displeased and unimpressed, a teacher who had figured out a student's trick far too quickly.
Once Dr. Nighthop had given them the medicine and a charmed ice pack for the stitches, Tinkerbell guided Wendy through the twisting hallways, past fairies who were just beginning to wake up, sconces lining the wall that cast soft, warm light. The walls, the light, the people walking about sleepily, calmly, suffocated Wendy, a boulder sitting on her chest.
Eventually, they arrived at a door and Tinkerbell opened it up into a large living room area. Wendy noted everything quickly, scanning the space; soft greens and beiges, sleek lines and shapes that invited one in. Comfortable, cozy and warm. Not needed. On the far wall, floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto the surrounding forest that stretched out before them, green buds just beginning to break up the grey-brown of the trees. The sky overhead lightened, most of it dark and purple, but edged with gold and pink, promising.
Dread washed over her. Time was slipping away from her far too quickly.
Tinkerbell guided her past the living room down a short hallway. She opened a door into a beige bathroom that was full of steam already, bathtub full of piping hot water and soaps lining the rim. She pointed to the robe that was hung on a hook. "Wash up. The door across the hall," she said turning to point directly behind them, "will be your room. All your clothes are there. Once you're done, change into some pyjamas and then meet me in the kitchen down the hall."
Wendy nodded, knowing that protesting would not get her anywhere, trying to calculate how much she would need to agree to Tinkerbell before she would take them both out of here. She stepped into the bathroom and allowed Tinkerbell to shut the door before quickly stripping off her clothes.
Coming to stand at the edge of the tub, grimy clothes discarded, she couldn't make herself get in. Her arms and legs were stiff and immovable, adrenaline coursing through her system. Her body was screaming at her, demanding she rip her way out of Pixie Hollow back towards Pan, to forget the thinking and the planning and the logic and just go.
The bath was searing and still and the steam was suffocating. Her arms reasoned this wasn't what she needed and her feet tried to convince her that there were more important things to do and her legs screamed that this was all wrong.
She agreed. But her arms and her feet and her legs didn't know how to convince anyone to do anything. Her brain knew that if she came out of the washroom unclean and back in her riding clothes, Tinkerbell wouldn't take her anywhere. If she came out clean and in pyjamas, Tink would be much more amenable.
Gritting her teeth, she swung a leg over the edge of the tub, hissing at the heat. The next leg came over and she sunk into the bath, dunking her head under the water. She washed quickly, movements jerky and imprecise as she washed her body and her hair. She didn't luxuriate in the warmth or the fine smell of the soaps. She got in and out as quickly as possible, throwing the robe around her and padded quickly across the hall to her room. She considered briefly putting on her riding clothes but that probably wouldn't go over well.
Dressed in her pyjamas, she found her way to the kitchen, filled with the same floor-to-ceiling windows and warm wood accents. A vase of daffodils sat on the kitchen table in front of the windows, where Tinkerbell was seated, two plates of eggs, toast and bacon and a cup of tea, waiting.
Wendy considered the scene and forced her legs to carry her across the room and then made her body sit her down at the table. Muttering a thank you, she compelled her hands to shovel food into her mouth. It tasted like sawdust.
As they ate, Tinkerbell explained that while Wendy would be asleep, she would look to see what the Lost Boys could be using to hold Pan. She listened carefully, trying to pretend as if she wouldn't be with Tinkerbell looking.
Tinkerbell then asked her more about that night.
Efficiently and quickly, making sure not to use anything unnecessary in her answer, she explained in more detail what had happened when she had woken up. That after she found the note, she packed up quickly and loaded all their bags onto Ash and then paid for the room and paid to stable Philipe for the next week, and if it was longer, left a note promising full payment upon her return. She had let the star go and had raced after it, heart wild and breath caught in her throat. In the dark, it took her a while to realize that the twisting turns they were taking didn't make much sense, looping back and over the paths they had created. The trees and hills and paths began to look familiar and when her hands and feet were numb with cold, she decided she needed Tinkerbell and had made the hour long journey to Pixie Hollow.
Tinkerbell sat quietly across from her, eyebrows furrowed and eyes serious.
Once they were done, she helped clear the plates and let Tink walk her back down the hall. She sat down on the guest bed, with light green linens and dark wood decorating the room. Tinkerbell joined her, setting a glass of water on the nightstand and handing Wendy the sleeping draught, her pain meds, and ice pack.
