Chapter 18 - Confessions

      “You’re NOT putting that in the stew!” Peter yelled, making the fat sea-cook jump in surprise.

      Cookson turned to the girl, his fist tightening around the handful of fish-guts he’d been about to add to the pot. “Yous mind ze dishes, leetle Miss, and let ze cook cook!” He smirked at the girl standing by the tub of soapy water. “Yous is just a scullery maid, now feenish zat pan, I needz it for ze bread.” He turned back to the simmering pot, intent on adding the entrails, but something metal smacked him in the back of the head. He spun around and saw a soapy ladle lying on the floor.

      “You’re not adding that,” Peter snapped, planting her wet fists on her hips. “I may not know how to cook, but I know fish-guts don’t go into clam chowder.”

      “Es secret ingredient…” Cookson argued, flustered that this mere girl was trying to tell him how to cook.

      “I also know we have no clams to go into the clam chowder,” Peter interrupted, “and I know we had some earlier. Does the captain know you’re serving him swill because you’re eating the good stuff yourself?”

      Cookson blanched, realizing he’d been found out. As a rule, he kept the men out of the kitchen while he cooked for this very reason. But Hook had wanted Pan to start doing duty, and the temptation of having someone to do the dirty work for him had made him agree to give the girl some chores. Now it seemed that for the past three days the little wench had been spying on him, and she’d discovered what really happened to the choice ingredients.

      “Yous know nozing! And if you tells Hook, he no believe you. Hook know better zan trust Peter Pan over his own crew.”

      Peter frowned, her lips tightening into a fierce scowl. She didn’t think Hook would believe her, at least not right off. But he was smart enough to give her story some credence and investigate it. However, Cookson had been getting away with this charade for years, and Peter didn’t doubt that he’d find a way to cover his tracks. Hook will just think I’m causing trouble, and he’ll never believe me again.

      “Fine,” she spat bitterly, returning to her tub of dishes. “Put whatever you want in there. I just won’t eat it… not so hard to do, I can’t stomach your food anyway.”

      Cookson’s relief that the girl wouldn’t rat on him was short-lived, killed by her vow to stop eating. Hers wasn’t an idle threat like the men always swore before and after every meal. Pan had missed far too many meals the past few days for the sea-cook to think she was bluffing. It had been four days since she’d regained consciousness, and Cookson knew that she’d only been able to eat his meals twice in that time. And both times, she’d promptly thrown up. The only thing she could hold down was broth and bread, but that wasn’t really enough to sustain her adequately.

      “Es not good for you to not eat,” he told her, setting the innards aside. “Yous look terrible, need to fatten up.” And she did look terrible. Despite her recent growth spurt (or maybe because of it), she was much too thin and her face was drawn with exhaustion. Everyone knew she wasn’t sleeping much; the watches saw her wandering around on deck at all hours of the night. But during the day, she did whatever duties Smee set for her.

      “I’m fine,” she answered, going back to the pot she’d been scrubbing. “I’ll just take bread and cheese tonight. I’d ask for some of the neverberries, but between Mason’s distillery and your eating them, I know they’re gone too.”

      Cookson shuffled guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck with one large, meaty hand. He’d never worried about serving the crew substandard fare before. While it may not taste very good, it was edible and fairly nutritious. And, to his mind, they ate it despite their complaints and no one else had stepped forward to do the job better, so it obviously wasn’t upsetting the crew as much as they claimed. But now he was staring at a young girl who was starving because of his cooking – because he was stealing food from her and her stomach wasn’t hardened enough to tolerate his substitutions.

      “Miz Pan,” he said awkwardly, trying to smile, “Yous ez good kitchen help. Pots and pans always squeaky clean, and veggies cut up nice. I makes you a deal: you no say nothing to anyone about Cookson’s cooking, and I share good stuff wiz you.” To emphasize his point, the cook pulled a bowl of neverberries from a cabinet marked “garbage” and held it out to her. “Es place I keeps the good stuff.”

      Peter stared at the bowl of berries, her mouth watering and her stomach gurgling in anticipation. She wanted them, no doubt, but this arrangement felt dishonest. “What about the crew?”

