Red eyes, so quietly shimmering. The pain they held, the longing. The desperate plea for release. He reached out and gently cupped the boy's cheek with his hand. A fatherly caress. The boy held the man's gaze with eyes as clear and clean as the skies.
He had expected his death to be more violent and sudden. A boy swinging down from the skies with savages at his back, crowing like a mad-man, brandishing a sword. Yet this flying boy had come like any other orphan. And yet the faerie blood within him had ceased Peter's fall to the canyon floor. Mercy had seen in itself to be merciful, in order to grant Blackbeard his demise. This is the end at last, he thought, not unsatisfied. The boy held the sword across open palms, where Blackbeard had placed it. But he made no move to thrust, to run him through.
"Have you come to kill me, Peter?" Blackbeard's voice was soft, trembling.
Fighting the fear back from his tone, Peter told Blackbeard "I don't believe in bedtime stories."
Such rash words, Blackbeard thought. This is your chance, boy. But he said naught. After a moment's pause, he smiled through the tears in his eyes, relenting. There was a soft swirl of disappointment in his chest.
Peter stared at him, wide-eyed, expectant but knowing not what for.
"There are no second chances from me," Blackbeard mused, turning away. "Yet fate has deemed you worthy of life." He stared at the chocolates placed so tantalizingly upon their glass tower. A temptation for children, but an ugly thing to him. Sweet children, you are so simple. He looked over at Peter, who was watching him. His eyes drifted to the sword still in the boy's hands.
"Care for more chocolate?" Blackbeard tilted his head towards the candies in a friendly manner.
Peter swallowed as his mouth began to salivate. "Yes, please." He stared to step forward, then stopped, blinking uncertainly at the sword.
Blackbeard stepped up to Peter. "Put it here," he said gently. He touched his chest, where his heart would be.
Peter stiffened.
"I have lived too long in this world," Blackbeard told him. "And you would not hesitate if you knew what I have done." He sank to his knees in front of Peter, staring into his eyes. "End me. Please."
"End yourself!" Peter shouted. He threw the sword to the ground and stared to run to the cabin door, but Blackbeard lunged and caught Peter around the ankles. They both crashed to the ground.
"Ow! Get off me!" Peter squirmed, kicking out at Blackbeard's face. His left foot hit Blackbeard's nose with a wet crunch, and it began to bleed. Blackbeard grunted and released Peter.
Blackbeard stood up slowly, repositioning his wig, and watched Peter jerk on the door handle.
"'Tis locked, son. And I have the key."
"I'm not your son!" Peter snapped. He kicked the door heatedly.
"I'm not your father, no…" Blackbeard sighed. His eyes scanned Peter's thin form, his pale legs. A small gash had opened up on Peter's knee from where he hit the floor, and blood was running down in bright ribbons. Blackbeard felt a pang of guilt. "But I am the reason you became orphaned."
"You-" Peter grasped for comprehension. "You killed my mother?"
Blackbeard whispered "Yes." His eyes were full of tears once more.
"I'll kill you!" Peter screamed. He ran at Blackbeard, who spread his arms wide. Peter rammed into his chest and began beating Blackbeard with his fists. Unperturbed, Blackbeard closed his eyes and wrapped his large arms around the boy. "No!" Peter cried. "Let me go! Let me go!" He squirmed like a rabbit in a snare. Blackbeard held him tight, tears running from his eyes to mingle with the blood from his nose only to drip from his beard and into Peter's hair.
"That's it, Peter," Blackbeard cooed. "Let it all out." Soon the boy was exhausted and he began sobbing into Blackbeard's clothes. The old pirate captain stroked the boy's hair, shushing him gently.
"Why did you do it?" Came Peter's muffled voice.
"I was in love with her," Blackbeard said. He loosened his arms from around the boy and was inwardly delighted when Peter didn't thrash immediately away from him. Instead, Peter looked up at him with wide eyes, the way a boy would look at his father during story time. Blackbeard looked back at Peter and was hurt by the tears in Peter's eyes.
"Shh, now." Blackbeard wiped Peter's eyes with his sleeve. "I loved her very much," he went on. "But her affair with a faerie was forbidden, and brought about the death of them both. I played my part in it, yes, but it was never my intent to hurt her."
Peter's eyes traveled around the room until he caught sight of the sword, glistening in the yellow afternoon light filtering in through the old ship's windows. He at last pushed away from Blackbeard's arms and straightened up, to his utmost height.
"Do I look like her? Do I look like my mother?" He demanded.