This was the part where she would—
"I know you've only been so amenable because you think I'm going to let you skip sleeping and prep to leave as soon as possible," Tinkerbell said, serious.
She choked, all the words she had prepared dying on her tongue. She turned to Tinkerbell, actually really looked at her for the first time. She looked just as she had all those years ago and as she had in Storybrooke. The blonde hair thrown into a haphazard ponytail, bright blue eyes and soft round face. Fairies didn't age, she knew, but Tinkerbell somehow looked older, wiser. She had been stupid to think she would have been able to convince Tinkerbell that easily, or really, at all.
No one worked with Pan that long without being able to detect even the slightest hint of manipulation.
"When I met you, you had been on the island decades and still walked those paths, searching for Baelfire," Tinkerbell recounted, voice even. "Did you really think I'd believe that you were going along with all of this without some ulterior motive?"
Wendy furrowed her eyebrows. "So, you knew?" she asked dumbly.
Tink grinned, and she saw the woman who had survived Pan. "Of course." She chuckled. "Honestly, thought the bath would be the final straw but you were very committed." Well, that made her feel less guilty about tricking Tinkerbell. She had also gotten played.
Wendy shook her head. "I can't give up more time," she said, imagining she was a mountain that could not be moved.
"You aren't going to," Tinkerbell assured. Wendy gave her a skeptical look. "It'll take a few hours to get things together. You won't be any help researching with the state you're in. Sleeping is far more useful."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Tink held up a hand.
"Honestly, Wendy," she said, "you can take the sleeping draught or I'll cast a sleeping spell on you. I'm not afraid to do it." There she was. That tough fairy Wendy had befriended all those years ago. Distantly, Wendy realized she had missed her desperately.
She swallowed, looking down at the draught in her hand. Again, her limbs were locked into place. Go, they screeched her.
She looked at them and then back at Tinkerbell. Seeming to understand, she took the draught out of Wendy's hand, uncorked it and held it up to her mouth. Slowly, with great difficulty, Wendy opened her mouth and allowed Tinkerbell to pour it in. The draught was sharp and acidic and made Wendy gag as she swallowed it, but once it was done, her limbs quieted.
Tinkerbell passed her a glass of water from the nightstand and Wendy swallowed the pain meds swiftly. With her limbs soft and the pain dulled, it was easier to sit in the bed, easy when Tinkerbell helped her under the covers and gently put the ice pack on her head. She didn't forget for a second what was wrong, but she began to remember how tired she was, how cold she had been, how good the bed felt.
As the world began to dim around her, Tinkerbell stood up from the bed and hovered over her bedside as the world went black.
XXX
Wendy awoke to the smell of something deep and savoury frying. Her stomach grumbled, excited for whatever was cooking just down the hallway. And then it dropped, remembering where she was, why she was there.
Sitting up in bed, ice in her veins and a deep sense that everything was wrong, she threw off her covers and quickly changed into her riding gear, packed up her bag and bolted out of the room. As she rounded the corner, she found the living room flooded with golden light, but outside the sky was a dark blue, stars flickering in the deep expanse.
She rounded the corner and made her way into the kitchen, dropping her bag in the doorway. "What time is it?" she asked, finding Tinkerbell hovering over the stove, mushrooms frying in a pan.
"Just past six," Tinkerbell answered.
"Six?" she asked, incredulous. "You let me sleep the whole day?"
Tinkerbell gave her a warning look. "You were exhausted. You needed the sleep and I needed the time to search."
Wendy hovered in the doorway, the tension in her threatening to splinter her apart. She needed to leave now. A whole day had been bad, another night was unthinkable. She couldn't do it.
"I can't," she said, gesturing to the table set with plates awaiting food and now tulips in a vase and then to the gorgeous meal on the stove. "I can't." She wasn't sure if the urgency or the fear had stolen away all her words, but she couldn't say anything more. Nothing else would come out of her mouth.
Tinkerbell gave her a hard look. "You need a sedative."
"I need to leave!" And she felt bad for shouting, of course, but her brain had stopped working properly the second she had woken up without Pan.
She took a few steps into the kitchen, thought better of it, and turned to make her way out fo the room, stomped a few paces, thought better of it and then turned around. She repeated this several times, grunting out short sentences, her voice shrill and her words unkind, until Tinkerbell came and held her by the shoulders.