      Cookson snorted and waved his hand dismissively. “Thiefs and liars, all. Killers too. If dey knows good stuff here, dey eat it all up in a day. Remember, Miz Pan: es every man for hisself on a pirating ship.”

      Peter hesitated only a moment longer before she hastily dried off her hands and approached the cook. He was right, of course. It was the same thing Liam had told her long ago. Look out for your own interests and let everyone else take care of themselves. He’d broken that rule by taking her under his wing, and it had cost him his life. And while Peter was willing to make that mistake for her Lost Boys or Wendy, she wasn’t about to do it for pirates. “It’s a deal, Cookson,” she said as she grabbed the bowl of berries.

      Cookson smiled in relief when she began digging into the bowl, eating ravenously. He returned to his stew and began tossing in the fish-guts. “Finish dat and finish pots, I let you eat more good stuff. Cookson help you get your strength back. We be good friends, now, secret sharers.”

      Peter smiled at him, her lips red from the berry juice. “Aye, Cookson, we’ll be friends.” Not really, but I need allies. I can’t trust you, but we can share food. Wistfully, she thought about her friends and Wendy, remembering happy dinners that the little mother had prepared for them. Her appetite disappeared as her now-customary depression engulfed her once more, but she steadfastly finished her food. She had her first etiquette lesson with Hook tonight, and she needed all the strength she could get.

      Tinker Bell sat quietly on her bed and stared at the multi-colored bubble in her hands. Healer Peony had left it for her, and she spent much of her time just staring at it numbly. The swirls of colors soothed her mind, allowing her to spend days in blissful nothingness. It was better this way. Before, she’d spent her time crying in grief and despair, the pain from being cut-off from Peter too much to bear. Before, she’d wanted to die and had tried very hard to make it happen. Now, she didn’t want anything, not even to eat or sleep or think. The healer told her when to do those things, so there really wasn’t much to worry about at all.

      She didn’t notice when the door to her chamber opened, and it didn’t even register that Oberon, her King, entered with Peony.

      Oberon waited while the healer dragged a seat to the side of the bed, taking the time to study Tink. He noted her pinched, haggard face, the dark circles under her eyes, and the vacant stare she fixed on the orb. “How long before she’ll come out of it enough to speak?” he asked the healer as he sat.

      The white-haired fairy sat near Tinker Bell on the bed. She carefully touched the orb with her finger, popping it. “Not long, majesty. She may not recognize you at first, so I hope you aren’t planning on her showing proper formality even once she does.”

      “No,” Oberon assured her. “I know better than to expect much out of her. I understand how much she’s been damaged. I regret it was necessary, but, due to her bond, she would have defended Pan with her last breath. I want her to tell me what happened, without being coerced into saying it.”

      Tinker Bell stirred at the voices, blinking slowly as a small frown crossed her face. “Where are my colors, Peony?”

      “You have a visitor, Tink,” Healer Peony said gently, taking the girl’s hand. “He wants to talk to you.”

      “Peter?” Tink whispered, looking over to the fairy in the chair. “Not Peter,” she corrected, disappointment tingeing her voice. “Oberon, where is Peter?”

      “She is safe, Tinker Bell. She’s in Neverland right now.” Oberon knew he didn’t have long before they’d have to give the orb back to the girl. She was waking up, but she’d remain emotionally numb for a while longer before her pain and loss began to return. He needed to take advantage of the time he had. “I need you to tell me about Peter. When did you find out that Peter was a girl? Why did you not tell us? Why did you use the memory traps on the children?”

      Tinker Bell gazed at Oberon silently for a few seconds, gathering her thoughts. She knew what the King wanted; she’d been expecting these questions even before they’d shredded her soul. And since she’d known all along what the answers to those questions would be, it didn’t take much mental effort for her to begin speaking. Softly, without faltering, she told him everything they both wanted him to hear.

      Gloriana sat in her chair and watched the boy lying in her bed. His skin was alarmingly pale and cool to the touch and his eyes gazed fixedly upon nothing at all. Were it not that he blinked occasionally, one might suppose he was dead. And he would be dead right now if the fairy queen hadn’t managed to sedate him in time. He appeared to be awake, but his mind was asleep and far away, and nothing his eyes may see right now could penetrate the walls around his mind.

