Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. Or To Kill a Mockingbird, which this title obviously borrows from.
Hello! This is my break into work with the Peter Pan fandom, though I have read a lot. It comforts me to know that it's not only me that corrupt this children's story- well, story of, anyway- into a dark masterpiece. I've written before- look at my username and see for yourself. I don't really know the number anymore. It's in the 30's or 40's. Ehehe. I work mostly in Harry Potter now, though I have plenty of fics for other genres. I really hope you enjoy this fanfiction, though I'm not sure if I'll ever end it. I'll tell you a secret- I wrote most of this two years ago. I never saw it fit to put up, but after much editing and crying, I've decided to share it.
This would be based mostly off the movie with Jeremy Sumpter and Rachel Hurd-Wood, just to give you the universe, though I take the book into account. The idea also came from Return to Neverland, the stupid one about Jane. You'll probably spot that quickly... I hate Jane. Really. She shouldn't exist. This is my way to remedy the mistake that is Wendy's daughter ;)
Wendy knew she would never see Peter Pan again. She had to grow up, you see, just as all children- except one- did. And that one child, the one boy her hidden kiss would always belong to, was the destined eternal youth, the heart and soul of a magical world by the name of Neverland. Peter wouldn't have time for someone who was growing old.
But still, every night after she told one of her infamous stories of Peter Pan and his great battles with the evil pirate lord called Captain Hook, she would sit herself down by the window, rest her cheek still rosy from the excitement of the story on the cool, comforting sill, and stare at the second star to the right, hoping to find a sign. Hoping Peter Pan would return just as he had promised. But he never did, and she knew why. He had forgotten.
Mary Darling, who had developed a certain wariness of windows at night after her children's disappearance, had given up on persuading Wendy to sleep in her bed ages ago. The only comfort she had was that it was a different window, always illuminated by the watchful eyes that nightlights provided. Indeed, the single Darling daughter had been given her own room, and, although she relished the fact that Peter could be deterred by such a simple action, even went as far as brandishing her sword to defend his name, she thanked God for the privacy, something she never thought she'd desire until she found herself with five more brothers and a live-in aunt-and-cousin duo to boot. Even if she loved them all dearly, they were still rowdy, very rambunctious boys who all caused quite a fuss. And she was quickly becoming a woman who didn't quite like such fusses.
"Hello, Peter," Wendy said on one particularly dark, moonless night, as she always had and, she hoped, always would, as she sat down at the window. The second star to the right beckoned her with a cheery wink, and the girl giggled back.
But then, a cloud passed over the sky, and the twinkling light disappeared behind its shadow. Wendy sighed.
"That's right," she murmured, "I gave you up, didn't I?" There was no answer, of course, but that was the greatest answer of all. Of course, or else he would be there to answer you, to tell you otherwise. "How I wish I didn't," Wendy admitted, a shining tear coming to her eye. "But it's alright, as long as you remember me, Peter. I know you will, because you promised. Peter Pan doesn't break promises."
And with that, the girl heaved another sigh, this one weighed down with sadness and just a hint of sleepiness, rested her cheek on the cool wood of the windowsill, and let her sky blue eyes slip closed. She dreamt of Neverland. Mrs. Darling slipped into the room and hurriedly shut the window, making sure to secure the lock firmly into place. No one was going to take her daughter again. At least, that's what she thought.
Unknown to her, a man her daughter had once feared was not so far away in a watery, crocodile-related death, but instead sailing closer in a ship that had learned to fly. And he was coming to kidnap Wendy.
It was around midnight that a group of seabirds, crowing as if to forewarn all those below of a terror's approach, began to flock around the Darling residence. And then, swiftly, quietly, evilly, they came.
From a large, powerful ship, its flag bearing the dreaded telltale skull and crossbones, pirates of every shape and size emerged, scurrying down ropes. Silently, stealthily, they dropped to the roof, their crooked, rotting teeth bared in wicked smiles that sung nightmarish melodies of every bloodthirsty sin they had ever committed.
Amongst them was the man of nightmares himself, Captain James Hook. With a hook in place of his right hand and a thirst for revenge, he was the most feared pirate of all bedtime stories, the arch nemesis of Peter Pan. As he passed, the pirates drew their swords silently, ready for his orders to pillage the house of all importance. But tonight, he had only one treasure to steal: Peter Pan's.
