"Quite a sight, isn't it?" James asked.
"Yes. Thank you for bringing me out here."
He grinned, setting his hat on her head. "You're welcome, but I actually brought you here to get you drunk."
"Well then," she said, laughing as she tilted the brim back so she could see his face again, "let's get started on that, shall we?"
***
Wendy was certain that she could no longer walk a straight line, even if she tried her absolute hardest. Everything was pleasantly fuzzy around the edges, and the patterns of the fire were so pretty that she couldn't help but watch even though she had to blink every couple of seconds. And she hadn't even been drinking the same thing the pirates had; they had something called whiskey while James had brought along a bottle of something 'milder', he'd said, for her. "Don't want you passing out after five minutes," he'd said. She'd protested that she'd always had quite a strong fortitude, thank you very much, and he'd said while that was true, she'd never tested it against whiskey.
She would try some later, she'd decided. But James had rested his head in her lap, and she was stroking his hair, and if it weren't for the fact that this island was woefully low on food she could quite happily stay here forever.
"I ever tell you the story of Red-Handed Jill?" James asked.
"No, I don't believe so."
"One of the first pirates, she was. Lived a long long time ago, under the reign of a cruel King. But the King's son was far from cruel, and he loved her dearly. She returned his affections, but once when she went to meet him the King's men caught her. She was sentenced to the gallows, but the Prince helped her escape. She took shelter out at sea, and waited, and became the bane of any King's ship that sailed the waters. Eventually her Prince found her-- he went in disguise out on one of his father's ships, and revealed himself when she and her crew attacked. Reunited, the two of them sailed away, never to be seen again. Some say they sail out here still."
Wendy smiled. "I love you, you know."
"Love you, too, lass. My Jill." He sat up then, kissed her, and she thought that she was fine, just fine, with her first taste of whiskey being like this and then she heard the other pirates hooting and hollering at them and she pulled back, smiling.
"A little privacy too much to ask?"
"Yes," they chorused, and she laughed and kissed James again, heedless of their good-natured jibes.
"Someone get Smee away from the water," Allan said. "I would, but I can't seem ta feel my legs."
"Come on, then, Smee," James said, getting up. The first mate was standing knee-deep in the ocean, peering out at the dark water. "Even if she did show up, you're too drunk to remember it."
"I am?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Okay," Smee said, following James back to shore and dropping down onto the sand in front of the fire. "Think I need another drink."
"I think we all do," James said, giving Wendy a quick grin. "You up for it, m'girl?"
"Aye aye, Cap'n," she said, getting to her feet and taking the bottle he offered.
"To Red-Handed Jill!" James shouted, and the others echoed the toast as she put the bottle to her lips and took a deep drink.
It was the worst thing she'd ever tasted. She coughed, wanting to ask the others why they would do this to themselves voluntarily, but she wasn't sure she could get the breath for it. Then a warmth spread quickly throughout her stomach, and an instant later her knees went all wobbly. She tilted and James caught her and she leaned against him, laughing.
***
They woke in a scattered pile, like puppies-- hung over, bleary-eyed puppies-- Smee with one foot dangling into the water; James's hand in his to make sure he didn't roll all the way into the ocean; Wendy curled against his other side, her hand resting over his heart.
***
Peter crossed his arms tightly, still sitting on the high tree branch that gave him a perfect view of something he didn't want to see.
Wendy was curled up right next to-- next to him. It wasn't even a cold night; there was no reason for them to be that close! Everybody was asleep now and he dearly wanted to pick up a pile of shells, maybe sharp shells, and fling them down at the whole lot of them. But he was too angry to even move.
He saw Tink's familiar glow, felt her tiny hand rest on the back of his own. "Let her stay with the pirates, then," she said. "What's it matter to you?"
"I brought her here!" Peter said, lowering his voice when one of the pirates closest to their tree stirred. "I've showed her everything. She said that she loved being with us. How could she leave? She's mine!"
