<div style="text-align: center"><b><u>Wendy Darling</u></b><br/>
<i>Darling Estate</i>​</div><br/>And so the truth was revealed.  This man was not protecting her from anything; he was here to protect the world from her and her<i>delusions</i>.  Wendy turned her head into James’s chest ever so slightly, just enough to hide the little snarled curl of her upper lip.  Still, she could not hold back the little barb that shot from her mouth before she could contain it.  “Who will we be hiring to make you more presentable, Father?”<br/><br/>Mr. Darling snorted and sputtered, the sound a mash-up of a rooting pig and bellowing walrus.  Wendy had never actually heard a walrus bellow but Peter had promised her he would take her to see one and she imagined the sound of her father blustering wordlessly in her doorway was exactly how a walrus would be.  If only her father had a great set of whiskers… The thought made her grin and duck her face again so neither man could see her utter amusement.<br/><br/>In her doorway, Mr. Darling coughed as he gathered himself under control.  Wendy was his last hope to maintain the family legacy what with the disappearance of all his other children.  It was just him and Wendy now.  The loss of her family had hurt Mary Darling so much that she’d wasted away and died of a broken heart.  At least she hadn’t had to see her daughter like this.  Mr. Darling blinked quickly to keep the tears at bay before lifting a fat-sausage finger and shaking it at James.  “Keep her safe and don’t let any harm come to a single hair on her head,” he demanded far more gruffly than he intended.<br/><br/>Without further ado, the rotund man turned and headed back to his office.  It took some time for the sounds of heavy breathing and thumping cane to fade away.<br/><br/>Wendy waited until her father’s noise no longer echoed in the corridor before returning her attention to James.  A smile flirted at the corner of her lips, the kind that hinted that she knew more than he did.  “If it’s just a dream then why do I need a bodyguard?  How do you propose to protect me from my dreams?  Will you stay with me all through the night while I sleep?”  There was a curiosity in her voice and a complete lack of accusation.  Father had never hired a bodyguard before.  He’d relied on doctors and nurses with their bags of medications, some to help her sleep, some to keep her awake, some to make her feel like a zombie.  This was uncharted territory.<br/><br/>Unfolding herself from his lap, she got to her feet and stretched.  After a pair of steps forward, Wendy glanced back over her shoulder.  “Would you like to see these dreams you’re to protect me from?”  She paused, her eyes meeting his.  “Of course you would...how else will you know what you’re up against?”<br/><br/>There was a small wooden desk tucked away in the corner of the room, the perfect spot for a lady to write her correspondence according to Mr. Darling.  Except Wendy had no one to write to unless you counted the countless doctors and nurses who had treated her as an experiment over the years.  Wendy did not count them and so she used the desk for her journal, a thick leather-bound thing about the size of a textbook.  She hefted the book into her arms, holding it lovingly and running a finger down its spine.  After the briefest pause, she headed back to James, her bare feet leaving footprints on the dampness collecting on the wooden floors from the mist still rolling in through that cracked window.<br/><br/>Wendy sat down next to James on the bed, close enough that their thighs were touching.  “I’m not the best artist…,” her voice trailed off as she opened the book across their laps.  The first sketch on the very first page was the portrait of a young boy, wild and free, Peter as he was the first time she’d seen him.  Her fingers traced the drawing delicately.  “This is Peter but I’m sure you know that already.”  The story of Peter Pan and Wendy had proved quite lucrative to the Darling family once it was cleaned up and sanitized from the ramblings of a crazy girl.<br/><br/>With a sigh, she turned a few pages full of sprawling handwriting and stopped on a page with another sketch.  This one showed a man, a cruel-looking man with a scar that curved around one eye and along his cheek.  A shiver ran down her spine and she pressed closer against Dameron.  “Hook,” she whispered as delicate fingers danced across the sketch of the hook in the bottom corner of the page.  Even sketched in pencil, it gleamed.<br/><br/>There was no lingering on that page, not after the dream she’d just had.  Wendy flipped forward another page and stopped on another drawing.  This one showed a woman, her dark hair either pulled back harshly on the sides or shaved closely to her scalp, the top arranged somehow to look like a mohawk.  The eyes were somehow sad and yet dangerous at the same time.  Around her eyes was smeared dark but the line across her cheeks and nose was red, the muted color of dried blood.  “Do you believe in fairies, Mr. Dameron?”  She lifted stormy blue eyes up from the page.  “You should.  They’re quite real.”<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr"/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><b><u>Tink</u></b><br/>
<i>Somewhere in the City</i>​</div><br/>Somewhere deep in the darkest gloomiest part of the city, in an abandoned alley between two old buildings with bricks so damp they were growing moss, something fell from the sky and landed far more silently than anything had a right to.  The world fell silent, deathly silent, for a handful of moments before the dogs resumed their incessant barking, the rats continued to scuttle and scrape in the shadows, and the cats resumed their night-time prowling.<br/><br/>A small winged woman straightened from the crouch she had landed in, a wicked grin on her painted face.  Something was different.  This was not Neverland.  This was another realm and this was where Pan would find the one he was searching for.  She could feel it in her veins.