Topic: A Lost Boy's First Christmas

Ashlyn Radcliffe

Date: 2017-12-29 11:49 EST
Snow didn't really settle this close to the sea, but on the clifftop where the Radcliffes had made their home, a light dusting remained to welcome Christmas morning. After the noise and wildness of the party on the Grove the night before, it had been a relief to get home and settle in to sleep in their own beds, even if a certain amount of rearranging had taken place since Peter's arrival in their little family. For whatever reason, Peter was already deeply attached to baby Cora, almost unable to sleep without her nearby, and as a result, her crib had been moved into his room for the time being. It meant that collecting Cora when she woke up crying in the night had to be done quickly and quietly, but James and Ashlyn were getting used to that, too. They were hoping for just a normal morning this Christmas, since Peter wasn't quite as educated about Santa as the other children in the family, but perhaps that was a vain hope, too. After all, he'd spent much of the evening before with Lyneth and their cousins filling him in on all the magic surrounding Christmas itself.

Though Peter was no ordinary boy, like other boys his age, he'd woken early Christmas morning, just before sunrise, full of excitement and anticipation at the magic that had taken place while he'd been sleeping. Quietly, he'd tip-toed to the window, the sun just starting to rise, a dusting of snow sparkling in the first light of morning. He frowned over at Cora, who was still fast asleep, wishing she'd wake up so that he could share all of this with her, but he knew she was still too new to really appreciate it yet. The new ones were always that way, but it wouldn't be long before she was toddling around and following her big brother everywhere. The thought of that made him smile.

"It's Christmas, Cora," he whispered. "Lyneth said Christmas is magic."

"Lyneth said there will be presents from Father Christmas and Santa ....and from Mama and Papa," he told her further, though she was still sleeping. "Do you think there will be presents for me?" he mused aloud, a small, thoughtful frown on his face. He couldn't imagine it really, despite Lyneth's assurances. What kind of presents would there be? It wasn't likely they were going to give him a new dagger. And despite all the friends he'd made in his new home, no one would ever replace Tink.

Perhaps one might, when her flower grew big enough to let her out and meet Peter herself. But for now, Peter had only James and Ash, and his little sister, to guide his steps at home. The sound of a warm yawn from the landing outside his door made itself known, shuffling footsteps betraying a yawning, stretching Ash on her way to the stairs as she pulled a festive sweater on over her head.

Peter smiled as he glanced over to see his new mother was already up, yawning and stretching and shuffling her way to the stairs. He padded on bare feet toward the door with nimble steps, tentatively looking up at Ash and hoping she wouldn't be angry at him for being up so early. "Mama" Did Father Christmas come last night?"

Still stifling a yawn, Ash turned at the sound of that young voice behind her, her eyes brightening above a warm smile for her new son. "Why don't we go and find out?" she suggested, her gaze sparkling impishly as she stroked her fingers through his hair. "Happy Christmas, Peter."

"But where's Papa?" he asked, looking around for James, who had once been his friend and then his enemy and now his adoptive father. He slid a small hand into Ashlyn's, happy to follow her wherever she might lead, but wondering if they shouldn't wait for his father and sister.

"He's still in bed, sweetheart," she told him, leaning down to whisper loud enough that James could probably hear her. "He drank too much of Grampa's stinky bottle last night and is going to be grumpy bear until after breakfast."

"I'm here," replied a bleary-eyed James, who had seemingly just crawled out of bed, his dark hair mussed, his face a little too pale, his pajamas rumpled.

"Papa!" Peter exclaimed as his new father came into view. "It's Christmas!"

"A little less noise there," James murmured, waving a hand at Peter to keep his voice down, as it currently felt like a train was rumbling through his head.

Ash laughed softly. "Go and get Cora," she suggested to James. "I'll put the coffee on. And we'll see about breakfast, won't we, Peter?" She flashed their son an encouraging smile, winking down at him. After all, she knew what changes the living room had undergone last night, but Peter had missed all of it.

"You want me to wake Cora?" James asked, as if he hadn't heard her right. They were used to getting up early most days, but not quite this early. "Can't I get a cup of coffee first?"

Ash laughed again, rolling her eyes. "Fine, coffee first," she allowed. "But we're not opening presents until after breakfast."

"We're not opening presents until my head stops aching," James grumbled, as he started down the stairs. He was deeply regretting all the drinking he'd done the night before, though he'd been having fun at the time.

"Does Papa always get grumpy when he drinks?" Peter asked, looking up at Ashlyn again.

"Only when Humphrey opens his special cupboard," she promised the boy fondly. "And that only happens once a year. You should have seen us last year ....we were both like that. I remembered not to do it this year."

"But ....if it makes you feel sick, why do you do it?" Peter asked with a child's naive curiosity. He'd seen the pirates drink plenty and they always made such fools of themselves when they did. He had forbidden the Boys from attacking when the pirates were drunk, as it wasn't a fair fight.

"It's a little difficult to explain," Ash admitted as they followed James down the stairs. "You know how, when you have sugary things, it makes you feel good and happy' But when you have too much, it makes you feel sick" It's a little bit like that."

"Oh," he said, frowning thoughtfully. "You mean, like the time I ate all the cookies in the cookie jar and then I throwed up?" he asked, remembering it well. The cookies had tasted good going down, but not so good coming back up.

"Yes, just like that," Ash nodded in agreement. "After a while, you forget about the part that made you feel sick, which is why people do it again. But it doesn't happen very often, Peter." As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she glanced quickly to the living room door. A soft sparkle of colored light played through it, which was a relief. James must have remembered to hit the switch on his way through to the kitchen.

As soon as they rounded the corner, Peter audibly gasped at the sight of the Christmas tree, all lit up and shining, and the pile of presents beneath it. He came to a halt, frozen in place, his mouth hanging open and eyes as wide as saucers. Meanwhile, a pot of coffee was brewing in the kitchen.

Ash paused with him, smiling delightedly at his reaction to the tree and presents. She was pretty impressed with them herself, seeing as she'd been half-cut while decorating the tree last night. "Happy Christmas, Peter," she told him again, letting him drink in the display in front of him. "Looks like Santa came after all."

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," the boy whispered, almost afraid to speak any louder, hence he break the spell. After all, Lyneth had said it was magic. It certainly hadn't been there when he'd gone to bed the night before.

"It's all real, sweetheart," she promised him, squeezing his hand. "It'll still be here when we finish breakfast. Because I have to feed my boys before our girl wakes up and screams the house down because she's hungry!"

And suddenly, Peter was flinging himself at her and wrapping his arms around her waist, sobbing with joy, his face buried in her nightgown - and he hadn't even opened one present yet.

This was something Ash hadn't predicted. Tears didn't have a place in her vision of a happy Christmas morning, so suddenly having a sobbing little boy wrapped around her waist was a bit of a shock. Her arms wrapped around him as she glanced around, hoping for rescue before remembering that she was supposed to deal with this. "Sweetie, what?s wrong?"

Ashlyn Radcliffe

Date: 2017-12-29 11:50 EST
"Nothing is wrong, Mama," he sobbed against her nightgown. "It's just ....so beautiful," he explained, clearly at a loss for words. James had appeared in the doorway, a puzzled expression on his face, but he said nothing.

At a loss, Ash grimaced at James, trying to force her sleepy mind into saying something that might help. "There's beauty everywhere in this world, sweetie," she told Peter affectionately. "It isn't always big and sparkly, but it's there, I promise."

"Yes, but ..." Peter sniffled, raising his head to look up at her again with adoring eyes. He'd seen his first Christmas tree the night before at the Granger gathering at the main house, but in his mind, it couldn't compare to the one in their own living room. "No one has ever given me anything like this," he tried to explain. The best gift he'd ever been given was the gift of flight, but that had been so long ago, he could hardly remember it anymore.

Her fingers gently stroked his cheek as she smiled down at him. "This is something that happens every year, sweetheart," she promised softly. "It doesn't stop being magic, even when you know how it happens. I've always found magic at Christmas, and I'm really old now."

Old was a word that had little meaning to Peter. Though he was for all intents and purposes only a boy of about nine, technically he was older than both James and Ashlyn, if one were to count the years since his birth. But Peter had never been one to keep track of years, especially in Neverland where one day flowed into the next without changing. Instead, he'd measured time by the changes in the Boys who were his companions, who sometimes became pirates once they'd grown up. Adults were old; that's all he knew, and so he didn't bother to contradict his mother or point out that he had been alive much longer than her.

