AN: Again, this is my first story and it is currently unedited. I will love you forever if you leave a review. Concrit is much appreciated, while flames are not. Thanks for reading~
Chapter Two: A Stranger in the Night
Wendy Darling was many things. She was polite, as any young woman should be. She was educated, a perfectly adequate student in her studies of Literature, Geography, Arithmetic, History, and French. She took her tea with one milk and three sugars, just the way she liked it. She was slightly rebellious, but of course, it was assumed she would eventually outgrow that. It had been five years since her fateful adventure through the stars, but if we told Peter this, he would only knit his eyebrows in confusion and scratch his head. Peter, you see, has no sense of time. Days, months, and years are all meaningless babble to him. Neverland does not work under the same principles of time as our world does. Either way, Peter Pan and Neverland and all that was behind her now. One thing that had not died along with her childhood, however, was Wendy's intense love for story-telling. Because she was to soon be a woman and such childish hobbies should be abandoned, her Aunt Millicent forbade her from telling stories. Wendy, of course, was not deterred in the slightest. Late at night when she knew her parents had fallen asleep, she would silently slip into her brother's rooms and recount the endless tales imprinted in her mind. Romance, horror, adventure, she had it all right there in her heart, waiting to be spilled from her lips. "Tell us a story, Wendy", Michael and John Darling would whisper, barely able to contain their excitement. And so it began. In the silence of the streets of London, when everyone was sleeping warmly in their beds, one night-light was lit in the Darling House, and if you cupped your hand gently around your ear and stayed as quiet as possible, you just might be lucky enough to hear one of Wendy Darling's famous stories.
"…And he jumped off the deck, screamed 'Ay, no one breaks me heart!' and slit the princess's throat," she finished triumphantly.
"No!" gasped Michael and John simultaneously, their mouths wide open in a perfect "O". They sat Indian-style on the Victorian rug, eyes bulging, Michael holding on to his teddy bear for dear life, John gripping his hat firmly as if it might fly off at Wendy's words. This night was a re-telling of one of their old favorites, The Pirate & the Princess.
"Yes," affirmed Wendy, smiling. She didn't have to glance at the clock to know it was well past their bedtimes. "Alright, now off to bed, you two," she said with finality. "That's enough for tonight."
"Oh, Wendy! Please,won't you tell us one more?" John asked. "We're not tired, we swear!" he said, looking at Michael, who instead of agreeing, merely yawned and promptly fell asleep on the rug clutching his teddy bear.
"Traitor", he muttered, and Wendy laughed. She stood and walked over to Michael. Gently, she picked up his fragile body, then carrying it in her arms, placed it softly on the twin bed. John settled into his bed beside Michael's, setting his hat on the bedside table. Wendy didn't understand why he still wore that old thing. The hat was a reminder of their times in Neverland, and therefore an unwanted reminder of a stale, unpleasant memory. She shook her head and walked quietly out the door, being careful to leave one night-light on.
Once inside the hallway, Wendy quickly glanced at the master bedroom where her parents slept only a room away. No sound emerged. All was clear. She tip toed across the hall and into her room, silently shutting the door behind her. The sheer canopy that surrounded her bed was pushed aside as Wendy crawled her way onto the fluffy comforter. Sighing contentedly, she spread her arms out and let herself fall back onto the thousands of pillows and sheets. At last, sleep!