"I don't. . ."
"Bet he tricked her somehow," Peter grumbled. "That's what grownups do. They lie and say it's for your own good. I've never lied to her. I've never lied to anyone!"
"I know, Peter," she murmured, stroking the back of his hand. "Shhh."
He just stared straight ahead for a long moment, expression morose, and then he brightened. "I can make her ignore his tricks. Your friends! They're really good with potions, right? I'm sure they'll have one that'll make her forget about him."
"They most likely do," Tinker Bell said, fighting off an oncoming headache. Just when she'd thought things might be getting back to normal. . . "But Peter-- why not give it a chance, her not being around? It's been nice, these past few weeks, hasn't it? We've had fun?"
"Yeah."
"And she might come back on her own! Why not give her some time before fiddling with something as complicated as a potion, huh?"
"I don't know. I just want her back where she belongs."
"Aren't we enough?" Tink asked, her wings humming faster. "Why do you have to have her?"
"I . . . I don't really know. I just do, Tink."
She knew that he wasn't lying, knew that he finally felt something different toward a woman, something he couldn't readily explain-- and those feelings weren't for her. She sighed deeply. "Then I'll help you keep her."
They almost never received gifts. When they did, it was from the other Lost Boys, and they could never hide their excitement enough to let the present be an honest surprise.
This bottle sat on the table, with "To Peter Pan-- from a secret admirer" written on the note tied to the neck. The handwriting was neat, clean, nothing like the Boys' haphazard scrawls. They wouldn't gift expensive-looking bottles, anyway, they were more likely to bring presents of bugs and stones. "What's this?" Tink asked.
"Dunno yet!" Peter said cheerfully. "Wanna have some with me?"
"Not until I know who it's from," Tinker Bell murmured.
"It says right there," Peter said, pointing at the note. "Secret Admirer."
He got a far-off look in his eyes for a few seconds, and Tink knew he was thinking of the woman in red, the one he thought she didn't know about, the one he never spoke of around her.
"It might not be safe."
Peter Pan laughed. "What wouldn't be safe about it?"
"What if it's not from-- from a friend?"
"Oh, stop it, Tink. It's just a nice gift."
He opened the bottle and started to tip it up for a drink, and she knew she wouldn't have the strength to jar the bottle from his grip even if she flew at it with all her might and if she asked for a drink too he'd still drink at the same time as her, and she did the only thing she could think of, darted between his mouth and the bottle's narrow opening and took the first swallow instead.
Narrow opening or not, the pour still drenched her face and she dropped down, coughing and spluttering, and Peter set the bottle down on the table, laughing. "You happy now?"
He started to pick up the bottle again, still chuckling, and Tink wiped the liquid out of her eyes, fuming. Would it be too much for him to at least acknowledge that she'd tried to do something nice for him?
Then her stomach clenched and she doubled over, her wings spasming once and then stopping, letting her fall toward the ground. Peter caught her, dropping the bottle in the process. It shattered on the floor, ignored as he raised her closer to his face. "Tink?
Hey, you okay?"
He remembered Wendy, writhing in pain, eyes going so terribly black, and abruptly set Tink down on the table. "I-- look, I'll go get help. All right? I'll be right back. I promise."
He darted out of their home, then, not knowing who he was looking for. The Lost Boys wouldn't be useful. He didn't know where the White Rabbit lived. And he couldn't do anything, wasn't going to watch--
"Peter?"
He turned back to the tree, gaping as he realized why her voice had sounded so much louder. She was bigger. Tinker Bell was swaying in the doorway, wings gone, face pale.
"Hey," he said, flying up to her and grinning. She'd made it! "What did that stuff do?" he asked. "How'd it do that?"
"Don't know," she whispered miserably, her voice hoarse. "My powers are gone. Must've changed me back."
