Chapter 1: Gulp

A fist of water poured into her mouth. Monsters and mermaids grinned at her, knifing into her eyes. They nipped off bits and pieces, giggling insanely as she twisted like a worm on a lure. A cold, metal hook dug into her spine and cut her throat as she squirmed. Insanely she tried to breath, clawing at a soft spot of sunlight as the ocean swallowed her whole…

"Brine!"

Wendy woke, suffocated by her pillow.

Disoriented, she searched frantically through the dark room. After several turns, Wendy calmed: she was safe. Safe in Hangman's Tree, surrounded by the snores of the Lost Boys and dreamy smiles of her brothers. The fire was sleeping and the bearskin curtain guarding Peter's loft hung heavily. Even the hollow knot in Tinkerbell's tree cast pale, peaceful shadows.

All was well.

All was safe.

It was just a silly nightmare.

Wendy hugged her shoulders and bit back a sob. The golden heart of Tinkerbell's nest pulsed, disrupted by the girl's disquiet. Wendy trembled, the nightmare building and breaking over and over in her head.

Then the nightmare turned into memories.

Tears rolled down Wendy's cheeks. Pushing up onto her knees, she breathed in the cold morning.

And Wendy ran from Hangman's Tree. Without the dawn to protect her from the Neverland wild, Wendy ran from totem poles, snarled forest, and pixie lights. She ran to the only place that she could bear the memories.

She ran to the ocean.

She ran to the ocean that had tried to kill her.

She ran to the ocean where sea monsters and mermaids waited to make her nightmare come true.

Wendy ran across the beach to the lip of the sea. The air was acrid with salt. The ocean growled. Black waves sifted through snarls of kelp and sand, pawing at the girl's toes.

She was unwelcome here.

Unwelcomed as she knelt into the wet sand.

Unwelcomed as she slid her feet into the sea.

And then all was well.

And then all was safe.

She had come to the ocean that had brought her Brine.

And the ocean that had taken Brine away.

And kept Brine away.

Wendy shut her sky blue eyes. Neverland had a way of smudging time into faded memory and Wendy had feared that she would forget the merman Brine, who had saved her life and shared the most staggering adventure. Brine was a dear friend and…perhaps more.

She remembered how Brine had gazed at her upon their departure. How he had begged her companionship forevermore, and how he had smiled goodbye…the hidden kiss absent from the corner of his mouth. Wendy touched three fingers to her lips. She could almost taste the salty kiss. Quickly, she lowered her fingers, guilty in her indecision.

Peter.

Peter said that she would forget the merman. Shrugging off the adventure easily as he would shake raindrops from his head, Peter refused to discuss the ordeal and ignored Wendy whenever she spoke of it.

"Little Mother is telling stories again!" he'd laugh, a touch of warning in his voice, "But I like much more the one about the magic lamp and flying carpet. Tell that story instead…"

Wendy once thought that she had imagined the undersea adventure and that the merman was nothing more than a ghost from her dreams. But then, why did Peter forbid her to visit the oceanside unattended? Why did his forehead knot whenever she mentioned the merman's name? Why did he banish the topic from conversation with their companions, Black Antler, Tigerlily, John, Michael, and the Lost Boys?

And most of all…why did she miss Brine? Why was there an ache, a bleeding cavity in her chest whenever she saw through a daydream…or when she screamed for him in her nightmares?

Wendy lay back, curling into a ball. The horizon was a blur of charcoal and blue.

She didn't know how long the merman had been gone but the nightmares had come gradually following. At first, she'd managed to forget the nightmares, thanks to Peter and his wild adventures.

But the nightmares were clearer, fleshier than ever before. She could already see, hear, and was starting to feel every sense within her paralyzed body. She was afraid to fall asleep.

Even still…with each nightmare Wendy knew something was approaching. Something that lurked in the dark water, watching as she gutted herself through that dreadful hook. Something that came closer and closer with each night. And no matter how horrid the onset, Wendy would eventually fall asleep…praying that the lurking figure…was Brine.

"Ouch!"

Wendy's eyes lurched open. Panicked that she'd almost dozed off, Wendy sat upright. The back of her skull throbbed like a bee sting and a shrill ringing filled her ear. And something was jerking the ribbon from her hair.

"Tinkerbell!"

Massaging her head, Wendy sneezed as the little fairy kicked pixie dust into her nose. Shielding a second blow, Wendy waved Tinkerbell away but the fairy was already buzzing her head angrily as a wasp.

"Tinkerbell, please." Wendy said as Tinkerbell yanked her hair ribbon free. The blue bow unraveled and streamed beneath the fairy as she skipped over the waves.

"Oh please, don't do that." Wendy stood as Tinkebell dangled the ribbon over the ocean. The fairy paused, her pale eyebrows raised. Scrunching her tiny face the fairy tossed the ribbon over her shoulder, freeing her hands to make a 'tch tch' gesture at the girl.

Wendy's stomach quivered, draining the color from her cheeks. Digging her toes nervously into the sand, she reached for a stray curl.

Of course Tinkerbell knew of Peter's restrictions. She cataloged the boy's impromptu commands and was his chief enforcer. Nothing would please this fairy more than to inform Peter Pan that his Wendy had broken the rule: she had come to the ocean. Alone.

Gingerly, Wendy stepped into the ocean. "Please…don't tell."

Tinkerbell made a great show of throwing her head back in laughter. Wendy squeezed her fingers together as Tinkerbell tumbled head over heels in her glee.

"Tinkerbell please…I…" Wendy's voice broke, "Tinkerbell!"

Intrigued by the roughness in Wendy's voice, Tinkerbell stopped. Hovering over the ocean and weighted by the ribbon, she looked at Wendy.

She was startled to notice the haggard lines crossing the girl's face. Tinkerbell did not particularly like the girl, but for a moment she pitied the human…human indeed…the girl looked more like a bird with a broken wing.

"Tinkerbell…" Wendy's shoulders sagged as if she'd been beaten, "I…I miss him."

The moment of sympathy and understanding was sharp one. For as Wendy looked up, a giant fish, white as an icicle flew out of the water. It sliced through the air, gills glistening in the early dawn. And then, before it melted back into the ocean, the white fish opened its black mouth, and swallowed both the blue ribbon and the pixie in one gulp.