A/N- My first fanfic, hope you like it =)
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Wendy Darling. She was age fifteen with brownish hair which she kept long, bordering her pale skin. Her large gray eyes had the reputation of mesmerizing most people, it is sometimes even said that you could see right down to her kind soul through her eyes.
Wendy, her brother John and her mother, Mary, live in a two story house on the edge of Ireland. Her father had been shot and killed by a drunken robber, on his way home from work. But luckily, her father had been a successful business man and had left a lot of money in the bank for the Darling family. That had happened almost over four years ago, when Mrs. Darling was pregnant with her first son, John.
The fact that Mr. Darling had left money for the rest of his family did not console Mary Darling one bit. She felt like her whole world had come crashing down on her shoulders. Her husband was dead. Wendy had helped her mother cope with Mr. Darling's death, but sometimes she felt like she hadn't been coping well herself. But Wendy couldn't worry much about herself, as she had her mother and John to worry about. Mary, being consumed with grief, was in no condition to care after a newborn baby, leaving Wendy to play the part of mother. The two siblings spent most of the time around the house or playing on the small beach just outside the Darlings' house. It was splendidly convenient in the summer time.
The rocks by the shore was where Wendy was currently sitting. She enjoyed this particular spot for a number of reasons. One was that she absolutely loved the sound of waves crashing over the rocks, it relaxed her of worries and she was free to think. Wendy also took pleasure from the fact that John was not around to scream in her ears or throw tantrums, she loved her brother but sometimes she needed to be alone. All in all, sitting by the rocks calmed Wendy enough for her to muse about anything she wished. Also the sun setting was a glorious sight, simply breathtaking.
On this particular occasion, Wendy was pondering about what would have happened if her father had stayed home from work that day. What if he had taken a different route home? What if he had stayed later than usual at work? What if? She let out a tired sigh as the sun finally sunk beneath the horizon.
Wendy thought of how well her mother was doing. In the beginning, anytime someone mentioned George Darling, she would break down into tears. If truth be told, she would break down at random points in the day when her own thoughts betrayed her and strayed toward her dead husband. But now Mary laughed more often, played with John, talked with Wendy and cried over her dead husband only during some nights when she thought no one was listening. But Wendy was, she was listening because the same thoughts were running through her head. She let out a tired sigh as the sun finally sunk beneath the horizon.
Suddenly a sharp noise to her right made Wendy turn. It sounded like a shell cracking into tiny pieces. Wendy looked around but saw nothing; however she did see a rather large footprint on the sand, just before the waves washed it away. Wendy's breath caught in her throat as the feeling of paranoia spread through her body. She thought of the horrible possibilities of who it could have been. Was it the man who killed her father? Had he come back to finish the job?
Her mind was telling her to run, but her body was frozen. Another noise to her left kicked her out of her paralyzed state. She tried to push off the rocks and run toward her house. Strong arms locked around her slender frame, Wendy tried to kick pull away but she couldn't. Her captor was too strong for her. The light of the moon shone in her face and she tried to scream, but a large scarred hand clamped around her lips. The taste of his skin bought bile to her throat and she bit down hard on the hand. It tasted of salt and grime.
A deep male voice cursed lowly and he kicked Wendy in the shin. To Wendy's credit she did try hard, but the man was way too strong for her to fight off alone. Then she felt a wet cloth shoved over her mouth and nose, her fruitless attempts to scream were squandered by the cloth. Unexpectedly she felt dizzy and closed her eyes. Everything would be better if she closed her eyes. The man would go away; she would sit at the table with John and her mother. Mother. Then everything went blank.
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The boy flew in the shadows watching the waves wash over shore, crash into the rocks and retreat back. He felt the salty air whip through his dirty blonde hair, making it slightly tangled. The moonlight glinted in the boy's sparkling green eyes and flushed across his vaguely tanned skin.