      The Queen, quite simply, had had ENOUGH, and she wasn’t going to put up with anymore of her husband’s high-handed idiocy in the matter of these human children. So now she waited, waited to see if Slightly would awaken sane and waited to see if she and Oberon could reach an accord - or if she was going to have to take matters into her own hands.

      When at long last the door to their bedchamber opened and the King entered, Gloriana didn’t stir or look at him. Oberon stepped towards her quickly, his face set into an expression of relief. “Love, I spoke with Tinker Bell…” he paused when he saw his bed was occupied. “What is he doing here?”

      “He’s recovering, and I won’t leave his side until he does. What better place for me to care for a child I helped harm than in my own room?” Gloriana waited for Oberon to object, but he remained silent. “As for what happened, he had much the same reaction to Sight as Billy Jukes. He panicked and the combination of magic, fear, and madness was sufficient to collapse the layers of memory traps and the strain shattered his mind.”

      She drew a shaky breath and finally turned her gaze upon her husband. “It was perhaps most horrible to watch because of how terribly quietly it happened. One moment he was screaming in terror and then suddenly he just… stopped. I could feel the spells collapsing around him and he just stopped. He stopped screaming, stopped moving, stopped seeing and hearing,” her voice lost its calm control and began to rise as she rounded on the fairy King. “He stopped thinking and feeling, and I barely had time to shield him before he stopped being! You promised me! You promised that no other child would be mind-shorn! After what happened to Joseph, you PROMISED and you LIED!”

      Oberon recoiled at her rage, but he tried to defend himself. “I didn’t know this would happen! If Tinker Bell hadn’t…”

      “Oh yes, if Tinker Bell hadn’t done many things, circumstances would be quite different,” Gloriana yelled. “But your heavy-handed rashness has made this into a tragedy! One boy was nearly driven insane, but despite that we pressed on with the tests. We knew about the mind traps, yet we ignored them and put both Nibs and Slightly through the trial. And look at what we have done!”

      Gloriana closed her eyes for several seconds, trying to regain her calm. Oberon wisely remained silent, knowing his wife needed to vent her frustrations and fears. “If Tinker Bell hadn’t found Peter,” she continued, “we’d have a different Pan and our god-daughter would be dead. So I don’t fault her for bringing Peter here – after hearing what you saw in her mind, I’m prepared to forgive Tink for bringing us a girl Pan. If I had known long ago what Peter had been through, I’d have adopted her anyway to keep her from that life.

      “But we didn’t know and Tinker Bell covered it up. She endangered these children with her spells and Neverland itself with her silence. She even made her Pan forget. And what did we do when we found out? We over-reacted – you acted in haste and anger, and now our daughter languishes in exile with her enemies, wearing that THING around her neck!”

      “What should I have done then?” Oberon asked quietly. He knew what she was likely to say.

      “We should have left her in Neverland until we knew for certain who was at fault for this. We shouldn’t have begun severing her from the magic until a Pan had been chosen to replace her. We should have taken our time with all the human children and made sure we understood what would happen when the spells on them intertwined. We know how unpredictable magic is with humans, and yet we’ve barreled on in our course, determined to replace Peter and punish her for her sins. And look at what we’ve done! Look at him,” she pointed to Slightly. “Look at her,” she pointed to the crystal lying on a pillow, “and look at Neverland!”

      Oberon’s eyes flickered to a map on the wall, the Neverscroll. The parchment was beginning to yellow and crack, and the ink that represented the island was smearing in places and fading. And the crystal… Oberon couldn’t bring himself to look at the crystal. I didn’t realize she would wane so quickly. The Neverscroll itself shows clearly enough that she and the island are dying.

      “Now I will tell you what we’re going to do,” Gloriana said coldly. “We’re going to try to repair the damage. We’re sending Wendy and the Lost Boys home, without testing them. If Slightly recovers, he’ll join them. If he doesn’t, he’ll remain in my care indefinitely. We’re taking that collar off Peter and sending her home. I want my daughter back, and I can only pray that she’ll somehow be able to forgive us.”

      “But the law…” Oberon objected.

