twotpotato: Yay first reviewer you get a cookie! I actually THOUGHT about going that route, but it might be slightly different because I'm trying really hard to get all this characterization right. But THANK YOU SO MUCH I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!

If you are reading this thank you so much for continuing to read past Chapter 1, really I'm honored that you spent your time reading my dumb fanfic.


Time stands still in Neverland. Or so I've heard. It's a paradise of youth, and yet at the same time it's an imprisonment to anyone who enters it's grasps. That's why people say Peter Pan's magic is the darkest of all the in the lands; you become a victim of it willingly, and only when it's too late does anyone ever realize that they placed the noose around their neck themselves. I wonder if Pan saw Neverland the same way, or if he had coaxed himself into blissful ignorance that Neverland was everything he wanted and more.

That's is running through my mind as I near Neverland's shores, paddling from atop a spare piece of driftwood that had been in my proximity in a twist of fate. By the time I even step onto the sandy shore, I barely feel my feet connected to my legs or the rest of my body. I immediately drop to all fours, vomiting all the contents of my stomach that had been soiled by the sea's salty waters. My throat stings, and I force myself to swallow away the discomfort. Finally I'm capable of forcing myself to concentrate on my surroundings.

How long had I been swimming? Two, three, four hours? It seems like years since I had escaped from that nightmare of a ship. My mind flashes back to the moment of numbness when I jumped into what I thought would be my demise. What I hoped would be my demise.

What concerns me is that I still wish I hadn't survived.

But none of it mattered now; I had escaped, I'm safe. I'm finally free. I tuck the ugly memories into the back of my mind, into the dustiest corner that I hoped I would never have to visit again.

My ears tune in to the sounds around me: the gentle waves lapping at the sand in a drowsy cadence, which made me wonder how such a tune could be from the same world as the constant barking from a pirate ship. How could something so beautiful, so serene, exist side-by-side with something so vile? The world seemed a strange mystery that way.

I had of course never been to Neverland so I had no way of knowing if this was truly Pan's island or not, and as far as anyone knew, only one soul who had been on Pan's island ever returned. That soul was Captain Hook, who I had the displeasure of knowing in ways that I couldn't care to recount.

Hook described Neverland as beautiful, but tainted with an ominous atmosphere that clung to your skin like a leech. For a moment, you would be in awe at the landscape that surrounded you until trouble came in a form you wouldn't have thought possible. Hook never said much else about it, and I never pressed him about it; I suppose some things are better left unsaid.

Well, wherever I am it certainly is stunning. The shoreline slopes out into a crescent shape, but beyond that there was no telling how big Neverland really was. A crystal-white shore stretches out before me until it gives way to a thick forest that seems to extend for miles on end. Every tree in the forest is adorned with vines, and every vine garnished with blossoms that replicate the colors of a rising sun.

Strangely, an urge to pick a blossom off one of the trees rises up in my chest. To hold one in my very fingers, to hold something so precious, it seems more important than anything else the world could offer me. I don't remember the last time I had seen a flower in person. I can't even remember the last time I had been on dry land.

Before I can stop myself, my fingers reach forward and clasp onto a tiny purple flower that barely reaches the length of my thumb. I hold it gently, as if the entire universe's fate rests in the well-being of this one lavender blossom.

So pure, so lovely, so beautiful.

Why this flower means so much to me, I'll never know, but for some reason parting with it now seems unbearable. I tuck it into the fold of my pants, safe from harm.

Mine.

I like that idea.

The sun's rays trickle from high in the sky in like raindrops through the bloated clouds that hang low in the sky. Even with my eyes closed, I still see the suns pinkish warmth on my eyelids, and it occurs to me that the sun can be seen even when you couldn't see it.

Seen but unseen.

I like that idea too.

I sit myself on the outskirts of the beach, my feet dipped into the cold water and my hands pressed into the hot sand. What proves to be a challenge is averting my concentration from my own thoughts. For the past sixteen years, all I've ever done is think. And worry. And fear. Look where that's gotten me.

Thinking about the past is dangerous. Idle thinking will get me killed. And if I'm going to die, it's sure as hell going to be on my own terms. No one else's.