Blackbeard wiped a lingering tear from Peter's cheek with his thumb. "Yes," he said softly. "In your eyes." He looked at the way the boy was standing, the stubbornness, the naivety. "You do."
Although Blackbeard was standing, it seemed to Peter that he was once again on his knees, defeated and broken. He hesitated before speaking. "Why do you want to die so badly?"
"The prophecy has spoken. You are the one to kill me. Why must we drag things on and on, until you realize the truth for yourself? End me here and now, and Neverland will be yours. All of it."
"What if I don't want Neverland?"
"You don't know what you're saying." Blackbeard shook his head. "This is a marvelous place, full of beauty and-" He stopped speaking. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes. "Would you like to see more of it?"
"You would show me?" Peter asked slowly.
"Of course," Blackbeard said, rather cheerfully.
"Oh… Well…" Peter shuffled his feet, then noticed the gash on his leg. "Oh, bollocks."
"Let me help you," Blackbeard approached and knelt. "It was my fault anyway."
Peter held still while the pirate carefully washed off his leg and bandaged his knee.
"You're bleeding, too," Peter muttered.
Blackbeard touched his nose and it was sticky and wet. "Yes, I am." He forced a chuckle. "Thank you, boy, for reminding me. I must look quite dreadful to you." He went to the wash basin near his bed and washed his face.
As Blackbeard patted his face with a towel, Peter crept over and picked up the sword from the ground. He killed my mother, Peter thought. Yes, but he also gave you chocolates and bandaged your leg. He seems nice enough. No! He kills children for no good goddamn reason! He wanted to kill me! He's a dirty hateful pirate!
"Peter…"
Peter flinched and looked up to see Blackbeard facing him.
"It's alright." Blackbeard gave a small smile. He unfastened his dress and removed it, laying it on the bed. Beneath it he wore a dingy white shirt, which the sleeves had been cut off, and faded black trousers. Aside from his well-groomed facial hair and wig, Blackbeard could have nearly passed as one of the over-grown miner orphans.
"What are you doing?" Peter kept the sword hilt tight in his fist, but his arm was shaking.
"It will be easier for you now."
Peter said nothing, nor did he move.
"Life… life has always been difficult for you, hasn't it Peter?" Blackbeard sat down just on the edge of the bed. "It needn't always be this way. I am sorry, for taking your family away from you. Here is your chance now for things to… sail more smoothly from now on."
"Your men will kill me if I kill you." Peter growled.
"No," Blackbeard shook his head. "No, Peter. You can fly. Open the window and be free! You needn't fear anything or anyone, ever again."
"I'm not afraid of anything!" Peter retorted.
"You no longer are afraid of me?" Blackbeard asked curiously.
"I don't want to kill you," Peter said at last. "Maybe we can work out some sort of deal?"
Blackbeard was intrigued. "Perhaps, dear boy. What do you have in mind?" He crossed his legs casually.
"Release the orphans."
"Come now, Peter-"
"And I will live here as your son."
Blackbeard's words left him. He stared at Peter. A son… a true son. "You don't know what you're offering, boy."
"Yes, I do. Just release the-"
"I need pixum, Peter." His lips trembled, tears trickled from his eyes. A youth so tender before him offering to be his son, it was so sweet, so innocent. The offer had sparked something inside of him, and Blackbeard was stirred to tears. To release the orphans would mean no more pixum, and his life would be cut dramatically short. His time with Peter, his child, would be heart-breakingly brief.
Peter frowned. "Why do you need it?"
"It… it keeps me young. It keeps me alive." To help prove his point, Blackbeard grabbed his hair and tugged until the wig was removed. He bowed his head to Peter, exposing his baldness. "I… I am quite old, Peter. Pixum keeps me youthful. Like a child." He grinned with gold and silver teeth.
"I will find you more," Peter promised. "If you release the orphans."
"And you'll stay with me?"
Peter nodded.
Blackbeard laughed. "Jolly good!" He clapped his hands together. "You have yourself a deal, my boy!" He held out his hand to Peter, who shook it.
"Thank you, Peter." Blackbeard clasped his other hand on top of Peter's. Happy tears dripped from his eye lashes. "Thank you, son."
Peter felt a wave of dizziness pass over him. Was he, too, happy in this moment? Now that he was to be this man's son? Or had he just made the biggest mistake of his young life? He didn't know, but when Blackbeard pulled him forward into a hug, Peter didn't resist. He dropped the sword and hugged him back, and didn't want to let go.