      “I don’t give a shilling’s worth of troll shit what the law says! The law also says we must have a Pan, yet we do not. The law says we aren’t to test a child to madness, and it’s likely we have. The law dictates the proper way for a Pan to pass on the gift, and we’ve ignored that propriety too. So I say bugger all the laws and fix this, and I’m sure every fairy in Neverland would agree with me!”

      Gloriana sat back in her chair, suddenly exhausted. She’d never, ever, spoken to her King so bluntly or so forcefully, and while it felt wonderful, it had also taxed the last of her emotional energy. But she wasn’t done yet. She’d given him her objections and her suggestions, and if he accepted them or another agreeable alternative, then she would be content. However, if he continued to be hard-headed, then she would be forced to seize power herself to save her god-child and Neverland. Please don’t make me, she prayed, running her hand over the pouch by her side. Within it rested a charm made from her own dust that would rob Oberon of his powers for a week, long enough for her to seize control and undo some of the damage.

      Oberon sat on the foot of his bed and stared at Slightly while he thought. “I spoke with Tinker Bell just before I came here, and what she has told me makes all of this much simpler in my mind. I cannot gainsay the law, Love, but…” he held up his hand to silence her protests, “but I do agree with what you have proposed. We will send the Lost Boys home. Healers will carefully, over time, remove Tinker Bell’s memory traps so that the danger to them is gone.” He glanced at the Neverscroll again, noting its rapid decay. The crystal that connected them to Peter likewise showed signs of failing, the glow becoming dimmer as new cracks and flaws formed.

      “Tinker Bell has, without coercion, admitted to treason,” he said softly, and he heard Gloriana give a small sigh of relief. “She has told me that she knew Peter was female from the moment she met her. She claimed that she deliberately hid the truth from us so that she could gain status as the pixie who found the Pan, and she encouraged Peter to keep up the pretense. Therefore, we can restore our faith in Peter, knowing that she was not at fault for this deception.

      “We cannot allow Peter to remain Pan, but likewise we must have a Pan. So, we shall compromise the two laws: she will remain Pan until a new one is found. I will remove the collar and restore her to the island. Once she and Neverland have had time to heal, we will go about the task of repairing our relationship with her.”

      “I have a request, Ron,” Gloriana said, removing her hand from the pouch. She could barely contain herself at first, giddy from relief and joy that she wouldn’t have to resort to treason. “Give me the task of finding a Pan. Let me send out the emissaries and do not ask questions when my search comes up empty for quite some time. After what she’s been through, she deserves her time here in Neverland. We’ve robbed her of so much of it in our harsh treatment.”

      Oberon nodded. “Done, my Love. In fact, I encourage you to take your time in finding a Pan. We were hasty in selecting our last one, and no one will fault you for taking extra care in finding the next.”

      They sat in silence for some time, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Slightly’s eyes slid closed, but still he gave no other indication of life. “When shall we go to Peter?” Gloriana asked at long last.

      “Soon, I hope, but we still have time. I refuse to go to the ship without you, Glory. I need your patience to keep me from hurting her again.”

      “I can’t leave Slightly, not yet,” she replied. “If he awakens, he may need me here to help him. We don’t know if he’ll be whole, and if he isn’t he could hurt himself. The healers don’t know how to tend to humans.” She sighed, turning her tearful gaze on Oberon. “But I can’t stand the thought of leaving Peter there for one more minute! I don’t know what to do!”

      “We’ll wait,” Oberon said soothingly, taking her hand. “Peter is fading, but we can wait another day or so. If Slightly still hasn’t awakened, I will go alone and deal with her. In the meantime, I will help you watch the boy. Get some rest, and I’ll awaken you in the morning.”

      Gloriana smiled at him and prepared for bed. She kissed her husband goodnight and climbed into the bed next to Slightly, nestling him next to her in a protective gesture. In moments she was asleep, the horror of the day had exhausted her completely. Oberon watched over them through the night, occasionally turning to regard the Neverscroll or to examine the crystal, taking thoughtful measure of how much time they had left to reclaim their god-daughter.

