A/N: I'm sorry this update took so long. I've had it in the drafts for a few months already, but couldn't refine it to my liking. This chapter was inspired by the mermaid scene with Peter and Wendy. And yes, I know, Peter's kind of mean in this chapter, but he's a boy; he's immature, and doesn't realize how wrong his actions are. There'll be some fluff next chapter though!

Chapter II | The Lost Boys

The sky faded from a violet red to a dark blue, and house lights dimmed to a soft yellow glow. On the horizon, dark storm clouds circled, traveling nearer to the heart of London. The cypresses swayed violently with a strong gust of wind.

Down below, there was a clacking of metal against metal—a key being inserted into its rusty lock. The bakery shop was closing now, and the last few wisps of smoke passed through the chimney. Ten o'clock, Alice noted. As if to prove a point, Big Ben's loud chime struck the hour, echoing within the city.

Yawning, Alice positioned herself comfortably against the ledge. Her head rolled back, touching the cold metal and the tiny hairs on her neck stood in bitter protest. Her hands clasped themselves in her lap and she laid still, eyelids falling heavy. Sleep dawned on her, but she forced herself to remain attentive. Quietly, she murmured a familiar lullaby.

Cats and rabbits

Would reside in fancy little houses

And be dressed in shoes and hats and trousers

In a world of my own

Snap.

The single beat, the single crushing of a stick was enough to send Alice forwards in anticipation. Her eyes were half-lidded when she collided against another person; crashing back onto the ground. Waves of pain surged to her forehead and her nerves felt as if they were lit on fire.

With her vision blurring and struggling to focus, she at first could only make out the silhouette of a boy wearing rags. Slowly, the black outline advanced towards her, crawling faster with eagerness and curiosity.

"Who're you?"

It was an unfamiliar voice; young and high-pitched.

His nose pressed against her nose and his blonde hair feathered her face lightly, tickling her skin. The intimacy was foreign and strange for never in her life had someone gotten so close to her. It was impolite, yet a warming sensation flushed through her face. Alice shifted uncomfortably, unaccustomed to such contact. She scrambled backwards, distancing herself as much as possible until she was dangerously leaning towards the ledge. Without meaning to, her hand grabbed the empty air and she fell backwards—

"Ah!" She cried, arms waving in circles as she struggled to regain her balance. The wind pushed at her body, blowing at her hair. Her head tilted downwards to the streets, and her body began to shift in the same direction.

—A callused hand gripped onto her arm and she was pulled back onto the roof. Her breathing was unregulated and coughs spurted from the back of her throat. The zero gravity feeling in her stomach subsided but the rush woke her from her lethargic state.

"That's a stupid thing t' do," The boy remarked, helping Alice stand up. She was only slightly shorter than him, and they looked about the same age.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have startled me so much," Alice retorted, brushing some soot off her dress. His hand left a dirt print on her arm, leaving her to scrub away at the spot until it disappeared.

"Name's Slightly," The boy introduced. "Pleased to meet 'ya."

Her eyes narrowed. Slightly's clothes were similar to Peter's, with the blackened pants, the stained white fabric of his shirt, the poorly fit jacket, and the tie loosely wrapped around his neck. There was a rip in the sleeve that stretched from his wrist to his elbow, and the heels of his shoes were worn-down.

As if to parallel her critical expression, Slightly eyed her suspiciously, scrutinizing every detail. She could see the contempt in his face as he noticed the cleanliness of her blue dress, the pure white pinafore overtop, and the matching socks. Every aspect about her screamed supercilious and arrogant.

"You're one of them upper-class girls, aren't 'ya," Slightly deadpanned.

"Well," Alice stammered. She was unsure of how to respond, expecting such a statement to be said with more respect than dislike.

"Don't you got a house?" Slightly asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, but I'm waiting for someone here and they've yet to show up."

"Who 'ya waiting for? There aren't lots of kids around at night, only got orphans that sneak out… like myself. We don't got houses."

"Well, I'm waiting for a boy I saw weeks ago. His name is Peter," Alice explained. She ignored the belligerency in his last statement. After all, it wasn't her fault.

Slightly's expression seemed to soften. His warm brown eyes no longer held the original malice and envy. Instead, his eyebrows knit together in confusion as he pieced the puzzle together. "Peter? He's never mentioned you before."