"It's okay, Mama," he assured her, as though becoming an adult was something that deserved some measure of sympathy. "Lyneth says parents are supposed to be old."

"Well, older," Ash laughed fondly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Shall we go and have some breakfast' Then we can investigate those presents under the tree." Her eyes sparkled wth mischief, hoping James had had enough time to go and check on one very special present. If he hadn't, he was going to be on his own with Peter for a few minutes while she did.

"But what about Cora?" he asked, frowning as he remembered his sister, as concerned that she be a part of this as he was excited about tearing into his gifts. As for James, the smell and sound of coffee brewing was the only thing that was coming from the kitchen.

"She'll be up by then," she promised him. "Honestly, how often do we get through breakfast without her yelling for someone to feed her as well?"

He grinned at his mother's question regarding Cora. "Never!" he said, wondering if his father had gone upstairs to fetch her, but before he could put a voice to that question, there was a small whimper that was definitely not Cora coming from the kitchen.

Ash bit her lip at the sound from the kitchen. "I wonder what that was?" she asked, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "Do you think something got in and has your papa cornered in the kitchen" Will you protect me?"

"I don't have my dagger," he replied with a frown, though that had never stopped him before. "What do you think it might be?" he whispered, stepping in front of his mother to shield her from whatever threat was lurking in the kitchen, and eager for an adventure.

Thoroughly enjoying the chance to play up this very minor bit of deception, Ash gasped. "It could be anything," she said as they inched toward the kitchen. "Maybe one of Santa's elves rebelled and stayed behind to steal all our Christmas cheer!"

Peter audibly gasped at the possibility that one of Santa's elves might be so devious. It never occurred to him that his mother would tell him anything but the truth. As he tip-toed into the kitchen, it became obvious that it wasn't a rogue elf or intruder of any kind that was waiting for them there, but a very small whimpering ball of fur with a red ribbon around its neck snuggled in his father's lap.

"Merry Christmas, Peter!" James said, still looking a little rough around the edges, but with a warm smile on his face.

As they stepped into the kitchen to behold the whimpering intruder, Ash grinned, leaning down to hug Peter from behind. "Or it could be a very special present Santa left just for you," she added, kissing his temple.

"For me?" he asked, looking from one parent to the other and back to the chocolate ball of floppy-eared fluff on his father's lap.

"Would you like to meet him, Peter?" James asked, scritching the puppy's ears with his fingers.

"Yes, for you," Ash assured the boy, giving him a very gentle push further into the kitchen. "He needs someone to look after him, and I can't think of anyone better to do that than you."

"A puppy?" Peter asked, incredulously, eyes wide with wonder. He'd met all the cats and dogs that lived at Maple Grove and had been secretly envious of their various owners, but especially envious of the other boys who had dogs of their own. If he'd burst into tears upon seeing the Christmas tree, what was the chance of him doing so again? His lower lip trembled a little, but to his credit, he didn't cry - it would never do to cry in front of his father. "Can I ..." he asked, trailing off. James smiled, letting the puppy off his lap. "Of course! He belongs to you lad. Come say hullo."

The puppy was still young enough that his footsteps were just a little unsteady - old enough to be separated from his mother, but young enough to be a little clumsy as he bounded toward the boy on the other side of the shiny lino floor, paws skidding under his enthusiasm. Ash grinned over at James, glad they'd gone through with this particular impulsive idea.

Peter sprawled on the floor, legs outstretched to guide the puppy to his lap. "Hullo," he said as the chocolate-colored puppy wobbled closer, sniffing around at the floor before finding Peter's face and giving him an affectionate lick. Peter laughed at the warm, wet feel of the puppy's tongue against his cheek. "He licked me!"

Ash chuckled softly. "He likes you!" she countered, carefully stepping around the boy and his new friend to start pulling various bits out of the fridge and cupboards to make a start on breakfast. "He needs a name, you know."

Peter nodded soberly as he pulled the puppy onto his lap. Naming was serious business. He'd given many of his Boys names that seemed to fit them better than the ones their mothers had given them, but it would take some thought to find the right one. "I'll have to think about it," he said as he snuggled the puppy close.

"I'm sure whatever you think of will be perfect," Ash assured him. "How do we feel about bacon sandwiches for breakfast?" She glanced between her two boys - the little one with a lapful of puppy, and the older one with a headful of hangover - and grinned expectantly.

Hangover or not, at least, James was smiling, his first cup of coffee in his hands. It had been a rocky few weeks between Peter and James, but at last, they seemed to be settling in well with each other.

Peter laughed, partly at his mother's question and partly at the puppy's antics. "That's a funny name for a puppy, Mama," he remarked.

Ashlyn laughed again, shaking her head. "Not to name the puppy, silly," she told Peter in amusement. "To eat!" Although the thought of any of them having to yell Bacon Sandwiches to get the dog to come back was hilarious.

James snorted in amusement at Peter's suggestion. "I think we can do better than that," he said, taking another sip of coffee before setting his cup aside. "Shall I start on the bacon then?"

"Better than BLTs for breakfast?" Ashlyn paused, thoroughly confused as she glanced between them. "You two are confuzzling me!" she accused laughingly, eyeing the pair of boys in her kitchen with familiar fondness.

Father and son - former Pirate and Lost Boy - exchanged a grin, and James winked Peter's way. "Sit down and relax, love. I've got breakfast covered," he volunteered, leaning over to drop a kiss against her cheek.

"What about Chewbacca?" Peter asked, having just finished a Star Wars marathon recently. "We can call him Chewie for short!"

Ash smiled, leaning into that kiss for a moment. She wasn't going to argue if James was taking over cooking. Claiming her own cup of coffee, she slid down into a seat at the kitchen table, smiling down at Peter and his puppy. "Chewbacca's a pretty big name for a small dog," she pointed out, though her objection was mainly because she didn't feel like yelling that across a field in public. "What about just Chewie?"

Peter nodded emphatically, as his mother echoed his own suggestion. "It's a good name," he said, though he wasn't sure why. It just seemed to fit somehow, though the puppy was certainly not a Wookie.

"Let's just hope he doesn't decide to chew the house up," James muttered as he fetched the breakfast fixings from the fridge.

"You'll just have to make sure he doesn't get bored," Ash warned both of them with a grin. "Two walks a day, at least, even in the rain and the snow." She didn't think this would be a problem, somehow - Peter loved being outside.

Ashlyn Radcliffe

Date: 2017-12-29 11:50 EST
"Yes, Mama," Peter replied obediently with another nod of his head, giggling boyishly as the puppy licked his face, tail wagging happily.

James smiled over at Ashlyn, feeling strangely pleased that Peter seemed so happy with his gift.

"You know," Ash said quietly, "there's a bowl over there that should probably have some water in it for your new friend. And in that cupboard is another bowl and some food. Think you can give Chewie his breakfast?" She flashed a grin over at James, just as delighted as he was. It was still going to be a rough ride every now and then, but the puppy definitely seemed like he had been the right idea to help convince Peter to stay with them.

"Oh," Peter said uncertainly as he looked to the bowl and then to the cupboard. "Does he have to eat special food?" he asked, not really knowing all that much about pet care, despite what Lyneth had told him about Loki and Knip.

"Yeah, he has special pet food in a bag in the cupboard," Ash told him. "And there's a measuring cup, so you know how much to give him in the morning and the evening."

"Okay, Mama," Peter replied, scrambling to his feet. "C'mon, Chewie. Time for breakfast!" he told the puppy as he started toward the indicated cupboard to fill the puppy's bowl.

In the meantime, James was busy frying up eggs and bacon and making toast. He glanced at the ceiling as another family member made herself known. "Sounds like Cora's up."

Ash glanced up with a faint groan. "Sneaky, captain, well done," she complimented him on getting himself in charge of the cooking. Chuckling, she rose to her feet, setting her cup down. "Fine, I'll get her up. The boob is less fuss first thing, anyway."

It wasn't long before they were all seated at the kitchen table eating breakfast, Cora on James' lap and Chewie pounding his tail on the floor at Peter's feet, as if just waiting for someone - anyone - to drop him a slice of bacon, while Peter regaled them all with some tall tale or other Lyneth had told him the night before.

"So what did Father Christmas say to them after he'd woken everyone up?" Ashlyn was asking in amusement, recognizing the entire tale as a stolen and reworked version of A Visit From St. Nick. Lyneth was getting cheekier by the day, it seemed.