      Peter hummed to herself as she left the kitchen, feeling a lot better than she had in days. Her stomach rumbled in happy contentment, busy digesting the neverberries, sausages and biscuits Cookson had given her. Allying herself with the ship’s cook now seemed to be the best decision she’d made since being brought aboard, and her future seemed just a little brighter now that she was no longer starving. The buckets of water she was hauling seemed rather light, and she smiled as she approached Jukes’s workroom. Once she dropped off the buckets, she was done with the day’s duties and would have a little time to herself before she’d have to get ready for tonight’s dinner.

      She could hear the clanging of iron on iron as she approached, and the air was noticeably warmer. The door to the workroom was open, doubtless to aid in ventilation, and Peter realized with joy that Billy must have the forge running. She quickened her step and soon stood in the doorway, looking around in wonder.

      She liked Billy’s workroom, it was easily the most interesting cabin on the ship and she longed to be able to poke around and play with the assortment of tools that littered the area. The walls were festooned with drawings and sketches of the gunner’s ideas and strange instruments that looked like torture devices: hooks, hammers and tongs. The shelves and cabinets were packed with countless gadgets and inventions, most of which probably didn’t work (but that didn’t lessen her curiosity). The whole room was fascinating, but even more interesting was the bare-chested, dark-skinned youth in the center of the room, covered with smudges of ash and beads of sweat.

      He hammered relentlessly on a red-hot bar of metal lying on the anvil, the glow lighting his face in and almost supernatural way. The rhythmic pounding was reminiscent of music and was somewhat comforting to hear, suggesting strength and power. She’d watched Billy secretly many times in the past few days, poking her head in to watch for a little while when she was supposed to be in her room or doing duty. Once or twice she’d been sent here to deliver water, but Smee and Mason both had warned her to drop off her burden and leave quickly without speaking. Apparently Billy was fiercely protective of his territory, and he was rather nasty if his concentration was broken while he was working. According to Mason, the boy had gotten in some serious trouble for even going off on Hook once for trespassing – Jukes now knew better than to snap at Hook, but the captain had also refrained from ever again interrupting the boy while he was at work.

      But Peter couldn’t just leave, not yet. Her curiosity was burning within her, burning hotter than that iron he was forging over there, and she couldn’t leave until it was satisfied. She’d been thinking about Billy a lot lately, and not all of her thoughts were good. She knew the boy didn’t like her; she’d overheard him and Mullins speaking several times about how magic was evil and everyone that used it would rightfully burn in the pits of Hell. Couple that with their assertions that women shouldn’t be allowed aboard, and Peter had concluded that Billy and Mullins both hated her for some reason and wanted her gone. That realization hurt her, especially since Mullins had been friendly to her before… until he got his Billy back.

      But for someone who hates magic so much, Mr. Jukes, you sure use a lot of it, Peter thought as she watched the gunner, letting her eyes slip into Sight. She’d discovered this yesterday quite by accident. She’d been bored and had looked with Sight to study her collar and what it was doing to her. That had been fairly depressing, so she’d quickly looked away and spent her time watching other things. And that’s when she’d noticed an odd flowing and rippling of magic in Jukes’s workroom.

      She’d forgotten that Jukes could touch magic, events around the time she’d cured his blindness were rather hazy in her mind. But as she watched Billy unconsciously fold layers of magic into this steel, she remembered that he’d touched the magic that day. She also remembered how Hook’s claw had glowed in Sight. Oberon missed you, Billy. You could have been a Pan if you’d been just a little younger. You could see and touch magic… you’ve been touching it all along without knowing it. Her discovery gave her a sense of kinship with the young pirate.

      Quietly, she walked further into the room, needing to see more. It was fascinating to watch him work the magic into this shape; she’d never seen anyone do anything like this before. He was folding the magic into the layers of steel in a way no fairy could possibly understand. Only a human could do this - only a human that could touch magic. Billy Jukes, for all he hated it, was using magic himself, and he didn’t even know he was doing it.

      If he knew, he’d stop… or he’d start trying and mess it up. She wasn’t going to tell him what he was doing, though a part of her wanted to. She thought that maybe if he knew he was using magic, he’d realize it wasn’t an evil thing. Maybe then he’d actually look at her instead of glancing at her and looking away with a scowl. She wanted him to look at her, to see her as a person and not some kind of monster. She wanted to be friends with him, to get to know him and be near him. She thought she might like to touch him. She wasn’t sure why she felt this way, and it frustrated her to no end. She supposed it had something to do with growing up, and she wanted to hate him for stirring these strange feelings within her. Her life was confusing enough without this too. But instead of anger, she felt a strange sadness and disappointment. She wouldn’t tell Billy he was using magic simply because he wouldn’t believe her. Why should he when he hated her?

