"When will he wake up?" Peter asked Chief Panther softly. He lay on a pallet in the healing tent with Slightly, and together he and the Chief watched the boy twitching and muttering in his sleep.

"I do not know," the shaman relied. "My medicine dulls the pain and helps him to sleep, but he should be able to awaken. Perhaps his soul is tired and requires more rest. Perhaps he just does not wish to recover."

"Like when he was Jason," Peter whispered, "and the old shaman made him forget, so he was all new when he woke up." Peter smiled faintly as the memory came forth this time. "When I showed him the sack and told him I’d found him in it, he read the name on the tag and said it must be his name. But it was just a laundry bag. Chief Two Bears said to let him keep the new name and never say the old one again."

"We may have to clear his mind again, if Captain Hook has damaged him too much."

Peter nodded. "Whatever is best for him. I just want him to be happy again, but we’ll see how he is when he wakes up. I hope he doesn’t hate me too much."

"It would be best for you and Slightly to talk and forgive, so that this does not burden your hearts further. Even if he is made to forget this, the sadness may come on him at times if it is not resolved first." Panther turned to face Peter again. "Drink your medicine and lie back down. I have told you not to sit up."

Peter grimaced, dreading the bitter taste of the liquid Panther made him take. But his stomach was hurting again, so he obeyed and drank the stuff quickly. "I’m tired of sleeping so much. I want to go play."

Panther chuckled at the boy, "Because of the pixie’s magic, you and your friends heal faster than normal. You will be able to get up and play in a week, perhaps two if you keep sitting up and aggravating your wound."

Peter yawned and smiled as the drink took effect and he began to drift off to sleep. "Is that why you drug me? So I won’t get up?"

"Of course," Panther replied. He pulled the blanket over the boy and left them to sleep.

Peter pulled himself awake much later. Something was wrong, and he knew he had to open his eyes. After an eternity, he succeeded and saw that there was a long slit in the side of the tent. Oh, crap, he thought and turned his head. Hook was sitting on the ground between the pallets, watching him.

"Pan," Hook said lowly, "it took you long enough to wake up." He sniffed the cup that had been sitting beside the boy. "This must be powerful medicine. It is medicine, I gather? I hope I haven’t driven you to drinking."

"You’d better kill me now, Hook," Peter growled, "or I’ll kill you when I’m well. How could you do it? How could you try to kill him like that? I knew you were evil, but to try to whip someone to death..." Peter felt his anger rising and didn’t finish his thought.

Hook looked at Slightly, and his eyes softened just a bit. "I don’t know. I intended to flog him as punishment, perhaps hang him later for treason. But he goaded me and pushed me into a blind rage. I don’t remember doing this to him." He shook his head, "I’m glad my crew found the backbone to stop me." He reached for Slightly, but when his hand touched the boy’s shoulder Slightly moaned and pulled away.

"Leave him alone," Peter warned and tried to sit up. But the stinging in his stomach warned him of the folly of doing that. He was relieved to see that Hook withdrew his hand and turned back to him. "What do you want?" he asked as he began feeling around for his dagger.

"Ultimately, I want my revenge, Pan," Hook replied. "But right now, I just want answers. If you give them to me, I’ll let you live until you’ve healed. Looking for this?" he held up Peter’s dagger. "It’s tasted its master’s blood, remember? I kept it for a souvenir after I pulled it out of your belly. Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll put it back where I found it."

Peter stared at the blade in Hook’s hand and remembered how much it had hurt when Billy had stabbed him. "Ask," he said simply.

Hook put the knife away and patted Peter’s head. "Good boy. Now, I want to know about Jason. Where did he come from, and what in God’s name happened to him?"

Peter frowned, "Somewhere in America, I think. It was so long ago I don’t remember exactly. I didn’t have any Lost Boys, I lived here alone with Tink. She showed me how to fly to the mortal world, so we would go sometimes when I got lonely. I’d never thought about bringing someone back, but I couldn’t leave him there."

Hook leaned forward, "Why not?"

Peter shifted on his pillows. The memory wasn’t there, not quite, but it tickled. And it made him queasy. "His father hurt him," he said vaguely.

"What, precisely, did his father do to him? I want you to recount that day to me. I know his father tried to kill him, and his mother. I know that you witnessed everything and rescued him from being drowned. I also know you killed his father. I want details."

"Why?" Peter asked in annoyance. "I don’t want to remember this."

"I don’t know why it’s important for me to know. I only know that for the three days he’s been gone, I keep wondering about what he didn’t say. He said you knew the secret he couldn’t tell."

Peter felt cold inside. "He remembers?" He looked at Slightly in fear, "I didn’t remember at first, either. I suddenly remembered his name was Jason that day. If I had remembered everything, I never would have called him by it."

"Answer me, boy," Hook said coldly, the dagger back in his hand.

Peter frowned at the blade, the lamplight reflecting brightly on the steel. He glanced at the lantern Hook had brought with him. "Uncover the flame on your light, Captain. I need to see the fire."

Hook was a little confused and suspicious, but he complied. He watched Peter as he stared at the flame, and saw the boy’s face relax.

Jason, Peter repeated to himself as he watched the tiny flame dance on the wick. "Jason... and Jennifer," he said softly as he slipped into memory speech. Tink had taught him this: remember without feeling and forget when you’re done. "I played with them once before... I came back again to play with them. Jason was my size, his sister Jennifer was younger... like Tootles age. They lived on a farm, way away from other people... I couldn’t find them at first when I came to visit again." Peter continued to speak, recounting that day.

"Jason!" Peter cried when he finally found the boy. He alighted beside Jason, who was sitting on the grass, staring at something. "You playing hide and seek?"