But maybe this wouldn't be so bad, she told herself. Her stomach was still roiling, but the worst had passed. And though she would've rather made this choice herself, now that it was done she could talk to Peter again, see if maybe--
"Huh," he said, expression bemused. "Changed you back? You're a changeling?"
She started to cry.
***
The important thing now was, was the old legend true?
Tinker Bell stood at the edge of the Lagoon, wondering. It was said, had always been said, that those who died in the kingdom of Faerietale would wake up again in the mortal realm.
If she died here, would she wake up in her old life? The life she was supposed to have had?
She poked a toe into the water, quickly drew it back. This was the most certain way around here to meet your end, but it also wasn't going to be painless. Even Peter usually didn't toy with the mermaids.
Maybe if she just sat down and didn't eat for a long while. She certainly hadn't had an appetite the past couple of days.
She sat down, arms crossed over her knees, staring out over the water.
The other important thing was, if she didn't try to get back to the mortal realm by dying . . . then what was she supposed to do?
It was rumored that Wendy could see Doors. See more Doors than even the most powerful sorcerers and witches had believed possible.
But then, it was very, very doubtful that Wendy would be in a mood to do her any favors. And no wonder.
She sniffled and wiped a hand across her eyes.
"Things all right, lass?"
Tink quickly looked up, scrambling to her feet when she recognized Captain Hook. Her quick motions left her feet in the water, and he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of it.
"You been drinking?" he asked. "Nobody touches the Lagoon."
"I-- I'm--"
The hold on her hand tightened slightly. "I know your face. Was a little smaller the last time I saw it."
"Let go of me."
"You drank the potion, didn't you?" He cursed, then let go of her hand. "Why?"
"To test it," she said, trying her hardest to keep her voice defiant. All she could think of now was how she'd decided not to go into the Lagoon after all, and now she was between those fatal waters and the one person in all of Faerietale who must dearly want to give her a push.
"Knew he wouldn't be savvy enough to think twice about a gift," Hook muttered. "Given how long you've been with him, thought the same of you. Bad time to be wrong, it seems," he said, looking her up and down. "So where's he?"
"I don't know."
He met her eyes. "Thought by now you'd be throwing a punch or three at me."
"Why should I?" she asked bitterly. "Wasn't I the one who helped give a worse potion to Wendy?"
He nodded. "It's no wonder you're not with Peter anymore." Though she was expecting nothing less than insults, tears still sprang to her eyes. Then he continued. "You're too grown-up for him now, aren't you?"
Tinker Bell closed her eyes. "I love him. I have for a long time. I'm sure you think that foolish--"
"Worse than foolish, really."
"But I do. And he . . . he can't remember anything. Doesn't want to, I don't think. He's so sweet, and fun, but he won't--" She choked on a sob, then shook her head quickly. "And the worst of it is I think he does love someone now but it isn't me. I've done everything I can and it's not me."
"He doesn't love anyone."
"Wha-- how do you know?"
"He might fall full into lust and obsession and call it love, because boys like to play games with words. But love takes something he's never going to have."
"What's it like?" she asked quietly. "Loving somebody who actually loves you back?"
"Don't suppose I know anymore, do I?"
She took a deep breath. "Suppose I deserved that."
"Yes, you did."
"Would it matter if I apologized?"
"Not really."
But it would matter, Tinker Bell thought, if I could fix what I've done. She explored the forest constantly, had been to places that she'd never even shown Peter. She knew where Wendy lived.
"It's the only thing that really matters."
"What?"
The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. "Love. Now that you're free of him, maybe someday you'll find someone actually worthy of it."
Maybe, she thought, feeling a tiny ember of her former optimism start to glow again for the first time since she'd swallowed that potion. "Thank you," she said, stepping forward to give him a hug. "And also, thank you for not pushing me into the Lagoon."
"Have to admit the thought did cross my mind," he said. "The . . . the potion that you gave her. What was it for?"