Unfortunately for Wendy, her mind did not have the same idea. On nights likes these, while her body yawned and prepared to shut down, her mind only yelled and performed cartwheels. Tonight it was humming like a machine, spitting out thought after thought, refusing to let itself be controlled. It raced through topic after topic, never once stopping to take a breath. Michael. John. School. Mother. Father. Marriage. Aunt Millicent. Edmond. Peter. Wendy winced at the last one. The thoughts spun faster and faster, blurring together. Then, Edmond. Edmond. Edmond. Suddenly the machine paused, repeating the thought over and over, like a broken record replays part of a song. Edmond was her fiancé. He did not seem like a particularly unpleasant fellow, though Wendy was in no position to form opinions considering she had only met him twice. Aunt Millicent had heard through one of the many gossiping women at a luncheon that the Middleton family was searching for a bride for their eldest son. As you can guess, Aunt Millicent nearly lost her panty hose at the news. At once she excused herself from the party and called a cab to take her back home. The Middleton family was one of the oldest, most distinguished families in London. Oh, to be a part of it! Aunt Millicent squealed with joy at the mere idea. However, there was much mystery crowding the Middleton House that sat upon the hill, for the Middleton family had kept quiet for years and rarely attended any parties. It was not good form to avoid social gatherings, thought Aunt Millicent, but she waved away the thought once she reminded herself of the wealth and status of the family.
Mary and George Darling were perfectly thrilled at the news, and made arrangements for Wendy and Edmond's meeting at once. At sixteen, Wendy was nearing the age to marry and a better opportunity couldn't have come up. She wantedto get married, she told herself. A woman needed to settle down with a man, give him children, and perform household duties. It was what she was taught growing up, and it was what would become of her. Despite her doubts, Wendy and Edmond's meeting was not a complete disaster. The Middleton and Darling parents hastily ushered the two into the garden, to "get to know one another". At first the two looked everywhere but each other. Then Edmond whispered, "I think your aunt is hiding in the rose bushes" and Wendy, forgetting herself, laughed. The ice was broken.
They talked for a long time, continuing even as the sky turned into a deep orange and pink. Wendy admired his cynical sense of humor and even permitted herself to have a good time. As they talked, she saw a bit into his life. Edmond was born and raised in London, but at the age of fifteen decided London's dull pace was not for him. "I believed there were much more important things than knowing the difference between a salad fork and a pastry fork", he said, shrugging. For years, he traveled. He did not divulge into the details of his travels, but Wendy was sure she saw his eyes sparkling. Edmond's eyes, a piercing blue, were simply entrancing. "Why did you come back?" she asked, incredulous, for she hated this place just as much as he did. "Life", he replied, "does not allow one to wander too far before it is time to come back". And that was that. We must, always, come back. No one knew that better than Wendy Darling.
And so preparations were under way for Wendy and Edmond's extravagant wedding. The Darling House was in constant, churning chaos. If Aunt Millicent wasn't pacing back and forth on the rug in the drawing room, breathing with the ferocity of a lion, she was running down the hall screaming "FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME, WOMAN, I SAID LILIES, NOT AZALEAS!" Tensions were running high, and it was more than once that Mary Darling snapped at one of the children. Wendy simply stepped back and watched timidly as the adults around her rushed and scrambled in the race against time. Despite the impression Edmond had made on her, she was still apprehensive about her marriage. Isn't this what she had prepared for her whole life? All that knitting, and sewing, was that not to provide pleasant little clothes for her children? The cooking, and cleaning, to take care of her husband and the house? Nevertheless, it was all so overwhelming, all so…sudden. The wedding was in five days. Five days did not allow her much time to draw her childhood to an end.
Wendy's thoughts were most rudely interrupted by a rustling outside her window. Her mind and body suddenly alert, she listened for any noises that might follow. Wendy thought she could hear a very faint voice, belonging to a boy, whispering, but it soon disappeared. Moments passed in silence. It's late, she told herself, I should get to sleep. Unfortunately for Wendy, there would be no sleeping that night; for just as she reached across to turn off her bed-side light, a small voice shouted:
"Now!"
And in one quick motion, the window flew open with a whoosh, a figure climbed in, taped Wendy's mouth, arms, and legs, and as she thrashed her body, threw a brown sack over her, shrouding her in darkness.
