Once arriving back at the Warehouse, the older boys immediately dragged Peter into his room to clean him up. A few of the younger boys stayed with Wendy, holding her hand, rubbing her arm, sitting in her lap, trying to comfort her the best they could. But every time they touched her, she saw Austin standing in front of her, his cocky grin. She felt his drunken lips on hers, his cold hands on her stomach. She heard Peter's head crack against the pool table. With all the memories flashing back in her head, she winced and pulled away from the boys, taking the small Jeremiah from her lap. She turned her back to them and folded her arms over one another, head hung. She felt ashamed. Ashamed of letting Peter make her drink, of continuing to drink after he left, of talking to strangers, of letting said stranger drug her drink, of letting him take advantage of her, of letting him beat Peter up as long as he did. A few tears formed in her eyes. At the time, she was too pumped up on adrenaline and whatever Austin had put into her system to process all that was going on, but now she could.

"Mommy? Are you okay?" Jeremiah asked, crawling up behind Wendy. She felt her heart melt for half a second as she turned her head ever so slightly to look at the boy. Before a smile could cross her lips, a thought flew through her head. 'What kind of a mother would do what I did? What can of role model would I be to these children?' She stood to run off to her room.

"Where are you going, Mommy?" the little boy asked again. This time, Wendy didn't even turn around, for fear of the boys seeing the angry tears that welled up in her eyes.

"I'm not your mother." Wendy had meant the phrase to be gentle, to be a let down so she could make the boy understand that she not only wasn't his mother, but shouldn't be his mother. But, this was not the case. It came out harsh, and cold. As soon as the words left her lips, she longed to take them back, but her mind was too fuzzed up and confused to do so. She ran off towards her rooms, the tears finally spilling over. She saw her brother's asleep in their beds and suddenly remembered that this wasn't real. She hadn't been almost raped, she hadn't gotten so intoxicated she'd let it happen, she was safe in a Hospital bed where her mother was watching over her.

But as the thought expanded, it made everything worse. Her mother. Her mother who reprimanded her for doing anything, but who gave birth to her at age 16. Her mother who is going to marry a terrible man. Her mother who wouldn't listen to her or her brothers or her fiance's brother when they tell her that her fiance's physically and emotionally abuses them. Her mother who simply never listened. A new surge of anger flowed through her veins. It was the kind of anger that made her want to throw something, the kind she just couldn't contain within herself, the kind Wendy had never felt before. It wasn't just anger, it was rage, it was fury. And her thoughts continued.

'It's her fault I'm here! If she didn't want to marry the bastard, I wouldn't be in this mess!' Wendy was surprised at herself for swearing, even in her head. But the surprise wasn't enough to cool her rage. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. Her shoulders were risen. She was pacing back and forth furiously. She wanted to scream, to hit something. But her brothers were sleeping just feet away from her; she couldn't wake them. Wendy silently cursed her sense of protection over her brothers.

A light knock on her doorframe startled Wendy. She turned, and as she did so, tried to cool her temper, but to the girl standing at the door could see the fury in her eyes. Tinkerbelle gave her 'friend' a small smile, and her plan hatched. If she was going to get rid of Wendy, she knew just the way.

"Wendy? Follow me," she said with a sickly sweet voice. The sickly part was caught in the filter of Wendy's ears and she heard only sweetness. Wendy was obliged to go. Wherever it was to, she would be able to unleash her anger on something, not around her brothers, and not around Jeremiah. Tinkerbelle, with a light hop in her step, lead Wendy up the creaking stairs of the Warehouse towards the roof. All the way there, Wendy was grumbling things to herself, eyebrows knit into a scowl. Once they reached the roof and Tinkerbelle closed the door, she gave Wendy the okay to let out all her pent up anger. Wendy, seeing a box just next to her, raised her foot and brought it down as hard as she physically could. Tinkerbelle heard a small crack. She didn't know if it came from Wendy or the box, but either way, Wendy kept kicking with as much force as she had the first time. Crack, crack, crack. Tinkerbelle had to admit, the girl was kinda scary when she wanted to be.

