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It's all about lines, whether that's the finish line at the end of a race, waiting in line for movie tickets, or getting your class in line at school

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It's all about lines, whether that's the finish line at the end of a race, waiting in line for movie tickets, or getting your class in line at school.

For me, it was waiting in an imaginary line to meet you.

"Peter, if you don't get your lazy ass off my damn couch, I'll shove my foot so far up your foot you'll be tasting my toes for weeks!"

Or at least, waiting on you.

"Peter, if you don't get off your lazy ass—"

"I don't sound like that," I interrupted, a laugh hinting at the end of my words.

Peter hummed in response. "Hm... I don't know about that, love," he admitted jokingly. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the nearest throw pillow and chucked it in his direction.

Of course, there's also one of the most important lines, a line separating you from the people you live with. It doesn't help to get too familiar, to make friends. That's the kind of mindset that kept me alive for all these years.

You need boundaries between you and the rest of the world. Other people are far too messy. It's all about lines... drawing lines in the sand and praying like hell nobody crosses them.

"You were the one who volunteered us to babysit!" I pointed out. "Not only were we supposed to watch over Neal, but now we have to watch over Alexandra!"

Peter groaned. "Oh, come on. We lived on an island filled with children," Peter reminded me. "How hard could it be?"

"And we have to watch over Henry and Violet's date because Emma and Gina still don't trust her! Why do you have to be so involved with the community in Storybrooke?" I whined, plopping onto the couch beside Peter.

He snorted and told me, "You were the one who didn't want me to be stuck in the apartment all day. I'm just being neighborly."

I rolled my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. "You're always busy because of it," I mumbled. I could practically hear the smirk grow on Peter's face. "Shut up. I know exactly what you're thinking."

He turned his head toward me while I kept my gaze strictly to whatever was in front of me. "Are you—?"


"Because it sounds to me like you're—"

"That's funny because I'm not."


"Shut up!"

Even though I'm still sort of mean to you, I'm glad you crossed that line and gave me a chance.

The next thing I knew, Peter's fingers were on my abdomen. Laughter uncontrollably escaped my mouth as the Lost Boy tickled me. Or, well, former Lost Boy.

After all, I found you and you found me.

As he continued to tickle me, I continually shouted for him to stop. "I'll stop once you say it," Peter told me.

Still, I stubbornly shook my head. "I'm not saying shit!" I yelled through endless giggles. After a good few milliseconds, I ended up claiming my defeat. "Fine! I'll say it. I..." As soon as he began to stop, I grabbed him and pinned his arms back. "Ha!"

The two of us laughed until we ended up gazing into each other's eyes, just like the cheesy Nicholas Sparks movies that Peter refused to admit he loved – no matter how many times he forced me to watch them with him. In the past, I would have never been able to assume that Peter was a big softie.

I'd always loved Peter's eyes. They were gorgeous pools of green that I always got myself lost in. Likewise, you found my blue eyes to be as captivating as the sea, even if I thought they were like boring puddles of nothing. You always found me to be the most beautiful gem in all the realms. You took my insecurities and you turned them around.

Soon, Peter cleared his throat. "Not that I don't love this view, but I'm afraid we have some babysitting to do," he reminded me with a wink. Rolling my eyes, I pecked his lips quickly before getting off of him. "What was that?"

Gathering my belongings, I turned to him as he started to get up off the couch. "What?" I wondered, genuinely confused.

"That thing you called a kiss," he clarified. "You get on top of me and that's all I get?"

I scoffed. "You're worse than Killian," I joked.

Peter scrunched up his nose at the comment. He made his way toward me, snaking his arms around my waist. "I'd rather not be compared to that pirate," Peter declared.

Of course, this made me give him a look. Still, I could never not look at him without smiling. "That pirate is your best friend," I reminded him. "You're also married to a pirate."

"Yes, but I love my wife of 3 years," Peter pointed out.

Together, we walked toward the door, hand-in-hand. "And I love you," I said. "Kind of."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Watch what you say. You might end up in the Underworld for not confessing your love to me," Peter joked.

Of course, that conversation ended with me smacking his chest.

At some point, you have to make a decision. Boundaries don't keep other people out, they fence you in. I had to learn that the hard way and after 184 years, I finally realized that.

Life is messy. That's simply how we were made. You can waste your life drawing lines, or you can live your life crossing them. Some lines are way too dangerous to cross, but here's how I see it.

If you're willing to take the chance and cross the line, the view from the other side is spectacular.




wow. it took awhile, but i finally finished this story. and wow, i'm emotional.

indiana holds a very important piece of my heart, and i'm so glad i finished this story in the end, rather than letting it rot and die.

a very very special thank you to my readers - i would have never gotten the motivation to get past chapter 1 without your support. i'm so glad so many people love this story and are able to relate to indiana and other characters in ways that are simply unwritten.

one last time, thank you all so very much for reading this story and letting indiana into your lives. i love you all so much.

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