Chapter 2: SOS
The darkness was more welcoming that I expected. It rocked me back in forth like the waves on Neverland's shores. I remember the Lost Boys and me running to the beach and happily splashing through the water. Tink would sit on a rock and sleep, allowing the sun to be absorbed by her pixie dust. One time she sat for too long and burnt herself. Her usual yellow air had turned a red colour.
I sighed in the darkness, allowing the warm colours to swim behind my closed eyelids. I felt alone and safer than I ever had. There was no Hook, no storms, no hate, and no death.
LINE BREAK
Wendy
I let out a breath as Slightly and Cubby picked Peter Pan up. Cubby was holding Peter's feet while Slightly had his arms, his head resting on the furry shoulder. "Be careful," I said as I followed them into Hook's cabin.
The cabin was roomy and light, with large windows that allowed you to look out to the sea. In the center of the room was a big bed with red covers and matching pillows. A table covered in maps was in the corner and a basin was on the opposite wall.
As the Boys set Peter on the bed I walked to the basin and opened the cabinet underneath it. Inside was a bunch of white towels that were neatly folded. I suppressed a smile as I pulled some out. They were soft beneath my dirty fingers and made me want to take a nice hot bath.
"Wendy," someone said with a tap to my shoulder. I turned around to see Michael there, clutching his teddy bear with one hand.
"Yes Michael?" I asked, wetting a towel with water from the basin.
"What are we going to do with Peter?" he asked, glancing at the motionless figure on the bed. I let out a sigh of frustration and I set the towel down, wiping my hands on my nightdress.
"I don't know," I replied slowly, touching his shoulder. Michael nodded and averted his eyes to the ground. He seemed calm about the whole situation, though I know Peter's condition haunted him like a ghost.
John came up behind Michael, the black top hat still perched on his head. "I have an idea," he said. He seemed excited, his eyes alight and heart aglow.
I nodded in sign for him to continue. "How about we take Peter to London?" he said with a little jump. A smile stretched across my face and I hugged John.
"That's wonderful!" I exclaimed. "Now we just have to figure out how,"
LINE BREAK
Peter
The darkness began to fade out, though I tried to grasp at it. I strived for it – it was the only thing that gave me comfort. I knew I was awake, and began to feel tremendous pain instead of the warm arms that were slowly letting go of me. I tried to call out but no sound came to my throat. No matter how much I fought against the dark I could not reach it. I stopped trying and let my body relax as I began to come close to a light that I had not noticed before.
The light was strange after all the darkness. It flooded my eyes as it came closer and closer. I squinted in a vain attempt to dim it. Suddenly, my whole body was enveloped in the light. I could see my closed eyelids, the colours now gone.
I could feel something soft and warm beneath me. I was lying on my side, probably to keep the spike from impaling me further. My head was slightly elevated on something of similar texture. Then I was aware of the pain. It washed through my body in large waves beginning at my head, travelling down my spine and legs, then ending at my toes. My shoulder throbbed, my ribs ached, and my head felt heavy at the same time as empty.
The next thing I felt was a wet cloth on my face. It was moving in gentle stokes over the bloodied side of my face. I winched as the cloth brushed over the source of the blood, a small yet deep cut.
"I'm sorry," someone whispered. I recognized the voice as female. It was obviously Wendy, seeing as Tink only communicated in jingles.
Once the cloths presence had left, I slowly cracked my eyes open. They were flooded with a glorious light, and I squinted as my eyes adjusted. Wendy was sitting next to me, her face in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking slightly and I could tell she was crying.
"Wendy?" I croaked. My voice sounded dry just as my throat was. I was craving water.
Her head quickly lifted out of her hands and she looked at me. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks flushed. She reached out and placed a hand on my cheek, stroking it gently. "Are you alright?" she asked.
I nodded despite my obvious pain and closed my eyes. "What are we going to do?" I asked, licking my lips. Wendy sighed and shook he head, removing her hand from my wet cheek.
"We are going to London, to Mother and Father. They can heal you," she replied. My eyes widened and I began to sweat nervously. Placed my hands beside me and began to push up. I wanted to get off the ship, and go to Neverland. I didn't want to go to London – I would grow up there. As I began to rise up my body spiked in pain and I collapsed with a cry.
My vision was clouded with black spots and I felt hands of my side, trying to keep me down. I fought against the hands – my mind made them seem like enemies. They were enemies who were trying to make me grow up and leave my wonderful life. Leave the safety of the island and return to the terror in the real world. They were trying to return me to my parents.
I began to become exhausted and my arms and legs with limp and heavy. I gave up and the hands left me, though I still couldn't see. I wondered briefly if my eyes were closed before falling back into the black abyss.
LINE BREAK
Wendy
I watched as Peter began to calm down. His breathing was irregular and jagged, the bed now soaked in his crimson blood. The room smelt horrible, like death. I nodded at the Twins who were standing at the end of the bed. "Watch him for me," I said.
"Yes Mother!" they echoed, nodding their heads. I smiled and left the cabin, taking a deep breath of fresh air. The wind felt wonderful against my clammy skin. The boys were all over the deck. They were taking orders from John and looking over the edge. In curiosity I looked over as well. The whole ship was floating in the sky, completely enveloped in gold pixie dust.
I touched the railing and walked away from the edge towards Slightly, who was John's first mate. "Are we almost there?" I asked, standing next to them. Slightly nodded and pointed forwards. I peered into the thick clouds to see Big Ben standing proud and tall. It seemed to be a glowing token of home. As we flew past it I reached out, my fingers nearly skimming the tower itself.