He rarely flew this way, but he hadn't been to Ireland in a long time. The ocean had always soothed Peter, and he had never felt quite comfortable anywhere else. Peter, just Peter, a two thousand four hundred and fifty year old immortal with magical abilities, who looked like a fifteen year old boy had come to the real world to escape what the faeries had planned for him. To think, the king of Neverland, being ordered by beings shorter than him? Absurd.
Technically speaking, the earth was his real home, but he had found himself in a beautiful place at a young age, with no recollection of how he had ended up place, Peter didn't know what to call it, was filled with magic and all sorts of amazing things that would make any one begging to be taken there, and Peter had the luxury of living there for almost a century, until he chose to leave. Peter did have trouble adjusting to a completely different world with different rules, no magic, and so much violence, but he had managed.
Luckily Peter had bought his considerably large imagination with him, which is partly the reason for his magical abilities. Peter found it utterly depressing to be away from his magical getaway and felt that he could maybe bring it back. True, he himself had made the choice to leave his enchantingly subsequent home, but he was going to bring it back in any way that he could. And that was the birth of Peter Pan, the flying boy who was the first Lost Boy and ruler of Neverland (which is what he had decided to call the magical place, as it currently had no name). He wrote under the pseudonym J.M. Barrie and had his book published. It did take a while though, learning the new language, and getting the book published. But, as Peter was still not aging, he had all the time in the world, and eventually the book was published.
From the moment it was published, the book became immensely popular. And as time progressed, it only got more admired. Plays were written, toys of the thrilling Peter Pan were made, movies created, video games made, they even named a brand of peanut butter after the amazing Peter Pan. Disney had to be the best thing that happened to Peter's story.
All the funds went to J.M. Barrie, but at some point Mr. Barrie had to die, so Peter now collects the cash under J.M. Barrie's great great great great grandson, Tyler Mark Barrie.
Clearly, money was not a problem for Peter. He had houses all over the world, private jets and a number of other interesting things, but nothing compared to flying through the night sky, feeling the cool breeze on his face and knowing that it was real, not just a dream. Though there was something that was bothering Peter, but he pushed it to the corners of his mind. For now.
He spread his arms out and floated in the cool ocean breeze. As Peter swayed gently, he thought he heard a soft sigh, it was heavy with despair and weariness, but it sounded feminine. He wondered aimlessly where the source of the sigh was coming from, probably a hard core tourist. The beautiful coves and clear waters filled with dolphins and porpoises were the main attractions for curious couples, but not too many; that was the beauty of this beach, most of the time you could have the privacy you wanted. Peter didn't think too much about the source of the sigh, he was busy enjoying himself.
The sun had sunk into the ocean, and Peter got ready to take off. Fly somewhere new, which oddly was not impossible, one might think that Peter would have covered the entire surface of the earth in his time of being immortal, but he had not. But the nagging thought always came back, living for forever is an awfully long time.
Then, without warning, Peter heard sounds of someone struggling. It broke him out of his thoughts. Was it the girl who was sighing?
It took Peter about five seconds to realize that he was going to have to save this girl. If he had known how much trouble he would have ended up in, Peter might have forgotten her. Might have left her to deal with her own problems. But he gently flew down to the rocks that lined part of the shore.
He couldn't see much, but he saw the shadow of a bulky figure, male, and the slender form of a girl. The man seemed to be holding something over the struggling girl's mouth. Out of the blue, the girl stopped struggling, her body went limp. Was she dead?
Peter had a sudden urge to murder the man who put the girl in harm's way. He wanted to make sure that this creature would never even think of harming another person. Peter couldn't explain the feelings coursing thorough his body, but he was running on pure adrenaline. Before Peter had a chance to think things through and come up with a better plan, he found himself soaring full speed toward the gigantic man, who heard the sound of an attack coming, and turned with his fists raised.
But Peter ducked under the hulky hands and head butted the attacker in the stomach, causing him to drop the girl and double up in pain. But he still didn't give up. The man pulled himself together and swung a punch toward his masked attacker. But Peter kicked him in the stomach, causing him to release any air he had left.
