Straight on 'til morning
The day that Peter left Neverland was the last day that he remembered feeling like himself. With Hook defeated and the rest of the pirates dispersed, Peter sat, overwhelmed, not knowing what to do next. He still remembered the coy look on Wendy's face as she took his hand and smiled at him.
"You know," she began, "there's always a place for you with me. Come home with us!"
Peter agreed wholeheartedly, looking forward to a long life of adventure and excitement with Wendy and her brothers. What more could a boy ask for? The two of them stepped onto his ship and, with the lost boys and Tinkerbell in tow, they set off toward the real world.
When they arrived at the London harbor, it was already morning. The city was bustling with activity, and it was more than Peter ever could have imagined. He had heard stories from the boys who visited Neverland in their dreams, fantastic stories of carriages that pulled themselves, tiny objects that could hold all the ideas in the world, even a sort of invisible web that connected almost every human that lived! Peter hesitated on the bow of his ship, as all the others began to disembark. Tinkerbell hovered around his ear, angrily jingling that he could, in fact, still go home. Peter waved her away, instead focusing on Wendy. She looked across the gangplank to Peter, motioning for him to follow. With a burst of confidence, he steeled himself, f and crossed the gangplank to the dock, and promptly. Suddenly, he fell to the ground. Wendy gasped and rushed to his side.
"What's the matter? Are you alright?" she knelt to him, taking his hand in hers.
"Yes, I just…" he felt it again, a twinge near his heart. Then he heard a faint, agonized tinkle, and before he had turned to look, he knew what had happened: Tinkerbell lay on the ground, her wings crumpled and her body pale. He stared in disbelief, frozen for a moment, before picking her cold, lifeless body up off the ground. He cradled her in her hands, tears pricking the back of his eyes.
"My magic is gone…" he whispered, his voice breaking. "My magic is what brought her back, and now that it's gone…" he collapsed to the ground, sobbing, as Wendy and the lost boys rushed forward to comfort him. After a few minutes, the group solemnly continued to the Darlings' house, where they held a small funeral for the pixie. Peter spoke about how much she had meant to him. They buried her next to a sprig of lilies-of-the-valley.
It took Peter months a very long time to recover from the death of his companion, especially since he felt responsible. It was he that had decided to come to this world, he who had decided to stay, he who had decided to forsake his magic for the girl that he now lived with. Every ounce of his magic was gone, even the kind that had kept him young, and, to his surprise, he began to grow up.
At first, growing up seemed like the greatest adventure of his life. Every day, new things were happening to him. He found he could do more. He could run faster and climb higher, and he and Wendy used their newfound strength to go on more adventures than ever, exploring every place that London had to offer. They spent their days in school, and their afternoons with John, Michael, and the rest of the lost boys, adventuring in greater London. They went everywhere, from abandoned buildings, sneaking where they shouldn't in popular tourist attractions, and simply running through the streets. Life was exactly as Peter imagined, until it wasn't.
As Peter travelled farther into primary school, he found himself understanding what Wendy had meant back in Neverland when she offered him a "kiss." Once he reached secondary school, he found himself desiring that kiss, more than anything. He spent more and more time with Wendy, using any possible excuse to be close to, or, better still, touching her. When he asked her out at the end of year seven, she excitedly agreed. She had loved Peter since the first day she had met him. Peter couldn't help but to enjoy this strange new element of becoming an adult.
As they continued to age, however, Peter found himself unhappily thrust further and further into the world of adulthood. The lost boys all found their passions in secondary school, and each went to university or trade school to do exactly what they wanted. Peter was stuck, clueless as to what he wanted to do with his life. All he wanted was to go back to his home in Neverland, to finally fly again. He spent his days, as his friends studied and worked, writing stories of Neverland, dreaming that he could someday go back. Nothing interested him like it did the others. He sat by, with only his writing to comfort him. Wendy, after spending the summer before year 10 began at a program for girls who intended to go into engineering, gave up her playtime with Peter in favor of studying, determined as she was to go to Oxford. Peter watched as her fierce love of adventure transformed into a boundless appetite for knowledge and the sciences. When she did, in fact, get into Oxford, Peter managed to catch a glimpse of the carefree, youthful girl she once was when she grabbed Peter's hand and gleefully danced around the yard with him. Ecstatic that he could finally see this girl again, he asked her to marry him, and she agreed.
They were engaged when they moved away. Peter had gotten into Oxford Brookes, a small university also in Oxford, but considerably less prestigious. They rented an apartment together that was equidistant between their two universities and, come fall, moved in all their things. They lived their first few weeks, before classes started, in relative happiness. Without parents, and with a newfound sense of freedom, it seemed for a while that they were back in Neverland.