"Now for home," I said, patting John's shoulder. He nodded and called the boys over to slowly lower the anchor. I knew it would have to land on the roof, as there was no other place for it to go. The ship would simply float in the sky until Slightly took it back to Neverland with Tink. The plan was that Tink would allow Slightly joining us once the ship was back.
"We're here!" Michael suddenly yelled. I smiled as I saw my house come into view. The lights were on and I could see shadows running near the windows. It was Mother and Father of course, worrying about us. John continued to give commands and soon we were level with the window of the nursery.
Slightly, Cubby and I went to the cabin. Peter was still unconscious, but was now sweating and shivering. When I touched my hand to his forehead it was hot. Slightly and Cubby quickly came over and picked Peter up, being gentle. They cared for him. That much I could tell. Slightly looked at Peters face and sighed, brushing a piece of auburn hair from his forehead while holding Peter with one hand.
"Let's go," Cubby said. I nodded and followed them out of the room. John had positioned the ship so that the plank was the facing the window. This made it easier for us to get across. Slightly and Cubby walked across and into the open window with ease, and I diligently followed them. The last time I walked the plank I almost died, yet was saved by someone already dead.
I pushed the curtains past my face as I entered. My parents were not in the room so I beckoned for Slightly and Cubby to placed Peter on the bed. They did so, keeping him on his side to avoid agitating the spike still embedded in his shoulder. I didn't want to remove it, knowing he would probably bleed to death.
Just then John and Michael entered with the rest of the Lost Boys. Slightly and Cubby nodded to them, and Slightly left, walking out of the window and to the ship where Tinkerbell was waiting. As they left my parents walked in. My father came in first, his suit and hair in a mess. His eyes grew wide in shock as he turned on the lamp. Mother came in after him, her appearance and reaction the same.
"What…?" Father said, sitting down into a chair. Mother placed a hand on his shoulder before running to embrace us. The Lost Boys stood behind, a little uncomfortable.
"You're home!" she said, squeezing us tightly. Happiness and hope rushed through my body before I was filled with gloom. I pulled away and looked at the floor. The Lost Boys were staring in curiosity, their eyes boring into my back. Pleading. Begging.
"What's wrong Wendy?" she asked, taking my hands. I looked up and pointed to Peter, who was now twisting and groaning. He was stuck in a nightmare, haunted by things of his long past. Mother gasped and rushed to his side, Father joining her. She looked him over and turned to Father, touching his arm.
"Call Doctor Smith," she said, pinning a few stray hairs back. Father nodded and ran out of the room as Mother grabbed a pile of towels, a pair of scissors, and a bowl of water meant for washing. She used the scissors first, cutting Peter's tunic in half. With my help, she slowly peeled the bloody shirt, wedging it off the sharp spike.
The skin around the spike was inflamed, puffy, and a bright red. His skin was pale in contrast to the large amounts of blood on his back, neck, and legs. Mother gave the shirt to one of the twins who were standing next to her without a thought. She didn't even seem bothered by the Boys. They were just another helper for her.
I averted my gaze downward to his bare back. It was coated in scars, large and small. Some were newer while others were faded. They were the battle scars of a young warrior. The scars kept continuing downwards, where they disappeared in his pants. I shuddered and wondered where they came from.
Mother soaked a towel in water and ran it along his back, completely ignoring the scars. It's was as if she had seen them before. The white of the towel soon turned a sickly pink colour just as the water did. Peter had calmed down, though he was still as white as a ghost. His back was now clean and his shoulder had stopped bleeding.
"Oh Peter," Mother sighed, touching his cheek with her thumb. I looked up from my work in surprise as Mother began to probe his painted chest.
"You know him?" I asked, placing the towel in the laundry bin.
"Of course I do," she replied, wiping her forehead with her wrist. "Where do you think I got all those stories from? And I wasn't going to get the hospital for Peter. He would hate that." I nodded with a smile as Father entered the room, followed with our family doctor.
He quickly opened up his medical bag and pulled out his supplies, setting them on a tray. I moved away with Mother as she pulled me to the side. In the background, the doctor went up to Peter and began to examine him. I heard a few sighs and his face looked shocked.
"Wendy," Mother said. "Take the Lost Boys somewhere else. The doctor doesn't need to ask why they are here," I nodded and she smiled, and then approached the doctor. Once she was gone I turned to the scraggly boys in front of me. They were all worried about Peter, and felt threatened by the unfamiliar adult.
"Now Boys," I said, looking directly at each of them. "My Mother needs to be alone with the doctor. If the doctor has distractions he won't be able to help Peter." They all nodded in reply but didn't say anything. They were silent, unmoving, unfeeling. Not one of them said a word as I led them to the living room, where they all sat on the floor. I felt bad for them. Peter was their father in a certain sense, and having him on the brink of death… it was unimaginable.
John and Michael joined them, trying to start a conversation. I smiled at their attempt, but it was no use. The boys refused to speak, at least until Peter was healed. John looked at me and shrugged. He seemed optimistic, as he usually was. If only his optimism would spark the others hope.
And the second chapter is complete! The response on the first chapter was amazing! Thank you all for your support! It means a lot to me! The next few updates may be slow, considering I do have summer holidays and camping to do. If you have any constructive criticism or ideas, please tell me! I'm always working towards improving my writing and make it more interesting. Please R & R!
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan
