Part 1

Chapter 3

Neverland

Neverland was different the second I had both feet on the ground. Darker, and not for the fact it was night when we arrived. That might've just been me seeing through different colored glasses.

My dreams must have muted my senses because everything was more vivid. I smelled the decaying plants all around us, the rain that threatened to pelt us if we didn't find refuge eventually. The ground was muddy and gave way under my feet.

Insects buzzed and snakes hissed underneath logs. Something big moved in the underbrush, growling.

Everything was breathing, the air, the trees, the ground we walked on. The entire jungle pulsed as one big entity.

"It's different," I commented.

Pan shrugged. "Well, you aren't filtering it through your head anymore. Perception is never entirely accurate."

I thought about what he said, and ultimately decided he must be right. I had the evidence in front of me, and nineteen years of experience that seemed to prove it further.

Neverland felt so enormous, as though I were merely an ant in the grand scheme of it all. Despite being covered by trees and plant life every place I looked, I felt the sky staring down at us, as though they could see and pass judgement.

But that was the great thing about Neverland; any sort of judgement the stars may have didn't matter.

It was the ultimate place where all lines blurred, where it didn't matter that I thrived on blood, because the boy beside me did too. Where consequences didn't matter, where violent tendencies weren't a cause for worry.

Where magic flowed through the air and infected the oxygen.

Where good became bad and bad became good.

Who needed a conscience when the land was built for people who didn't want one?

Pan's Neverland was far more conductive to those who abandoned theirs whenever convenient anyway. If you managed to avoid us the island would eventually kill you for your humanity, your weakness, your soft spots.

Fuck everything the Missus ever taught me about society and civilization. Fuck self-control and anger management devices. Fuck the world I once knew.

What did any of that matter?

Pan proved to me you could have a life built on savagery, violence, and the immense drive to get what you want. As long as it was conductive to what he wanted. But, how could it not be?

We started walking through the jungle, the tropical air seemed to go back on itself and there was a chill that seemed to be a bit of an oxymoron. Internally griping over it, I shivered.

"Why don't you get yourself a cloak?" Pan suggested.

"How?"

"Just believe you have one."

Confused by the suggestion, I thought about having a cloak. A big brown one of heavy qiviut wool. One that would almost cover my face when I wore the hood up. Simple, dark, without embellishment.

I thought about having it in my hands, the weight it'd put on my shoulders. The level of invisibility it would give me, allowing me to assimilate into the island to the best of my ability.

Then, trying to obey Pan, I told myself I already had it.

Nothing happened.

Pan blinked. He paused, thinking apparent on his face. After a beat, he said, "I have one for you."

"Where?" I looked for a pocket in one of the squares on his own patchwork cloak or some purse.

"Don't you believe I've got it?" He asked, blinking looking confused but with an aura of baiting about him.

"If you say you have it, why wouldn't I?" I asked, and just as the words left my mind, before they escaped my lips, he had the brown quivet cloak from my mind in his grasp.

He exhaled excitedly, wheels and cogs visibly turning in his head. "Interesting."

Without another word, he handed the cloak to me and turned around, heading further into the underbrush, bidding I follow him.

I did so without hesitation, fastening the fabric under my chin and pulling the hood up so it obstructed my peripheral so all I could see was the back of Pan's head.

"Where are we going?" I asked after an hour of walking, not recognizing the terrain.

"Oh, come now," Pan said looking behind himself distractedly. "That'd ruin the surprise."

The night grew on, and I followed him still. He led me to a high precipice and had me look over it. The sea was black and inky with the moonlight highlighting the ripples and caps of the waves as they crashed on the rocks directly below us. There were a few islands over the water, one was large and shaped like a skull. One had a smoking volcano. One had the silhouettes of mermaids sitting on the rocks and calling to each other.

After I had a moment to take it all in, Peter spoke. "Neverland's bigger than you imagined, Felix. In your dreams, in the last thirteen years, you've barely even scratched the surface."

"And you know all of it?" I asked, turning to him.

The moonlight made his features milky white. He smiled, shadows casting over his face as he did so. "I do. And you will too."

I looked over the vast horizon, seeing the water and sensing the immensity of the jungle behind my back. It seemed as though a whole world was opened up, a whole planet. How could someone was normal as I know it all? But, Pan said I would, and I trusted him. "How long will that take?"

"What does that matter?" He shrugged. "We've got forever."

Forever. The word hung in the air. It was such a long time, after all. Excitement built up from head to toe, I caught myself sporting the biggest, most honest grin I had in years.

We, literally, had all the time in the world. And I hardly knew what to ask, what to do. But that didn't matter. What we didn't do that day could be accomplished the next day, and the next day, and the next.

