~past~
The Shadow flew over London, the Thames snaking below them darkly as chimneys billowed ash and soot into the air. Wendy stared at the hand in hers: she could see her own fingers faintly through it but whatever was holding her was solid and moved as fluidly as an eel. Touching it imbued her body with a sense of lightness and she felt that if she let go she would float on the air like lint. As if reading her mind the Shadow turned it's blank face to her and let go. She did not float, she fell like a stone. Wendy screamed, falling through clouds and the Shadow seemed to wait until she had almost hit the ground before it swooped down and caught her.
"Don't let go," it said in it's echoing, oddly calm voice and Wendy nodded, heart bursting. It was a warning and she gripped the hand and never let go. They ascended again, faster this time, as if to out race the dawn and Wendy kept her eyes fixed on the star, willing it to remain. A strange thing occurred, as she watched the star seemed to flex and stretch, as if someone had grasped the edges of it and pulled. Soon the star was a streak of light on the horizon and they were flying into the blinding heart of it. She scrunched her eyes shut and did not open them again until she felt a popping in her ears.
Below was not London any more, not even the English Channel but a strange, new sea. The waters rippled as they flew and she stretched a hand and skimmed the waves. She licked a finger and laughed when she tasted salt but then her laughter died when she looked up. Through the gloom, for it was not night, she could see a peak rising through what she took to be clouds but it was mist. The closer they got the warmer she became and the smell of something undefinable triggered a memory. It was like stepping into the hot house at Kew.
"Neverland," she breathed and the Shadow nodded. Beaming with joy she searched through the mist, trying to make out the size and shape of the island but as she did something came shooting through the whirling fog and slammed into her shoulder. Her hand was ripped out of the Shadow's and she plummeted into the sea below. Too shocked to scream she did hear something before the waves took her: the crowing laughter of boys.
The fall should have knocked her unconscious but whatever had hit her had been flung hard and her shoulder blazed with pain. It cut through her shock and soon the need to breath cut through the pain and she stretched her arms up, teeth clenching with effort and looked up.
Is it up?
Above and below was darkness, there was nothing to distinguish what direction to swim. She kicked her legs, hair trying to wrap itself around her face when something suddenly grabbed her arm. Bubbles escaped her mouth as she turned and her hair floated away to reveal a boy staring at her.
He seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He frowned for a moment, his grip loosening but then suddenly he was pointing upwards. Wendy tried to use her arms but gave up and feebly tried to swim with one. He was quick, darting away and back and then, as if frustrated with her slow pace, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up.
Breaking the surface she inhaled greedily and coughed in the most unladylike way imaginable. Not that she cared at that moment. She held onto the boy as he swam towards something dark ahead and she saw with relief that it was a rock. He pulled himself up onto it easily but the rocks were slippery so he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her up beside him. On her knees, raggedy wet hair hanging down over her face she spent a few minutes just breathing. She had never been taught to swim and if it was not for the boy she would likely be dead now.
"You...you saved my life," she gasped, looking at him. He was her age she guessed and though drenched through he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. He stared at her in confusion.
"You're a girl," he said with some disappointment.
Wendy straightened, thinking he looked a little skinny actually. "Yes. Is that a problem?"
At her look of indignation he suddenly smiled and she could not stop giving one in return. He shook his head. "Forgive me, it's just that I was expecting someone else. Are you well?"
At his concern the pain in her shoulder started to throb with pain and she looked down, poking it gingerly. She muffled a cry and was shocked to see that there was blood. He leaned forward suddenly and after asking for her permission he tore the fabric over her shoulder with a knife. It was a shallow cut but the skin around it was an angry red.
"You'll have an impressive bruise in the morning."
"I doubt it will be the best I've ever had," she countered, trying to be positive. He smiled at her again and she felt something flutter inside, like a moth.
"My name is Peter," he said politely and inclined his head.
"I'm Wendy. Wendy Moira Angela Darling," she said, feeling she might as well go for the full effect.
"Peter Pan," he said again and cocked an eyebrow. "Not as grand as yours I'm afraid."
"Pan, like the god," she said, thinking of the statue that she had almost hit Baelfire with, mistaking him for a thief.
"Yes, like the god," he said with bemusement but his eyes flashed strangely for a moment. Too quick to discern and Wendy had already forgotten it when he stood and offered her a hand up. With his help they stepped carefully along rock pools until they reached the shore and the jungle reared up before her. It was dark and she could feel the sticky heat and inhaled that odd, sensuous smell.