"He said ..." Peter started, moving to stand on his chair and waving his arms emphatically. He cleared his throat before continuing, then lowered his voice an octave or so and raised the volume as if he was calling into the night, "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

"He didn't even apologize for making so much noise?" Ash gasp in obviously feigned outrage. "How rude! Don't stand on the chair, sweetheart," she added in a gentle tone. Easing Peter into indoor behavior and voices was a daily struggle at the moment, but gentle always had a better result than snappish, as they had learned.

"No!" Peter exclaimed, obviously in answer to her question, rather then in defiance of her gentle reprimand. "Mama, what?s a sugar plum?" he asked as he dropped down into his chair, folding his legs beneath him.

"It's a type of sweetie," Ash explained. "We don't eat them these days, but about a hundred years ago, they didn't have the same sweets as we do now. So they had sweets that were made completely out of sugar! A sugar plum was about the size of a grape, usually pink or purple, and it was made out of hard sugar or soft fondant icing."

"But how do they dance in your head?" he asked further, popping a slice of bacon into his mouth. "Lyneth says they just do, but that there really aren't any sugarplum fairies, like in the Nutcracker."

"I had sugarplums when I was a boy," James interjected.

"Well, to be fair, Lyneth was telling you her own version of a poem, sweetheart," Ash told him in amusement. "It's "visions of sugar plums" dancing in their heads, which means they were thinking and dreaming about sweeties." She blinked, glancing over at James in surprise. "You have" What are they like?"

"Bloody awful," James told them with a smirk. Apparently, they weren't missing anything, at least, compared to the sweets readily available on Rhy'Din.

"Do you think Santa left us some sweets?" Peter asked hopefully.

"We will find out," Ash promised, "as soon as we finish breakfast and your father apologizes for his language." She flashed James a teasingly pointed smile, daring him to argue with her on that point.

James snorted at Ash's insistence that he apologize, mirroring her teasing smile as he met her gaze, as if daring her to press the matter. "They bloody were!" he insisted with a laugh.

"It's okay, Papa. Lyneth says grown-ups always cuss when they feel strongly about something."

"But they're not supposed to do it," Ash pointed out, trying not to laugh at James' stubbornness. "It sets a bad example. Although ....he was a pirate, so we'll have to forgive him for being bad every now and then." She stuck her tongue out at her husband for that one.

"He was the best bloody pirate ever!" Peter exclaimed, clearly proud of his father, even if they had once been considered enemies. All of it had been little more than a game to the boy anyway, like an exaggerated game of playing pretend.

"We're surrounded by rude little boys, Cora," Ash bemoaned laughingly to the baby girl curled up on James' lap. This was proved true when the newly-named Chewie let out a prolonged fart, just to underscore her point. "Oh, good grief ..."

Cora was too little to know the difference, but Peter crowed with laughter as the puppy made himself known again. "That was a good one, Chewie!" Peter praised the dog.

James said nothing, but there was a lopsided, amused smirk on his face.

"I'm doomed," Ash muttered, rolling her eyes above her own smile as she rose to collect their plates and take them to the dishwasher. "Right. Clothes on, shoes on, we're taking little Mr. Farts-a-lot out for a run before anything else happens."

"That's not his name," Peter reminded his mother with a giggle. "Can I please show him my room?" he asked, remembering the P word for once.

"Of course you may, sweetheart," she assured him fondly. "Just don't forget to get dressed while you're up there!" It seemed as though the excitement of presents could be teased aside in favor of taking Chewie out for his first walk with the family. That was a good sign.

Peter slid down from the chair, calling the puppy as he darted toward the stairs. "C'mon, Chewie! Come and see the room I share with Cora. You'll like Cora, but sometimes she poops her diaper, and then she smells bad. But Mama and Papa clean her up, and then it's okay ..." he rambled, his voice fading as he stomped back up the stairs to get dressed.

Ash laughed softly as the little voice faded away, listening to the disparate footsteps disappearing up the stairs. She looked over at James, her smile soft. "Looks like someone's already having a good Christmas."

"Are we talking about Peter or me?" James asked, though he knew very well she was referring to the boy who'd just stomped his way up the stairs. He smiled up at her, Cora gurgling in his arms. "What about you, Mrs. Radcliffe" Anything in particular you were hoping for this year?" he asked, with a sparkle in his eyes that hinted at a possible surprise.

She twisted, leaning down to rest her arms about him from behind, one finger bopping Cora's nose affectionately. "Oh, I'm hoping Pirate Santa comes by when the children are asleep and weighs anchor in my bed for a while," she teased her husband, grinning as she kissed his nose.

"You are a very naughty girl, Mrs. Radcliffe," he told her with a grin, as he turned his head to meet her kiss. "But I think Pirate Santa may have left something in your stocking," he added, that teasing gleam still in his eyes.

"Mmm, oh really?" She nibbled on his lower lip fondly for a moment, secure in the knowledge that they could get dressed and be ready to go long before Peter was done showing Chewie around the house. "And here I thought we were supposed to be doing presents after we take the dog to poo somewhere outside."

"I suppose that would be best, since we don't want him doing his business indoors," James reluctantly agreed. "You'll just have to wait a little longer for your surprise then," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "Shall we go get dressed, Corabean?" he asked their daughter, lifting her in his arms and turning her to face him.

The baby girl gurgled, flailing her fists happily as she kicked out. Ashlyn laughed, straightening up. "That looks like a yes to me," she confirmed. "What do I win if I'm ready before everyone else, I wonder?"

Ashlyn Radcliffe

Date: 2017-12-29 11:51 EST
"You get to finish cleaning up breakfast while you wait," he teased, though that wasn't much of a prize, and most of the mess was already cleaned up.

"Oh, what a gentleman you are," she chuckled, giving him a gentle prod. "Come on, Captain Sexy, or the little miss there is going to need changing while we're out instead of when we get back."

"We're not required to be anywhere today, are we?" he asked, seeing as they'd already weathered the Granger craziness the night before and he had the hangover to prove it.

"No, today is just us," she promised, already on her way back to the stairs and up. "Peter's going to need an early night after yesterday, I think. Hell, we're going to need an early night!"

"Not going to fall asleep on Pirate Santa later, are you?" he asked with a smirk as he followed her up the stairs, Cora still in his arms. Upstairs, Peter was still rambling away, sharing some story or other with the new puppy.

"Only after he gives me a reason to be sleepy," Ash laughed, checking on Peter briefly before slipping into their bedroom to begin hunting for clothes for herself. It was a family sort of day, so that meant jeans and a comfortable shirt - she'd keep the festive sweater.

As it happened, James was probably going to be the last to get dressed, since it seemed he had, by default, been put in charge of dressing baby Cora. It was just as well, as it gave the caffeine a little more time to work its magic on his hangover before they headed out for their walk.

Which was how Ash was the one downstairs when Peter finally emerged with Chewie. She was leaning comfortably against the banister, her boots already on, idly swinging a collar and leash from one hand. "And did you boys enjoy the whirlwind tour of the upstairs?"

"Chewie was hiding under my bed and I couldn't get him to come out!" Peter explained, though the dog hadn't really been hiding so much as exploring under there. "Can he sleep with me and Cora tonight, Mama?" he asked, hopefully, as his father and sister joined them.

James was dressed in jeans and a sweater and looking very unlike a pirate, and Cora was bundled up in a furry snowsuit complete with bunny ears.

"Of course he can, sweetheart," Ash allowed. "But only if he's quiet and lets you both sleep. If he keeps you awake, or tries to get in the crib, he'll have to sleep somewhere else until he learns to behave."

Peter smiled, relieved. Thankfully, she hadn't said anything about whether or not the puppy could sleep in Peter's bed, and unless she did, that's probably where he'd be found come later tonight. "He'll be quiet, Mama. Promise!"

Ash knew better than to try and enforce a dog sleeping in its own bed when there was a child who wanted to cuddle with it in their own. She still remembered the rows over Dom getting to sleep with the dog when she was a child.

"We'll see," she told Peter, not making any promises. "Get your shoes and coat on. C'mon over here, Chewie, let's get this collar on." As she crouched to wrestle the dog into collar and leash, she glanced up at James, and abruptly cackled at the sight of Cora. "Is that the snowsuit Mom gave us?"

"Aye, isn't she adorable?" James said, obviously enamored of the little girl, as was Peter. Just as enamored of Cora, as they were of Ashlyn. "Can you take her a minute?" he asked, so that he could put his own coat and boots on and help Peter with his.

"She looks like a bunny!" Peter declared with a laugh.

"Sure." Ash reached up to take Cora onto her own hip, the collar settled around Chewie's neck comfortably as he licked at her fingers. "Look at you, little dove. Don't you look smart and warm!"