"Mmmph!" Wendy yelled, her voice muffled by the tape. If this was John playing a nasty prank on her, she would surely get him back for this. She made a mental note to hold his comic books over the furnace until he begged for forgiveness. She paused mid-thrash to grin at the thought. Then she resumed her kicking and yelling. The musty brown sack smelled of sandalwood and mothballs.
"Alright, we've got her. Now what?" asked the voice. Wendy stopped once more at the vaguely familiar voice. It wasn't John, but yet it still rang a bell somewhere deep inside her brain. Who could the voice be talking to? He was alone...Wasn't he?
To her astonishment, a reply in the form of about million jingling bells answered him. That could only mean one thing: Fairies. The dancing bells were the sounds of the lilting Faerie language. Wendy was all too familiar with fairies, particularly the dreadful Tinkerbell. When the two last met, Tinkerbell had caused Wendy much anguish. Her envy regarding Wendy and Peter's friendship brought her to pull Wendy's hair, frequently voice her dislike with hateful conviction, and enlist the Lost Boys in a mission better known as "Shoot the Wendy Bird". In truth, Tinkerbell was not a particularly sadistic fairy. It is said that fairies are small creatures, with such tiny bodies, that they simply only have room for one emotion at a time. Therefore, they do not possess the human ability to make well-informed decisions based on right and wrong. To fairies, there is no conscience, no choice, only action.
Suddenly Wendy could feel herself rising, as light as a feather. Those demons! They had sprinkled the sack with fairy dust! Wendy struggled to push her weight downward, to no avail. In the fight between fairy dust and gravity, we all know who wins. Angrily, she kicked blindly, making contact with a moving body. The boy swore under his breath. Wendy grinned.
Wendy could feel the temperature lowering drastically, and she realized with a groan that she was hovering over the London streets. A few jingling sounds near the vicinity of her left ear told her that a fairy was on her side. What if Edmond were to see me right now? Or Aunt Millicent?, she thought in a panic. How was she to explain all of this? Before she could ponder the possibilities, immediately and without warning, Wendy felt her entire body compress. The experience felt similar to being shoved into a dryer, clicking start, and tumbling among the laundry. Wendy's brain wobbled in her skull, and her dinner threatened to make a reappearance. Wendy had felt this before. Although she could not see it, she knew at the very moment she being flung through the stars, flying past dimensions and worlds filled with creatures she couldn't even begin to imagine. The boy without a face and the fairies must be taking her to Neverland, she thought. The magic she sensed all around her was undeniable.
The sack was picking up speed. Wendy's ears nearly exploded from the rushing sound of the wind. They were about to land. Question was, were they going to have a crashlanding? The sack spun faster and faster, hurtling toward the island, and Wendy shut her eyes, fearing the worst.
To her surprise, she felt her side touch a soft ground. The wind stopped. Wendy and the boy breathed a collective sigh of relief. Then, remembering where she was, Wendy demanded to be released, in the only way Wendy could.
"Lemf Meh Ouau!"
"Alright, alright, keep your knickers on" piped the boy cheerfully, and untied the knot at the apex of the sack. Wendy burst out, taking in her location. Her mouth and arms might have rendered useless, but her eyes were not blindfolded. They seemed to be standing on the roots of a tree covered in moss, surrounded on all sides by darkened water. Her eyes fell on the scrubby, chestnut-haired boy of about thirteen. She stared back at those twinkling brown eyes, glistening with mischief, so familiar as if from a dream…Slightly! Her eyes widened at the realization. Slightly grinned back at her, apparently finding her shock amusing. She hadn't seen the mischievous Lost Boy in what—five years? He was different, somehow. Taller. Wendy cocked her head to the side, trying to place the change in Slightly, as his hands fumbled with the rope on her arms and removed the tape from her mouth.
Wendy was about to cry out when Slightly silenced her with his hand and gestured to a spot behind her. Wendy turned, and found a boy soaked with water, sitting on a rock and staring up at her in wonder. His hair was rustled, his eyes were hopeless. Just as she had left him.
"Peter", she breathed.