Jason didn’t answer at first, didn’t even look up. Peter looked around and saw headstones around them; not many, it being a small family cemetery. "Wow, I didn’t know you had graves in your backyard! Do you see ghosts at night?"

"Yes," Jason said softly, "Lately I do." He looked up at Peter, and the black eye he sported was prominent on his pale face. "You’ve been gone for months. I thought we’d just made you up."

Peter smiled happily, trying to cover the alarm he felt. "Yeah, I forgot for a little while. But I promised I’d come back, and I always keep my promises when I remember them. What happened to your eye? You get in a fight?"

Jason looked away. "I fell," he mumbled weakly.

"Peter?" Tink whispered in his ear, "Something’s not right. Something’s very not right."

Peter nodded. He didn’t understand, but he knew that something was very wrong with Jason. The child had been happy and cocky and playful last time he’d come here. Maybe Jenny could tell me what’s wrong. Maybe he’s sick. "Where’s Jenny? I brought her a real seashell necklace from the mermaids, just like she asked for."

Jason pointed to the headstone he was facing, the one behind Peter. "You’re standing on her."

Peter jumped back and whirled around. "What?" he asked in confusion.

"Peter!" Tink squeaked, "That’s Jennifer’s grave!" she exclaimed when she read the words on the stone.

"Jenny’s dead?" Peter whispered. "How?" He didn’t know children could die. Dying was what happened when you grew up. Children weren’t supposed to die, it was against the law.

Jason started crying, and Peter knelt beside the boy and tried to comfort him. Seeing Jason’s sadness made Peter realize that the boy’s sister was in fact dead, and as he remembered the day they’d played together, Peter felt the grief well up inside himself. Together they wept for the little girl, and gave each other support. After awhile, Jason could speak again.

"She still talks to me sometimes. Tells me it wasn’t my fault," he said as he wiped his eyes. "I should have done something, but I was scared."

"What happened?" Peter asked.

"I can’t tell," Jason said, shaking his head. "He’ll hurt me if I tell, and he’ll hurt whoever I tell. He said he would."

"Who?" Peter demanded. "Let me help you, Jason. I won’t let anyone hurt you, and no one can hurt me, I’m Peter Pan!"

Jason stared at the boy for awhile, desperate to unload his heart. I can’t keep it all inside anymore, I feel like my heart’s going to burst if I don’t tell. But I don’t want to die, too. I don’t want Peter to die. He stared at his sister’s grave, and he heard her voice again.

Tell Peter. Please, tell someone what happened to me, Jason. Mommy always says the truth will set you free. Peter can set us both free, her voice whispered to him.

"She’s talking to you, isn’t she," Tink asked as she floated before the distraught boy. "I can hear her. She’s watching over you, Jason, and she won’t go on to heaven until she knows you’re okay."

Jason smiled at the fairy in relief. "You can hear her too? I hear her all the time, sometimes I can almost see her. She sings her silly songs to me when I’m hurt or sad... Daddy says I’m crazy. Says I need to grow up and be a man, stop playing and start helping him more with the farm work. Mommy doesn’t speak much since Jenny died. She won’t even look at me anymore. I think she blames me."

"Why would she blame you?" Peter asked.

"I saw it all," Jason answered. "I saw him hitting her. She was just playing grown-up, pretending to help daddy in the barn. She wasn’t supposed to be in there, Mommy had told us to leave daddy be. He’s been angry a lot lately, there’s been a drought for two years now and no crops. Money troubles, and daddy’s started drinking. Jenny was pretending to work on the tractor, she poured water in the gas tank."

Jason shook his head, "I should have taken the blame... I was bigger than her, I’m her big brother, it’s my job to watch out for her. But I tattled instead, and daddy got really mad. He started spanking her at first, but she wouldn’t quit squirming, so he got madder and kept hitting..." Jason closed his eyes tightly. "I was scared, so I hid. Mommy was at the neighbors, so no one else could have helped. He told everyone that Bella, our horse, trampled her. They buried her here... Daddy knew I saw, and he told me that if I said anything they’d take him away and hang him. He said that before that happened, he’d kill me too, and Mommy would be all alone. Her children and her husband all dead, because of me."

Peter stared at Jason in horror. "Parents... parents aren’t supposed to kill their children!" He looked at Tinker Bell, "Why would a grown-up kill a child? Especially their own child?"

"I don’t know, Peter," Tink whispered sadly, "but I know that it happens sometimes."

Peter’s horror turned to outrage and anger. "He has to pay! It’s not right!" he cried as he drew his dagger.

"No, Peter!" Jason yelled. "He’s my daddy, you can’t hurt him... and you can’t tell anyone."

"Come with me then," Peter offered. "I’ll take you to Neverland with me! You’ll learn to fly and you’ll never grow up. We’ll have wonderful adventures and be best friends."

"I want to," Jason said wistfully. He’d dreamed of doing just that ever since Peter had visited them the first time. He and Jenny had spent hours making maps of Neverland, pretending to visit the places they dreamed of. She’d wanted to see the mermaids so badly. "I can’t," he added, "I can’t leave mommy alone with him. He hits her too."

"JASON!" came a man’s voice from the house. Jason blanched and stood quickly, looking to see where the man was.

"I have to go, Peter," he said, his voice shaky with fear. "I hope he didn’t see you, I’m not supposed to talk to people unless he’s there too."

"Jason, don’t go," Peter begged, "Come with me instead!"

"Bye, Peter," Jason replied, "I don’t expect I’ll see you again, I’m supposed to grow up soon. I really like you, and you were my best friend, even though we only played that one day." He waved and ran to the house, praying that his father wasn’t drunk.