"Wendy," Tink said through the cloudy haze of locked limbs and foggy terror. "Wendy." Her voice did not ground her like Peter's, didn't let take a full breath like Peter's, didn't calm her like Peter's. "Wendy." She wrenched herself out of Tinkerbell's grip, backing up, surroundings dim, only aware that she didn't want to be called Wendy. She wanted to be called bird.
Her heartbeat boomed in her ears, deafening and demanding, urging her to simply GO. Her feet carried her, swiftly, finally free to do what they had been begging her to do all this time and—
Something caught her, cool and soft. Finding herself in the hallway, a grey-blue cloud engulfed her, slowly eating up her surroundings, until it was only a soft mist around her. It took over her entire vision, but for some reason, she didn't feel trapped. Taking a deep breath, she let in the scent of fresh rain and spring wind. She stilled, held in place, assured.
Slowly, the mist faded and she found Tinkerbell a few feet from her.
Blinking, Wendy realized she had just used a spell on her.
"I think… I think that's from Hallewell Grimoire," she breathed.
Tinkerbell just stared at her, horrified. She supposed being able to identify specific spells like that was not a normal thing to do nor something Tink expected from Wendy, who had been staunchly anti-magic for more than a century.
Wendy took another full breath. The spell opened her lungs and loosened her limbs, quieting the roaring in her. She didn't forget where Pan was or the cold terror that sat in the bottom of her stomach. It simply made that moment acceptable, so that she could take a full breath of air into her lungs, let it ground her and then release it back into the world.
"In case you're worried, Dr. Nighthop told me to use that if things got out of hand," Tink explained.
Wendy waved away her concern. She still was not happy they were delayed, but being able to tolerate life moment by moment was something she appreciated and she told Tinkerbell as much.
"I am sorry I had to use it," Tink said.
Her mind had cleared enough to know that she hadn't been acting in a sane fashion. "It's okay."
Tink paused and motioned for the kitchen. "Come sit and eat," she offered softly. Wendy nodded and followed her in.
She sat down at the table and watched Tinkerbell bring over bowls with fried mushrooms, and mashed potatoes and a plate of slices of meatloaf over to the table.
Tinkerbell poured her a glass of water. Wendy worried that the food might taste like dust again. Tink watched her as she took a small bite and then remembered that when she had woken up, she had been starving and fully dug into the meal. As Wendy ate, Tinkerbell explained, "I looked into magical devices and I think somehow the Lost Boys got a hold of Pandora's Box."
Wendy furrowed her eyebrows, thinking back eons to her time in Storybrooke. She knew that the Box had been returned back to Gold, but he had died before they had all come to the Enchanted Forest. The Lost Boys easily could have taken it, if they had enough forethought, or simply if they were looting Gold's store, which seemed much more likely.
"I don't think they realized that the Star wouldn't be able to track Pan properly if he was in the Box," Tink said. Which also sounded like the Lost Boys. Impulsive, with little consideration.
"So how do we find him then?"
"We're not going to go looking for him," Tink said and slid the crumpled note that they had left Wendy across the table. She tapped it. "We're going to track J."
"Jonah," Wendy said, filling in the blanks. She rubbed at her forehead, closing her eyes tightly. "I should have thought of that." She knew she was smart enough to have come up with that, but her brain was too foggy, too seized up in terror to think clearly.
A warm, reassuring hand was on her back. "It's okay," she said. "That's why you came to me."
She turned to Tinkerbell, finding comfort in her familiar face. She wasn't sure why she was surprised to find that her friend still smiled the same way, comforted her the same way, loved the same way.
"I'm sorry for all of this," she said, softly.
Tink shook her head. "What else are friends for? Or fairy godmothers, for that matter?"
"I don't think you want to be dragged from your home to go help Pan out of a mess he started."
Tinkerbell took a long breath in, mouth set in a firm line. "It's not at the top of my list of things to spend my time doing, but it's important to you."
Wendy bit the inside of her cheek, knowing that this was the point in the conversation where she explained why she couldn't sleep knowing he was in danger, why she couldn't tolerate another night not looking for him, why she was so damn desperate to get Pan back.
Sensing her hesitation, Tink assured, "You don't have to explain it to me."
Wendy looked at her helplessly. "I want to though. I just… am having trouble putting it into words." She wasn't a schoolgirl fawning over a crush and she wasn't some hopeless romantic gushing about the dark, brooding, bad boy. It, whatever the hell it was, did not feel like it took up only one category of emotions or one aspect of her life. It filled her entire life, but it did not replace anything or fill in what was missing. It just… made her life her own.