"What does that mean, look smart?" Peter asked, as James helped the boy zip his coat. He wasn't so young that he couldn't dress himself, but he was still having some trouble getting used to buttons and zippers.

"You know how we all dressed up yesterday?" Ash explained. "Me in a dress, and you and your dad in those dark trousers and button up shirts" That's smart. What we're wearing now is known as casual. But smart can also mean pretty when it comes to Cora."

"I thought smart means the same thing as clever," Peter said, ever curious and interested in learning new things, especially about this new world he was living in.

"Language has changed some since ..." James trailed off. How long had it been since Peter was born"

"It does mean the same thing, as well," Ash smiled. "Language is very confusing, I know. But you'll get used to it, darlin', I promise you." She rose to her feet, balancing Cora against her hip as Chewie tugged on the leash. "I think this little guy is kind of eager to get outside."

"Let's hope he didn't leave any puddles upstairs," James murmured as he tugged a pair of boots onto his feet. "Dog or baby, love?" he asked Ashlyn. "You can't handle both."

"Oh, I think you boys should be in charge of the dog," she said, claiming her right to cuddle with Cora for a while. It wasn't going to be a long walk, after all; just long enough to blow the cobwebs away and let Chewie find somewhere to take a dump.

Finding a place for the dog to do his business wasn't really about James or Peter, but about Chewie, and Chewie, it seemed, wanted to explore. Eventually, though James took charge of the leash before the puppy tugged Peter too far from the house.

Ash trailed behind them, hugging Cora on her hip in the chill breeze off the sea. It was good to be out of the house - definitely blowing the cobwebs away and waking them up enough for a few hours together inside. She laughed at the dog's antics, but while James was trying to convince Chewie to take a dump, she found herself looking down at the little house on the beach below, where Cian and Leilani were visible on their own porch, both looking up at the cliff. She waved cheerfully, glad that was the only interaction anyone expected of them.

James noticed Ash waving and glanced down to find Cian and Leilani waving up at them. They'd just seen the other couple the night before and weren't planning on socializing and yet, somehow he felt bad that they were so isolated there on the beach - purposely perhaps, just as they were on the cliff. "You aren't thinking of asking them to join us for dinner, are you?" he asked her, quietly.

"Oh, good god, no," she promised him laughingly. "We did family yesterday, we're doing the recap smaller family thing with my Mom and everyone in our branch tomorrow. Today is just about us. Trust me, they get it."

"You don't think they get lonely down there?" he asked, more curious than anything else. He let Peter had Chewie's leash so they could romp around a little, so long as they were careful of the cliff.

"Honestly?" Ash glanced up at him over Cora's bunny-eared head. "Maybe they do. But like us, they have a standing invitation to the Grove to spend time with Gabi, George, Gordon, and the kids. They're the most insular of all of us, I think, but they seem to like it that way. If we're up here for New Year, maybe we could ask them to spend the evening with us. No pressure, just hanging out in the same house for a little bit."

"Mm, perhaps," remarked James, noncommittally. The New Year wouldn't happen for another week yet, and he needed to get through one hangover at a time. As for their own open invitation, it was mostly with Dom, Elle, and their children.

She chuckled at the look on his face. "Your headache isn't going to last a week," she reminded him affectionately, reaching up to skim her fingers across his brow. "Did Chewie do his business yet?"

"Aye, he's all done ....I think," he added uncertainly, looking away for a moment to locate boy and dog and finding Peter laughing and running with the dog in the snow. "He looks happy, doesn't he?" he asked, equally uncertain.

Ash smiled, leaning into him fondly as her eyes followed their son and his new best friend cavorting in the snow. "He looks very happy," she agreed in amusement. "Any second now, they're both going to disappear into a snow drift and come out shivering, but they're enjoying themselves."

"We should probably get them both inside before they catch a chill," he said, though there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes, hangover or no. "Unless you're up to a snowball fight," he dared, though it wouldn't be a fair fight with Cora in her arms.

"Only if you're fine with me using the baby as a human shield," his cheeky wife countered with a grin of her own, hoisting Cora a little higher on her hip. She looked down at the little face, screwed up in the hood. "I think someone might be done with the cold, though."

"Very well. We'll save the snowball fight for later." He smiled and touched a kiss to Ash's lips before tapping a finger against Cora's nose. "Hot cocoa and presents then?" he asked. He'd had enough eggnog the night before to last until next Christmas.

"That sounds like an inspired idea, Captain Radcliffe," Ash agreed cheerfully. "Before I start dismantling the kitchen to make dinner." On her hip, Cora giggled at the gentle tap to her nose, one arm flailing at James.

Ashlyn Radcliffe

Date: 2017-12-29 11:52 EST
James caught Cora's little hand and lifted it to his lips. "And you, little lady, are very very spoiled," he told her with a smile and a light in his eyes that not only said he adored her but that he enjoyed spoiling her, too.

"She's also bracing to fill her diaper, so I'm off back inside," Ash laughed, grinning down at the look of fierce concentration on Cora's little face. "Go catch your son and his four-legged wonderdog."

James laughed. "I did ask whether you wanted the dog or the baby," he reminded her, making no effort to take Cora from her. He'd "handled" the dog, so to speak; it was her turn to handle the baby. "We'll meet you inside," he told her before he wandered off to wrangle Peter and Chewie.

By the time her boys were back in the house, Ashlyn had changed Cora and set her up on her quilt on the floor of the living room. The baby girl was gazing adoringly at the lights on the Christmas tree, utterly enthralled, which gave everyone a bit of space to breathe as the cocoa was dished out.

That didn't stop the newest member of the family from padding over to sniff out the little bundle of joy. Finding her acceptable, Chewie then licked her face clean, while Cora giggled, arms and legs flailing at the tickling the dog was giving her.

Cocoa mug in hand, Ash slipped out of her shoes finally as she wandered into the living room, laughing at the sight of the puppy licking the baby. "Oy, you," she told him gently, folding down onto the floor beside them to give Chewie a gentle shove. "No eating the baby."

Who knew whether it was breeding or instinct, but most dogs - dogs that were bred to be pets, at least - seemed to instinctively know the difference between their family and food, and Chewie was definitely one of those dogs. He only wagged his tail at Ash and dropped down at her feet, as she gently reprimanded him. Thankfully, unlike his name implied, he hadn't taken a chomp out of anything yet, except the food in the bowl they'd given him.

James and Peter joined them, each with a cup of cocoa in hand. James chose a seat on the couch, while Peter came to a halt to admire the tree, eyes as big as saucers.

Leaning back against the couch, Ash gently hoisted Chewie onto her lap with one absent hand, ruffling his ears as she tipped her head onto James' knee. She smiled over at Peter. "You know there are presents underneath it, right?"

Peter nodded his head mutely, somehow understanding that not all those presents were for him, but some of them were. "No one ever gave me a present before," he murmured, tears threatening, that lower lip wobbling again.

"Well, you'll just have to get used to it," Ash told hin affectionately. "Because you will get presents at Christmas, and on your birthday, and sometimes at other times, too."

"My ....birthday?" Peter echoed, as if it was a foreign word, a worried expression on his face. "But I ....I don't remember ..." he murmured, the threat of tears growing stronger. If one did not know when they were born, how could they celebrate it"

"Everyone has a birthday," Ash assured him. "A special day once a year that belongs to them. And you get to choose when that is. We'll pick a date, and that will be your birthday, and every year we'll celebrate with you on that day."

Peter nodded again, and drew a hand across his face to wipe away the threat of tears. "Okay, Mama," he replied agreeably, trusting her in all things. She was his mother, after all, and he'd wanted one for a very long time. "Can I give you your presents?" he asked, looking from one parent to the other.

"I'd love to have a present," Ash admitted with a wide grin. "Do you need help reading the tags?" He probably didn't - despite the fact that Peter struggled to read, she'd made a point of color-coding the gift tags, so he'd be able to be Santa and give the right gifts to the right people without needing to read the words.

"No, I remember what you told me," he said, handing his cup of cocoa to James, who promptly set it on a table. James smirked to find Peter wearing a chocolate mustache but said nothing about it. Peter set his hands on his hips as he surveyed the tree, as if debating which gifts to give whom first, before finally choosing three small packages wrapped in handmade paper covered in glitter. It wasn't too hard to figure out who'd helped him with the gifts. He handed one to James and two to Ashlyn. "That one is for Cora," he said, pointing to one of the two gifts.