"I--just--want--to--go--home!" Wendy shouted with each kick. "I--just--want--to--go--home!" The box got weaker and weaker and finally, with one last forceful blow, it broke. Splinters of wood flew everywhere, revealing the inside of an empty box. Wendy got hit with a few of the splinters and pieces, but didn't mind, for she had fallen in the pile of splintered and broken wood. Her anger dissipated and dissolved into a bunch of tears, which flowed freely from Wendy's pained hazel eyes. She finally felt the pain in her foot and the cuts which the wood had caused when the box exploded. She sat on the roof of the Warehouse, in a pile of wood, splintered, bruised, and crying horridly. She was crying, sobbing, and her nose was running. Tinkerbelle found it absolutely disgusting. She thought she could have liked this girl when she was angry, but if this happened afterwards, Tinkerbelle definitely didn't want to be part of it. So she sighed and walked over to Wendy, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I just want to go home," Wendy whispered, her voice breaking, after she'd managed to calm herself down some. Tinkerbelle forced a smile.

"I know." She leaned in a bit closer, 'What if I said I could help you." Wendy's hung head shot up. She stared into the icy blue eyes of her friend, a small smile spreading across her face.

"You found a way to get me home?" Wendy's voice was barely above a whisper. Tinkerbelle nodded.

"And you'll help me?" Tinkerbelle stood and held her hand out. It was as much of an invitation as Wendy was ever going to get, so she accepted. "I thought you hated me." Tinkerbelle shrugged.

"I've been doing a bit of research,"(This was a lie, Tinkerbelle never does any sort of research), "And most of the doctors say that people in comas don't often know they're in comas. You're a very rare case, Wendalynn Darling." Tinkerbelle let Wendy's hand slip from her grasp and she walked to the edge of the Warehouse, leaning against the railing. Wendy followed her.

"Do you trust me, Wendy?" Tinkerbelle asked. Wendy looked over at her friend. She thought for a second, scanning over Tinkerbelle's face. She set her jaw, then smiled.

"Of course I do, Tink. Why wouldn't I?"

"Good. These doctors also say that the most productive way to wake up is to die." Wendy was going to protest, but Tinkerbelle continued,"They said dying in this world will scare you enough to wake you up."
"And what if it doesn't?" Wendy asked, her grip on the railing tightening, turning her knuckles white. Tinkerbelle shrugged and turned around, pressing her back against the copper-coloured railing, hands folded across her stomach.

"You'll still be in a coma. You might go into another dream, or you might be caught in the void. You may wake up eventually," Tinkerbelle said, "You never know until you try."

"But if this is a comatose dream, then you'll disappear, won't you?" Wendy asked. Tinkerbelle shrugged again.

"You'll never know. But this isn't about us, it's about you. It's all about you," Tinkerbelle said. Wendy thought about it. Tinkerbelle wasn't going pull out a knife and stab her; there was no where in Tink's outfit where she could fit a knife. The only logical thing was that Tink was going to make her jump. Wendy looked down. Her eyes widened. She was pretty sure she would die before she hit the ground. She looked back at Tinkerbelle.

"I'm not so sure," she back away slightly.

"Nonsense! Don't you wanna go home?" Tinkerbelle asked. Wendy bit her lip. She really wanted to go home. "Just climb up and fall. It isn't that difficult."

"But Jeremiah, and Vincent, and the others. I have to say goodbye. I have to say goodbye to Peter," she said. Tinkerbelle clenched her jaw, irritation seeping into her blood.

"I'll say it for you,." Wendy was satisfied and she gripped the railing.

"But my brothers! If they stay here, they won't have me," she exclaimed. She was about to let go of the railing, but Tink gently laid her hands over Wendy's.

"Wendy, we will take the best care of your brother's you could possibly imagine. Everything will be fine. All we care about it getting you home." This was the last thing Wendy needed to hear. She sucked in a very deep breath, and clambered up railing. The wind was heavy and pushed her back and forth, but she stood tall. Tinkerbelle stood behind her, grinning. At that moment, Wendy remembered she was wearing some of Peter's clothes still. She sat down quickly.

