Dark shadows writhed and twisted around Peter as he cried out in anguish. Why, why did they torture him so? Pan fought desperately, wanting to escape his awful nightmare. Maniacal laughter rang in his ears; a sinister reminder of his fallen iron-clawed adversary as darkness closed around him.
"No!" Peter bellowed, striking out at the rapidly thickening gloom.
As suddenly they had closed, the shadows lifted, revealing a memory he thought he had lost long ago.
He was high in the air over a pirate ship, the setting sun casting magnificent hues of orange, gold and pink over the water. Yet Peter felt oddly tense, as though his body knew what was about to happen, but his brain did not. A blood-curdling cry rose up from the ship, and it was if Peter's brain sped up and slowed down at the same time. Without thinking, he unsheathed his sword from his back and plummeted towards the ship's deck, where his Lost Boys and Hook's pirates fought.
Hook.
That's when Peter froze in midair, spinning about as his blue-gray eyes scanned his surroundings. Where was he?
A sudden cry of pain alerted Peter back to the action on the ship, and his heart stopped when he saw whom the cry arose from. He collapsed to the deck, his sword clattering away unnoticed as he cradled Wendy's head. Blood was pouring from a gash in her forehead, and one delicate hand was clasped around her stomach. Her eyes were shut tight, and a soft moan escaped her lips, the rosy color draining from her cheeks.
"Wendy," he sobbed, panicked. "Wendy, please open your eyes. It's me, Peter…"
Wendy's eyelids fluttered weakly, but she forced them open to stare at the boy holding her. Smiling feebly, she attempted to raise her head towards his. When this proved to be too much of an effort, she fell back with a soft cry of pain, clutching her stomach. Peter brought his lips gently to hers, and as he did so, he heard a low chuckle behind him.
"Well, Peter Pan, it seems you are capable of human emotions… has the Wendy girl caused you to feel…dare I say it…love?" James Hook sneered, rubbing Wendy's blood off his sword indifferently.
Peter turned his head slowly to face his enemy, tears of anguish mixed with tears of rage streaming down his cheeks. He glared at Hook for only a few seconds, putting every ounce of fury and vengeful wrath in his body into that one glance.
"Sadness, too?" Hook asked pityingly, clicking his tongue in disappointment. "Imagine, boy; had you not met her, you wouldn't have fallen in love with her. You wouldn't be forced to watch her bleed and die."
Peter clutched Wendy closer to his chest, his tears dripping into her hair as he felt the blood from her forehead sticking to his skin. His kissed the top of her head gently, then he stiffened as he felt her hand growing colder with each passing second.
"Wendy!" he cried, tenderly placing her head on the deck as he pressed his lips to her fingers. He felt her pulse weakening, and he cried out in anguish. Already his heart seemed ready to burst from the pain.
NO! She cannot die! Peter's brain screamed, his thoughts becoming jumbled as he felt himself growing curiously weak. Something is wrong, she is not dead!
He cried out as Wendy's heartbeat finally slowed, then stopped, pain overwhelming him. A red mist filled his eyes as he collapsed on his side, breathing heavily. Shadowy darkness crushed down on him, obliterating every thought as he slipped into the blackness.
----------------------------------------
"No! NO! WENDY!"
Peter sat up suddenly from his bed in the underground home, drenched in a cold sweat. A light breeze fanned across his cheek, and he realized that Tinker Bell was fanning him with a large leaf. He fell back upon his fur-covered bed, groaning as he closed his eyes.
"What's happening to me, Tink?" he asked wearily, running his fingers through his blond hair.
The diminutive woman shook her red curls and expressed her sympathy by patting his forehead affectionately. Peter brushed her away absentmindedly as he stared past his room's privacy curtain into the main room of his underground home. All was silent.
But then again, that was to be expected. There had been no new Lost Boys since Wendy had taken them to London with her (though quite a few years had passed), and Peter had become extremely bored. All of the surviving pirates feared him possibly even more than before Hook had perished, so he had no one to practice his sword skills on (and he doubted anyone could match his ability; pirate or not).
Peter sighed and attempted to roll off his bed, but only succeeded in flopping to the floor (and looking like a dork). Picking himself up off the ground, he staggered sleepily towards the tiny fountain where, every night, Wendy had gotten the Lost Boys' pretend medicine. Cupping his hand under the trickling water, he splashed it into his face several times in an effort to wake himself more efficiently.
Pan shook his wet curls like a dog, then pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes and breathed deeply. A sudden flash of his nightmare blazed through his mind with images of a glorious sunset and dark blood sticking to his chest as he cradled a dying Wendy in his arms. His eyes shot open, and he reeled back from the fountain, catching a reflection of himself in the ornate, slightly cracked mirror that hung near the entrance to his room.