Lyneth's sticky fingerprints were all over this, Ash decided as she took the gifts from him. "Thank you, sweetheart," she smiled warmly. "Don't forget your presents, too." Setting her own gift aside for a moment, she lifted Cora up onto her lap, resting the baby girl back against her chest to open the youngest's present for her first.

"I have more?" Peter asked, eyes widening again. They'd already given him Chewie and he couldn't think of a better present than that.

"Aye, a few more. Not as exciting as a puppy though," James assured the boy with a smile, as he fingered his own gift. He hoped it wasn't a hook.

Ash nodded in agreement, her smile broadening at the amazement on Peter's face. "Everyone has at least two presents at Christmas," she promised him fondly, turning her eyes down to the little gift in her hands as Cora nommed wetly on the ribbon. "Oh my goodness ....look what Peter got for you, Cora!"

Peter laughed. "That's not the present. You have to open it!" he told them, as if they didn't know this already.

"Aww, but she really likes her ribbon!" Ash teased mischievously, her fingers gently tearing open the glittery paper so she could get the ribbon off and let Cora nom away on it while the present was opened. It turned out to be a little handmade box, inside which was a ....

"A flower bulb?" Ash asked, lifting the misshapen thing out between finger and thumb. "I've missed something."

Peter rocked on his heels, grinning from ear to ear as Ash opened the present he and Lyneth had so carefully picked out for Cora. He laughed as his mother misunderstood the present and its intention. "No, silly," he said, though she was right, in a way. "You plant it in the ground and after a while, it will grow into a tulip and then Cora will have her own fairy!" he explained, as if she should have already known this.

"Oo-oh!" This cleared up, Ash's reaction was everything he could have hoped for. Bright eyes, big smile, sheer excitement from every pore; Ashlyn was very good at Christmas. "Wow, Corabean, you're going to have a fairy of your own! What a lucky little girl you are!"

Peter clapped his hands in excitement at the idea. It had been hard keeping it a secret from them, but thankfully, he hadn't had to wait too long. "And I'll teach her to fly someday, too!" he declared. The only person who wasn't smiling at that idea was James, who worried it might be dangerous. "Not yet, Peter," he interjected. "She can't even walk yet."

"Someday," Ash agreed with both of them gently, carefully tucking the bulb back in the box and setting it on the couch, out of the way of Chewie, who was investigating the discarded paper with snuffling curiosity. "And now I know who helped you with these presents .....I have to open mine!"

"Yours isn't a fairy, Mama," Peter warned, though he said no more than that. Ashlyn's present was wrapped similarly to Cora's, but it was rectangular in shape, as whatever he'd given her was being carefully kept inside a box.

"Oooh, very mysterious." She grinned up at him, picking open her present as Cora waved the now soggy ribbon around, sticking the second ribbon to James' knee just because she could. The rectangular box revealed a crystal rose, sparkling in the lights from the tree. "Oh ....oh, Peter, this is beautiful."

"Lyneth made it for me ....er, for you!" Peter was quick to correct himself. "Do you like it?" he asked, uncertainly. He wasn't too worried about whether Cora or James liked their presents, but Ashlyn was his mother, and as such, she held a very special place in his heart.

"I do," she promised him, twisting a little to plant Cora on James' lap so she could rise onto her knees and hug Peter tightly. "It's lovely. It really is. Thank you so much, Peter."

James couldn't help but wonder what Peter had given him. A lump of coal, perhaps" But the boy seemed different from the fiend he'd remembered. Had Peter really changed or was it James' memory that had been skewed by years of loneliness and bitterness" Had he really been the Captain Hook that children had so loved to hate? He snapped out of his thoughts as Ashlyn deposited Cora on his lap, unaware of the ribbon stuck to his knee.

Peter seemed to be eating up all the attention, melting into his mother's embrace with a soft sigh. In all the years he'd lived at Neverland, he'd never known a hug from a single soul.

Now he was living with them, he was never going to go another day without at least one hug. Ash was tactile with her affections, happy to hand out hugs and kisses to everyone she loved, and now that included Peter, too. She squeezed him fondly. "Happy Christmas, sweetheart."

Ashlyn Radcliffe

Date: 2017-12-29 11:53 EST
"I love you, Mama," he replied, which was, in his mind, even better than wishing her a Happy Christmas. He never begrudged her hugs and kisses and had been openly affectionate and generous with his love for her.

"Love you back, munchkin," she promised him, kissing his hair before drawing back. The crystal rose sparkled in her fingers as she admired it, sitting back down on the floor comfortably.

Smiling, he drew back from Ash and almost shyly looked to James. "Open yours now, Papa," he urged the man who had become his father.

James handed Cora back to Ash, so that he could open the small parcel Peter had handed him. It was decidedly too small to be a hook, though it could still be a lump of coal, but when he finally got it unwrapped, what he found confused him. "An acorn?" he asked, taking the little thing out of the box and holding it up so that Ashlyn could see.

Hugging Cora into her arms again, Ash twisted to watch as James opened up his gift from Peter. She thought she had a handle on the general theme, and then he produced an acorn from the little box. Her brows rose as she looked back at Peter. "Are we populating our garden with lots of fair folk this year?"

"It's an acorn!" Peter said, though that much was obvious, as if that should explain everything. "You plant it in the ground and it becomes a tree!"

"Putting down roots with your Pops, huh?" Ash asked, meeting James' eyes with a warm smile, daring him to object to the prospect of planting a tree with his son.

Peter nodded enthusiastically as he looked hopefully to James, who seemed a bit slow in understanding. Then again, James had never had much of a relationship with his own father, and it was taking a while to understand the meaning behind Peter's gift. "You know it will take a long time for this to become a tree, Peter?" he asked, Peter nodding again.

"And it will live a long time," Peter added. Longer than they would, now that they had left Neverland. He understood, at least, that much. Life was finite now, and he meant to make the most of each and every day. "Thank you for bringing me here and for being my father," he told James, solemnly.

Ash watched the pair of them for a moment. "And this would be where you hug in a manly way, and then pretend it never happened, right?" she asked in amusement.

Before James could reply, Peter was hugging him, and there was nothing manly about the hug he gave his new father, clinging tightly to the man's neck so that James looked a little taken aback by it all. "Happy Christmas, Peter," James replied, unsure as to what to say. "And thank you for my gift."

Watching them, Ash's face lit up in a warm grin, glad to see that they were at least beginning to warm up to each other a little more. In her arms, Cora burbled, reaching toward her father and brother. "You're right, Corabean," she agreed. "Group hug!" Whether James and Peter were ready for it or not, they were soon joined in that hug by the girls in their lives.

Neither Peter nor James seemed to mind the family hug, but there was at least one more gift that had as yet been neglected. "I think there might be something in your stocking, Ash," James told her, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"My stocking?" She blinked, tilting her head curiously toward the mantle. "I could have sworn those were just decoration, Captain Radcliffe. Have you been rifling in my stockings when I'm not looking again?"

"I'm just saying there might be something in there. It would be a shame if there were and you never noticed," he said, unable to completely hide the smirk from his face.

"Uh-huh." Ashlyn grinned, inserting Cora into his lap. "What do you think, Peter" Think your Pops has put something in my stocking?"

Peter looked a little confused, still a little unsure about the customs surrounding this holiday of theirs, but he grinned at the thought of yet another present, even if it wasn't for him. "I think he wouldn't tell you to look there if he didn't," he said, logically enough.

"Maybe you should look under the tree for your own presents," she suggested fondly, ruffling his hair as she rose onto her feet to investigate the stockings. "Funny you should mention these, Captain, because yours looks kind of full from here, too."

"Do they?" James asked, his eyes never wavering from Ash toward the stockings. It wasn't that he didn't like getting presents, so much as he was anxious to know if she would like hers.

She glanced back over her shoulder, laughing teasingly. "Well, that view is pretty special, too," she agreed. "But I was talking about this." She tapped the stocking that was embroidered with his name. It made a surprisingly wooden sound.

James arched a brow at the sound, but couldn't imagine what it might be. He didn't think Ashlyn the type to give him a wooden paddle with which to wallop their children when they were being naughty. Memories of his own childhood wallopings were enough to deter him from wanting to punish their children in such a way, no matter how naughty they might be.

"May I open my gifts?" Peter asked, perfectly politely, despite his excitement. He wasn't sure how long his parents were going to banter, but he was eager to open his gifts.

Ash laughed, waving Peter toward the tree. "Of course you can, sweetheart," she assured him. None of his presents would be as exciting as Chewie, but she hoped he'd appreciate that everything he opened belonged entirely to him. In her own turn, she unhooked her stocking and James' from the mantle, returning to slide down onto the couch beside him. "You should open your stocking, Captain."