      Regardless of how Jukes felt about her, she was simply too interested in his project to leave. She stood quietly, watching him forge. She’d noticed yesterday that this was a new project, but she’d not been able to stay long enough to see what it was. The times before that when she’d watched him, he’d been working on Starkey’s sword. She blinked, focusing her eyes once more on the visible world, and looked around. She saw the newly-made blade lying on a work table, the rudiments of a hilt partly attached to the tang. So what is this then? she mused, taking another step forward. It looked like it was to be another sword.

      Her curiosity became intolerable. She had to know for sure what Billy was making and who it was for. It had to be special for him to weave magic into it like that. Starkey’s new sword didn’t glow in Sight, so Billy didn’t use magic for just any project. He hasn’t said anything to me yet, so maybe he doesn’t mind me being here. She’d been quiet, but she was standing right in front of him, so there was no way he’d not noticed her by now.

      “Whatcha making, Billy?” she asked brightly, smiling at the gunner. Jukes’s next hammer strike landed strangely, producing an oddly muted thud instead of the sweet ringing of his previous strikes. Peter felt something invisible shatter around her, and she realized with horror that Billy’s innate spell had broken.

      Jukes looked up at the intruder, his eyes blazing. “What the hell are you doing in here?” he snarled, the cold tone of his voice a stark contrast to his fury.

      “Smee asked me to bring you some water,” Peter answered softly as she took a quick step back.

      Jukes glared at the girl, seeing the two buckets behind her. “Well, ya brought water. So why are you still here?”

      “I wanted to see what you were making,” the girl replied.

      Billy glanced down at the sword on his anvil, and his anger boiled over into rage. It was ruined – a whole day’s work, gone in the blink of an eye. It looked fine; indeed, it looked perfect even to a blacksmith’s eye. But it felt wrong… it felt shattered and cold despite the glow of heat emanating from it. A moment ago this metal had been alive and singing with strength. Now it lay dead, killed before it could finish being born. And this intruder, this nosy girl, had killed it.

      “I’m not making anything,” he snarled, advancing on her. “You’ve destroyed it. A whole day of sweat, wasted!”

      “I’m sorry,” Peter apologized, backing away from the boy. He was gripping his hammer so tightly that she thought the handle would snap, and the murderous gleam in his eyes made her uneasy.

      “Peter Pan is sorry?” Billy laughed harshly. “You’ve never been sorry in your whole life! You’ve always come here, sabotaging the ship and making fools of us all. But not in my shop! Get OUT! Stay out and stay out of my SIGHT!”

      Peter backpedaled hastily, alarmed by his rising voice and threatening advance. She’d seen him angry before; hell, she’d deliberately provoked him on numerous occasions and he’d often charged her with a drawn blade. But those had been games to her, and she’d had her unique abilities to see her through. Now she was just an ordinary girl, an ordinary, unarmed girl with an angry, hammer-wielding pirate bearing down upon her. She didn’t want to fight Jukes… she couldn’t fight Jukes because of the collar. And if he attacked her, she didn’t want to face the crew’s wrath when they found him dead. She was so intent on getting away that she didn’t remember the buckets behind her until she tripped over them. She went down with a surprised cry, followed by a yelp of pain as first her rump and then her head connected with the deck.

      Oh shit, Billy thought when he saw the girl fall, his surprise and concern breaking his anger. “Peter? Are you alright?” he called, quickly going to her side. She lay there for a long moment, unmoving, and fear clawed his gut. She hit her head the day she helped me… I’ll never forgive myself is she’s hurt herself worse.

      Peter blinked rapidly as stars crossed her vision. Slowly, she managed to sit up, her head filled with pain. She saw Billy sitting beside her and she frowned at the worried expression on his face. “I’m fine,” she muttered, her hand going to the back of her head. Billy held out his hand to her, but she turned away from it with a scowl. “I’m going, I don’t need your help.” Awkwardly, she clambered to her feet, slipping a little in the puddle of spilled water.

