Hi! Well, this is quite a long chapter. I hope you enjoy it.... Please review if you liked it. :)
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-Wish Upon a Star-
Peter's first instinct when he saw the ground coming closer was to jump, but before he could think of a way to do so, dirt was in his mouth, a crack resounded on the rock plateau and the breath had been knocked out of him by some unidentifiable object from above. He lay there, stunned and winded. Something that might have been a leaf fluttered down from the darkened sky, tucking itself into the protective arms of the canopy.
"Peter?" A small figure splashed out of the steam and stumbled over to him. "What ha…" Nibs' jaw fell slack. Peter struggled under the dead weight of the second figure on his legs, scrabbling get from underneath it. Curly, who still hadn't got back into the pool, grabbed Peter's hand and heaved. The older boy winced as his wrist twisted, but it caused him to slide forward from the rock to the slippery mud. He leapt into the air. The water of the spring was once again clear; there was no sign of the door or the picture of the pretty woman. The form that had landed on Peter's back remained unmoving on the ground, head set on the rock layer that lined the pond and fair curls splayed across the dirt. Coughing, Peter stretched his arms above his head, then looked down and yelled at Curly, who'd gone forward to touch its arm.
"Oh," Curly murmured, for once taking no notice, "how strange." A hand slapped his from the creature's arm and he was replaced by an ever so slightly shorter Peter. The blonde boy knelt down and gently pushed the damp hair from the girl's face, subsequently looking up into the curious faces of the boys.
"I found her in a school."
Slightly took a step back, his already pale skin turning even whiter.
"School?" Tootles frowned. "How odd. Why would anyone want to go there?"
"All that work," the twins agreed, not a trace of their usual humour on their faces, though truthfully they had no memory of such a place.
Peter floated up into the air. He needed to clear his head of all the voices and people and memories. Maybe he'd go and spy on Captain Hook, or talk to the mermaids… The girl's hazel eyes as she gripped his hand and asked him to bring her here flashed in his mind. Perhaps not that far. He wove nimbly through the forest, not looking but knowing instinctively where the branches spread their leafy tendrils; where the shadows lurked, until he came to the home-tree. From the topmost branch he could see all the way across to the far bay, where a ship cast a black shadow over the luminescent water. Violent light streamed from the windows, and Peter could just make out figures moving behind the frosted glass. He wondered whether the crew had yet removed the paint. Though he'd probably have heard if Hook had seen it. He grinned.
With Peter's absence, most of the others tentatively ventured closer to the girl. Curly, however, did this almost defiantly, crouching down next to the stranger's head and tucking all of the long hair behind them.
"It's a girl," he stated to the others.
"Is she sleeping?"
"Peter didn't say," Tootles replied, "it looks like it, though."
"Shouldn't we wake her up? It's bedtime soon."
"But… she's already asleep…" Slightly spoke, while everyone just stood, sat or crouched and wondered what they should do.
"Hm. Maybe… maybe if we wake her up we can…" Curly began, scratching his mop of red hair and cursorily checking for a glimpse of blonde in the trees.
"Cubby, I don't think sitting on her is going to help…" Tootles added, tugging the younger boy's arm. Being tired as Cubby presently was, his feet caught as he stood and he toppled over, promptly starting to cry.
"It's bleeding, it's bleeding!" the twins chanted. Curly took a step back, his face an interesting shade of green.
One of the twins suddenly stepped forward and knelt down. Unsure of whether this was Binky or Marmaduke, and of what he was doing, the others observed. Somewhat nervously, he quickly jabbed the girl's chest, looking back at the others for some explanation as to what was there. None of them had anything like that. No reply came, except for a crowing that could only mean one thing.
"What are you doing, twin?" Peter questioned, swooping down and sitting on the other side of the girl, opposite the Lost Boys and the spring. Binky pointed to her chest.
"What is it?"
Peter blinked.
"Well…" he started, but didn't finish.
"We were thinking we should wake her up…" Curly trailed off as a flood of water poured from above like a waterfall, hitting the ground with a sound like flint on flint. There was a choking, gasping sound, and a ninth pair of eyes joined those of the eight boys.
"Tink," Peter said in a low voice. Tinkerbell hovered above, brushing off her tiny hands with a smirk.
Everyone just stared at the stranger as she slowly sat up, water spouting from her mouth, and leaned weakly on her arms. Peter grinned.
"Oh my, meet the Lost Boys," he said, jumping up in excitement. "Lost Boys, Oh My, Oh My, Lost Boys."
"Oh my?" The girl looked up with a frown. Her eyes flicked from face to face, passing awkwardly over the naked seven and pausing on the only one that bore clothing. "Who are you? Why are you calling me that? Where on Earth am I?"
Peter's smile faltered.
"Don't you remember what just happened?" he blurted, receiving an odd look in reply.