"I believe I told you to open yours first," James teased in return, as he bounced baby Cora on his lap. He wasn't too worried about what Peter thought of his gifts, though he, too, knew nothing could top a puppy, but he was worried about what Ashlyn might think of hers.

She giggled, touching a kiss to Cora's head as she opened up the stocking to thrust her arm inside to the elbow, wriggling around for what was inside. "Oooh, I do believe you left something behind in here," she teased her husband fondly.

Inside her stocking was a small wrapped box, too big to be a ring and too small to be a toaster. "I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so," he teased, while nearby Peter excitedly ripped into his packages.

"Smug-chops," she muttered to her husband laughingly, withdrawing the little box to pick the paper open. The ribbon was, of course, given to Cora, who seemed more than happy to suck on it as Ashlyn opened up the little box.

Inside the box, amidst the tissue paper, was a silver charm bracelet, which featured whimsical charms in the shapes of various forms of marine life from a seahorse to a dolphin. From the looks of it, it was an expensively-made bracelet, but that wasn't why it had drawn James' eye. He had spied it while shopping for something special, and it had just said Ashlyn.

There was certainly a whimsical quality to his wife, with her childlike love of Christmas and presents and family laid beside her close devotion to her chosen career. But it was precisely those qualities that made this bracelet appeal to her so much. "Oh, James, it's beautiful," she enthused, quick to put it on her wrist. "Another turtle! And the others, and room for more! Thank you so much!" Beaming, she leaned over to kiss him.

It was easy to please his pretty wife, and though he knew she would like the whimsical quality of the bracelet, he looked relieved that she seemed pleased with it. "Do you like it' It's not much, I'm afraid, but when I saw it, I thought of you," he explained.

"Jamie, you know better than to worry about what it costs," she pointed out to him. "I'm a cheap date, we know this." She grinned, kissing him once again. "I love it. It's perfect for me. Just like you. And you," she added, kissing Cora's upturned nose. "And you!" She lurched off the couch to tackle Peter and kiss him.

Peter burst into laughter as his new mother caught him and kissed him and even James was chuckling in amusement. This was in part why he had fallen in love with her - she kept them all afloat with her buoyant optimism and open affection, which balanced James' tendency to moodiness.

"I think it's you who are perfect for us," James remarked quietly.

Hugging Peter from behind as he laughed and swayed with her, Ash took a moment to blow a loud raspberry against her son's neck before grinning back at James. "Honey, perfect is a long way from what I am," she chuckled. "Happy is the closest I ever want to get to it, and I'm already there, thanks to you."

"To me?" James echoed, wondering if this was a conversation that should take place in front of the son who had, in a way, been a catalyst in their meeting. "It was you who rescued me, love. Not the other way around," he reminded her.

"How did you meet?" Peter asked them both curiously, never having heard that story before.

"Uh-huh, and if I didn't have you, I wouldn't have two hilarious children and a small dog who looks about ready to hump your leg," Ash pointed out with a grin. She looked down at Peter. "I'll tell you when we've read that book I was telling you about," she promised him. "It'll make more sense then."

Ashlyn Radcliffe

Date: 2017-12-29 11:54 EST
"What?" James said, obviously distracted by the threat of his leg being humped by a puppy who probably didn't even know how to do that yet.

Peter frowned, a little disappointed, but it didn't last. Not today, surrounded by presents and a new puppy. "The book about me?" he asked, as he turned back to tear into yet another present.

"Yes, the book about you," Ash told him, letting him go so he could attack his presents again. "Your Pops and I met at a play that was made from the story in that book. So it helps to know what that story's like, and what the writer got wrong."

"Why do you keep calling him Pops?" Peter asked, having heard her refer to his father that way several times already. "What's a play?" he asked, further turning curious eyes to them both.

"It's another way of saying Father or Papa," Ash explained gently, sliding back onto the couch at James' side. "A play is a story acted out on a stage, with different people playing the different parts. It's a little hard to explain - we'll take you to the theater sometime."

"Pops," Peter echoed, giggling. "That's funny," he said, accepting his mother's explanations and turning back to his gifts. "Thank you for that," James remarked quietly, regarding her insistence on calling him "Pops", rather than the more respectable "Dad" or even "Papa".

"I have to live with Mom," Ash pointed out in a low tone. "It's one long vowel sound away from addressing the queen of England. You can handle Pops." She nudged his elbow with a smile. "Open your stocking, baby, I want to see if I got it right."

James arched a dubious brow at her, not because she was urging him to open his stocking. "He hasn't called you that once," he pointed out, making her point moot, but he didn't want to argue about it. Not today, anyway. "Got what right?" he asked. "Did you knit me a pair of mittens?" he added, with a smirk.

"He will," she predicted with a smile, prodding at his thigh. "Just open the stocking." He didn't have to fish around to discover her present - it was in a wrapped wooden box, rounded, tube-like, that all but filled the cheerful cloth sock.

It was heavy, that much was true, which of itself, proved that she hadn't knit him a pair of mittens. With both arms wrapped around Cora, he withdrew the the package from his stocking and carefully tore off the paper, revealing a bottle of rum that would make even Jack Sparrow jealous. He wasn't too familiar with the brand or the quality of the rum, but he smiled with pleasure, trusting her judgment. "I trust it's top of the line," he said, obviously pleased with his gift.

"Top of the top shelf," she promised with a smile, listening with half an ear to Peter demolishing the wrapping paper on the little collection of books, clothes, and toys they'd chosen to pad out his Christmas haul.

"Ah, top of the shelf," he said, correcting himself - or at least, thinking he was correcting himself. He wasn't a modern man, after all, and wasn't entirely comfortable with modern phrases yet. "Shall we make a toast?" he asked, eager to give it a try.

"Small measures, Captain," Ash warned with a grin, only too happy to haul Cora over onto her lap and cuddle the little girl while her papa went hunting for glasses to taste his Christmas gift with.

Handing Cora to her mother, James went in search of glasses, but first he had to get the bottle opened. That didn't take long, however, and soon he was back with two glasses, each filled with a small amount of rum. He retook his seat before handing her a glass, a warm smile on his face. "To us," he told her, lifting his glass toward hers in a toast.

"And to our little family," she agreed, gently touching her glass to his with a soft clink before raising it to her lips to sip. And coughed, startled to find that there was no need to swallow - the rum was so well-aged, so potent, that it evaporated in the heat of her mouth. "Goodness ..."

He smiled, both in admiration of the way she downed the rum, as well as in simple pleasure at the taste of it as it warmed his insides. "That's good stuff," he praised appreciatively. "It must have cost a small fortune."

"I'm not telling," she laughed fondly, setting her empty glass down as she leaned back into the cushions of the couch, unsurprised that Cora was becoming a dead weight. The baby girl was overdue for a nap. "How are you doing over there, Peter" Found anything good?"

James smirked at her reply. He might not be familiar with this brand of rum, but he knew quality when he tasted it.

"Lots of good things!" Peter called back, a growing pile of discarded wrapping paper all around him. "Pajamas and socks and jumpers and mittens and a scarf and ..." he trailed off as he tore the paper off something else. He wasn't very good at reading, but he knew what his own name looked like. "What's this?" he asked, holding up a hard-bound book with his name - or at least, the name he was known by in Neverland - engraved in gold across the cover.

Ash chuckled gently at Peter's enthusiasm. "It says The Adventures of Peter Pan, by J.M. Barrie," she told him, not needing to look to know what was on that cover. "Your dad says that Barrie was one of the Lost Boys once."

Peter took a closer look at the book, opening it to flip through the pages. Unable to read what was written there, he was looking for pictures. He gave a shrug at Ashlyn's mention of Barrie. "Maybe, I forget. There were so many of them," he said.

"Peter, he was Nibs. Don't you remember Nibs?" James asked, wondering whether Peter really didn't remember or was just being coy.

"That book is his version of what happened," Ashlyn explained to him gently. "It probably won't agree with what you remember, but it's a very popular story. And he did something wonderful with it - he left all the rights to his stories about you and Neverland to a children's hospital in London, on Earth, forever. So whenever someone buys one of the books, or buys permission to put on a play of the story, some of the money goes to the children's hospital. Isn't that a lovely thing to have your name connected to?"

"I remember Nibs," Peter insisted, though he didn't remember anyone named Barrie. "But they don't know I'm real, do they' They just think it's a story," he said, frowning a little. Without him, there would be no story and no money for the hospital, but it was Nibs who would get all the credit. "Nibs was clever, but not as clever as you, Ja ....Pops."