With baited breath and light footsteps he inched over to a window he knew to reveal his prize. And then, he simply slipped his hook through the crack between the panes, lifting the lock Mrs. Darling had always used after her children's disappearance, and opened the window.
The window was thrown open, and with a gasp, Wendy's blue eyes snapped open. She jumped to stare out to the sky, a smile on her face. Had it been him?
"P-Peter?" she cried, finding herself leaning over the sill in anxiety. Someone had caused that racket, and who else would be at her window on the second story? "Peter," Wendy said again, her voice loud and sure, "Peter, are you there? Peter! It's me, Wendy!"
"Wendy?" a voice replied in return, and the girl's lips burst into a large, wild grin. Peter had returned for her! He had remembered! But why, when his voice called out to her, would he not show himself to her? "Wendy, I'm here for you. Come with me, to Never Neverland, forever."
Wendy's eyes grew wide, but soon she found herself too happy to argue to such a demand; a demand that had, the one time it had been uttered before, had gotten herself, the boy she had come to love, her brothers, and her heart in a great deal of trouble. Trouble she was still suffering for. One bare foot found the wood of the windowsill, then the other. She wiggled her toes and braced a hand on either side of the window frame, slowly angling her body towards the cold, yielding air in search for the eternal youth titled Peter Pan.
"Peter!" she cried to the sky, a smile spreading wide on her face. "Oh, Peter, you remembered!" To her cry, the wind's whistle was her only reply, and for a moment, the Darling girl's smile faded just a tiny bit. Then, a cocky crow reached her ears and deliciously similar laughter followed, and Wendy strained her neck to find the source. "Peter, where are you! I want to go to Neverland again!"
Over in the next room, both the Darling parents woke with a start to Wendy's joyous cries. Mrs. Darling was the first to spring up, however, and throw open the window. There, she looked over to see her daughter leaning dangerously over the sill, her gaze to the sky and her lips turned up into a delighted, childish smile. Mr. Darling was up only seconds later, sprinting to Wendy's room.
Mrs. Darling watched as a shadow, too tall and burly to be that of the boy who personified eternal youth, crept closer to Wendy. He lifted an arm, and the gleam of a metal hook caught the mother's eye.
"Wendy, look out!" she had screamed to her daughter, but it was too late. As Wendy turned around, her bright blue eyes widened at the sight of the pirate she had believed to be dead behind her, and she dashed towards the tall vase that had held John's sword from so long ago.
Hook only laughed, rolling his eyes at her attempt towards self-defense. "Your swordplay is a bit rusty, I presume," he muttered, drawing his own blade and holding it at an arm's length. "Silly girl, you have changed." His eyes raked over her matured form greedily, and a cruel smile came to Captain Hook's lips. "How charming. Pan will be delighted."
"Be quiet! It's not true!" Wendy screamed, swinging her sword recklessly. Hook caught the single crystalline tear she shed and chuckled mirthlessly once more. "What's so funny, Hook! Does my misery make you feel that much better, you filthy buccaneer!"
"Aye, and how miserable you've been, lass. I'd be lying if I said it was unshared, though, dear," Hook murmured softly, watching as Wendy sighed, her eyes darting to the window, where they widened. There, perched on the edge of her windowsill, was a dark shadow. For a moment, Wendy could have sworn it was Peter Pan, readying himself to save her sorry arse. But then, the twinkle of familiar blue eyes she herself possessed let her heart fall in disappointment and horror. There was her mother, perched precariously on the sill of a window two stories above the ground, a gun poised elegantly in her hand as she focused on her mark: the pirate's turned back.
Wendy whimpered, her eyes darting back to Hook, who believed that her fear was caused by his presence and was thus smirking victoriously. But then, in a desperate attempt to save her mother, who hadn't had a lick of adventure in her life, the trouble, Wendy lifted her sword as high and straight as she could, snapped her eyes shut, and charged.
Her ears weren't met with a cry of death, but rather a ring of metal colliding with metal, and as she opened her eyes in fear a stabbing pain erupted in her side, and Wendy was thrown to the floor. A gunshot echoed throughout the air, and three cries; one of delight, definitely from Hook, another of shock, which had forced its way past Mr. Darling's lips as he nearly missed the bullet as he charged into the room, also armed, and the last one was of horror as Mrs. Darling watched the crimson liquid from her daughter's side blossom into a rosy stain, slowly spreading across her cotton-draped hip.