Tinkerbell got up and made her way over to the sink and began filling up the kettle without a word, as they had done all those years ago. Idle chatter had flown between the two of them, complaining about the Lost Boys or Pan, reminiscing about their lives before Neverland, dreaming of what could be after it. It was such a familiar scene, something that had come to comfort Wendy, but now seeing Tinkerbell in her own home, preparing the tea and cookies as she had done before, Wendy realized that she had been seeing just a shadow of what their friendship could be, a pale imitation of how understanding and caring Tink was.
Wendy cleared the dishes and washed them as Tink steeped the tea and took shortbread cookies out of a jar, delicately arranging them on a plate decorate with climbing ivy, dark greens offset by gold edging—far nicer than anything they would have had on Neverland. They worked silently, perfectly comfortable with the only sounds between them being the rumbling of the boiling water and the tinkling of dishes being put away.
It was a flash of good, something she didn't just tolerate.
Once seated back at the kitchen table, Tink opted for, "Do you think you know why they took him?"
Wendy frowned. She had been thinking about this, had time to try and piece together why the hell the Lost Boys had been stupid enough to kidnap Peter, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made.
"I was very brief in my letter to you," she said, after a long moment. Tink hummed in agreement. "But Baelfire and Belle had been trying for months to bring back Gold. Bae had said he would be gone a few weeks, but he didn't come back. So I took the star and went looking for him. As it turns out, the spell he had used had done a few unexpected things. The first was that he had to give up his life for his father to come back and a sorceress offered to fix it and Bae and Gold now share the same body, which is why the star does not work for him." She shook her head. So much explaining and she wasn't even at the relevant part. "The second was that it brought Pan back. I suspect his soul and Gold's her cleaved together because they died by the same dagger.
"When Pan came back, he sought out the Lost Boys and figured that I would come along soon to find Baelfire, which I did. He wanted Neverland back, so he struck up a deal with me. His help to find Bae in exchanged for the star. He also intended to get my heart, as the Heart of the Truest Believer. The two things needed for Neverland. About six months later, he broke with the Lost Boys and decided he no longer wanted Neverland." Tinkerbell's eyebrows shot up at the this. "If I had to guess, they took him for revenge and left the note for me hoping that in exchange for him, I'd give them the star and potentially even my heart."
Tinkerbell's mouth hung slightly open, her eyebrows still raised, totally shocked.
Pan had really been the only person Wendy had spoken to for months. She imagined that this was what it was like to watch a child grow. For their parent, they hardly notice the changes, day by day, so small they're barely noticeable, but relatives only saw befores and afters.
The difference between Peter the last time she had seen him compared to the last time Tinkerbell had seen him was indescribable. It wasn't something she could explain to her.
"A lot has changed," she said, stating the obvious, as Tinkerbell tried to process what little Wendy had explained. "That's what I meant when I said I was having trouble finding the words."
"Clearly," Tinkerbell said, almost to herself. She turned to Wendy. "Honestly, I was worried you had been brainwashed or something. The way you were acting. But honestly, if Pan decided to give up Neverland…" She shook her head, still trying to make sense of the reality.
"There's more to it than that," Wendy explained.
Tink nodded. "I'm sure there is."
"And I will tell you all of it. Pan will explain too once we get him back, but it's just—"
"Don't worry about it." She held up a hand. "Let's put that aside for right now and we can talk about tomorrow."
Wendy nodded.
Tink shook herself a little. "I'm using one of the spells you suggested. You had several really good suggestions."
Wendy fought the urge to say I know. "Thank you," she managed. "Which one?"
"The one from the Uredel text."
Wendy nodded. "That's a good one. It'll give us an initial radius. The colour will change to indicate distance." She caught Tinkerbell's still-bewildered look. She had spent many afternoons denouncing Pan's magic to Tink and had made it a point to know as little about it as possible, but now here she was, a near-expert.
"Then we'll find Pan and bring him back." She frowned, shaking her head. She should have been able to begin to form a coherent plan about how to get Pan out of the Box and away from the Lost Boys. But there was a cold hand dragging its nails down her back, a monster on the peripheries of her vision. Fear.
"Wendy, we don't know enough to be more detailed than that," Tink said, reassuringly, but it rang hollow. Wendy was great at plans and magic and—
"I'm not thinking properly," she said, grinding her teeth.