"We know you're real, Peter," she reminded him, gently handing the sleepy Cora into James' arms as she scooted to the edge of the couch. "A lot of people need stories, especially when they're young. Some worlds are difficult places to grow up in, and stories help them make sense of who they are and what they want."

"I'll just go lay her down," James said, slowly standing with Cora in his arms. It was a good time for him to escape, if only for a little while, as he didn't really want to be there while they talked about Neverland.

"I don't understand," Peter said with a puzzled expression on his face at his mother's explanation.

Offering James a soft smile, Ash turned her attention back to Peter, gesturing to him. "C'mere, honey," she suggested, patting the couch beside her. "Stories teach us about ourselves. Even fairytales, with the princes and princesses, teach us about being better people. And a lot of people like to imagine they're a part of those stories - it helps them to get away from the stuff in their lives that hurts them or upsets them for a little while. Your story is really popular. A lot of people like it. They've made plays, and movies, about you and your story, for years and years. You're an important person to millions of people who have never met you. Does that mean you're not real to them, do you think?"

"But if Nibs wrote it, isn't it his story?" Peter asked, still a little confused. Or perhaps Nibs simply wrote the story the way he wanted it to be, not the way it had really been. "Do you know why I took Wendy to Neverland?" he asked, moving closer and not waiting for a reply. "It was because she told the best stories! They weren't all about me either. They were about all sorts of things. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty and Jack and the Beanstalk. That's one of my favorites."

"Well, you know the other book in the present your story is in?" Ash told him with a smile. "That book has Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty, and Jack and the Beanstalk in it, and lots of other stories, too."

"Oh! Will you read them to me?" he asked as he moved even closer, so close he could reach out and touch her, if he wanted. There was a hopeful look on his face, and though he knew his new parents wanted him to learn how to read, it was so much more fun to listen while others told stories.

"Of course I will," she promised him with a broader smile on her face, reaching out to gently tweak his nose. "And with you, too, as you get better at reading. There are so many books and stories out there, little dude, you're going to be spoiled for choice."

He laughed as she tweaked his nose, and moved in close for a hug, whether she wanted to give him one or not. He had never had a mother - not that he could remember - and now he understood why all the Lost Boys missed theirs so much. "Mama, do you think Papa will ever forgive me for cutting off his hand?" he asked, as solemnly as he could, the threat of tears shining in his eyes.

Ashlyn Radcliffe

Date: 2017-12-29 11:55 EST
He was lucky in his mother - Ash was never going to say no to a hug, more than happy to tuck him close in her arms. His question made her smile fade. "It hurt him a lot when that happened," she told Peter gently. "He still remembers how much it hurt. But he will forgive you, in time. It might take a long time, but it will happen. You both lived for a long time as enemies, and the things you did to each other were cruel and nasty. But you're family now. So yes, Papa will forgive you. He just needs more time to get used to you being his son. Okay?"

"I didn't mean to do it, but ..." Peter frowned. "Jamie was my favorite, and then he went away and grew up, and when he came back, he was a pirate. He didn't remember me. He didn't remember we were friends once, and Tink ....Tink said that pirates are bad. That they'd kill us if we didn't kill them first, but I never wanted to kill anyone. Not really. It was just a game," he tried to explain, all the words coming out in a tumble.

She hugged him close, stroking her hand over his hair. "The problem is, when people get hurt, it stops being a game," she tried to explain gently. "When you hurt someone who can't or won't fight back, you're not a hero. It was a cruel thing to do, but it wasn't entirely your fault. You didn't know any better. But Papa had to live without a hand. He had to go through his wrist healing up, which is very painful, and he had to relearn how to do a lot of things. And you know what? Papa would never have hurt you, or any of the Lost Boys. None of the pirates would have, either. Tink wouldn't have let them stay, if they were going to hurt any of you."

Some of what Ash was telling him didn't make any sense. If the pirates wouldn't have hurt them, why did Tink say there were evil" All Peter knew was that there weren't supposed to be any grown-ups in Neverland, and anyone who was grown up had to be a pirate. Those were the rules. It was as simple as that. He'd been angry at Jamie for growing up and leaving him, but he hadn't wanted to hurt him. He'd just wanted him to be his best friend again. Though Peter didn't understand everything his mother was telling him, he understood enough to feel bad for what he'd done, and that's when the tears started again. "I'm sorry, Mama. I never meant to hurt him."

Drawing him onto her lap, Ash rocked him gently as he wept, kissing his hair. Finally, Peter was realizing that some of what he had done in his own little kingdom had been fairly awful. "You need to tell him that, sweetheart," she murmured gently. "He needs to know that you feel sorry for what happened. It will help him put it behind him."

"I was so angry he grew up and left me behind," Peter explained between sobs. "And then, he came back, but it wasn't the same. He didn't remember me, and he didn't want to play. I had to make him play. But I never meant to hurt him. I swear!"

"Oh, sweetie ....you can't ever force anyone to do anything," she tried to explain, still speaking in that gentle tone. "It will never turn out the way you expect it to, and someone almost always gets hurt. It's good that you didn't mean to hurt your Papa, but it doesn't take away the fact that you did. All you can do is apologize to him, and never do anything like that to anyone else, ever again."

"It was just supposed to be a game," Peter insisted, his voice muffled as he buried his head against his mother's shoulder. Not even her hugs seemed to be able to console him now, his heart heavy with remorse.

It was then that James returned, quietly finding his way back, just in time to overhear Peter's explanation of that fateful day when James had lost his hand. He'd heard the apology and recognized the remorse in Peter's voice - assuming all of this wasn't a game, but he didn't think so. Not even Peter Pan could be that devious. He was just a boy, after all - a Lost Boy, in every sense of the word, never having learned right from wrong.

James exchanged a glance with Ashlyn for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. If they were ever going to be a real family, he and Peter were going to have to put the past behind them forever. "It's all right, lad," James assured the boy as he approached. "What's done is done. We all make mistakes. I forgive you."

"There, sweetheart, see?" Ash said, gently lifting Peter's chin. "Your Papa would never hold it against you forever. It just takes time to forget the bad stuff that happens. So what you do is make good memories together, so that the bad stuff can be pushed behind them."

Peter looked from Ash to James, tears apparent on his face. He'd never cried so much as he had since Tink had died. Maybe it was a sign of growing up. "You don't hate me, do you, Jamie" I mean, Father," he asked, wiping at his dripping nose with a hand.

James frowned. There was a time when he had hated Peter, but that was before he escaped Neverland, before his hand was restored, before he'd met Ashlyn, and before they'd brought the very first Lost Boy home and made him their son. "You're not Peter Pan anymore, and I'm not Captain Hook. We've both changed. We're not enemies anymore. We've no reason to be enemies. You're my son now, and what kind of father would I be if I hated my own son?"

"A bad father," Ash answered unnecessarily. "And we both know your Pops is not a bad father, don't we?" She tilted her head to meet Peter's eyes. "You know what? I think you two should read some of those fairystories together while I cook dinner. You've had a busy couple of days, you're allowed to be a bit tired and fragile." She kissed his hair fondly.

James looked at Ashlyn reproachfully at her insistence on dubbing him "Pops", but he had yet to openly correct her, at least while Peter was there to witness. Peter smiled a little through his tears, partly at James' apparent forgiveness and partly at Ash's show of affection. He had never known what it was to be loved before. "Would you, Pops?" he asked, looking up at James hopefully.

"I suppose, so long as it isn't your story. I'm afraid that tale is full of ....exaggerations," he said, substituting one word for another.

"That's why I said fairystories. You and me will read Nibs' book together." Ash grinned, knowing perfectly well that James was going to find some way to make her suffer for infecting Peter's speech with that epithet for his father. "And the pictures in the fairytales book are gorgeous, too."

"Are they stories of adventures?" Peter asked, curiously.

"You know, I can think of a few stories you might like," James mused aloud. Though the stories had been written long after they'd both been born, Dom had pointed him toward a few books in the Maple Grove library that he thought Peter might like.

They knew Peter's greatest weakness was his love of stories, too. There was a reason so many of his presents were books, after all. "Why don't you two go through the rest of that pile and see what you have there?" Ash suggested. "I need to get started, or we're not going to eat for hours and hours!"

"Can we, Pops?" Peter asked excitedly, tugging on James' hand - ironically the one that had once been a hook.

