“So how long is she going to sleep for?” Tootles bounced on the mattress, making Wendy’s head bob in the same rhythm against her pillow.

“We don’t know,” Slightly answered.

“Ay-yi-yi…I’m way-way-wake,” Wendy answered.

Tootles stopped bouncing. “Yay, now it’s time for you to take your medicine.” He ran over to a table and picked up a yellow coffee mug with a grumpy cat face on it.

Wendy sat up, smoothing the blanket down beside her. Her neck itched, and she couldn’t help but scratch at the still fresh injection site. Tootles was carefully walking, one foot in front of the other, trying not to spill the coffee. Next to him, Slightly was looking over her medical charts.

“Here’s your medicine, Wendy.”

“No, no medicine,” she answered politely. “Unless it’s coffee.”

“It is coffee.” Tootles smiled, showing off his adult teeth, which his little face hadn’t yet grown into.

“Well then, pass that medicine over. Your patient is in dire straits.”

Tootles laughed and handed her the cup, spilling just a bit on the blanket.

Wendy took a deep breath of the heavenly aroma before she took a sip. It was cold. She grimaced and was about to spit it out, but Tootles was watching her expectantly. She did her best and swallowed it without making another face. Poor Tootles had probably been waiting to serve her coffee for a long time.

Wait.

She knew who Tootles was? She was alive. “I still remember you. You’re Tootles.”

“’Course I’m Tootles. And you’re Wendy girl.”

“No, just Wendy is fine,” she said.

“Well, you’re the first girl brought here besides Tink, so I can’t call you a lost boy. You’re not a boy.” He scrunched up his face in concentration, and Wendy laughed.

“Wait, what about Teddy. Is he …?”

“Naw, Teddy is just fine,” Slightly answered, standing in the open door. “You can go look in on him if you want. He woke up an hour before you, feeling mighty jiffy. He’s in the main room.”

Wendy stared at the skinny kid in front of her and tried to put it together. “So the cure worked?”

“Well, Peter gave me the injector with the vial and told me what to do with it. I’ve administered it, and I’m also running some tests on it through our mass spec to see if I can duplicate the contents.” Slightly’s limp seemed a little worse today.

“Peter also told me what you did. Pretty bold move to inject yourself. You know, you could have just brought both back to me and I’d have tested it on Ditto.”

“You would not have,” Tootles laughed.

“No, I would have used you as my lab rat.” Slightly teased. He winked at Wendy. “No really, we have rats.”

Wendy flung the blankets off her lap and stood up. Her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. Why didn’t she even think of that?

“Ooh look,” Tootles spoke in awe. “Her face is on fire.”

Wendy threw open the door and went down the stairs into the main floor of the hideout. Ditto, twinning, sat on opposite ends of the couch, and Tink was sitting next to Teddy, who was awake and seemed to be adjusting quite easily.

“Where’s Peter?” Wendy asked. “I want to speak to Peter.”

“Not here, obviously.” the twins said in unison.

“Hi, um, Wendy right?” Teddy stood up and offered his hand. “I’ve been told you’re the one I need to thank for the medicine that helped me get better.” He looked better, healthier, with a splash of freckles across his nose. “I’m…Teddy.” He looked embarrassed, and Tink gave Wendy a searching stare. His cheeks flushed and he added meekly, “Miss Tink says you saved my life.”

“Did not,” Tink muttered indignantly. “She helped…sorta.”

Wendy felt overcome with so many emotions—embarrassment, relief, thankfulness—that she didn’t know how to process any of them. “It was…nothing. I’m glad it worked.”

Rather than talk, she went in search of Peter for answers.

In the boys’ hall, she found an open room with a crow on the door and stepped inside. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was his, but she just knew. A queen bed with a simple blue duvet, a closed trunk at the foot of the bed, and on top of it stacks of fables and fairytales. There were no other personal items in the room.

“Wendy.” Peter’s voice surprised her. She turned, and he was standing in the doorway leaning against the frame, his hands in his pockets.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have trusted you to find a less dramatic answer for the cure.”

Something about his posture screamed vulnerability. All of his doubts and strain were wearing on him. “No, I understand your urgency. If it wasn’t for your initiative, and forcing my hand, we might not have saved Teddy in time.”

“Are you angry with me?” she asked.

He stayed frozen against the door. “No, but you’ll probably be angry with me when I tell you what we did.”

He wouldn’t look at her. His eyes kept glancing to the floor and to the wall. His avoidance was making her stomach drop. “What did you do?”

He brought her hand up to his lips and gently kissed it. “I’ll tell you in a second, but first, tell me about your family.”

“What happened? Did something happen to my family? Are they okay?”

“No! No! They’re fine. I just…I want one more moment where can talk, share things…before you hate me.”

“I won’t hate you, Peter.”

“I hope not.”

She blushed and stared at where his lips kissed her hand, savoring the moment, wishing he had kissed her on her lips. She moved and sat on his bed. “What’s to tell? I’ve got a great family. My dad works at the local bank as a loan officer—on the weekend he’s an assistant soccer coach for my brother, John’s, team. My mom is a retired elementary teacher who’s obsessed with crafting and baking. This time of the year our house smells like pumpkin and cinnamon because she’s baking pies for the booster fundraisers.”