Peter heard the man trying to gasp for air, fill his filthy, no doubt cancer infested, lungs with fresh air; however, Peter had different ideas. He curled his fingers into a fist and pulled back his arm, then snapped it forward, punching the man square on his throat. He heard the bulking figure choke in pain and fall to the sandy beach. The fall from the steep rocks was enough to render the man unconscious, though not dead. Probably.
Peter carefully made his way toward the fallen girl, who looked like she was about to fall into the ocean. He picked her up, cradling her, and then he flew them both off the rocks. In mid-flight, Peter felt a jerk run through his body and he almost dropped the girl. He frowned into the night sky, wondering why these kinds of things had to happen when he was in a situation where he was helping a certain someone, who had a considerable control over his feelings- for reasons unheard of, who could certainly fall from his arms, dooming them both.
When they were safely on the beach, Peter laid the girl gently on the sand. She looked okay, no scratches or marks on her face, but her arms were beginning to form bruises where the brute had grabbed her. But she wasn't waking up, and there was an oddly sweet smell on her. Peter leaned in closer and sniffed her face, feeling ridiculous, but then he recognized it. The sickly sweet smelling substance on the girl was chloroform; Peter realized that that was what the man was doing when he had covered the girl's face with his meaty hands. He checked her pulse to make sure she wasn't dead, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the steady pump of blood flowing through her veins under his fingers.
Peter let out a sigh into the dark night and looked up. He saw millions of twinkling lights surrounding the half moon. He let out a low chuckle, the recent events of that night seemed like someone had pulled it out of a romance movie. His eyes wandered back to the fallen girl's face. Now that he was really looking at her, not just examining her injuries, he realized that she was rather pretty. Her pale face glowed in the light of the moon, and her brown hair was spread out like a halo around her head. She had thick eyelashes framing her shut eyelids and a slim nose. Her full lips were slightly parted reveling a peak of white teeth. All in all, she was beautiful, and her beauty disoriented Peter. He didn't usually fall for humans, but this one had him completely whipped. And he didn't even know her name. Sometimes, Peter thought, puberty is a real pain.
When he came back to the real world, he realized that he had a choice, he could either stay the same age forever, or grow older. It was a delicate matter, considering Peter lived to not grow up, but in the end, he had decided an adult can do so much more in this world than a child. Anyways, it wasn't like he was going to lose his gift of magic. The only slip up was that once he grew up, he would never be able to become a child again- no matter how much magic was used. It was a tough decision, and Peter had only just made the choice. The bodily and mental changes were making him regret his decision, but it was going to be worth it. Oh, and may pimples and zits burn in the pits of hell, they were the bane of his existence. His normally adorable face was temporarily covered in them, but thankfully the acne and been receding and his face was pimple clear.
All Peter could do was sit there and wait until the sleeping beauty opened her eyes. He entertained himself by etching every last detail of her face into his mind, because he knew that once she was okay, he had to leave. He had already jeopardized her by helping her at all. Peter flashed a grim smile at the irony of the situation.
There was also the matter of the slumbering bear that had attacked the girl. Peter considered the thought of tying the man and hold him for questioning later, but he didn't have any rope, even if he did, by the size of the muscles on the man, Peter thought that he could easily break through them. So Peter decided to take a large flat raft that was anchored to one of the rocks, and pulled the guy onto the raft, hoping that he wouldn't wake in the process. As he did this, Peter marveled at his quick thinking, planning, and putting it all into action.
When the man was successfully on the raft and still snoring like a baby, Peter pushed the raft, man and all, into the swaying waves, with enough force to send him toward the middle of the ocean.
"He sure will be mad when he wakes up" Peter chuckled to no one in particular.
When the job was done, Peter flew up to one of the closer rocks and settled down to wait for the sleeping girl to wake up.
- I had way to much fun playing Peter's part ;) R&R thanks for reading!