Moving closer to the mirror, Peter examined his reflection cautiously. He had never bothered to look into the mirror for years; he had only gotten it for Wendy's benefit, but now his reflection fascinated him. He had grown older since Wendy had left; that much was obvious. Muscles rippled down his tanned arms and back, and his leaf-trousers were growing rather short.
Note to self: Make some new pants, Peter thought, leaning closer to examine his lightly freckled face. His stormy blue-gray eyes had remained unchanged throughout the years, and his loosely curled, blond hair was much the same. Sighing once more, Peter made another mental note to ask the Chief about his growth. Chief Redhawk, longtime chief of the Piccaninnys, was as wise as any scholar (though Peter had never met any scholars). Surely he would know.
-------------------------------------
Chief Redhawk studied the Pan thoughtfully, stroking his ample chin as he appraised the boy.
"When did this start?" the Chief asked solemnly, as Tiger Lily passed by and grinned at Peter shyly. She had become even more smitten with Peter as the years passed, even though she knew Peter thought of no other girl besides his Wendy. Unfortunately for Peter, Tiger Lily wasn't one to give up.
"After Wendy left with the Lost Boys," Peter replied, carefully avoiding the Piccaninny princess's eyes. This move didn't deter her attention from him at all, and with one swift motion, she slid next to him and gazed up at Peter innocently with liquid-brown eyes like that of a doe. Peter glanced at the Chief, his own blue-gray eyes pleading. Chuckling softly to himself, the wise Chief motioned to his bold daughter.
"Tiger Lily, my precious flower, go out and gather more of those plants we use to dye our animal skins. The squaws have almost finished drying the last few deerskins, and I know you want a new dress for our Autumn Feast," he instructed, waving her towards the forest and winking at Peter, who smiled back gratefully. Tiger Lily left Peter's side reluctantly to obey her father's wishes, giving him one last smile before darting off. The two males watched her leave as Chief Redhawk commented, "I am sorry for your discomfort around my Lily, Peter. She's rather stubborn." He sighed deeply, then glanced at the boy beside him, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
"I'm afraid she always wants the things she can't have."
Peter blushed a deep scarlet at the Chief's last comment, coughing feebly to hide his profound embarrassment.
"Ah, well…" Peter paused, unsure of what to say next, his face still burning from the Piccaninny chief's remark.
"Shall we find out what's causing your growth?" the Chief inquired kindly, motioning for Peter to follow him towards his family's personal tepee.
"Yes!" Peter almost shouted, immensely appreciative of Redhawk's skill at changing the subject.
-----------------------------------
The temperature inside the Piccaninny dwelling was comfortably cool after the tropical heat, and it helped Peter to relaxed his distressed mind, as well as his body. Reclining on a deep pallet of silky furs piled near the entryway, Peter rested his head against a smaller pile of furs, his eyes gaining a faraway look at he stared at the sides of the tepee.
"Chief Redhawk," he began slowly, reluctant to tell the Chief his theory of what was happening to him, "I think I started growing…because of Wendy's kiss."
He said the last few words very quickly, as though to lessen the ridicule he was sure to receive. But the Chief stayed silent, his weather-worn face thoughtful.
"I believe you're right, Flying Eagle," Redhawk muttered, using Peter's Indian nickname.
Peter's head shot up; this was not what he was expecting.
"I am?" he asked, surprised, his blond head barely avoiding collision with a clay pitcher that hung from the wall. It wasn't often Peter's theories were correct.
"Of course. A kiss is a powerful thing," the Chief said, crossing his legs beneath him comfortably.
"So…what should I do?"
Chief Redhawk contemplated this question for a long moment in complete silence while Peter fidgeted and waited for him to be done thinking.
"Do?" Redhawk asked slowly, as though Peter's question was a particularly difficult one to answer.
"Yes, do," said Peter, who was growing rather impatient with all this thoughtfulness.
Without answering, the Piccaninny chief rose from his sitting position and walked out of the tepee, Peter following so close behind that the two almost smashed into each other.
"I think it would be wise for you to go find your Wendy, Pan," Redhawk answered finally, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.
Without answering, Peter launched himself into the air. He soared high over the village before suddenly diving back towards the Chief.
"Yes?" Redhawk asked, surprised at the boy's sudden return.
"Go to find Wendy? Are you sure?" Peter asked, his expression nervous.
"Yes, Peter. I'm sure," the Chief confirmed, waving him away. "Go to her."
Without any further delay, Peter took off, soaring high above the clouds and away from his island home.
-------------------
Author's Note: Arrgh! Peter Pan fan fiction is taking over my sooooul.
Not only do I have this plot in my head, I also have a third idea floating around in the depths of my imagination. But do not fear, fans of my When Peter met Wendy story. I plan to finish that one before even thinking about beginning my third.
Hmmm. So far, both of my PP fics end the same way :)
Don't worry, the plot is insanely different! This is one is sort of a sequel to the live-action movie, with elements from the book and the animated movie (such as Peter's nickname).
Enjoy! And, as always, reviews are immensely appreciated.