"I have my magic," Tinkerbell assured. "That should help us."
Wendy nodded and looked to her friend. "Thank you for all of this."
"Anything for you, Wendy," Tink said and pulled her into a tight hug. It felt the same as it had all those years ago. Her hug was almost vice-like, but that's what Wendy liked about it. She wasn't afraid to show how much she cared, how much she loved Wendy. She wrapped her arms around her and hugged her back, just as tight.
"I don't know what I would be doing without you," she said, taking a deep breath, smelling the familiar scent of Tink, lily of the valley and grass warmed in the sun. Again, that fear didn't disappear, but she felt her lungs expand and was able to take a full breath. And this time she knew it wasn't the spell that let her do that.
XXX
The sun beamed down on Wendy and Tinkerbell, cheerful and warm. In the half-bare branches above them, birds chirped and squirrel chitter back and forth, basking in the golden light of the first nice day of spring. The spell of new life, flowers sprouting delicate, green buds and the earth thawing, wafted through the air.
And it was driving Wendy absolutely nuts.
The warm air, wrapping around her, was suffocating. Every sound, every snap of a branch, every flutter of wings, sent her mind spinning, too much information to take in when she had so much on her mind. She wished for the cold she had been so used to for so long, for grey skies and quiet forests.
A few paces ahead of them, an orb floated in the direction of Peter. They followed after it, at a brisk but conservative pace to conserve the horse's energy. According to the colour, they would get to the Lost Boys in the early evening, which was less than ideal to be coming upon them at that time. Aside from the issue of the darkness, she knew how they were, knew their rhythms. Although they all were perfectly happy to drink and rage any time of day, the evening was usually their favourite and dealing with them drunk and angry was not something that excited Wendy.
"You're grinding your teeth," Tink observed, dressed in a green riding jacket, sitting atop her own horse. They were travelling light with provisions only for a few days, a medical kit and clothes for Pan.
Wendy turned and looked helplessly at Tinkerbell.
Tink tilted her head, her eyes drifting up to the canopy. "Did you know that Pan wanted the heart too the whole time?" she asked. A distraction, not a great one, but a distraction was a distraction.
"No." She sighed. "I mean, in hindsight, it made sense he would want that too. But obviously, he couldn't come right out and ask it."
"So he charmed you?"
Wendy let out a bark of a laugh. "No. I think he got into it and realized it probably just wasn't going to happen. Henry existed. There are other Truest Believers out there."
Tinkerbell nodded, frowning, face solemn.
Wendy pressed her lips together. She knew that she should talk, explain herself beyond what had already been said. She glanced at her friend, who had now turned and was looking on ahead. But Wendy wasn't stupid. She knew that Tink's mind was whirring with questions. And she wanted to answer them. She did. It was just—
"When I gave you the star, I didn't realize that I was putting the two things that are needed for Neverland together," Tinkerbell said, slow and sad, guilty.
Wendy turned, meeting Tink's gaze. She held her eyes, trying to make clear how she felt. "It's not your fault," she said. "Pan was dead then."
"The Lost Boys weren't. People who might want a new Neverland could be out there," she said, not giving up on her stance. She shook her head, sad blue eyes slipping from Wendy's. "It's made you a target. Twice." She scoffed, looking down at her hands. "Some fairy godmother I am."
"You're not responsible for anyone's actions but your own," she told her, words crisp and sharp, her voice shrill and authoritative. "You were kind to me then and you're kind to me now. What else could I ask of a fairy godmother and friend?"
Tinkerbell continued to look down at her hands.
"Tinkerbell," she said, just as demanding as before.
She finally looked up.
"What else could I ask of a fairy godmother and friend?" Wendy repeated.
"Are you going to give them the star in exchange for Pan? And your heart?" Tinkerbell said, her words quick and abrupt, clearly something she had been working up the nerve to ask.
Wendy pressed her lips together. Not just guilt. Worry was eating at Tink, too. "No," she assured, shaking her head slowly. "Not the plan."
"You wouldn't do it for him? If it came down to it?"
Would she do it for Pan? Give up her life for him?
"Right now, we're working on writing a spell to undo what Bae did to save him," she explained slowly, picking her words carefully. "When we first found the spell he used, it felt like the end. There was no reversal and it's an incredibly powerful and ancient spell. And my initial reaction was that the solution would be to exchange my life for Baelfire's."
