A/N:Inspired by the interaction my Naminé has had with a certain Peter Pan in an RP I've been in about a year. They really are the cutest things ever, even if they'll never be together due to previous relationships and whatnot. But add that to Jesse McCartney's rendition of "Second Star to the Right," "One Day I'll Fly Away" from Moulin Rouge!, and the pretty orchestral version of Roxas' theme "The Other Promise," and you get this! COM verse, so…yay! Read and review if you like!
Fly Fly Away
She makes absolutely sure to only cry when she is alone, because she will never let Marluxia or Larxene see her cry.
If she does, it's the last thing she'll ever do.
They'd only laugh at her and the stays in the cage would be longer. The colored pencils would become shorter and duller. The wait between mandatory hopeful visits to the outside would grow longer, longer, eventually fall away. The shadows would lash out at her more often, and the Dusks would come to visit to stare with their cold eyeless faces she hates looking at.
Marluxia and Larxene, they'd twist and turn everything so that more tears flowed and she just wasted away. Because that's all they really want and all they really need, because once she breaks down, there's no need to keep her.
So she makes sure she only cries when the door is closed and the rest of the world sleeps, where no light can ever find her.
---
She is sitting up crying in bed, for as much as she tries she just can't dream in peaceful blue. The world is getting to her, and she feels very sad and very afraid, and she can't erase it away. This is a mistake true as permanent ink, this is something she's living in and will not escape.
That's when the shadow-masked boy comes through a window, searching for something he doesn't know yet. A light shines to keep him aware, dims when danger is near, leads him through the monochrome empty hallways to her door left ajar. He is a wisp on the wind, an invisible shadow next to her.
He places one rough hand on her shoulder. She turns to him with wide, fearful eyes.
"Girl," he asks her, swansong-soft so he won't frighten her, "why are you crying?"
She struggles to move, to breathe. She gapes at him, at this beautiful boy who's come out of nowhere to…to rescue her?
It is all she can do to hope.
She tells herself not to ruin this. It may be the only chance she gets.
She runs her fingers together, the tips of them red with what looks like cherry juice but what's really colored pencil dust.
"I…I'm ruining everything here," she tells the boy.
"Girls are much too smart and pretty to ruin anything," says the wonderful boy with the even more wonderful smile. She looks at him hopefully, and he only laughs and floats because he can. She hardly dares to question him, this boy from a dream who says, "It can't be that bad."
She gasps, the spell is almost broken.
"N-no," she insists, eyes wide with tears. "It's…I'm doing the most awful things."
He stares at her, confused.
"I wish I was free," she tells him. "I wish I was anywhere but here."
He stares at her.
"What's your name, girl?" he asks.
"N-Naminé," she says, and she has never felt more ashamed of it in her life: what if he doesn't like it, what if he thinks it's a stupid name?
But he smiles and says it's pretty.
She smiles back, despite herself, and says thank you.
"I suppose, Naminé," he says slowly, "if you like, you might come away with me."
She could come away with this boy who came out of nowhere and may take her somewhere far away, to a place where happily-ever-after and pretend and fantasy are all real. She will dream her way to the stars and never stop, Peter and her on their way to the top where the world will look so perfect from far away. And Neverland, they will always be in Neverland, where everything she wishes for will come true and she can dance among the lights in the sky and wish upon falling stars and let him hold her so so close, and she will never have to worry about this place, ever ever again.
If she likes, if she only likes.
But reality comes crashing in hard and rough like waves in a storm.
Her voice, excuse is weak: "Oh, but…Marluxia, he'll…"
His is stronger. She lets it overtake hers.
"Naminé," he asks, eyes flashing, smile askew, "have you ever flown before?"
She tells him no, she hasn't. And he thinks it's the most horrible thing ever, that she hasn't really lived unless she has!
(Of course, she wants to tell him that she's never really lived at all, but she won't dare contradict him, won't dare question anything he says because this extraordinary, wonderful, beautiful boy is going to take her far far away.)
He sprinkles fairy dust on her, all light and sparkles and youth, and tells her to think of any happy little thought, anything at all and she'd be able to fly along with him, back to Neverland.
Neverland, beautiful wonderful Neverland, where she could see all the fairies and the mermaids and the beaches she's only dared to dream about.
He takes her hand in his: he's not quite grownup but still larger than she is, and when she looks into his brave eyes she's flying high too, and he's grinning at her, all baby pearl teeth.
He says, "Come away with me."
And the sky is wide and open and beautiful, littered with stardust and that is where they're headed, to the second star to the right and straight on until morning. And there's no better time to start the dream now, when there's a smile in her heart—
---
She feels large, black-gloved hands on her shoulders shaking her awake, and she sleep-smiles, opens up her eyes and asks for "…Peter…?"
Marluxia smirks, coldly, and tells her he rather expected a different name.
She bites her lip nervously.
He throws her down like the rag doll she is, and he tells her to stop speaking nonsense, that there's work to be done.
She tries her best to blink the tears away, and when she stands up, defiant, brave, she is surprised at herself, surprised the way Marluxia is surprised.
Her bed is only ten inches off the ground, but she hardly cares: it's high enough.
She thinks of happy thoughts, any merry little thoughts, but Marluxia only laughs when she hits the floor, her own weight pinning down her arms, the sky still taken from her, her eyes completely lost.
He tells her to follow, that they haven't time to play like little children.
And she sits there wondering why it was a dream, why any of it couldn't be real at all.
Because all she wants to do is believe in faith and trust and pixie dust.
The way any little girl does.
The way every little girl should.
---