"Is it dangerous?"
"Yes. But not for us," he answered mysteriously. "There are no natural predators on the island. The mermaids don't venture on land and nor do the pirates, if they know what's good for them."
"Pirates?"
They walked into the jungle and as her eyes became accustomed to the light she felt that there was nothing to be really afraid of. It was almost comforting, the gloom reminded her of the night lights that her mother would leave on for her and her brothers. Light but not enough to vanish the shadows.
"Yes, but like I said they don't bother us. My camp is this way," he was walking backwards so she could see his face. Any obstacles in his way he seemed to know intuitively to step over while any branches or vines that blocked her path he would lend a hand or clear away. He was very courteous. She stared at his attire. It was a patch work of green fabric, so as to blend into his surroundings. It was neatly done and she looked back up thoughtfully but blushed when she saw his lips quirk at her inspection.
"Do you really live here?"
"Yes."
"But what about your parents?"
"Dead," he said and shrugged.
When Bae had told her that he was an orphan he had been understandably upset but Peter seemed more bored with the topic. She stammered an apology. Not all orphans have the same tale of woe and she would be foolish to believe so. As if knowing what she was thinking he stopped, cocking his head.
"Don't feel sorry for me. I have no mother or father and I need none. The other boys would tell you the same."
"Other boys...?" she asked and then froze when they came to the end of the path. In a hollow in the forest floor was the camp and it was much larger then she envisioned. A group of boys milled around a fire at the centre or sat under make shift tents. Wendy looked back for Peter and he gestured for her to go ahead. Inhaling she lifted her chin and straightened her damp night gown and immediately felt blood rushing to her face. It was drying but at one point it must have been sheer. She had been walking around like that with a strange boy and he had, gallantly, pretended not to notice. That eased her embarrassment somewhat. Almost.
She forced herself to look back but Peter was gone. Grabbing a cloak from one of the tents she fastened it around her neck and wrapped it around her as she made her way down the steep slope until she stood in the shadows the fire didn't touch and cleared her throat.
"Good evening," she said, her voice sounding oddly shrill in her ears. When they didn't acknowledge her she repeated herself louder until some of them turned and stared at her. Their stares turned into gawps and she fisted the cloak.
"Is...is that a girl?" a voice said incredulously and then someone at the back started to titter.
"Or a very pretty boy?"
This produced a gale of laughter and Wendy started to breath heavier as they came close, giddy scorn written on their faces. They circled her and someone tugged on her cloak.
"Hang on, that's mine..."
Not knowing what else to do she suddenly stuck out her hand, chin lifted in the air and introduced herself. If her father had been there he would have been very proud. Of course this made the boys laugh harder. However two boys by the fire were not laughing: a boy with his hood up was crouched and tending to it and the other was Peter. He was throwing a dagger into the air, where the blade glinted orange and caught it deftly before throwing again. The movement seemed to draw all their eyes like filings to a magnet and in that moment no one breathed.
"For some reason this lady's journey here was hindered. Something made her fall and almost drown as the Shadow was flying over the lagoon. Does anyone have anything to say?" He asked with a pleasant smile but his eyes gleamed.
The boys shifted and shuffled but none looked away, as if he had them hypnotised. Finally a boy, the one who made the crude joke, stepped forward, his head bowed. In his hand was a limp sling shot.
"We - I - thought she was the Never bird. I saw something white through the mist, I didn't know she was a girl."
Peter stopped throwing the dagger, eyes fixed on the guilty boy who had now dropped to his knees. Wendy looked at the boys, who either looked stern or worried and then at the deadly serious expression on Peter's face and laughed. She could not help herself, it was all too ridiculous.
"I'm sorry. You – you're all just far too serious. I came here to get away from boring serious things! You look like you're going to the gallows," she said, pointing at her shooter who glared at her. But when Peter started to laugh and sheathed his knife Wendy saw such pure relief on the boy's face that her amusement faltered for a moment. But then Peter was in front of her, grinning.
"The Wendy-bird, I like that. You're right, this time I will spare his life," he said and Wendy nodded solemnly, trying not to smile.
"You must, I did survive after all," she said and while her blood was up she kissed his cheek in thanks and then dashed to the kneeling boy to help him up. She did not see the flash of surprise on Peter's face or the way he touched his cheek but she did notice that the light seemed to brighten.
a.n:
More to come in a day or two. Thanks for reading!
