AN: This tumblr prompt almost killed me. It was supposed to be a drabble but wound up being almost 3K words and utter ridiculous. Also, surprise character! IDEK what is going on anymore.
Warnings include: unhealthy relationships, possessive behaviour, teenage romance and pathetic fallacy.
Feedback is love!
let me sweep away your feet
It shook her to her very core when they banished Peter back to Neverland. Without her. She quaked with freedom. Peter Pan, that selfish, awful boy, had lost his game. He was vanquished; returned to the earth from whence he sprung to die far away from them. And Wendy Darling was free. A century and more of captivity and subjugation to the Pan's mercurial moods ended in the blink of an eye and the swift stab of a dagger.
Afterwards, Wendy built a life in a new country and new time with her now-older brothers. John and Michael were happy to live wherever was deemed safest and Rumplestiltskin had proven his fortitude in the face of their nemesis.
In time, Wendy returned to school to finish her education. There was so much more to learn in the modern age; so much more she could be. John and Michael, who had both studied the law in England, took jobs with (of all people) Mr. Gold as his legal assistants. Wendy became a regular at the library and made fast friends with Belle.
About a year after her arrival in the small town, another group of unexpected characters landed on Storybrooke's shores. For the briefest moment upon seeing the ship floating in the air, Wendy had panicked thinking the Jolly Roger returned. Hook had gone off to parts unknown once Henry's mother and father decided to try again and Wendy believed truly that there was only one thing that would ever bring him back. Thankfully, it had not been the Roger at all.
Once that had been established, Wendy went right back to living the quiet, uneventful life she had craved for so long. She excelled in school and was starting to wrap her mind around the idea of college and a career - any career - she wanted.
Then one day, on her way into Granny's diner, she bumped into James Hawkins.
James was new in town. Which was not as farfetched an idea it once was. Storybrooke had gained a fair few new residents since the curse had broken, Wendy included. Inevitably, however, they all had a story that didn't fit in the world with no happy endings. James was no different. His mother owned the little bed and breakfast down by the shore and James was on leave from a military academy he vaguely referred to as being "very far away" with a sardonic little smirk.
Perhaps the most important thing about James though was that he liked Wendy.
Wendy, of course, had no idea how to deal with this. A century locked away by a sadistic boy-king had ruined her in the worst ways - making her skittish where she used to be outgoing, wary where she used to be open. James took it in stride, buying his own coffee and settling down one seat over, still able to talk to her under Ruby's knowing gaze. That first day James didn't get very far with his conversation. But, as he stood to walk Wendy out of the diner, he looked her straight in the eyes and blinked.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked.
"No. It's just...your eyes."
(Behind the counter, Ruby rolled her eyes.)
"What about my eyes?"
"They're...deeper than I expected. Vast."
"Oh. Thank you, I suppose."
"It's a compliment," he assured her.
A grin, amiable and sudden spread over James's (Jim, he'd called himself) face. It was a young face for Jim was a young man, and he was a handsome one too with his thick brown hair and crooked smile. He carried himself somewhere between soldier and pirate and rebel, Wendy thought as she walked away from him. He was refreshing.
#
That night, Wendy slept fitfully. Her dreams were flashes of colour - greens and blues and dark shadows; all of it innocuous enough but still unsettling.
#
Over the course of the next few weeks, Jim made it his business to seek out Wendy whenever he could. She was accustomed, in a way, to being the center of a boy's attention but this was nothing like that and she found herself growing comfortable in the older boy's presence. He was a little shy which in turn made him a little awkward and all of that combined to make him wholly charming.
The first time Jim made her breath catch and her cheeks flush, he was leaving the town. Wendy was sitting in Granny's doing homework when the door opened and in walked Jim in all his military academy finery. Wendy had to admit he was dashing. He approached and said a friendly goodbye but then - then he'd reached down and grasped her hand, brought it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles in farewell. That's when it happened. Wendy floated home on a cloud, mind occupied by Jim in a way she had fought viciously everyday before.
She did not think about why she fought it so viciously. She knew in the darkest parts of her that she fought it because the thought of giving another boy any kind of power over her terrified her. She was determined to come to Jim on her own terms or not at all. She was leaning toward not at all but he was good at making her take baby steps toward him nonetheless. Jim felt safe to Wendy. And he was even safer now that he was gone. So she indulged, just a little bit, in girlish fancy over the cute boy in uniform. (She was a proper English girl, after all, with a proper appreciation for a man in his regimentals - however oddly they might be decorated.)
