Winter sat in the Jolly Roger strapped in. Peter and Winter hadn’t said a single word since the argument with June. Tink tried at one point, but Winter took her aside and explained the situation. Tink flew by next to Peter. “We’ll be approaching Smee’s within the hour,” Tink explained before flying off.

“So, we’re not heading back to Earth to get the device?”

“No,” Peter said coldly. Winter waited for him to explain, but nothing came.

“Great, no need to elaborate further,” Winter nagged. Peter sighed. He knew he lost his temper back there and Winter was only trying to help.

“I need to talk to Smee. Hook wanted me to go back to Earth for some reason since I first got back. Why would he set this whole plan just to put the device right where I would already be?” Winter couldn’t argue with his logic. “I have to find out if Smee knows anything before I even think of going after Hook and possibly falling right into his trap.”

“Thank you. And, um, about Earth?”

“Winter, sorry, can we not talk about that?” He looked over and made eye contact with her for the first time since they entered the ship. “Please?” Winter nodded and let the silence return.

“I wasn’t expecting Smee to look like that. He’s kind of handsome.”

“He’s kind of a slimeball. But yes, he does look better. At least now he does.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you said it yourself, you weren’t expecting him to look like that. That’s because he used to look exactly like he did in the book.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Chubby little dude with a belly coming out of his shirt. Probably the most spot-on part of the book. He read it, wondering what he was like and I swear to you, he stopped chewing on a doughnut mid chew when he read his description. It was like he was finally looking in a mirror after all these years.” Winter gave a hearty laugh and then quickly bellowed over in pain, grabbing her still bruised ribs. “You should go get some rest and finish healing those ribs. I need you out there.” Winter took in his words warmly and got up.

“Which room do I go to?” Peter stared off into space for a while. “Peter?”

“Down the hall on the right,” Peter said quickly.

“Are you sure?” Tink asked.

“It’s fine. Get some rest.”

Winter found the corridor on the right. She was a tad nervous of why Tink had asked if it was fine. She opened the door and was met with stale air and dust. This room hadn’t been used in forever. She walked in and turned on the light to find a simple room with a cot and a desk. Why was Tink concerned about this room? Because of how dirty it was?

Winter laid down on the bed but couldn’t get comfortable. Her clothes were dirty and scrapped and she recounted all the encounters she had in them. Fighting in a boxing ring, flying through space for her life, nearly drowning. She got up and looked toward the nearby closet. The door was jammed and wouldn’t budge. After a few pulls, Winter was able to get a small nook opened. She slid into the nook and, using her whole body, forced it completely open. Inside she found only one article of clothing. It was a blue ragged spacesuit. Either it had seen some wild adventures or it hadn’t been worn in years. She examined it and found the etching of a name on the right side, ‘Wendy’.

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She quickly took her hand away and shut the door, not wanting Peter to know she was snooping around. She leaned back onto the bed, aching. Her wounds felt like they would never heal.

The words that Peter and June spoke flooded her mind. About how Earth was futile, but Peter loved it for some reason. A flash of memory of Peter giving the poor art merchant money came into her mind. Art, she thought, that’s something he hadn’t thought of in a while. Her old life came rushing back to her. Despite this nice vacation, she had to go back and deal with the life she had waiting for her. Figuring out what to do with her life, choosing a career, dealing with her family. She knew she wasn’t long for Neverland, but didn’t think she was long for Earth either. At least, not without her mother.

Winter noticed the desk again and went over to it. With her pain, there was no way she could sleep. She didn’t know how exactly the desk could help with her agony, but figured it would be better than just lying around. To her astonishment, there were actually a few colored pencils and sheets of paper in it. Going to lift one, she stopped. And remembered how she lost her gift. Thoughts of her mother came cascading in. The first gift she could remember getting from her mother was a set of finger paints. She smiled and picked one up, she had work to do.

In a few moments time, she did her best, creating a portrait of her mother. She lifted it up and felt a tear fall down her face. “Who’s that?” Winter spun around worried and found Tink, floating by. “Apologies for scaring you. I was just checking in on you.”

“It’s um, my mother.”

“She contains a very symmetrical face. People would say she is beautiful.”

“She was,” Winter laughed. “Dad always said she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. Until I was born.” Winter thought about her dad in the news footage. He must be in so much pain right now. Winter thought about the tactics Peter used to get her to head back to Earth. Did he do similar things to Wendy? “Tink, this is Wendy’s room, isn’t it?”

“It was. These were her quarters when she was with us.”

“And she kept colored pencils and paper? I just found that weird.”

“Wendy wanted to be a writer. She would spend her days in here writing stories and Peter would attempt to illustrate them.”

“Peter? Draw?”

“I did say attempt,” Tink joked. “Winter, I should confess to you,” Tink’s tone changed drastically to a more serious tone. “I was the one that found that news broadcast of your father. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

“I noticed I couldn’t find a similar clip with your mother. She died, didn’t she?”

Winter swallowed and nodded. “She’s the reason I don’t want to go back. Without her, life just stopped.”

“How so?” Tink inquired.

“I had my whole life planned out with her. University studying art for a few years. Take a gap year and travel with her and my father. Then, I don’t know, make it as an artist. Stupid, I know.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s just that ‘making it’,” she used air quotes, “as an artist is next to impossible on Earth. You have to be really, really, good to even somewhat make it. And even then, that’s not enough. And for someone like me, who hardly has any talent, it’s just not possible.”

“I have studied art history of Earth and I do believe you possess the abilities.”

“This is nothing,” Winter said giving a pity smile. “Plus, these days, I can hardly pick up a brush.”

“The drawing in front of you suggests that is wrong.”

Winter turned away and studied the drawing. “These moments I have are far and few between. What you see is something I can barely do anymore. Back in the day, this came easy. Every day I would do something like this. But, not anymore. Not anymore.” Winter stared down at the drawing.

“Ever since your mother died?” Winter looked back at Tink and nodded. “Why did she stop you? It’s more of a technical skill. Her death shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s not just the skill, Tink. It’s who I used to be.”

“Did you change your name?” Winter laughed.

“No, sorry, umm,” Winter tried to find the word to explain to a robot. “I was a different kind of person when she was around. I had no worries, loved everything, was for the most part always happy. Now, when I pick up a pencil or a brush, I just know I’m not that person anymore. That little girl is long gone. And without her, the art career is gone too.”

“Do you believe she could come back?” Winter shook her head.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Winter.”

“Me too, me too.”

Unbeknownst to them, Peter sat with his knees curled up to his chest, crying.