The boy's hand ruffled his already disheveled dirty hair, prompting Alice to wonder when the last time he took a bath was. Though almost immediately as the condescending thoughts surfaced, she bade them away for fear she would only confirm Slightly's impression of the upper-class.

"Well, he might not remember me, but I certainly remember him. If you do know where he is, I'd like for you to take me to see him."

Slightly shook his head rapidly. "I can't. 'Ya see, Peter's not like us other orphans. He escaped, and I reckon Jim's still looking for him. And if Jim gets a hold on Peter, no one knows what he'll do… probably beat him to death."

"That's awful!" Alice frowned. "But where does Peter stay if he's not in the orphanage?"

"I can't tell you that. Peter's already trusted me with his life, lettin' me know where he's staying. Ya know he only tells a handful of us orphans? The ones he can really trust. Probably 'cause most of 'em'd tattle him out for money or 'special treatment' from Jim. Come to mention it, none of the girl orphans know where Peter is; I think Peter says they're 'untrustworthy wenches'. How do I know 'ya not a rat?"

Alice stomped her foot with impatience. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at Slightly, similar to what her mother would occasionally do to her father.

"I am a Kingsley, Alice Kingsley," Alice exclaimed with pride. "I know nothing of Jim, and I swear it on my life."

Slightly sighed and rubbed his face in annoyance.

"Okay, I'll take 'ya to see Peter, but he better remember you. And if he doesn't, then I'll… cut yer hand off. We got a deal?"

"What?" Alice shouted, horrified at the proclamation.

"If we don't got a deal, then you can try to find Peter yourself," Slightly confirmed. "And better trust me, you won't ever find him without my help."

"N-no, I… please take me to him," Alice said quietly, staring at her hands and trying to picture herself without them. Which one would she sacrifice?

Shuddering at the mental image and the even thought of it, Alice watched Slightly grab the handles of the ladder and move swiftly down to the ground, as if he'd done it numerous times before. Following his lead, Alice took a deep breath and shifted her feet ungracefully on the first rung and climbed downwards. The boy was waiting for her at the bottom, his arms crossed over his chest in impatience.

"Took 'ya long enough," He huffed, walking to a dark alleyway, not looking back to see if she followed.

Something small and fuzzy scampered past Alice's right foot, causing her to jump up and run after Slightly, clinging onto his arm. He shrugged her off quickly. Out of distaste or discomfort, Alice did not know.

The alley was long and narrow, stretching forever. When they turned the corner, Slightly ran to a tattered door, mounted with wooden planks.

"Password?"

The voice came from somewhere on the other side, causing Alice to step forward and examine the door closely. She found a small hole in the plank and pressed her face to it. Everything on the other side was black. A firm hand gripped onto her shoulder and pushed her back. Frowning, Alice watched as Slightly got closer to the door and whispered:

"Neverland."

The door opened slowly and the two walked through it as it closed behind them. The room was dark and Alice could see nothing on either side of her. At the end of the path, the dim light of a candle radiated, illuminating a small corner. She found Slightly's arm again, and tightened her grip. Surprisingly, he let her. They walked in silence, the only noise being the clacking of their shoes.

"Stop shaking, will 'ya?" Slightly finally said.

"Sorry," Alice apologized, trying desperately to steady her breathing.

As they moved closer, Alice could hear the sound of instruments and loud cheering. There was laughter and shouting and the darkness faded away. Step after step, she entered the lighted room and saw a large group of boys.

"Well, we're here. You can let go of my arm now."

Alice ignored Slightly's comment, eyes widening as she took in the scenery. She had never seen so many children, boys, in her life. The only one she knew was Hamish, and he hardly counted. Mesmerized by the jovial atmosphere, she longed to take part in it. Some of the boys were fighting with makeshift swords; some were playing music from pipes and dancing, and some were surrounding the large table, eating food. Up until then, Alice forgot about her hunger, but was discontentedly reminded by the twisting of her stomach. She dropped her hold on Slightly's arm and asked a passing boy if he could spare a cinnamon bun, which he gave her reluctantly.

"Slightly!" There was a moment of hesitation. "Who's the girl?"

Alice's ears perked up and she listened attentively as a shorter, smaller brunette boy approached them.

"She wants to see Peter," Slightly shrugged.