"Wendy!" Mrs. Darling cried in terror as she watched her daughter bounce to her feet, her sword still held upward towards the pirate's neck.
"I'm fine," she barked to her mother, her eyes steely. "Get down from the window or you'll fall." Mrs. Darling did just so, hopping down gently to the pads of her feet, crouching defensively and pondering whether rushing to her daughter's side would make anything remotely better. When Wendy's eyes, steely with threats and warnings to stay away from both her and the pirate she was feuding with reached her, however, she whimpered silently, said a small prayer, and succumbed to watching frightfully.
Captain Hook muttered something about bothersome parents and inched towards Wendy slowly, his sword, dripping with her blood, poised. Mr. Darling, however, pointed his gun and pulled the trigger, shooting a warning shot straight through the feather in Hook's hat. Despite her agony, Wendy, smirked inwardly to herself; who had known her father would be a good shot?
"Kill her and you'll pay," he bellowed, feeling as scared as he ever would be in his life. But he would not let his only daughter get hurt. No, not when they had been so close to losing her to that Peter Pan, who, he admitted, probably had something to do with the pirate captain standing before him tonight.
But honestly, dear Wendy's stories so often involved pirates that he couldn't say he was terribly shocked.
Wendy sniveled and turned her sword on her father instead, her eyes becoming wild and dangerous. Mr. Darling gasped, and Wendy sighed mentally; she couldn't let her family be involved with this. "Stay out of this, George," she sneered, spitting at his feet for an extra effect.
"I don't plan to kill her," Hook muttered snidely, ignoring the display that had gone on before him, and grabbed her by the neck. "Not yet. That's not a very good policy for ransom, now is it? What would I tell Pan? 'Surrender now and I'll give you dear Wendy's cold, rotting corpse? I think not. No, no… That wouldn't work at all."
And with that, the pirate sprung to the window, pushing Mrs. Darling out before him, who shrieked in terror, waiting to fall to her death. Instead, Wendy reached down, her face beginning to turn red as she found she couldn't breathe in Hook's grip, and, in the last moment she could have used to escape, pushed her mother back to safety in her father's arms.
After he had put his wife down, Mr. Darling found himself at the window where just seconds ago Wendy had been, where Mrs. Darling had opened fire on a pirate captain, where now blood was dripping down onto the roof, painting the shingles a deep, brownish red, the old rusty sword that Wendy had wielded, an icon from the memories of Neverland, in his hand. And yet, he found, he could do nothing to protect one of the most important women in his life.
"Bring her down!" the hook-handed pirate hollered, and the ship wheeled into view, ropes dripping from its sides like icicles. Mr. Darling gasped, his whole body going rigid as he fell to the floor, unconscious from the overwhelming shock. All Mrs. Darling could do was watch and scream helplessly as Wendy was tossed from pirate to pirate, each of them taking their sweet time to grasp those parts individual to the fairer sex, until she collided with the deck of the boat, her eyes fluttering shut.
And, as abruptly as they had appeared, the scoundrels scurried back to their ship with Captain Hook at the wheel, their laughter booming across the night sky. Then they were gone, and the Darlings were alone, the only proof that the struggle had ever happened being the blood on the sill and the absence of their only daughter.
And Wendy, who laid on the deck of the boat in exactly the spot where she had landed, somehow unable to move, cursed her luck as she glared at the only thing her eyes picked up: blood and wood. 'Perfect,' she thought, 'I can't even see where they're taking me.' But Wendy didn't need her eyes to know where they were headed. She was finally returning to Neverland.
Can you tell both Hook and Mr. Darling were written specifically for Jason Isaacs? I might have a bit too much Lucius in there... Oh well! I love everything that man does. But then again, most people do. 'Cause he's boss, man. Boss.
Review, please? That's the only way to encourage me to put more out. The next part is rather... Well, you can tell I wrote it when I was fifteen. Sorry. But boost my confidence a little and give me some imput! You'll get cookies- I swear. Perhaps rock cakes instead... Hmm...