Three days pass before I feel capable of leaving my room--mainly because Mila indulges me, bringing me pie and sweet milk and even chocolate.

When my back starts to hurt from laying down for so long, though, I force myself up. Whether Peter is coming back or not--and I don't want him to--I can't laze around and do nothing with my life.

I chose to come here. Peter may have given me the option, but it was my choice. I came here to help my world, not to make friends with a broody, rude, heartless faerie king. If he's even a faerie. Not that it matters.

Finding something to do that isn't lazy isn't as easy as it sounds.

Mila won't let me into the kitchen--that's her domain. She already has two barmaids and a tall, imposing man--with a lot of scars and a permanent scowl--who checks guests in and out. The Faerie Tin is small and doesn't take a lot of upkeep, so aside from clearing a table every now and then or holding doors open for guests, I'm not much help.

I spend two days watching Mila and her employees--the barmaids, Jenna and Jane, along with Karver the scary desk clerk--interact with customers. Mila is the only person I've met at the Tin who actually speaks, aside from two cloaked travelers who only spoke to each other and glared at everyone else.

The way they communicate is... strange. I'd say it's something like sign language, except they use their facial expressions a lot, and their hand motions seem more like quick bursts of motion than the elegant words I've seen deaf people use.

I try to learn a few things, but after Karver teaches me an expression that turns out to mean "Hi, I'm stupid", I go back to just watching.

By the time a week has passed, I feel more than useless, and I'm bored out of my mind, sitting at the kitchen table while Mila makes up some delicious smelling soup.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help you?" I ask, my tone despondent.

Mila stirs her pot before turning to me, wiping her delicate hands on a stained apron. Her eyes, as usual, are calm and no-nonsense.

"Look, I know you're wanting something to pass the time," she says, her words not unkind, "but the best I can give you is to go grocery shopping--except Jenny'd have to go with you because you can't speak Quaaian."

Quaaian being the name of their silent language, I've learned. Mila is very informative, and she likes to talk. In the week I've been here I've learned a lot about the City of Quiet and Neverland itself.

Neverland is an island on a small moon in what they call the Ygan Peninsula--a star system who knows how far away from Earth. She's never even heard of the Milky Way Galaxy. It's like something out of a Star Wars movie--literally. The rest of the moon is made up of water, while Neverland has five different terrains--the Plains, which covers the in-betweens; the Faerie Forest, which is the biggest forest; the Twisted Wood, which is a smaller, even more dangerous forest to the northeast; the Wild Wood, which is the smallest forest and not that far from here; and the Dunescape, a desert-like area to the far east.

Mila has taught me some of the star formations--which are all different from back home--and that the reason the light is strange here is because it's from a white star. Neverland's moon orbits an ice planet, so sometimes we'll get random ice storms that freeze everything for a little while, but usually the weather is fair.

She's also taught me about a lot of the creatures who live here--that there are six types of faeries, but most don't interact with people, and that just about every monster or boogeyman I've ever heard of exists. As do a lot that I've never heard of.

But even though I now know all of these things, I still can't do something as simple as buying groceries, and thanks to Mila's faerie gifts, she doesn't need anyone to clean anything. The Faerie Tin is always sparkly and fresh.

I sigh. "I just feel so useless, Mila."

Mila pats my head as she moves to a cupboard on the other side of the kitchen. "Go for a walk or something, then. Dinner won't be ready for another hour."

A walk? I haven't really left the Tin since my ill-advised trip to the castle. I'm forced to admit to myself that I'm a little scared to go out on the streets again.

Mila walks back past me, but stops and glances over her shoulder. "Young girls should explore. Even in Neverland."

"I'm... scared," I admit.

Mila shrugs. "Good."

"How is that good?"

"Fear gives you strength," she says as she starts chopping carrots. "You see better, hear better, move faster. And if you're afraid, you know you're still alive."

I swallow, looking down at the wood grain of the table. "It makes me feel like a coward," I say. "I can't do anything. I'm just... helpless."

"You're still alive, aren't you?" Mila's voice is impassive. "That's better than some people can say. Staying that way isn't about fear. It's about how you deal with your fear."

I'm reminded of a Doctor Who episode. The Doctor was talking to a kid who was having nightmares, I think, and he said something like that. 'Fear is a superpower.' Which is all well and good to say, even for the Doctor. But it's not so easy to believe. And I don't deal with fear very well.

"You ought to go," Mila prods.

I sigh, standing. "Fine. But if I die, I'm blaming you."

Mila just laughs, which I don't find reassuring, but I trudge out the back door anyway.

I have no idea where I'm going, so I end up wandering aimlessly--staying well away from the castle, of course. I have no desire to see Miss Skeleton Nightmare again. I see her in my dreams enough.

I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself, and walk along a narrow street. The people I see, as usual, are silent and wary, often eying me with distrust or even dislike. I wonder if I'll end up staying here, and if those looks will ever go away.

Though, I haven't met anyone in Neverland who smiles, aside from Mila and that creepy hollow boy. Peter smiled too, once or twice--but I'm not thinking about Peter. Peter is a jerk and I'm glad he's gone.

The words don't quite sound convincing, so I try not to think about it, focusing instead on the way the bright light shines on a stained glass window of what looks like it used to be a church. It's an orphanage, now, and several hollow children are sitting on the steps.

The way they look at me is downright creepy.

When I first came to Neverland, I felt sorry for them. Looking at them made me so sad that I wanted to cry, I almost felt a connection to them.

