Disclaimer: Peter Pan, all characters, places, and related terms belong to J.M. Barrie. The plot is mine.

Dedicated: For Beatriz.

Caught on Paper

It was a surprise to all, especially Nibs, when it was discovered he had a talent for drawing.

It had been a very stormy day, and all the boys were confined to the house under the ground. Peter had worked on a small wood carving. Wendy had taken up her sewing. And the boys, except for Nibs, played marbles.

Nibs reclined in a chair of sticks and bones and was feeling quite bored. His eye had landed on some parchments that Peter simply claimed came from the Jolly Roger. Despite being pressed for details, Peter had been strangely silent regarding how he had obtained such a treasure. Nibs reached out a hand to touch the paper but recoiled.

"Mother, Father?" he said.

Peter and Wendy looked up from their work to him. The other boys paused in their game to glance curiously at their friend.

"May I use one of these parchments? Please?" he asked, pointing to the small stack.

Wendy turned her attention to Peter, for it was he who would decide. He shared a short glance with her before he nodded to Nibs. "One piece," he consented.

"Thank you, Father," the boy said with a large grin.

Peter nodded again and then returned to his wood carving. Wendy watched Nibs carefully take a piece of parchment and then resumed her own work.

After holding the paper for a moment, he amused himself by folding it into a flamingo. He smiled, pleased with how it turned out. Carefully he unfolded it, returning the paper to its original shape. He creased it to get rid of some of the lines where it had been bent and folded.

He lightly ran a fingertip over the parchment, drawing patterns. Struck with an idea, Nibs carefully broke off a strip of the bark from the chair. He was pleased to discover the bark worked as a pencil, leaving a dark line where he dragged the tip of it over the paper. In one corner of the paper he drew several shapes. Then he gazed about him to decide what he would try to draw.

He eyes swept over Father and the boys to linger on Mother. A contented expression was on her face, her lips slightly upturned. Some of her red-orange hair fell over her left shoulder as her head tilted a little. Her blue eyes were bright. And her hands moved in a steady and knowing manner.

Nibs nodded to himself and carefully attempted to make a copy on the paper of the girl who sewed on.

A long time later, Nibs laid aside his fourth piece of bark and intently gazed from the finished drawing of his mother to the real girl herself. He had drawn her face all right, he decided with relief. He had caught the ripples in her hair. And the small smile. But her hands… He glanced between his drawing and Wendy several times and frowned. He had drawn her hands wrong. The shape of them on the paper was not correct. The drawn hands were lacking the grace of the real ones. But the rest of the drawing was quite good, he admitted to himself. If he could add color to the drawing, he would have trouble telling it apart from Mother.

"Well, Nibs, what did you do?" called John.

Without a word, Nibs held the drawing up for all to see. He allowed Tootles to take it and watched, with mounting uncertainty, as the boys passed it among themselves, studying his work with a critical eye. He played with the piece of bark when the drawing reached Mother and Father, unable to bear to see their reactions.

"Nibs…," Wendy said softly.

All fearful, he slowly lifted his gaze to her. But there was nothing but amazement and pride in her eyes, and she was smiling.

"It is beautiful," she gestured to the drawing Peter held.

"You like it?" Nibs asked.

"Yes, Nibs, I like it very much," she answered, her smile widening.

He sighed deeply. He blushed as the other boys joined in praising his work. Peter was silent, but the admiration shining in his eyes as he continued to examine the drawing assured Nibs. But the boy was most pleased that Mother liked it; and when she hugged him, he grinned happily.

"I never knew you had a talent for drawing," she said in his ear. Neither had he.

And that was how it started. During the next couple of weeks he continued to draw. He drew the Jolly Roger; the mermaids at the lagoon; the chief and Tiger-Lily; Mother's pet wolf; Slightly, Tootles, Curly, the twins, John, and Michael; Father in the glory of his cockiness and leadership; and the loveliness of the island. And Nibs grew fonder of his new craft.

Today found the sun smiling, white clouds swimming in the sky's blue sea, and a wind dancing above the treetops.

Nibs, Peter, and Wendy were at the swing (a gift from the boys to her) in the middle of the jungle. Nibs settled down on the ground, equipped with a few sheets of parchment and several pieces of bark. Nervous and excited, he swallowed. Finally he would draw Father and Mother. It was a desire he had harbored almost after his first attempt at drawing. But it had been difficult to be able to get them together: Father was usually off having some adventure all day, and Mother had much to do in the house and a large family to take care of, after all.

But here at last Nibs had his chance. And he had known the swing was the perfect place to draw them. He just hoped it would all be all right. It was hard for Father to be still when he was drawn, and Nibs feared the possibility of not being able to complete drawing him and Mother. He thought for a moment, with Peter and Wendy waiting for his instruction.

"How about you sit on the swing facing me, Mother? And Father, you stand behind her," Nibs suggested.

Wendy sat down on the swing (the seat was made of bamboo sticks) and placed her hands on the vines that held up the swing. She smiled sweetly. Peter placed himself behind her, putting his hands on the vines as well. He tilted his head to one side, an expression of smug cockiness on his face.

