Chapter Twelve

ALL TINK FELT, then, was herself. And, as her systems powered back up and her body started to rise off the ground, interlocked with Gwen’s, all she felt was that she could feel.

The boys all cheered as Gwen put her forehead to Tink’s processor and whispered to her of gratitude and love and pride and how she never stopped believing. The island—all of which she could monitor in a single microsecond—was safe and brighter than it had ever been.

She stayed in Gwen’s fleshy arms as Mir stopped cheering in relief that Tink was all right, that they all were all right. She watched—all the children watched—as Mir took Peter’s hands into their own and took a deep breath.

“I never wanted to fight in the war. I never wanted to fight with you. I know you don’t remember any of it, but I just wanted to fly. And I know you don’t remember any of this, Peter—your name is Peter, you chose it for yourself, I can tell you all about it if you want—but on this island? I can fly. We can fly. I’d like to show you. If you want. If you uh…”

Tink looked down at Mir from where her sensors and extensors were still wrapped in Gwen’s arms, both of them flying like Tink hadn’t been able to for days, chiming in laughter and exhausted relief. She flew higher when Mir looked up into her sensors, chiming brighter than she ever had before. Gwen squealed as they both watched Mir reach for James’s hook and hold it, just like they were holding Peter’s hand.

“If you believe.”

Tink chimed as Peter glanced down at their unexpected assortment of hands, all connected. Her gears whirred next to Gwen’s rapidly beating heart as Peter glanced at Mir’s stormy eyes, at the way James bit his lip and tilted his head with something that looked a lot like hope. The way the flesh of Mir’s face was smooth and the flesh of James’s was barely existent.

“I do believe. I do.”

And at the same time, all three of their feet started to rise.