The literature the Missus used to shove at me always had negative connotations towards immortality. Claimed you'd lose those you love. I knew it was wrong, and that I didn't care, because there was no one I loved. And I'd never be alone. After all, I was with Peter Pan.

I'd never be left to wander hallways alone, as people ran away and whispered insults in their fear. I'd be with someone - and not just anyone - I'd be with Peter Pan.

He led me back to Hangman's Tree, through the same doorway under the roots. The treehouse looked the same, but felt more concrete. I never noticed but before that moment my footfalls in the treehouse were so much lighter comparatively.

I guess that's what happens when dreams become reality.

Pan opened the trunk on the end of the bed and pulled out a long, coarse blanket with small brown ropes on either end. Throwing it to me, he explained that I was to set up a hammock in the window for the time being.

I set to work, noting hooks in the wall and tied the ropes to it as securely as I could. The ropes were so frayed I wound up with splinters in my palms. But momentarily it was secure. I positioned myself in the center of the hammock and lowered the hood of my cloak.

And it's safe to say I almost fell out of the hammock.

His back was turned to me as his shirt came off. His shoulders were toned despite his otherwise slim appearance. My eyes slid down the obvious dip of his spine and back up again.

He turned to face me. His stomach was sectioned off, but not overly so, definitely fit. If I looked hard enough, I could make out a slight grooves where his ribs were.

I may or may not have wanted to run my hands over all of them.

"All right then, Felix?" He asked me, looking confused.

"Yeah." I coughed, finding my eyes slipping over him again, adding shortly, "Never better."

He sniggered with a small twitch to his brow. "Well get some sleep. Tomorrow I've got more to show you."

I nodded and laid my head down on the hammock, though I didn't get much sleep. I couldn't stop thinking.

I'd never really considered what he looked like without clothes before that point.

The fact that Peter Pan was real and not merely a boy out of a dream introduced a new dynamic. Within the constraints of a dream, it made sense that Peter would be, for lack of a better word, perfect. People dream about ideal mates all the time.

If he were just a figment of my imagination, it made sense that he would be charismatic, enchanting, ruthless, handsome. A deity among boys.

But he did exist. And he still does.

Peter Pan is the kind of person to be admired, to be feared. He is the kind of person who is greater than a person, something more.

He's my deus ex machina.

My coup de grâce

And I'm his aide-de-camp.

His fidus achates.

In the centuries that would come, he's broken me more times than I can count. But that was never a deterrent. I'll never stop coming back to him. I'll never stop believing in him.

When I thought he was a figment of my imagination, it never really occurred to me to have any feelings stronger than what I'd have for any other ersatz god.

But moving to Neverland for good, having the reality of the situation to count on, caused new options to arise.

I finally had a friend. Someone who, after thirteen years of being the only person who cared about me, deserved my loyalty. Someone who seeked me out and managed to tell me that I mattered without actually saying it.

At that point, right after my arrival in Neverland, I didn't question it. It was a new situation, I had other things to focus on. I had to learn new things, and I was just happy I had somebody.

That being said, it didn't take me long to notice his build, his sadism, the look in his eye when he knew he was going to get his way.

I wasn't able to identify what it was at first. Lust was certainly applicable, though at the time I wouldn't have dreamt of actually doing anything about it. I had a feeling that it would become clearer in the future - and I was right.

Love is a strange term; I'm not sure I'm comfortable with it. But if it didn't apply back then, it certainly does now.

Again, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I woke up the next morning to sunlight falling directly on my face, flooding over my eyelids and surrounding me in a world of red. For a moment, I thought I'd fallen asleep in the window seat I often sat in in the orphanage.

Then I opened my eyes. I was still in Pan's treehouse, spices and animal fur smelled warm with sunlight, the weapons on the adjacent wall glistened in the light.

I sat up and the hammock dipped slightly with my movement. I'd never seen the treehouse in the morning light before; it was golden, happier than it was at night.

It took me a moment of looking around before I noticed the bed on the opposite side of the room lacked an occupant, the sheets ripped off at the bottom of the mattress.

"Pan?" I called out. No answer.

I figured he must have been out doing whatever it is one did in Neverland when one lived there.

With nothing else to do, I sat up and stretched. Sleeping in a hammock when unused to it is not unlike sleeping on a sofa; it calls for cramps. I rotated my shoulder impatiently until it slid back into place.

Once I stood, I found myself standing on a small pile of clothes that were a little more conductive to the terrain. Stripping out of my leggings and tunic from the orphanage I changed into the tough, crackly clothes that smelled like everything else in the vicinity: fur, spice, blood.