#
That night she dreamed of Neverland. It was more than colours this time, it was the jungle and the mournful, angry sound of a storm off shore. It was the sensation of the very earth beneath her feet trembling under some mighty rage. She was close enough to hear the waves crack against the hard rocks of the shores. The island was in a temper and Wendy quailed in the midst of its ire. John woke her abruptly, strong hands shaking her to wakefulness and security. She didn't tell him what she had dreamt.
#
It took two months for Jim to return to Storybrooke, looking tired but victorious. Wendy preferred not ask why. In the time that he had been away, however, she had quietly nurtured a growing fondness for him. So when he asked her to have lunch with him at Granny's the day after his return, she said yes. That was their mild, peaceful beginning.
Wendy found, surprisingly, that she liked being courted by Jim. He was fun and adventurous without being pushy or demanding. In fact, he seemed to recognize the reserve in Wendy and worked his hardest to get her to loosen up without making her uncomfortable. Wendy fell slowly and then all at once. Then Jim offered to take her flying. She almost ran.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a rush. "Did I say something wrong?"
His panic forced Wendy to take a deep breath and blink away the overwhelming memories of green eyes and green clothes and wicked, wicked mouths. She pulled herself together and shook her head no. She smiled as convincingly as she could and asked, "How exactly do you fly, Jim?"
His grin was wide and delighted and there was not an ounce of malice within a mile of it. "I'll show you."
The solar surfer was nothing like anything Wendy had ever seen before. It looked very unsafe and Wendy expressed her concerns very vocally. (That was another difference; she never felt afraid to disagree with Jim.)
Jim approached her gently, as was his wont, and took both her hands in his. He brought her close and whispered, "I won't let you fall, Wendy. I promise. It'll be fun."
It was a promise she had heard before. It was the first time she believed it.
She peered up at him from under her lashes and smiled, "Ok then."
She would not live the rest of her life in fear, she had decided. She would not let her past dictate her future. She had a chance at a brand new life and she would live all of the moments until her last breath in appreciation and freedom and awe.
True to his word, Jim never let her go and did not let her even think she was falling for a moment. And the whole thing was exhilarating. It was probably the most exhilarating thing Wendy had done in forever and none of it was tainted by fear.
When they landed, Wendy's grin threatened to split her from ear to ear. She threw her arms around her boyfriend and laughed with wild abandon. Jim watched her with adoring eyes.
"That was amazing, Jim!" she gushed.
"You're amazing," he replied reverently. Then he blushed in the lovely, awkward way he had and stammered, "Uh...well, I mean. You're..."
He stopped, raked a rough hand through his hair and looked her in the eye. She held her breath at the sincerity on his face. He said, "You know you're amazing, right?"
Wendy flushed. Unsure of how to accept such a magnificent compliment, she let her eyes fall to their feet on the sand below. She watched Jim's feet shuffle closer to hers, felt his warmth radiating closer, then his hand was on her chin.
He tilted her face up gently and asked, "Can I kiss you?"
She licked her lips and watched the way his eyes followed the motion, entranced (not hungry, not darkly wanting, not possessively). She said, "Yes, please."
Then he did and it was soft and innocent and lovely. It was everything she had ever wanted from every other kiss in her long life. Wendy let herself sink into it and floated home on a cloud at the end of the day.
#
Neverland was howling in her dreams that night. The wind screamed in her ears, swirling in an ungodly hurricane of incomprehensible magnitude around the island. Lightning cracked almost constantly in the starless sky. The trees had been ripped from the earth by their roots. Water from streams and rivers flowed between them in all directions save toward her. The landscape was utterly devastated and the island lay battered and bleeding beneath her feet.
For a moment, it occurred to Wendy that this was probably what it would look like if the island was trying to claw its own heart out.
Then everything went quiet. Wendy didn't need to turn around to know what was happening; who was there. She had refused to believe that her dreams over the past few months had been real but she knew in her heart of hearts that the Neverland she saw in turmoil so often was the real thing. She had always known, somehow, that the Pan had not perished. She had refused to face it before. Now she had no choice.
