Peter's bedroom was a place where time seemed to have no meaning. There were no clocks or windows to clue you into the passages of time. Nor was there an hourglass filled with cascading sand to make you aware of all the moments that had gone by. You both stayed there wrapped in each other's arms for what could have been hours or merely minutes. Neither of you had felt the need to fill the air with speech. Both of you seemed perfectly content to just stand still along with the time. It was oddly peaceful just standing there on your knees wrapped up in Peter's embrace without a care in the world. Your mind was still coming off of the wonderful glow that Peter's confession of love had given you. After some time though your knees began to cramp and you fell back on your butt in the bed. Instant concern filled Peter's soft eyes, but you assured him you were perfectly fine. He didn't seem too convinced, but he conceded defeat as soon as you patted the end of the mattress, motioning for him to sit next to you. He obliged and you instinctively rested your head against his bicep. He was really too tall for you to rest it directly on his shoulder but you were happy to just be leaning on him. After everything that had happened you needed to feel that he was really solid and really real. Peter didn't seem to mind and he took your hand in his calloused one and held it firmly, as if he too was afraid this might all be somehow imaginary.
After some time sitting in companionable silence you languidly swept your eyes around the room and saw the tray of forgotten food and drink on the worn wooden dresser. The sight of the mundane accessory faded the fuzzy glow from your brain, and riding on it's absence was the sharp edge of the reality of current events. As your mind cleared itself of cobwebs and came into focus you shifted your gaze down to your bare arms. They should have been bruised and marred, but there wasn't a single trace left of the damage that had been dealt by the treacherous mermaids. Your skin was soft and supple to the touch and it radiated a healthy luminescence from within. It was as if you had just gotten back from an expensively lavish spa. Your brutally traumatized esophagus and lungs breathed easily without any strain. Nothing hurt. And that was the problem. "Peter, what happened after I passed out on the shore?"
Peter's body went rigid for a second at the suddenness of your question, but it relaxed as he let out a loud exhale in defeat. "After you passed out I flew you here immediately. Slightly followed close behind and put medicine on all of your wounds, but he said it wouldn't be enough; you were bleeding a lot from the deep lacerations from where the mermaids had scratched you. On top of which your throat and lungs had suffered badly from you almost suffocating. You had swallowed a lot of salt water on top of which. So Slightly had the idea to send The Twins to Pixie Hollow to ask for their help. The Twins pleaded to the Pixie Courts and they agreed to help us," Peter had a sardonic smile playing on his lips when he continued, "Although it wasn't because of the goodness of their tiny hearts. The only way The Twins could get them to help you was by telling them that if I lost you, it'd break me, and then Captain Hook would have free reign over all of Neverland. Your survival meant all of Neverland's survival." You felt a wry smile tug your lips as you said, "That was very clever of them." Peter reached up with his free arm and ran the back of his hand ever so gently down your cheek. "No," he said, "That was very honest of them." Alarmed by this you opened your mouth to speak, but Peter held up his hand to stop you. "Like it or not it's the truth of the situation. But more importantly back to the story." You narrowed your eyes at him, unhappy of the very thought of Peter's indomitable spirit ever breaking, especially over you. Peter however ignored your silent brooding and continued on in a serious hushed tone of voice, "So the healing pixies came and they spent a long time covering you in their dust. You looked..." Peter's voice trailed off as his face shut down as it so often did when he was struggling to suppress his emotions. "I looked dead didn't I?" you finished for him gently. Peter shook his head in agreement. He found his voice again, but it was deeper with emotion than before, "The pixie dust fell all around you like a blanket of dying stars. Their lights would twinkle and then fade out, leaving you on what looked like a bed of ashes. Laying there you looked so...fragile....like a broken doll that was left out in the rain."