By the time I tied the scarf around my neck and put my cloak back on, Pan had returned.

"Thought those would be about your size," He mused, throwing a bit of dried meat at me. "Hurry up though. I know you just got here, but I figure it's never too early for a little physical excursion."

I paused. Something caught in my throat. "What…what did you have in mind?"

"We're taking the perimeter of the island. I've got to give you a crash course before the others come."

"Others?"

"I've got plans, Felix. For the future. For Neverland. For us. But it requires a sort of," He paused and added with his typical dramatic flair, "Pack mentality."

"Okay." I said, not quite understanding. "What does this have to do with me?"

"I need a dogcatcher." He started to walk towards me. "More specifically, I need someone who will help me, no matter what. Trust. Loyalty. What you've proved to have."

"How did I manage that?" I asked, tearing at a hunk of the meat with my teeth.

"You kept coming back to Neverland," Pan said, picking a knife off the wall. "To me."

Feeling my neck grow hot, I looked away, hiding my face in my hood.

He handed me the knife then and turned around. "Come on."

And we were out the door.

Pan gave me something in my first full day in Neverland. Something that I'd never had before: a sense of purpose without any strings attached. He built up his impending plans with grandeur and eloquence (at the time he still hadn't told me any specifics), using his hands to further animate his words.

There was a simple beauty to that day. The sun was bright and hot. Mirages flickered in and out of my sight, creating watery ripples in the scenery as we trudged on.

While we walked, Pan essentially gave me a tour. If we turned right at this tree we'd enter a part of the jungle that would get one hopelessly lost without Pan as a guide. If we turned left at that rock and kept going we'd be at the lagoon the mermaids liked to drown people in. Go straight at the fallen log and we'd be at the Echo Cave. And so on and so forth. I, of course, took everything to heart and memorized it as quickly as I could.

It wasn't long before Pan straightened abruptly. "Well shit," He muttered.

"What is it?"

"A dreamer." He shook his head. "I've got to go and see him, it's important. Just keep going straight and turn left at the tree with the orange flowers. Keep going until you get to the little pool with a waterfall. I'll be with you in a bit."

With that he disappeared.

I continued on as he said, seeing little purple tiger-like creatures in the underbrush and birds fly out abruptly from their perches in the canopies. It seemed as though, without Pan, the island was preened to misbehave, and it seemed more dangerous without him.

It took about an hour to get to the pool, and when I arrived I was hot, tired, and sufficiently dehydrated. I approached the pool and was happy to discover it was fresh water. After taking a large drink from the pool, I stripped off the majority of my clothes and dove in.

Fish scattered around under me as I treaded the water. I was slightly wary about mermaids or squids dragging me down, but to my knowledge they were salt-water creatures, so I figured I was safe.

I swam around in circles for a good long while. It was cold and cleaned off the sweat at a remarkable pace. I was soon shivering.

While I swam and my teeth chattered, I repeated the tour Pan gave me earlier in my head. Trying to remember every detail.

It took me a while, but I thought I remembered the bulk of it. If only I could remember which direction to turn at the quicksand that would lead to the man-eating bird colony. I sighed, perhaps Pan could repeat some of it.

When I was cooled down enough, I headed back to shore and pulled my clothes back on. Then I waited. And while I waited, my thoughts drifted back to Pan.

I hoped that he'd eventually tell me the specifics of this plan he'd darted around earlier. But then I figured I'd best not be greedy about it. After all, Pan picked me and took me to Neverland for good. He delivered me from hell and let me stay with him. I told myself it didn't matter how much he trusted me, because he had given me the biggest grace I could ever ask for.

I told myself, but I am a greedy bastard.

I still wanted him to trust me, to tell me everything he had planned. I wanted him to sit next to me and let me in. He knew me, I wanted to know him.

In every sense of the word.

But, I figured, if dogcatcher was all I'd be to him, I'd be the best goddamn dogcatcher he'd ever seen.

I didn't exactly want other people to join us on the island, I wanted more time alone with him. I wanted to be the one who was close to him, I wanted to mean something to him before others could come along and be better than me, and mean more to him than I would. Because he meant everything to me, he always had, and if even a fraction of that could be mutual I could die happy.

I'd signed the Faustian pact without even realizing it, and without his having to ask, but I was already in over my head and as the years would go by, I'd get in even deeper. Not that I'd mind.

I'm aware I'm a bit preoccupied with Pan. I've got a one-track mind, but I'll detour for a while. After all, for the first fifty years before he started to recruit the rest of the Lost Boys, we weren't alone.