She wanted to hug him again, this time as reassurance-- had he believed, all this time, that the potion had been meant to do that to her?
"Peter wanted her to forget you," she whispered. "I knew that potions meant to affect memory could be . . . volatile. So I got a different potion, an Attachment one." Love potions, despite the claims of various shysters, never worked. "I thought if-- if she drank it that she would still be with you, but Attached to Peter still, and things would be fine. But Peter forgot how much of the potion to give and it. . ."
“I know what happened after that." He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. "I suppose that--"
"What are you doing?"
Tinker Bell flinched so hard at the furious voice that she nearly went back into the water. She flexed muscles that were no longer there, preparing to fly, and then she remembered and clenched her fists. "Peter?"
He hovered above the Lagoon, his own fists curled tightly, his expression angrier than she'd ever seen it. "Bad enough that you took Smee. Took Wendy. You are not taking her, too!"
"Don't believe she's either of ours to claim, lad," Hook said, his voice low and deadly.
"How could you do this to me?" Peter asked, his eyes locking on Tinker Bell for a few seconds before he turned and darted back into the forest.
Tonight, Peter thought. He would rally the Lost Boys and they would attack tonight. No one on that horrible friend-stealing ship was going to live to see morning.
***
Wendy stepped into the small clearing, one hand resting on the hilt of her knife. Granted, Tinker Bell had never struck her as dangerous, especially not now that she'd been cursed somehow and turned into a mortal. But still. Given her longtime alliance with Peter Pan, it couldn't hurt to be careful.
The other woman was pacing around the clearing, and then she hopped up on a low tree branch, swinging her feet back and forth. Not dangerous-seeming at all-- but a little disconcerting.
She hopped down from the branch and began pacing again, and Wendy was fairly sure her own eye twitched in response. "Is it possible for you to hold still?"
"No!" the blonde snapped. Then she sighed, absently rubbing at her back, and Wendy reconsidered her annoyance. She had to have been used to humming her wings, and now . . . well, now apparently she was trying to figure out another way to fidget.
"So. Why are we here?"
Up to the tree branch again. "I . . . I want you to have the truth of i
t. What happened to you, I mean."
Wendy glanced away. Though she'd pursued the whole story, asked for it more than once, demanded it, now that the moment was here she found herself wanting to stall. "Why now?"
"Because I haven't really done right by you. Done right by anyone, I s'pose. Except maybe Peter, but that. . ." She rubbed at her back again. "Anyway. I thought you'd be as good a place to start as any."
"Captain Hook says that . . . that Peter was the one to poison me. Is he telling the truth?"
Tinker Bell nodded. "You loved him so dearly. The Captain, I mean, not . . . not Peter. I should have stopped him. Should have at least tried. But-- I wanted Peter to be happy and . . . all right, and I was jealous of you."
At that, Wendy's gaze flew to her face. "You-- you and Hook?"
"No," she said matter-of-factly. "No, Peter's the only one for me. Always has been. I was just jealous that he so plainly loved you back. It was never supposed to do this to you. Please believe that. Peter wanted me to go get a potion that would make you stop loving the Captain, that would make you come back. But such things are very dangerous, and so I asked my Queen for a loyalty potion instead."
"That worked out quite well. Thank you."
For an instant, anger flared in her expression, and then she visibly bit it back, looking away. "I thought you'd drink it and form an attachment to Peter again. That you'd love Hook but still visit us on occasion and then everything would be all right. My Queen told me to only give you one or two drops. And I told Peter the same. Was even the one to put the dose into your tea, to make sure it was fine. And then one of the Lost Boys started making a horrible racket because he'd been taunting that crocodile and it snapped at him and I went to make sure he was all right and Peter must've picked up the vial as soon as I left and when I got back you were gone and-- Wendy? Excuse me, are you well?"
Wendy sat on the ground, hands braced against the coarse dirt, against reality, her nails digging in and trying to keep her connected to now instead of then.
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