When classes started, however, Peter realized that he hated school. He hated the control, he hated the structure, he hated the forced learning, he hated it all. The only class he enjoyed was his creative writing class, and he had even made a few friends there, Alex and Jack. One day, he was sitting with them on campus, waiting for class to start, talking about ideas, and Peter began complaining about his biggest problem with his writing.
.
"I just keep getting stuck," fumed Peter. "I can never think of what to write. I get to a certain point and… poof! Nothing." He gestured frustratedly.
"That's an easy fix," said Alex, knowingly. He reached into his backpack, rummaging through it. Peter looked confused.
"What? What's the fix?" he asked intently.
"Here," said Alex, tossing him a tiny Ziploc of white powder. "That'll give you some ideas, alright. Or just a really kick-ass night." He gave Peter a devilish smile.
"What… is it?" asked Peter, examining the bag, and the powder inside.
"Call it… pixie dust," Alex laughed.
"Definitely one name for it," added Jack, smiling.
Peter turned the bag over and over in his hands, finally shoving it into his pocket. The day resumed as usual, as busy as his Thursdays always were. Writing class had gone long, and he had a veritable boatload of homework to finish, and he didn't think about the "fix" until the following evening. He and Wendy had gotten dressed up and were going out to a party, and as he pulled on his coat, he put his hand into the pocket. He felt the tiny packet that sat there and instantly remembered the white powder in the tiny bag. He pulled it out thoughtfully, and turned to Wendy.
"Want to have some fun?" he asked, holding out the bag to her.
"Peter!" she responded, aghast. "What is that?!"
"This," he responded, "is the new pixie dust. Pixie dust for adults."
Wendy looked at him for a moment, then at the bag.
"I don't know…" she muttered. "Peter, is this a good idea?"
"I don't see why not, Alex and Jack do it all the time."
"Are Alex and Jack the kind of people we really want to be like?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"All I'm saying is that I'm not comfortable doing hard drugs, Peter! This isn't something I thought I'd have to explain, let alone defend!"
"Fine, fine! It's okay, we don't HAVE to do itthem, god, Wendy! It was just an idea. I'll put them it away." Peter walked away and stowed the little bag in his room.
They went out to the local club and danced all night. Everything was fine, but Wendy kept throwing concerned glances at Peter. Finally, after the seventh one, Peter was fed up.
"What?! What is it?! Why do you keep giving me that look?!" He exploded.
"Nothing! I'm just concerned!"
"You have nothing to be concerned about, Wendy! I'm fine."
"…You just tried to convince me to do hard drugs, Peter. I'd say you're probably not okay."
"Look, it was just an idea. I thought it could be an adventure, you know? Like old times." Peter sighed.
"Peter," Wendy took his hands in hers, "the adventures of the old days are over. We gave up Neverland to be here, to have this adventure. And we're gonna have it together. We don't need the old days, Peter, because we have now."
Peter looked away. She had now. She was successful, she had a career and a future. He had nothing except his dead-end writing. Sure, they had each other, but what did that matter if they couldn't even go on adventures? If they never tried anything new? If they never had any fun? He spent the rest of the night trying to be happy, but he just couldn't muster the enthusiasm to care.
A few weeks went by before the "pixie dust" crossed his mind again. He was sitting in his room, trying to finish a short story for his writing class. He was completely stuck. In frustration, he pushed his pencil holder off the desk, and out fell a tiny packet of white powder. He slowly picked it up off of the floor, silently weighing the pros and cons of trying the substancestuff. Finally, with a newfound conviction, he poured the contents of the little bag out onto his desk and quickly snorted them.
The first thing he did was choke. He coughed half of the powder back out onto the desk, then re-assembled it into a little pile. He tried once more, this time with more success. Then, he sat back, not sure what was going to happen. At first, he felt nothing different, then, suddenly, he noticed it: he was floating. Not flying, per se, but floating – a good foot off the ground. He let out a tremendous whoop, and began to swoop around their apartment. He hadn't felt this alive since he was back in Neverland! The floating turned to soaring, and the colors in the room brightened, and all of the sudden, he felt a presence on his shoulder. He turned to look, and he gasped.
"T…tink?" He breathed, unable to believe his own eyes.
"You bet your ass, kid." She jingled, a mischievous light in her eyes.
"You died." Peter stated, confusion written all over his face.
"Not here, silly. This is your mind. You control this place. Anything you want?" She snapped her fingers. "You got it."
Peter began to understand. He was creating a new place, a place where he could live. A place that was here, but also a new Neverland. Tinkerbell smiled at him.
"Now you understand. Take my hand, Peter, we have places to go." She extended her hand and he took it, all of his fear vanishing instantly. Tinkerbell took him across music, through dreams, into colors, and around worlds. He found and ending to his story and much, much more.