      Jukes rose with her, taking her arm and helping her anyway. She swayed despite his support, so he gently tugged her towards a stool. “Sit for a bit, Miss Pan. Yer head’s taken too many knocks lately.”

      “I said I’m fine!” she yelled, pulling away. “Don’t worry, Mr. Jukes, I won’t tell the Captain I fell because you came at me with a hammer, so you needn’t pretend to be concerned.”

      Billy startled at the accusation. He glanced down, seeing his hammer lying where he’d dropped it when she fell. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he protested.

      “Why wouldn’t you? You hate me! You won’t ever speak to me, you won’t look at me… even when all I wanted to know was if you’d seen my Lost Boys when Oberon had you, you avoided me and wouldn’t tell me anything!” Peter felt her tears coming again and her anger rose with them. She hated the gunner for being able to hurt her inside enough to make her cry. Billy tried to speak again and she spun away from him, too angry and upset to want to listen. “I’m going, don’t worry. I’ll NEVER bother you again and I’ll make sure you see me as little as possible. I have no idea why I ever liked you, or why I could have ever wanted to be your friend!”

      “What?” Billy asked in shock as he watched her storm out of his workroom. “Pet… Miss Pan, wait!” he called, but she disappeared down the corridor, her boots making rapid clicks on the wood as she barely kept herself from running away. Not long after that he heard the door to her cabin slam shut.

      A low stream of curses flowed from Billy’s lips, but they were directed at himself. It was all he could do to stand there when he should be running to her room, offering her his apologies. Good going, Billy, he congratulated himself bitterly, way to get on her good side there. He had been avoiding her since she’d awakened, but he hadn’t realized he’d been so rude and unfriendly about it. He felt a burn of shame and self-loathing, knowing now that not only had he slighted her, he’d somehow managed to convince her that he hated her. I wish I did hate her. It would make things so much easier… she said she liked me! She wanted to be friends, and now I’ve made sure she’ll never speak to me again. Smee should’a known better than send her down here!

      The men knew to leave him alone when he was working. Forging on a ship was dangerous, the heat dried out the wood and a stray spark could cause a disaster. The wood in this room was treated to make it less flammable and the fire pit was shielded to prevent a fire, but it was still extremely dangerous. He should be doing this ashore, but in the early days Pan and the Lost Boys invariably came and sabotaged his forge, forcing him to do his work on board. As much as he wanted to go after Peter now and smooth things over with her, he couldn’t leave the forge unattended for even the briefest moment. Fire didn’t take long to catch, and seconds were all it would take for it to get out of control.

      If only Mullins or Mason would come by… but that was a hopeless thought. They knew better. He was too easily irritated and often snappy when interrupted, and anytime his projects failed his curses could be heard across the ship. It wasn’t uncommon for things to be hurled across the room. Any other time, any other project, and I wouldn’t have gotten that upset. I’m such an idiot.

      Billy sighed in exasperation and retrieved his hammer. Starting up the forge was time consuming, and he couldn’t bank the fire until he was done. I’ve got to start over again, he thought in disgust when he looked at his failed sword. This has to be perfect, I have to start from scratch. If this was to be a simple sword, he could have just reheated it and continued hammering away, the metal itself was undamaged. But this was special somehow – he wasn’t sure why or even who it would belong to, but he felt somehow that it had to be his best work ever. He hadn’t felt this much of a pull since he’d made the Captain’s hook and nothing short of perfection would work.

      He spared a glance for Starkey’s blade and immediately dismissed it. It was done; it just needed some finishing touches and a polish. Now was the time to work on THIS sword. Carefully, he started over, pulling out a fresh bar of steel and setting aside the failed sword. It would do well enough for Mullins or Smee, and he’d finish it later. As he once more set to work, his thoughts turned to Peter. He imagined her smiling, flying through the air, happy and free once more. He thought of what it would be like flying with her, touching her hand as they soared. It was the same daydream he’d been having when she’d interrupted, and as he unconsciously began forging magic and steel he concentrated solely on Peter Pan, the girl a permanent fixture in his dreams and the only true happy thought he could ever remember having.