I focus on the feeling of warmth soaking into my skin. It feels good, the prickling sensation traveling from my arm to my spine, undulating throughout my body. I feel my guard dropping, and suddenly, nothing else matters: just the ocean, the sand, and the soft murmurs of the natural world…

I must have dozed off because the next thing I know my eyes flutter open to an inked sky. I force myself up, a slight panic sloshing through my stomach. How long was I asleep? I vaguely remember the afternoon sun glowing high when I arrived. Had I slept the afternoon away? I curse myself for being so careless, especially in such an unknown terrain.

I study my surroundings. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, and for some reason that worries me. Everything seemed too quiet. This is the island of Peter Pan, the boy whom I've heard charmed boys away from their homes with a magical pipe, the boy who thrives on other's downfall, the boy who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. I shiver as I recall the stories I had heard.

I scope the terrain again, although it takes awhile for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and even then everything is tinted indigo. After checking my surroundings with no sign of any intelligent life, I conclude that I'm alone.

Alone and safe. Although I'm terrified that I'm wrong about both.

I start pacing, half trying to ward off sleep, and half out of utter boredom. It's strange, despite being in such a marvel of a place, I can't help but feel bored. Granted, it's not like I could do anything without the paranoia of being discovered looming overhead. I consider taking better shelter in the cover of the forest, but I quickly decide against the notion for now. No sense in walking into trouble where I'm already at the disadvantage of unfamiliarity. I'd go in the morning, where at least I'd have more than the moon's glimmer to guide my footsteps. I shiver at the thought of possibly running into one of Pan's henchmen, or worse, Pan himself. My only choice is to wait until morning.

The more I pace, the more I'm acutely aware of the itchy sand covering nearly the entire backside of me.

Of course, I grunt inwardly, cursing myself again. I suppose I deserve it for being so stupid as to fall asleep. I was stupid enough to fall asleep the first time; I'm sure as hell not going to be so vulnerable again. I can't let anyone – or anything – catch me off guard, no matter what.

Still, I need to clean myself off. The cautious side of me says no to averting my attention from keeping on the lookout for Pan to cleaning a ragged shirt. The practical side of me figures it shouldn't take long to clean myself off before I'm back to full alertness. And besides, if it's late at night, what would Peter Pan or a stray lost boy be doing at this edge of Neverland? I give myself five minutes to get the job done.

I'm surprised when I step into the water; it's much warmer than I remember, or would expect for so late at night. I don't question it, and venture deeper into the water, enjoy feeling it's warmth seep into every crevice of my skin. The sand comes off quickly from my skin and my clothes, but I still find myself lingering. It feels so good, and I can't remember the last time I had properly bathed. Years, maybe?

I make sure that there is a comfortable amount of sand under my toes, because swimming has never been a specialty of mine before moving my hands to my hair. I tug my fingers through my knotted hair, brown locks that I hadn't thought much about until now. It used to be like my mother's, soft and wavy. Now I'm thankful there isn't a mirror anywhere to be found - I don't want to know what kind of havoc years at sea had brought to my hair. It takes multiple attempts to get my hair somewhat manageable (undoing years of damage is harder that you would think). I fix my hair as best as I can and tie it up with a piece of string I had filched from my time on Hook's ship. It's one of the few things I actually own. Once I'm satisfied with my hair, I get to work scrubbing off as much dirt as I can from my face before moving on to my body.

My hands trace along my curves, and before I can stop myself, I slip my top from over my head, and fling it onto the shore. The cautious part of me is probably shaking it's head in disappointment, but the part of me I had hidden for so long slowly stirs to life. I'm free. I've never been so free. I don't know why it took me so long to have this revelation, but I wasn't going to go without enjoying this moment. Because in this moment, no one in the universe can touch me, and that's all that matters. I'm free.

I duck headfirst into the water, ecstasy coursing through my veins like a surging river. I like the feeling of being suspend in water - no ground below me and above only water and sky. I felt like I was flying, like nothing could stop me. I can't remember the last time I had done anything purely for joy. Purely because I wanted to. All I remember was doing things solely because my life depended on it. And for that, I do a small somersault underwater, just because I want to. After holding my breathe for as long as I can manage, I finally resurface, and when I look up, I'm staring straight into the eyes of Peter Pan.


Yep. That happened. Send me a review and I'll give you an enchilada hmm? (yay more bribery) Expect an update in a week or two!