Then, just as he was finally feeling comfortable in his own skin once more, his feet scraped the ground, and Tinkerbell faded into nothingness. Everything he had seen went away. He was left back in the real world, the one that couldn't contain him anymore, now that he'd seen that other world that was so close, yet just out of reach. He spent the rest of the night frantically scribbling the end of his story, and proceeded to write another, his intense creativity fueled by the experience he'd had.
Everything felt gray. On the walk to class, he couldn't focus on anything for longer than a few seconds. He tried to stop himself from wishing he could fly or from longing for his tiny, winged friend, but it was all he could think about. He resolved to get more of the drug from Alex and Jack as soon as he could.
He saw them both as he walked into the building, and jogged to catch up to them.
"Jack! Alex! Guys! Wait up!" He rushed to catch up to them, panting as he ran. "Hey, you know whatever you guys gave me a few weeks ago? Yeah, I need more."
The boys looked at each other and laughed.
"Oh, we're not just going to give you some! It costs money, you know." Alex smirked.
"How much? Who can I buy it from?" Peter pressed.
"Whoa, calm down," said Jack. "Be careful with this stuff. It can really mess a guy up."
Peter waved away the caution and wrote down the phone number of the guy who could get him the drugs. He went home after class that day feeling satisfied, and he texted the number Alex had given him. He set up a meeting time and arranged to buy more, bursting with excitement that he could visit his world again.
On the evening after he bought the drugs, Wendy was out of the apartment. He settled down in the living room and snorted a small portion of the magic white powder, letting his fantasies take him away. This time was the same as the last, Tinkerbell led him on a beautiful adventure, colorful and bright and full of joy. He could fly again. He was home.
And so life continued for Peter. Every time Wendy was out for an evening, he would snort some of his magic pixie dust and go off on an adventure within his own mind. In the time he wasn't high, it was all he could think about: when he could do it next, where he would go in this trip, what he could do. He was becoming increasingly confused and aggressive in his day to day life. He didn't care about anything, even his writing. Meanwhile, Wendy was becoming increasingly concerned about Peter's addled behavior. One morning, she took him aside.
"Peter, what's going on? You seem really strange lately." She asked, concerned.
"Look, it's none of your business what I do, okay?" he snarled. Wendy shrank back, astounded.
"Peter…" she held out her hand to him, but he batted it away, and as he did, it all became clear: it was her fault he left Neverland in the first place. He left it to be with her, and now he was stuck here, with the only thing he had to turn to a pale imitation of the real thing. He turned and walked away, not caring for one minute what she had to say next.
The next day, in the middle of a trip, he was interrupted by the doorbell. He answered the door, and was shocked and terrified by the appearance of his nemesis: Hook.
"I killed you already!" he bellowed, horrified.
"What? I… Peter, are you alright?" Hook asked, a concerned look on his face.
"Get out of here! You're dead! Go back to the crocodile!" he began to throw punches at the man, but none of them landed. Hook stepped forward and pinned Peter's arms to his sides.
"Sit down, son. You need a rest. I don't know what you're on, but I'm not leaving until it's out of your system."
And so they waited; Hook sat on the couch, while Peter floated above him, still not sure what was happening. Finally, as he began to come down, Hook's image blurred and contorted, smudging and re-forming until finally he saw that it was, in fact, Mr. Darling, Wendy's father.
"I'm sorry, sir, I–"Peter began.
"Don't say another word." Mr. Darling threatened. "Do you have any more?" Peter nodded. Mr. Darling held out his hand and waited as Peter rummaged through his room, and gave the remainder to Mr. Darling. As Mr. Darling turned to go, Peter crumpled onto the couch, defeated and ashamed, but all he wanted to do was get high again.
Tinkerbell was always with him now, whether he was on the drugs or not, and if he had been completely in his right mind, this would have concerned him. He was not; instead, her constant presence reassured him. She stayed on his shoulder, for the most part, and rarely spoke except for when they were alone. He became more and more distant, longing for Neverland, longing to once more be a child. He stopped going to classes altogether. He spent all of his time doing the drug or thinking about it, no longer even caring if Wendy saw him. Finally, one evening, he came home from a drug deal to find Wendy with a suitcase. Her eyes were red and damp.
"I'm leaving," she said, almost as a question.
"Like I care." Peter flopped onto the couch, preparing the pixie dust. In the corner of his mind, he registered that Wendy had started crying.
"I… I'll see you, Peter," She waited for a few minutes before leaving, sobbing into her sleeve.
Peter watched her go. A part of him was sad she had left, but it was her fault that he was here. He turned back to the white substance on the table, and returned to his bliss.