Her shoulders slumped as she realized how much she missed them. She tried to hide the catch in her voice, but Peter probably heard it. “And the cookies. Man, we’d make so many cookies, and my fingers would be dyed orange from the gel food coloring. It was my job to frost the hundreds of pumpkin-shaped cookies, and John…Oh, he’d help, but really he’d eat more cookies than he’d decorate, and we’d usually have to chase him out of the kitchen.” Wendy started to laugh but she couldn’t stop the tears that came with the laughter. “My brother is my best friend. For as long as I could remember, we’ve been partners in crime.”

“You miss them?” Peter, playing with her fingers, reached out to caress the back of her hand.

Wendy sniffed. “Desperately. What I wouldn’t give to be able to go home.”

“But they’re not your family, are they?” Peter asked.

“They are my family,” she argued.

He blushed. Swallowed. “No, I mean…you’re adopted, aren’t you?”

“How did you know?”

“If I had a guess, I’d say you’ve been with them for only about seven years, give or take a few depending on the foster system. And you don’t have many memories from before those years. I’d also guess, when your new memories started, that they had to do with water, or they took place near water.”

Wendy leaned back, jerking her hand from Peter’s grip. “What’s going on? Is this some kind of sick joke?” She felt like she was going to throw up. When Peter reached for her, she held up her hands and stood.

“Peter, you’re scaring me.”

“Here,” he held out something to her. She glanced down, picked up the small metal piece—a thimble. When she realized what it was, she dropped it and retreated. Why was she terrified of the Monopoly piece?

“You don’t remember, do you?”

She shook her head.

“Do you remember me telling you I knew one other person who could see shadows, but that she had died a long time ago when I was a kid?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure that girl was you, Wendy.”

Her breath caught in her throat “No, I’m not her.”

“You also have a kiss.” He pointed to her neck. “Just like the girl.”

“A what?”

“It’s what we called them as kids. A small mark on your neck, just above your collar bone.”

Wendy’s hand flew to her neck, and she blushed as she felt the spot that always itched. It was a white scar. It didn’t mean he was right. He could have seen that anytime and just be making up the story.

“But it’s really a brand. So small and overlapped that it looks like a birthmark. It’s Neverland’s mark.” He stepped close to her again, reached for her fingers. “The Red Skull saw it and knew what it was. You’re subject number 1-04. I’m subject 1-00. I was the first.”

“How would you know my number? I’ve never been to Neverland.” She pushed away from him. “That can’t be. You’re lying.” It was hard to think with the pain building in her temples.

“It makes sense. Think about it. Why else would the shadows react to you, but not be desperate to take you there? It’s because you’ve already been kissed. You already belong. You’re one of us.”

“No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “I’m not one of them. Don’t you think I’d know? I’d remember.”

“Wendy, listen to me. It’s true. All of it.” Peter begged her, his voice pleading with her to understand. “When you were out cold, Tink took a blood sample and had it analyzed.

“What…how could you?” Seething, she turned, ready to storm out of the room.

“You have the PX-1 gene,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. “The gene that stemmed from the PX-1 treatments.”

“No, I don’t,” she denied. Shock had her reeling. This couldn’t be right.

He shook his head and sighed. “Yes…you do, and that proves you were on the island the same time I was. You’re a first generation lost girl.”

Wendy started pacing, but Peter caught up and grabbed her wrist.

“Then why don’t I remember?” Her head hurt terribly. “Why don’t I remember you?”

“It was years ago. We were on a boat escaping Neverland—under attack. You started to fall overboard, and I grabbed you, but I got shot.” He pulled his shirt down to reveal the scar on his chest, dangerously near his heart. “I couldn’t hold onto you.” His eyes turned glassy from unshed tears. “I tried. Oh, Wendy I tried to save you, but you slipped from my hands and fell into the ocean.”

His words burned into her soul, and she felt herself slowly slide to the floor as she tried to wrap her mind around what had happened. “I don’t believe you. I’d remember,” she whispered.

“No, you wouldn’t. In that way, you and I are a lot alike.” Peter kneeled next to her and brought his face close to hers. He whispered, “You were my best friend. I died the day I lost you, Wendy.”

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, as his words forced disjointed and strange memories to come flooding back.

Everything she wanted to forget.

“No. Stop.” She covered her ears with her hands and started to rock back and forth.

He pushed on. “I died that night in Tink’s arms on the boat, but…a few hours later, I started breathing again, and I woke up with no memories. Tink calls it panning—for once a helpful side effect of Neverland’s experiments on me. None of the others have ever come back. It took weeks of therapy with Dr. Mee to help me remember anything.”

“Stop, Peter. Please. I don’t want to hear anymore.” Wendy sniffed, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her jacket. “I don’t remember because it didn’t happen.” But the barrage of memories at his words told her that wasn’t true. Lab coats, tubes and tables. Whirring air compressors. Injections. A rooftop. A fire. The forest. Water.

“The reason you don’t remember any of this, Wendy…the reason you don’t remember me or Neverland—it’s because you also died that night.”