problem child

“Oh my god, I ate so much of that mac and cheese from a box!” Fitz exclaimed, his eyes widening and a rare smile spreading across his face as he thought of it. “I actually miss it sometimes, so I’m glad to know it’s still there. I’ve never tasted anything so artificial since, but sometimes you just want to eat something fake.” The quality of the food was far better on Neverland, but there was something to be said for eating something he knew he shouldn’t. “Yeah, I get that. Obviously, it wasn’t all bad. Even when everything was terrible, there was always boxed mac and cheese and torturing animals.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. It was impossible to be too negative for Charlie. She always found a way to be positive, and he couldn’t wrap his head around it. “It’s strange to think that the whole world has just kept going. Some things we remember might not even be around anymore. I would never go back, but it would be a completely different world if I did. It would be nice to reminisce, as the few who remember the way things were. Even if even I can’t remember everything,” he said.

Fitz snorted a laugh. He felt the same way most days, preferring the silence and solitude of his own company to the constant energy of the other Lost Kids. “There’s a surprise. At least when the weather’s nice they can be loud and obnoxious elsewhere,” he said. He would never tell them, but he did care for the other Lost Kids, and he would happily kill or die for them. Still, he found it difficult to be around them all at once. “I was just watching it. It’s peaceful when everyone else is taking shelter, and the lightning and rain are actually kind of nice to look at. It beats sitting in the home, anyway.”

Fitz breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was just Fauna standing there, but he did not let down his guard. He lowered his knife, but did not put it away. His brief respite from constantly being on edge had decidedly ended, and now all he could think about was who else might be emerging in the woods. The rain was slowing to a drizzle, and he knew the pirates wouldn’t stay hidden forever as the sky began to clear. “You startled me, Faun,” he said sternly. “What are you doing out here? There’s a storm going on, you know.”

“Tell that to all of my old ‘families’ on the mainland,” Fitz said with a dark laugh. He appreciated how much she was trying, and thought he might as well make an effort, too. He resolved to try to talk to Delia, no matter how awkward and uncomfortable he was sure to feel. And he would try not to be his usual self, just so he wouldn’t reflect poorly on Charlie and her judgement. “That is true. I definitely wouldn’t mind talking about all that with her. I feel like I’ve forgotten so much of my time. I haven’t talked about it since coming here, so I won’t upset Peter, but I am curious.”

Fitz loved when it stormed in Neverland. He loved sitting high in a tree, watching the rain pour into the ocean, bolts of lightning illuminating the entire island, rolls of thunder shaking the ground. He had never cared much for beauty, and never understood why anyone would when it offered no utility, but he thought Neverland when it rained was stunning. He could watch it for hours, mesmerized and entranced. He also loved being out when everyone else was taking cover, when he felt like the only person alive. There was something so relaxing, so peaceful, about knowing he wouldn’t run into anyone. Sure, he loved to fight, and he would never back down from the opportunity, but it was nice to have a break from constantly being on guard. It was nice climbing down from his tree without looking to see whether there was a pirate waiting to kill him. It was nice walking back to the hideout without worrying whether anyone had followed him. It was nice to walk without clutching a knife in his hand. Which is why he was shocked to hear a twig snap behind him as he was walking home, the storm nearly over. He whirled around, drew his knife, and scanned the trees to try to find the figure lurking there. “Who’s there?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and wishing he had his sword with him.

Fitz rolled his eyes and snorted, but he secretly felt like flying at her words. It was a rare thing for someone to see the best in him; Peter and Charlie were the only people who had really taken a chance on him. Her saying that drew out a softer side in him, one that wanted people to like him and see the best in him, though he kept that side as repressed and hidden as possible. “I am a horrible creepy creep,” he said, though he struggled to keep a straight face at the verbiage. “Maybe I will, especially since you’re still friends with Delia. It’s just easier with you, because we’re already friends, so I don’t have to try anymore. I’m not as good at making friends as you are. I feel like I’ll tell her you and I are friends, and then I’ll run out of things to say.” One of the great disadvantages of never being socialized as a child was that he had no clue how to do things that seemed so natural to other people.

Fitz averted his eyes, trying not to bristle at her touch. This time it was not so much at the touch itself, because he was never more comfortable with anyone than he was with Charlie, and he knew that she was being kind and supportive, as ever. He was embarrassed, though, at his vulnerability. He was embarrassed that he needed her support, that he had shared his fears, that she even needed to say that she was there for him. Maybe he had gone soft. “Thank you,” he whispered before looking back at her and forcing himself to laugh with her. “That is true. It’s a wonder you ever even spoke to me, but I’m obviously glad that you did. I don’t really talk to any of the other Lost Kids now, which doesn’t bother me, but it was nice to have someone to talk to.” It was her softness that had made him want to make his very first friend. Even though he knew he should have hated her for being so starkly different from him, he couldn’t help but admire that softness within her that he so completely lacked.

“That’s on you, though. You should have known it would never last, not with some of those absolute gremlins running around,” Fitz said, cracking a smile, which only lasted for a moment before he grew serious again. “It would be so much easier if he didn’t. It would be nice to not have to be so secret, but I don’t want to test it. I don’t think I’d manage half as well as you have, if he kicked me out.” The thought crossed his mind more often than he cared to admit, but he knew that, if he fell out of Peter’s favor, he would be right back in the terrible position he was in before Peter found him. The only difference now was that he had killed far, far too many pirates for them not to hunt him down the moment he wasn’t tied to Peter. He would never be welcomed anywhere near the port, as Charlie had been, and, though he certainly wouldn’t mind taking a few pirates with him on his way out, he knew that the numbers would not be on his side. It was better to be invisible among the Lost Boys, only making his presence known in battle, where he felt he had made himself indispensable at Peter’s side; but there laid the trick of it. Everyone was irreplaceable until they weren’t. His smile returned when she said that she didn’t want anyone to get hurt on their behalf. “You’re getting a little soft, Charlie. I wouldn’t mind it that much, as long as I was the one hurting them. But you’re probably right, if only for our own sakes.”

Fitz grimaced and shook his head. “We’d only destroy it if we did, and we don’t have time for pretty things, not when there are pirates to be fought and adventures to have. Peter would certainly catch onto the fact we’re still meeting if I ever picked a flower, anyway.” There was no way he would ever have such an idea, and, though he knew she was joking, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering to the deadly consequences. “I can take care of the pirates,” he snorted. “It’s Peter I’m worried about.” 

Fitz doubted her assurances, but said nothing for her sake. He had never known a pirate to be anything other than brutal and cruel, and he couldn’t imagine that they had collectively changed hearts so quickly. Then again, if anyone was to make friends of enemies, it would be Charlie. He returned her smile and said, “That does sound nice. I also do my fair share of wandering, but I don’t pick any flowers.” He had never understood the utility of them, but he didn’t want to say anything disparaging to Charlie. “Not as much has changed for me as it has for you. I hang out with the lost kids for as long as I can bear, but I mostly go hunting. I’m actually often in your neck of the woods; the woods next to the port are always teeming with pirates. Maybe one night I’ll drop by and say hi. It’s unfortunate that we always have to meet in a cave.”