"But Slightly, we don't just let anyone talk to Peter. And Peter's never said anything about a… girl," the boy continued, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

"Stop worryin' Binky. Besides, if she's lying, we get to cut off her hands," Slightly said, his smile widening at the last bit.

"Alright, but I get to cut off the left one," Binky stated, the frown curving into a smirk.

"Nu-uh, I'm cuttin' off the left hand. Peter'll probably want the right, but you can watch," Slightly said.

"You told me one hand!" Alice protested. The two boys turned their attention to her for a split moment before going back into their conversation, not bothering to consider her valid point.

Alice sighed and tried her best to ignore their deliberation over her limbs; after all, Peter would remember her. She was sure of it. Her hand grabbed Slightly's wrist and she pulled them through the crowd to the boys playing music, where she thought she saw a red tuft of hair.

After pushing through the boys, despite their complaints at her shoving, she stopped all of a sudden and stood still in shock. For the first time in the last four weeks, Alice's heart raced, adrenaline pumping through her veins. The remains of her cinnamon bun dropped onto the wooden floor, though she was too captivated by the red-haired boy, dancing and playing his panpipes, to care anymore. When he finally turned around, his eyes locked onto hers and the instrument joined the bun, landing on the ground with a resonant clang.

Instead of a smile like Alice expected, Peter seemed annoyed.

"A girl!" Peter exclaimed.

The laughter and chatter died out in mere seconds after Peter's revelation. Whispers passed through the crowds as they all stared to observe their leader, walking closer to the only girl in the room.

"Wench!" A particularly bold boy shouted.

"She claims she knows you, Peter. Says she's been waitin' to see you," Slightly responded, shaking off Alice's grasp under Peter's heated glare. "If you don't wanna talk to her, we can cut off her hands and send her to the streets."

"No," Peter said, rolling his eyes but patted Slightly on the back nonetheless. "Good suggestion, though."

Peter focused on Alice, eying her up and down before turning away. "Get her out of here."

"Yessir," Slightly said immediately.

"No," Alice interjected, her hands trembling with nervousness. "No. I waited out all night to see you and I'm not going back now!"

Peter faced her again, raising an eyebrow. "Slightly made a mistake, girls aren't allowed. Sorry Alice."

Alice stomped her foot. "Well I don't see why not. After all, we're all kids; it shouldn't matter if I'm a girl. Why aren't girls allowed, Peter? I would so much like to be a part of this."

"Girls got cooties, that's why!" Another boy interrupted, and in an act of objection, he threw a tomato at Alice. It landed with a splat on her clothes, red tainting the blue color.

Before Alice got the chance to reprimand him, his disruption caused a revolt, and boys from her left and right hurled chunks of bread, rotten fruit, and miscellaneous food items in her direction. She covered her face with her hands and sank down to the floor. She could feel the tomato juice running down her skin, and the food pieces clinging to her hair.

"Stop!" Alice cried out, though her pleas were ignored.

She brushed the particles from her face and looked at Peter who was too busy laughing to be bothered with her. Slightly too was participating in the chaos, not missing a chance to show off his throwing abilities. He hurled a plum at her feet, giving her white socks a purple hue.

"Stop!" She shouted again.

Her protests only encouraged the boys to fire more, harder, and faster.

"Go back home!" One boy yelled.

In that moment, she decided, spending a life with Hamish would be better than this discrimination and poor behavior. These boys were ruthless, barbaric; probably sons of the Queen of Hearts herself.

With fingers clenched into a tight fist, Alice rose in defiance. A peach was thrown at her, exploding onto her face. She ignored the juice sliding down her chin and glared dangerously at her bullies. She marched over to Peter and tapped her foot, waiting, until his laughter diminished.

"Peter," She said angrily. "I was completely wrong about you. I hate you and I never want to see you or any of your friends again." And on impromptu, added, "I'll tell Jim too! I'll tell him where you are, where you all are!"

Huffing, she walked away from the group, exiting the once auspicious setting.

The now-heavy rain washed away the sticky fruit from her clothing and skin as she headed down the winding passageway towards her house. Tears were sliding down her cheekbones, and she was weezing and coughing. Her name was being called over and over again, but she didn't look back. Instead she walked faster, his voice reverberating throughout the cold night.