James' mouth ticked downwards a moment, but only because he wasn't fond of being called "Pops". He thought it made him sound old. "Of course, we can, Peter. What are we having for dinner, Mumsy?" he asked, purposely choosing an equally silly name for Ashlyn. Payback and all.

Unlike James, however, Ash loved the idea of having a unique sort of "mother" name. She chuckled at her husband. "We are having baked gammon, roast potatoes, and all the trimmings," she informed him impishly, hugging Peter one last time before letting him down off her lap. "And I did all the prep last night, so all I have to do is put it in the oven and do the fiddly bits!"

"Well, while you are doing your fiddly bits, Peter and I will be reading. And spoiling our appetites by eating too many cookies," James said with a smirk. Served her right for calling him Pops.

She laughed, kissing his cheek as she rose to her feet. "I wouldn't expect any less of you, Pops," she told him mischievously, ruffling Peter's hair as she headed for the kitchen. "Someone owes me a glass of something that I can actually swallow, though!"

"Someone is going to get a good spanking later," James murmured under his breath. Thankfully, Peter hadn't overheard. Instead, he was busily going through the pile of books and trying to decide which he wanted read to him first.

And he had plenty to choose from - from collections of short stories, to the classics that not even James had read, to more modern stories that would still resonate with him when he got to them. He was spoiled for choice.

In the end, it was Treasure Island. What better story to start with than one about a boy's adventures aboard a pirate ship" And, of course, Chewie wasn't about to be ignored, nosing his way into Peter's lap while James read. Hours later, after their stomachs were full from dinner and they were all exhausted from the festivities, Peter and Cora were tucked into bed, and James and Ashlyn finally had a little quiet time to themselves, so long as they could keep their eyes open long enough to enjoy it.

Ashlyn Radcliffe

Date: 2017-12-29 11:55 EST
Chewie had found a home in Peter's bed with him, both little boys curled up and fast asleep within moments of settling in. Ashlyn was merrily sleepy herself, cuddled into James' side on the couch with a contented smile. "We did good, didn't we?"

James smiled sleepily, stifling a yawn, as he snuggled her close. "Better than good," he replied, satisfied with the way things had gone. "Do you really think he'll be happy here?" he asked uncertainly. What would happen when Peter had to start school and found out life away from Neverland wasn't all fun and games"

"He will," she murmured confidently. "It might take him a while to accept that school is as much about learning as it is about fun, but he will get there. And it'll be easier for him because Lynnie goes to that school. He'll see her every break time."

"I hope so," James replied. For a man who seemed unsure of being a father, it seemed he didn't want to risk losing the boy who'd become his son. "What made him decide to apologize?" he asked, regarding Peter's guilt over the loss of James' hand.

She tilted her head back to look up at him. "He asked me if you were ever going to forgive him for cutting off your hand," she told him bluntly. One thing Ash never did was coddle unnecessarily; it was an odd juxtaposition with the whimsical woman who would do anything for a smile or a hug. "I tried to explain, but I guess all I did was upset him."

James frowned thoughtfully a moment. He'd been thinking about this a lot lately and wondering if Peter would ever change his mind and regret leaving Neverland. "It's like he's a different boy than the one I knew then," he tried to explain. As different as he was, now that he was no longer known as Captain Hook.

"He doesn't have Tinkerbell holding him back anymore," Ash mused thoughtfully. "For the first time in who knows how long, he's living in a world where the seasons turn and time moves on. He's living. That would change anyone, baby."

James remained quiet for a long moment before finally voicing the one concern that had been bothering him ever since they'd brought the boy home. "Do you think he'll get tired of us and want to go back?" he asked. After all, Peter was something of a wild thing. He'd never had any rules to follow in Neverland, but those of his own making. How long before he got tired of this new game, too"

"I don't want to think he might," she said sadly. "I don't ever want to give him a reason to want to go back. But even if he does, James, Neverland won't be the same. We're the only constant he has in his life now; he needs us more than he realizes. Maybe he'll have to run away just to realize that."

"Run away?" James echoed, looking startled, even worried. "Do you really think he would?" he asked, though it had been him who had voiced this worry to begin with.

"I think he might," she sighed, not happy with the idea herself. "He's lived for so long without rules and discipline, Jamie. There is going to come a point when he rebels against all of it, and the only thing he knows is to run. If we're lucky, he'll run to Lyneth."

"And if he flies away to Neverland again?" James asked, though he wasn't really sure if Peter could even find the way to Neverland anymore now that they were in Rhy'Din - not without a guide, and Tinkerbell was no more.

"He'll come home." That, at least, she was confident of. A faint smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. "I ran away from home once, when I was about twelve," she told him. "I can't even remember now why I did. I was angry about something or other. I made it into the city, and I lasted almost exactly twenty-four hours before going home in tears because I missed it so much."

"But you didn't live by your own rules for hundreds of years," James pointed out. Were they expecting too much of Peter to think he'd be happy and satisfied with his life there with them' "There is one thing we can give him that he never had there," James started, though he thought Ash already knew what he was thinking. And it wasn't stability, though that was part of it.

A slow grin brightened her face as she looked up at him. "I only gave birth four months ago, Jamie," she pointed out in a drawling tease of a tone. "I think he can live without another baby in his life for a year, at least."

"That's not what I meant," James said with a sigh, wondering if Ash was being purposely obtuse or if she was trying to get him to say it. "Although," he added with a grin. "We could practice," he said, nudging her with an elbow.

"Practicing is always fun," she agreed with a low laugh, whining as his nudging shunted her about. "But you never said what he's got here that he never had there," she added. Yes, of course she was trying to get him to say it aloud.

There were actually a lot of things Peter had here that he never had in Neverland, but there was one thing that was most important of all, and ironically, it was the same thing James had never had either - not since his mother had died. He shrugged though, not ready to admit it just yet. "There are a lot of things he has here that he didn't have there. A home, a family, a best friend, a puppy ....But I think you know what I meant."

"Us," she said simply. "Parents." Her smile softened. "Of course I know what you meant. I just ....you never seem to say it aloud, unless you're reassuring him. It's like you're wearing it like a cloak you can take off when he's not around."

"No," he replied, though she was right, of course, but he'd already covered that when he'd mentioned family. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" he asked, sighing again. "I was talking about love, Ash. Something I was sorely missing, too, before I met you," he told her, his voice softening.

"Something you'll never be without again, so long as I draw breath," she promised, nestling closer against him. "Even when I'm gone, you'll have Cora and Peter to love you, and their families will love you, too. You're never going to be alone again, Jamie."

"When you're gone?" James echoed, looking alarmed. Was she planning on going somewhere" She sure as hell wasn't dying on him. Did she know something he didn't' "What are you talking about, Ash?"

"A long, long time in the future," she assured him with a gentle smile. "Stop assuming the worst with everything I say."

"What makes you think I won't go first?" he asked. After all, he was older than her - much older, if time were counted by years. But he understood what she was trying to tell him.

"That really wasn't the point, James." Ash sighed, shaking her head. "Never mind." And he called her stubborn and obtuse. He deserved all the love he was given, and yet still seemed to think it was all conditional, when nothing could be further from the truth.

He understood what she was trying to say, but somehow he got stuck on the part about her not being around. He frowned as she dismissed it with a shake of her head, but he thought maybe it was better to leave it alone. "It's been a long day. Why don't we go to bed?"

"That's probably a good idea," she agreed with a faint smile. "Cora will be up again in a few hours; we wanna get her fed and changed before Peter wakes up at her noise again. Because getting him back to sleep" Takes a lot more than a hug and some stupid noises." She chuckled, heaving herself up onto her feet to offer him her hand. "C'mon, Captain."

He took her hand as he moved to his feet. "I can handle Cora for one night," he told her. It wouldn't be the first time he'd volunteered to take care of their daughter so Ash could get some sleep and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"You don't have to," she pointed out with a smile, looping his arm over her shoulders to wrap her own about his waist as she leaned into him. "We are in this parenting thing together, you know."

"Aye, I know," he assured her as he drew her close and brushed a kiss against her brow. "I love you, Mrs. Radcliffe. Just so you know," he told her quietly with a soft smile on his face as he led the way to the bedroom.

Ash smiled as he kissed her brow, happy to be lead along as she leaned into the sturdy warmth that was her captain. "I love you too, Jamie," she promised softly. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, love," he replied, with a warm feeling in his heart that would keep him warm even on the coldest of winter nights. Wasn't that what she'd been trying to tell him in the first place? This was what it felt like to be part of a family, not just on Christmas but every day the whole year through. Life didn't get much better than that.