Nibs studied them and slowly nodded. "Very good," he said, and then he reached for parchment and bark.

It was when he had nearly finished drawing Father's face and started on Mother's that he felt something wasn't right. Peter was starting to get fidgety, and Wendy at times leaned her head to the side slightly. But it wasn't that, really, that was the problem. Frowning, Nibs glanced from the paper to the two before him. Maybe, perhaps, it was how he had positioned them?

He crumbled up the paper into a ball and cast it aside. "I'm sorry. I'll have to start over," he apologized. "Father, could you sit with Mother on the swing?" He grabbed another parchment.

Wendy blushed slightly, released one of the vines, put her free hand in her lap, and moved over, making room for Peter. Peter let go of the vines, turned around, and sat down. He turned his body sideways, his back brushing one vine while he grasped the other a little above where Wendy held it. Thus he could face Nibs.

"Like this?" Peter asked wearily.

Nibs stared at them, trying to decide if this setup was good. Yet he could not decide and only replied, "We shall try and see."

At seeing a flash of impatience in Father's eyes, the boy turned his attention to Mother and studied her face before he started to draw it on the parchment. Not many minutes had passed before Nibs was forced to put down the piece of bark yet again.

He just couldn't get it right, it seemed. Mother's face looked up at him, tiredness in her eyes. And Father – Nibs had not drawn his eyes right. And the setup was still wrong. Why couldn't he get this right? He had not had any trouble with drawing Father or the boys or the chief. Feeling tears begin to well up in his eyes, he pushed the half-done drawing away.

"I have to try again," he said in a choked tone. Father objected; and even willing, patient Mother sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry!" Nibs's voice rose, feeling frustrated with himself. "If I cannot get it right, I shall stop. This shall be my last attempt. I promise." Yet this would no doubt end in failure. Father could not keep still, and Nibs was surprised he had not flown off yet. And poor Mother; he knew she was, no doubt, thinking of the supper she would want to start on.

He glanced at them and cried desperately, at his wit's end, "Look at her, Father! Look at her! Look at him, Mother!" and snatched up yet a third parchment.

So Peter, afire with impatience and hardly able to stay still, terribly tempted to simply fly off, looked at Wendy. Wendy, feeling tired and weary and knowing she should return to the house soon to start supper, looked at Peter. And he forgot his impatience and grew still; and she forgot about her being tired and cooking and straightened her back.

Nibs ran a hand though his hair and darted a look at the two before him. His look lingered on them as he suddenly realized that finally the setup was perfect. Feeling a little relieved, he tried to work quickly, gazing from the paper to Father and Mother and back. But he found he had to go slowly to capture the detail and expression clearly and correctly. His tongued slipped out as he carefully traced Mother's eyelashes. Feeling time stretch on, he softly assured Father and Mother he would eventually be done and asked them to be patient.

He was unaware that neither responded; in fact, he was a bit oblivious to the changed atmosphere surrounding him and the others. He did not notice that Peter was as still as stone. Nor did he see that the sleepiness was gone from Wendy's face.

Sometime later, Nibs raised his face from the parchment, a huge breath escaping him and a triumphant light shining in his face. Finished! He could have danced for joy. He lifted the parchment to examine his work. It was very good, he admitted to him. Everything – the shape of their faces, the curls and waves of hair, the expressions, the hands around the vine – was right. Nibs smiled.

"I'm done," he said. He was surprised when he looked up and realized Father and Mother had not heard him. "Hey! Hey!" Jolting, they turned to him and blinked silently, as though they had forgotten where they were and what they were doing.

"I finished." Nibs got to his feet and came up to them, showing the drawing.

Wendy let go of the vine and accepted the drawing, looking at it. A smile of pleasure touched her face, slowly replaced by something akin to confusion, followed lastly by realization and astonishment. She gaped.

Peter looked impressed with the picture. Then he stared at the picture intently, and his eyes widened.

"This is amazing, Nibs," Wendy praised, handing him back the drawing, a faint blush in her cheeks. "I think it is your best drawing."

"Thank you, Mother," Nibs said.

Wendy glanced down and was startled to discover the hand which had been resting in her lap while she posed for Nibs, was covered by Peter's. Her cheeks flaming, she jumped to her feet.

"Well, I m-must go to the h-house and start d-dinner," she stammered.

"I'll go w-with you," Peter quickly put in, on his feet and at her side a moment later.

She looked up at him before dropping her gaze and did not object when he took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

"I will follow shortly," Nibs said, wondering at Father's and Mother's strange behavior. He watched them go off, looked over his drawing once again, and thought perhaps it was his best work.

As he stared at it, he felt there was something about it…some sort of feeling. His attention was focused on their eyes. Gazing at each other, there seemed some sort of sense, of understanding exchanged which rose from the drawing into the air. Nibs narrowed his eyes as he examined his work. What had he caught in the drawing? But the boy only came up empty-handed. All Nibs could do was simply shrug, gather up his supplies, and also start back to the house.

THE END