"What are you doing?" Tinkerbelle asked, slightly worried.

"These are Peter's," she said. She pulled off the aviator jacket and handed it to Tinkerbelle. Likewise, she took off the shoes and gave them to her. Now, standing, she was colder than ever; without sleeves, and with no shoes, she shivered with both anticipation and from the cold. The wind billowed through her hair. She put her arms out, preparing herself to jump.

"Tink?" A small voice said. Tinkerbelle turned. Wendy hadn't heard it, for the voice was so quiet. Tinkerbelle's eyes widened. Peter walked from the door.

"Tink, what's going on?" He asked, his voice shaking. All he could tell was that Wendy was standing on a railing, about to jump, and Tinkerbelle was just standing there.

"I tried to stop her! But she won't come down." Tinkerbelle faked a terrified voice.

"Wendy!" Peter shouted. Wendy, who had shut her eyes, snapped them open again, just as she was lifting her foot.

"Peter?" Her voice was just as quiet as his was before. He didn't hear her. She turned quickly, forgetting that she was standing on a rail and slipped.

"Wendy!" Peter surged forward, but she had grabbed on to the rail and was dangling off of the three story building. She looked down. Her eyes went crossed and she felt like hurling; it was a really long way down. She looked back up at Peter and, with a look more of shame than fear, said very quietly, "Help." Peter grabbed her arm and pulled her up. Once safe on solid land again, she slid to her bum, breathing heavily.

Tinkerbelle attempted to sneak back inside, but Peter was smarter than that.

"Don't you even dare, Tinkerbelle," Peter growled. Wendy was unsure if she'd ever heard him call her Tinkerbelle, except on the first day during introductions. Wendy shrunk back as far as she could.

Tinkerbelle turned slowly. She flashed a smile at Peter.

"What ever is the matter, Peter?" She asked sweetly. He glared at her, his eyes so narrow, she couldn't tell if they were open at all. But she felt the glare like a dagger in her soul.

"Get back here, Tinkerbelle," he said. She walked towards him, a strut in her step. She stood just in front of him. "What did you do to her?" Tinkerbelle pretended to look hurt as she touched her chest near her heart.

"I'm wounded, Peter, to think that you'd think I somehow forced her to climb on to that railing. I did nothing except say a few little, white lies." She smiled again, but this time, the smile was cast over his shoulder, at the cowering girl curled into a ball against one of the railings poles. Wendy heard this, and immediately felt stupid. She had believed everything Tinkerbelle had said, never once doubting her. She had trusted Tinkerbelle, but she had planned on killing her. Wendy felt betrayed. She buried her face in her arms, refusing to cry again in front of the infernal woman.

Peter, in his anger, grabbed Tinkerbelle's shoulder. He turned the two of them around and pushed her lightly. She stumbled backwards, a sliver of fear flashing across her face. She'd seen Peter this angry once before, but only when one of the Lost Boys betrayed them to Hook.

"You tried to make Wendy jump from a three story building! Why would you do that?"

"What does it matter to you anyway? She's just a girl!" Tinkerbelle shot back. Peter, completely forgetting Wendy was there, exploded in anger.

"Wendy isn't 'just a girl'. She's the closest thing to a mother my boys have ever had-"

"What about me, Peter? Why can't I be their mother?"

"Because you've never acted like one, Tink! You're all about yourself, never about them! To you, it's all, Tink, Tink, Tink, never taking into consideration other people's feelings or lives, apparently! Wendy isn't like that. She's kind and she cares about other people more than herself. You can never be as good of a person as Wendy!" Peter shouted. Wendy, blushed from his words, but was still afraid of his anger. She saw a vein pulsing out of his neck.

His words obviously struck a nerve on Tinkerbelle. She shoved Peter, but Peter wasn't the kind of gentleman who wouldn't hit a girl. So, naturally, he shoved her back, harder than she had shoved him. As she stumbled, she slipped on one of the pieces of wood that came from the box Wendy exploded. She hit the railing and fell over it, falling from sight.

"TINK!" Peter ran to the rail of the building, ready to jump after her himself.

Wendy could do nothing but scream.