Three months passed before Peter was completely out of money. He could had ruan out of means to buy himself the drugs, and he had become so dependent on them that he was practically never off of them. He could no longer differentiate betweentell what was a hallucination and what was rreality. Tinkerbell flew around him at all times, sometimes jingling, sometimes speaking or singing, sometimes chirping like a bird. He always hovered above the ground: the distance ranged from three inches to about a foot. Colors were different. Sounds were often distorted. Reality was blurry. All he knew for certain was that he needed more of that drug. He would have prostituted himself on the streets if he could have figured out remembered how.
"Tink?" he turned to the fairy. She made a buzzing sound, but he knew she understood him. "Where can I get more pixie dust?"
"Neverland, of course…" she purred, trailing off at the end, as colorful spirals danced in her wings. Peter watched them for a moment before acknowledging her words.
"Of course. Neverland." And he set off to find it.
The first place he decided to try was the house of Nibs, one of his lost boys. The oldest, the strongest, and probably the wisest, he would know what to do. Peter somehow managed to make it to his house, knocking on the door frantically as the night pressed in on him from all sides, the ink of the shadows laughing at his fear. Nibs opened the door abruptly.
"Peter?" He said, troubled. He'd been in contact with Wendy, and he knew exactly what had been happening. "What's up, Peter? It's almost midnight and I haven't talked to you in months. What do you need?"
"Neverland," Peter said. Nibs was steadily growing taller by the second, and Peter could see his warmth radiating from his core. He moved closer, sure that he could see Neverland in his body heat.
"Peter…"
"Neverland!" Peter shouted, and he moved toward the other boy, who thrust up his arm to defend himself.
"There is no Neverland here, Peter. There is no Neverland. There will never be another Neverland. Go get yourself clean." With that, Nibs slammed the door.
Peter was at a loss. Where to go now? And then he remembered. Wendy brought him here, Wendy could take him back. So he stumbled across town to Wendy's parents' place. He knocked on the door, and was shocked when Hook opened it. Hook stared menacingly at the boy.
"You're not welcome here," he thundered, but Peter was determined. He pushed past the man.
"I need to see Wendy!" he shouted, looking around the room. He knew the way to her bedroom. He rushed up the stairs, and Hook followed him.
"Don't you dare take another step toward my daughter!" Hook bellowed, grabbing Peter's shirt. Peter whipped around violently, horrified that Hook had caught up to him.
"You're supposed to be DEAD!" Peter shouted and, with all of his strength, he shoved Hook down the stairs. A horrified gasp came from the top of the stairs.
"Peter…" Peter spun instantly. Wendy stood in her doorway, petrified.
"Wendy! Thank god you're okay. I was worried!" he rushed toward her, making sure Hook hadn't hurt her at all.
"What have you done, Peter?" She shrank away from him, terrified. "Don't… DON'T TOUCH ME!"
Peter stood away from her, confused.
"I saved your life, Wendy. That man—Hook—wanted to kill you!"
"Peter," Wendy's voice broke. "Look at that man, Peter. Look at him." She started to cry.
"I don't—" but he broke off as he looked at the man again. Things were changing, colors twisting, his mind breaking even more. Tinkerbell, who had been silent this whole time, laughed, a harsh, piercing sound.
"Oh, now you'vre done it," she taunted, "You've killed the girl's father!" She broke into hysterical laughter, laughter that consumed all that Peter could see or feel or taste or smell. He fell to the ground.
"NO!" he cried, writhing in pain. "No," he muttered, petulantly.
"Yes, Peter," sobbed Wendy, "you did this. Now leave. Get out, please, and never, ever come back."
Peter sat up at her words.
"Never… Land…" He said. He looked at the world around him. All was black and red, spirals of anger and pain shooting through everything. He had killed a man. He killed the father of the woman he once loved. He knew what he had to do.
"Stand," commanded Tinkerbell. He obeyed.
"Take her with you. She deserves to go back home." commanded Tinkerbell. He grabbed Wendy in his arms, picking her up easily.
"Peter? PETER! PUT ME DOWN! PETER, HOW DARE YOU?! PLEASE!" she shouted her protests through her tears, growing more and more desperate. Peter walked to the open window, the window he had arrived through so many years ago, in a different lifetime.
"Set a course for… the second star on the right…" he murmured, pointing his body towards the gaping shutters and the world outside it.
Peter carried Wendy across the room while she struggled in vain against his grasp. He climbed onto the ledge of the open window, the curtains fluttering around him. They whispered comforting illusions of the sun-beaten shores of Neverland. Tinkerbell was flying in crazed circles around the room, and she let out an inhuman cackle that grew into a shriek that grew into an echo of Peter's words as he finished his thought.
"And straight on 'til morning," Tinkerbell and Peter said together, as he stood in the window with the girl in his arms, silhouetted by the streetlight outside. His shadow danced manically on the ground behind him, urging him on..
Peter and Wendy leapt through the open window away to Neverland.
But, this time, they did not fly.