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Reverie
By: thunderings
Peter Pan, Hook/Wendy; It seems she only ever dreams of him.
xx
Pixie dust clings to her nightgown and she's thinking of happy thoughts and feeling the ground disappear from under her, and somehow now finds herself standing on the deck of a ship. Seagulls squawk overhead, a breeze gently blows her golden tresses, and she swears she can taste the salt from the ocean on her tongue.
"Tell me a story."
She whirls around and comes face to face with a man that has ever so slowly invaded her thoughts like a sickness.
"You're not real. You're not real," her voice is tiny, barely registers as a whisper.
He chuckles: "I'm very real lass. Now tell me a story."
"Once upon a time-"
"Overused cliché opening my dear."
"There was a young woman, everything a brought up girl should be. Her manners impeccable, never was a golden strand of hair out of place, her laugh beguiled and smile charmed, and oh she had suitors lined out of the door. In spite of all that, there was a nagging feeling inside her bosom that perhaps there was more to life then parties and imported perfumes and pastel colored gowns. She wanted now for that childhood dream of becoming a pirate to transform into reality, for nothing else offers such incredible freedom that she oh so longed for."
"To be expected that a female would come up such romantic drivel of what being a pirate truly is," the man interjects.
"Hush. Don't interrupt. There was also another reason. As a girl she…met a man…who plagued her dreams, and he frightened her more than anything in the world…and yet…and yet-"
"What?"
"Oh, how young women love to be frightened," she whispers, watching as a smile graces his face.
xx
Wendy cries out: beads of perspiration cling to her forehead, whilst her breathing is shallow, her heartbeat irregular. It's been the same dream for weeks now, replaying over and over each night without fail; she knows as soon as her eyelids close, the reverie will shortly commence on cue.
"What's wrong, love?" Her husband asks dazedly, still very much asleep.
"I had a dream."
"Of what?"
"Of how I returned to Neverland…and you." Wendy smiles as the moon illuminates her husband's silver hook, and his violet eyes that close when his lips touch hers.