"Look at me," he commanded, voice raw and hoarse.
She did not turn; did not let her shoulders tremble under his wrath. She was dreaming. He could not hurt her. He had no power, not really. Not anymore.
"Damn it, I said look at me, Wendy!" he shouted.
She jumped. In over a century she had never heard him sound quite so unhinged. Even at his weakest, he had maintained his cocky aloofness. Despite her resolve, years of conditioning had her obeying him. She turned slowly to face him and gasped.
It was the Pan, yes, still the handsome young man, but he looked wilder than ever - feral and furious and, honestly, a little insane. His clothes were bedraggled and torn, his shirt looked like he'd tried to pry it from his skin with one hand. His hair was standing on end in all directions, pulled every which way. He was flushed and heaving. He was missing a shoe.
He greeted her with a cyanide smile. "Hello, Wendy-bird. Finally come home, have you?"
"This is not my home," she insisted. She stood straighter and met his gaze head on.
"Oh, it is," he responded airily but there was nothing light in the agitated flicker of his eyes over her new sleeping clothes or the barely-restrained shake of his dismissive wave. "It always has been and it always will be."
She would not give in ever again. She had things to live for now. People were waiting for her and she, no longer a naïve child, properly appreciated them. She told him, "I refuse, Pan. I will never be your prisoner again."
His eyes narrowed. Wendy could hear his teeth grind, watched the rapid clenching and unclenching of his fists. Her eyes tracked the telltale tick in jaw. He took a step to the side and she took one back instinctively. Pan was a predator unleashed.
"I know you think you're free, Wendy-bird, but you're not. You have your brothers but what good have they ever been to you?"
She kept her eyes on his pacing form as she answered, "They have always fought for me. They won't let you have me again."
He smirked at that, all his parts poised to cut; to slice her to the bone and carve at her heart. She braced for the worst.
"If only they knew how many times I've had you already," his voice was like silk-covered steel. "Does he know? Does he know that his precious Wendy Darling isn't the pure little saint he thinks she is?"
Jim. Of course this was about Jim.
She hated to admit it but Jim probably had no idea how old she really was. They didn't talk about those parts of themselves much. She tried to avoid talking about Neverland and the Pan in general. Pan read her silence correctly.
"Do you think he'll still love you - still think you're amazing - when he knows you truly?" he pushed, pacing ever closer to her. She could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck. "When he learns how old you are? Where you've been all that time?"
Bony, familiar hands wrapped around her arms and pulled her to an equally familiar chest. Up close, Peter smelled like the ashes of a forest fire. He whispered harshly, "Do you think he'll still want you when he knows what you'vedone?"
All her fears laid bare before her, Wendy swallowed and kept her head up. "He loves me."
She believed it with all her heart. All that mattered in Neverland was belief. Pan shoved her away roughly and she tripped over the debris around them.
"He's a fool!" he snarled. "He cannot love you! He's nothing but a glorified pirate!"
Wendy whirled around the moment she managed to regain her balance. "How dare you? Jim is an honorable man!"
"A stupid one then," Pan retorted, "as they usually are."
"You are a stupid, stubborn, horrid boy, Peter Pan, and I hate you!"
"And you love him, do you?" he demanded stalking toward her. It was the first time the question had ever been posed.
Wendy found herself saying, "I do. I do love him, Peter and-"
It was a terrible feeling that crashed through Wendy as Pan covered her mouth with his and kissed her lips apart for his conquering tongue. She was repulsed and enraged and guilty at the thought of Jim. But behind that was the worst sense of relief and relish she had ever experienced. Kissing Peter felt wrong but it also felt like home.
When he broke away from her, she followed his lips traitorously with her own for the briefest moment before pulling away and wrenching herself out of his grasp. She watched him wide-eyed as he ran both hands through his hair, pulling so tightly at handfuls above his ears. The Pan looked ...tortured. Finally, he met her eyes. In the distance, Wendy could hear the wind whipping up again.
"I don't care how you feel," Pan growled. "I care even less about him. But he cannot love you, Wendy bird. He cannot have you. Ever. You're mine."
END
Original tumblr prompt:
Curse!AU or Peter lets Wendy go home/Wendy escapes!AU. Wendy gets a boyfriend. He's not Peter. She actually really likes him. Peter does not.