Ever since the Silent Castle, all they do is creep me out.

I hurry past, glad to turn the corner and be out of their view.

There's a marketplace not much farther down the road, with several stalls of fruits and vegetables and meats and such. Unlike in storybooks, there are no stalls with pretty jewelry or fine clothes. The only stall not selling food is selling weapons, and I think about buying a dagger or something to protect myself with--and because the thought of that is really stinking cool--but the shopkeeper only speaks Quaaian.

Since the only thing I know how to say in Quaaian is 'hi, I'm stupid', I turn away with a shake of my head and decide I'll ask Mila about the idea later.

I return to the Faerie Tin after a few hours, drawn back by the rumble of my stomach. Aside from the rude stares, the silence, and the hollow children, the walk wasn't that bad and no one bothered me. It was nice getting outside, and despite the sad feeling I get from it, the City of Quiet is quite beautiful.

Inside, the taproom is full of diners, and Jenny and Jane are rushing around like chickens with their heads cut off, catering to them all. The only sounds are the clanking of dishes and the crackle of the fire, and it's... unnerving.

I hurry to the kitchen, where Mila is busily cooking while dishes wash themselves in the sink and then float over to stack themselves on the table by the door, where Jenny whisks them away.

I'll never get used to faerie gifts.

Mila explained that it isn't the same as 'magic', because magic is just a way of saying that someone can do anything they want. That sort of power doesn't really exist. Instead, some faeries are gifted with the ability to control certain things.

Mila hasn't really explained what her ability is, but she can do just about anything involving cooking or cleaning, which is really stinking cool. Desperate Housewives should really get their hands on a faerie gift like Mila's.

"Back so soon?" She asks dryly, and I tug at my hair sheepishly.

"Sorry..."

"Nothing to it," Mila says, waving me off. "Soup's on." She gestures at the pot, and I snatch a floating bowl, filling it with the delicious smelling substance.

I stand at the counter to eat, watching dishes fly around and Jenny and Jane come in and out. They're all working so hard, and I'm just standing here inhaling the best soup I've ever tasted.

It feels unfair, and I feel useless, so when I'm finished I dump my bowl and spoon in the sink and go back to the front room.

"Can I help?" I ask, catching Jenny as she carries a tray of dirty dishes toward the kitchen. She eyes me for a moment, then jerks her head toward Jane, who is filling mugs with ale. I go over and tap her on the shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?"

Jane eyes me in much the same way Jenny did, then shrugs and jerks her head toward the far corner of the room. I follow her gaze to see a group of men sitting around a table. They look a little riled up, as if they're disturbed about something, and they're gesturing so fast that it takes my breath away.

I look back at Jane helplessly, and she bangs her hand against a drawer before carrying the drinks out into the room.

I open the drawer tentatively only to find several decks of cards.

It seems that she wants me to calm the customers down by giving them a game to play. Well, I can do that.

I hope.

I grab a deck and head determinedly for the far table. I just hope at least one of them actually understands regular speech, or else I'm in trouble.

And then I really will be useless.

"Hi," I say, biting my lip as I stop beside them. They all look at me. "I'm Gwen," I start. Their expressions are blank and slightly irritated. "Uhm... would you like to play cards?"

I hold up the deck when their faces remain uncomprehending.

One of them gestures at me. I shrug helplessly. He gestures again, and I sigh heavily.

Hi, I gesture back. I'm stupid.

The men all blink at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. I rub my face, trying to hide my blush, and hold the deck of cards up again.

Shaking his head, the man closest to me--who appears to be in his mid-thirties--takes the deck and then, to my surprise, pats the empty seat beside him. I frown at him.

He just pats the seat again and nods.

Tentatively, I sit down, and to my surprise they deal me into the game. I've never played it before, though, and the cards have strange faces and characters on them that I can't read. Learning to play a game from a bunch of people who don't speak the same language as you is hard.

But... it's fun, and I find myself laughing, telling them that I'm stupid whenever I don't understand something because it's all I can do. The man to my right begins showing me gestures, pointing at things and then making motions to show me how to say it in Quaaian. I make more mistakes than I can count, and I fail epically at even understanding the game, but... I laugh. And they laugh.

And it makes me think that, despite the darkness in their eyes, maybe some parts of Neverland aren't that bad.

Maybe not all of them are complete jerks like their stupid, rude king.

And maybe it doesn't matter if a story has a happy ending as long as the story isn't over yet--because it's not over until you die.

So every story has an unhappy ending. No one said anything about the middle.

I'm still smiling when I return to my room after all the guests have gone home or to bed. I take off my dress and the soft cotton shift Mila gave me to wear under it. My jeans and t-shirt are folded and sitting on a chair in the corner, and I'm still wearing my Aladdin bra and underwear because I don't have any others. Mila cleans them for me every day, though. I put the dress and shift on the chair as well and climb into bed with a yawn.

I'm exhausted and definitely ready for sleep, a little smile still on my mouth.

I succeeded in the job Jane gave me, so maybe she'll give me more to do tomorrow. I hope so. And I learned a lot of Quaaian vocabulary tonight.

I think some of it was curse words, so I'll have to be careful, but for the most part those guys were nice. I wish I could've learned their names.

I roll over, flopping one arm over the mattress.

Except, it doesn't hit the mattress.

It hits something warm and hard and bigger than me. I sit up straight, flipping on the faerie light Mila gave me. It illuminates the room, and I gape.

Peter is back.

And once again asleep in my bed.