Chapter 16
Maggie
Maggie’s bedroom hummed with quiet music.
Twitch fashioned her an old radio a few days after their trade with the pirates.
He collected all the pieces before building the thing himself, making sure to include an inscription on the bottom with her initials.
It was a generous memento, one that he effortlessly brushed off as something just to ‘pass the time.’ Nevertheless, Maggie graciously accepted the present and used it at all hours of the day.
A long antenna caught the stations from the human lands, and a port specifically for CDs allowed her to revisit some old times that were once long forgotten.
The music pulled a sway out of her as she crossed the bedroom, the treehouse’s natural glow making the floor and walls look like freshly hardened amber.
She had just about gotten ready for bed, with a loose nightdress hanging down her shoulders and reaching just above her knees.
Sunny groomed himself on his tower, one that was positioned directly in front of the wide window.
Both of them were settling for the evening, practicing their nightly rituals, when something caught Maggie’s eye.
Still obscured by her jewelry box was the potion Hazel gave her.
Maggie paused in front of her dresser, a round mirror standing on top of it.
Her reflection was tense and nervous, her thick brow pulled together in an anxious knot.
Everything with the statues had led her to almost forget about the potion.
She had hidden it away with the intent of finding it when the moment was right, but she still struggled with the latter.
How was Maggie supposed to know when the right moment was, in fact, the right moment?
As far as she was concerned, she could’ve downed the thing back when it was first given to her.
But that was someone else’s truth, wasn’t it?
Maggie Hart was not a creature of confidence or bravado.
She was much like Sunny and his feline partners.
It took time to see her unravel, to let her know that there was someone she could be dependent on.
The memories she carried now were all she had, and it was easier that way.
The potion threatened to unlock something that had been long kept buried, something that Maggie might live to regret later on.
She knew that was why Hazel had emphasized on when she should take it, but somehow, that only made her want it even more, no matter the circumstances.
Ready or not, Maggie was slowly regaining control over her life, and no longer wished for invisible things like fate to weave her own future.
Maggie reached for the bottle, her hands shaking as they grazed the long and slender spout.
“Oh, stop it,” she muttered to herself before stepping away from the potion.
She retreated to Sunny’s lounging area, dragging her fingertips along the top of his head in the way he preferred. “Why can’t I get a hold of myself?”
The feline’s head rolled up, his eyes slowly opening and closing.
Sunny didn’t care about anything that wasn’t the feeling of being petted.
Maggie let her mind wander as she loved on the cat, though nothing stopped her attention from drifting back to the potion.
Eventually, as Sunny’s purrs grew louder and louder, Maggie turned back to her dresser and retrieved the bottle.
The liquid sloshed as she tapped the cork, her hand barely paying attention to Sunny anymore.
The cat let out an annoyed huff before standing tall and stretching his spine.
Without waiting for her attention anymore, Sunny pushed open the wide window, and proceeded to walk along the winding branches of the treehouse.
Most days he took off from her window, taking his own scenic route to the ground below, before spending his time shamelessly chasing fairies he never had a chance of catching.
And as he disappeared into the twilight, Maggie sighed and lifted the potion to her eyes.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Maggie strode across the room and opened the door to see Peter standing on the other side. “Peter,” she said. “Is something the matter? It’s awfully late.”
“Oh, I know,” Peter murmured, his cheeks growing pink. “There’s nothing wrong, Magpie. I only wanted to see you.”
She stepped aside bashfully and gestured for him to enter the room. Maggie watched as he walked around her bed, his eye holding onto the potion she still clutched against her chest.
“Were you going to take it?” he asked.
Maggie eyed it and slowly nodded, before subsequently shaking her head. “Honestly,” she breathed before sitting at the foot of the bed, “I have no idea. I thought about it, and I think I want to, but…but…”
“What is it, Magpie?” Peter took a seat beside her.
“Hazel said I should only drink it when I’m ready.
That the memory it unlocks might be one that I’m not capable of seeing, that I’m not capable of understanding.
” Maggie held the bottle up so that the light caught on the liquid.
“This memory can change everything that I already know. How can I ever be ready for something like that?”
Peter sighed as he considered her for a moment.
“Sometimes,” he whispered, “we just aren’t quite ready for things that are destined to shake up our life, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.
Change, however frightening it may be, is the one thing that keeps the earth spinning.
You know that, Maggie Hart. I think you always have.
Fear is the only thing stopping you from drinking that potion. ”
She looked down at the potion another time.
Fear kept her back from plenty of things.
It made her run through the human lands in search of a home that might one day accept her.
It taught her to always be looking over her shoulder, to take everything for granted, to never trust a stranger with handsome eyes and kind words.
Change, like Peter, was the only thing strong enough to combat her rising fears.
No matter what she discovered by taking the potion, Maggie would finally know where it was she came from.
She would know the family she might've once belonged to.
Maggie faced Peter. “I think I’m ready, Peter,” she said. “And I would be even more ready if you could stay here with me.”