Tinkerbell listened, eyes shifting between Wendy and the road ahead.
"I've believed for the longest time that my life was meant only for others. I was here to save and sacrifice, to care and comfort." She paused and glanced up at the canopy above them, the dappled light and the shifting leaves in the trees. "Pan convinced me otherwise." She turned back to Tink
Tinkerbell raised an eyebrow. "You changed your mind?" Well, if anything could be said about Wendy, she was consistent. She wasn't sure there was a soul out there who wouldn't agree she was stubborn.
"He convinced me that my life is mine to live, or at least gave me the support I needed to think that," she continued, heart twisting in her chest. "Sometimes, when things look bleak with the spell we're writing, I worry about Baelfire and fall back on giving up my life for him. We had an argument a little while ago because I brought it up and Pan said he'd give up his life for Baelfire instead of me. And we ended up agreeing that if we both felt so strongly about the other not doing that, we just both won't." She let out a long breath. "So to answer your question: I would but I won't."
Tink continued to look at her before shaking her head and turning back to the road.
"What?" Wendy asked.
"Do you want to know what my first thought was when I got your letter?"
Wendy nodded.
"'Oh my God, she's gone and sacrificed herself for her brother again. She's going to give up her life for Neal'," Tinkerbell said, almost chuckling. "Because that was you. That was who you were. You would give up your life without even thinking it through. Suicidally selfless." She let out a laugh, a little too sharp. "I love you, Wendy, and I think you're amazing, but that was what I liked least about you."
"You felt so bad because you thought I was going to give the star and the heart up if it came down to it," Wendy said slowly, connecting the dots.
"Yeah," Tinker said, still half-laughing. "Pan's not the only one who changed."
"He's not," she agreed.
XXX
Rounding a bend, the orb fell dark and then suddenly flashed white, blinding Wendy and Tinkerbell for a moment in the dim evening. Blinking into the light as the orb quickly faded to its normal brightness, they both turned and looked at each other.
"A hundred meters," Wendy said, speaking quietly.
Without a word, they slid off their horses, leading them off the road and into the forest. Finding a clearing, they tied up the horses, and turned back to follow the orb, walking silently, grimly next to each other.
Wendy barely heard the crunch of gravel and sticks underfoot as her heart beat loudly in her ears. Balling her hands up into fists, she tried to contain the nervous energy inside her, to keep her footsteps calm and steady, to keep herself from sprinting ahead down the dirt road that wound through the forest.
Overhead, long shadows crept over them, the blue light of the evening distorting the world around them. Wendy was accustomed to the forest now, to the darkness that evening brought, but she couldn't help glancing over her shoulder or casting a watchful eye down the road, looking for something to leap out of the darkness.
Nothing jumped out at them. Instead, distant voices began to fill the space around them, burrowing into the long shadows of trees and into dark corners. As they continued to walk, a warm light beckoned them, a murky outline of a small shack materializing out of the thicket. Reaching the edge of the tree line, they crouched down and looked on at the small house, windows dingy and dirty, the walls thin enough to hear distinct voices from far off.
Wendy's hands shook as she clawed at the grass underfoot, heart beating so wildly she was sure that the Lost Boys would have heard it. Half of her want to leap out of the forest and crash through the house and the other wanted to hide in the forest, weeping.
"Alright—"
"Tinkerbell," she said, holding up her hand, speaking quickly because if she didn't say it now, she wouldn't, "I know what Pan did to you and how you feel about him. I don't expect you to risk your life for him and even attempt to save him." She turned and met Tinkerbell's eyes, steady and blue, a calm ocean. "You don't have to come in with me. You don't even have to stay."
Tinkerbell scoffed. "What kind of fairy godmother do you take me for?"
Wendy stared. "I don't want you to do this out of obligation."
Tink shook her head. "I was kind then and I'm kind now." Then she grinned. "And I sometimes change my mind about things, unlike some people."
A laugh bubbled up out of her throat before she could even stop it. Wendy clamped her hands over her mouth and looked over at Tinkerbell. She swallowed the laugh and reached over and squeezed Tink's hand. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Wendy shook herself, turning back to the house. "Alright, here's what I'm thinking."
Hello! I have not been consistent about updating this! I'm kind of bored with FF so if you'd like a more consistent posting check out my posting on AO3 where I'm much more consistent /works/4780286/chapters/67665100