“You don’t even have to ask, Maggie.”
With Peter’s reassuring presence beside her, Maggie uncorked the top of the potion and let the contents flow between her lips.
Once the bottle was empty and taken out of her hands, Maggie lowered herself onto her bed, and laid against the pillows, already feeling the magic take over her subconscious.
And as Peter took a seat beside her, the feeling of his hand resting over her own lingering in her mind, Maggie drifted into a dark memory.
Just like she had before, Maggie’s eyes opened to see an otherworldly storm causing mayhem above her head.
The clouds were dark with collected rain, already downpouring upon a wild ocean.
Between the storms, the full moon tried to shine her light down upon the water, but it was no use.
There were only glimpses of the moon, only the seconds when it managed to peer out from behind the dark, approaching storm.
Waves clapped up against the sides of the weak rowboat Maggie was sitting in.
The wood creaked as it took on water, hardly able to stop leaks from spouting through the old boat.
The storm did not stop its onslaught for one second, even as the waves rose to a frightening height in every direction.
She wanted to grip the sides of the boat to steady herself but Maggie was unmoving.
It was in that moment that a shrill cry burst through the storm, one that resembled a newborn child’s relentless wail.
Maggie felt the baby’s fear in her own heart as another wave rose high above her head, before slamming back down upon the helpless lifeboat.
The water’s strength overpowered the boat’s, and the next thing Maggie knew, the world around her became black and murky.
The ocean was in every direction, and was beginning to overtake her with a frightening chill.
Hands struck through the waves with a deadly determination.
Maggie was pulled from the current’s clutches and returned to the boat, which was now full of stray vines of seaweed and a few unlucky fish.
A face became clear as the moonlight finally shone through a crack in the storms, lighting up the woman’s familiar expression.
Hazel, Maggie wanted to shout. Hazel!
The witch pressed a finger to her lips as a baby cried, her face drawing nearer to Maggie. “Do not cry, my dear daughter,” Hazel cooed. The warmth of her damp hand cupping Maggie’s face filled her with a sorrow she did not understand. “I will let no harm befall you.”
The storm returned in a greater force, the moon’s closeness pulling and pushing the currents.
Maggie was swaddled tightly within the boat, tucked in a way to keep her from falling out another time.
Hazel’s arms reached for her to climb onboard, but the waves shoved her back, pulling a surprised shout out of her.
“Wait!” Hazel’s heartwrenching scream ripped through the air as the current fiercely stole the boat from her, the distance between her and the boat only growing. “My baby!”
The memory continued as darkness crept along the corners of Maggie’s vision.
Hazel’s figure only grew further away until she wasn’t there at all, the waves growing too tall for her to see over them.
Thunder crashed over head, followed by a sharp strike of lightning illuminating the distant horizon.
Despite the ongoing storm, Maggie knew that she was no longer in harm's way. Perhaps Hazel’s firm words were enough to bless her to some faraway shores, to protect her even if it meant they would never be together.
Even if it meant growing without knowing her, living until they could be reunited over forty years later.
The dimly lit ceiling of the treehouse came back to Maggie as she opened her eyes.
At first she thought herself to be dampened by the ocean’s spray, but only her cheeks were wet from the constant stream of tears that flooded down her face.
It was a feeling she had never known before – a horrid blend of despair and gratitude, shock and excitement.
The world was crashing down around her while being rebuilt at the same time.
Everything she thought she knew, everything she had spent years coming to terms with, was ripped apart with a simple potion.
Arms swaddled her, bringing her close to a warm and familiar chest. Peter pressed a kiss to her temple as he swiped his thumb beneath her eyes, catching the tears before they fell. “What is it, Maggie?” he asked. “What have you seen?”
“Everything,” she forced out between cries. “And nothing at all.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It was her all along,” Maggie croaked. “All along, right in front of me.”
Peter’s grip tightened around her.
“Hazel, Peter,” she finally managed to push out. “Hazel Broomlin is my mother.”
At first, the room was entirely silent, then filled with the sound of her quiet cries. Peter gathered her in his arms, pulling her onto his lap. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, soothing her in a way that made her feel safe enough to let the tears fall.
“I am here for you, Maggie,” Peter whispered into her hair. “You do not have to face this alone.”
And as the words hung in the air, Maggie suddenly believed that she would ever be alone ever again.
Neverland brought her the family she had always been searching for, even if they came in shapes and sizes she was not expecting.
The Lost Boys gave her more than anyone else ever did – shamelessly and honestly.
Peter might’ve brought her to his island in the form of kidnapping, but with his heart of gold, there wasn’t an ounce of evil to it.
In fact, his original crime gave Maggie everything.
After all, it had brought her to her mother.
Maggie cried into Peter’s clothes, fisting his shirt and burying her face into the warm crook of his neck.
Eventually, the tears were no longer touched with sadness.
Even if she did not outrightly understand what any of the memory meant, even if she did not know if Hazel would even want to be her mother anymore, Maggie’s tears were that of a contentness she never knew.