"You're in Neverland," Cubby said, bravely wiping away the rest of the tears.
"What?"
"Neverland," Peter repeated. Amelia stared. Then her face paled, and her curious hazel eyes flicked from face to face in disbelief.
"I'm in Neverland?"
"Yes, yes," the twins sang, jumping to their feet, followed by a pained squeal as Cubby was reminded unpleasantly of his injury. He immediately sat again, tears collecting in his eyes. Amelia stood up and focused on Peter.
"It's really you," she said, astonished. "Wendy was right."
Peter took in her awed face and grinned.
"What's your name, girl?"
"Amelia Rose Darling," she said, her voice somewhat stronger now. "And you, you must be Peter Pan." She smiled, and Peter's heart leapt.
He snatched Amelia's hand and zoomed into the air, yelling 'dust up for home' without a second glance, leaving a disgruntled fairy and seven speechless boys behind. The barest second of time had passed -a flash of skin between the leaves- then they were at the entrance of the home-tree and Peter couldn't keep still from unexplainable euphoria. "This is the tree, my bed, the table, the cabin, the shelves, the vines…" he continued to point everything out without realising that Amelia had settled onto the furry cover of the Lost Boys' bed. "And the bowls, Tink's room, the drinking spring is through the trees over..." he trailed off as he heard a sniffling sound.
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I couldn't help the tears from spilling over and everywhere. Triumph was running through my veins like electricity, a feeling I'd wanted for so long, but I couldn't place the hurt I felt somewhere in my chest. Why was I ruining everything? The reason why I was crying evaded me. A splintering pain was running across from the right side of my head down to my jaw; I was unsure of what had happened but I couldn't only guess that I had hit it on the rock- for what reason, I didn't know, but the only image imprinted in my mind was a strange blue light and a clinking sound. I felt a weight next to me and leaned in, until my head rested on the tanned shoulder of Peter Pan. Wiping the strange tears away, I looked up and couldn't help but appreciate the youthful beauty of his face. Tousled blonde hair fell softly to his ears, and his eyes were a piercingly bright azure, blue as the clearest ocean.
"Don't cry," he whispered, lowering his head until he was bowed, his eyes barely meeting mine. His face screwed up in what looked like pain. I muffled my tears and soon, I forced them to stop completely. The unfamiliar despair went away with them. Deep fascination took its place.
"Wow!"
The tree was almost impossibly large from what appeared to be a normal-sized tree from the outside, and if I hadn't known better I'd have assumed it would be dead by now. With its trunk hollowed through the entire diameter of the tree, there was nothing for it to survive on- but then, how did the trees grow here?
"This is Neverland," Peter interrupted my thoughts, and I jumped. He was looking at me strangely, as though something had just occurred to him that he couldn't place.
"Yes. I know now."
Had Peter come to get me? The question lingered somewhere in my mind, unnervingly close to the piece of hurt trapped there. I breathed deeply, feeling the cool air soothing my sore head. Though one might have thought the air inside the tree would be stagnant, and smell of dirt, sweat and rot, the air was fresh and pleasantly scented with something akin to pine and freshly cut grass. From the rough and in some cases crooked furnishing, particularly the table with and extra slab of wood beneath one leg, the boys had made a home out of nothing but materials provided by the tree itself. The bed itself was huge- bigger than three of my own side-by-side- filled with something soft, like feathers or wool, and covered with a fur so light that it might have been silk, only thicker and softer. This was to the left side of the entrance, while a large gap filled with swathes of ivy and leaves, that wound its way outside the tree and fell in a curtain over the doorway. Stacks of bowls towered haphazardly in the right corner, adjacent to the table.
"Amazing," I eventually murmured. Peter, who had left my side to rummage through a chest positioned at the end of the bed, did not reply. Out came another of the furs, and something white that I couldn't make out in the dim light of the lantern high above. The blanket was thicker than the others, and a deep, ruby red in colour. It was passed to me as though it were an everyday exchange of washing.
"Amelia, here," Peter took my hand and tugged me past a tiny swathe of pink petals. Tinkerbell's room, maybe. To the right of the enormous wooden structure of the Lost Boys' bed was one that was smaller, higher; two steps led up from the base of the tree, and moonlight touched the layer of the soft material lying atop the wood. I clutched my blanket.
"Was this Wendy's bed?" I heard myself asking. For a split-second, Peter's face became still as stone.
"Maybe. I can't remember," he repeated, floating above the bed then dropping onto it with a grin. "It's comfortable. Sleep well, Amelia Rose Darling," he smiled a weary smile, flying above me to his own shelf above the door, where soon seven naked figures with very dirty feet tottered into the room. They were closely followed by an orb of light that vanished behind the curtain of petals. Barely acknowledging me, the Lost Boys each dove into the chest, tugged on a pair of shorts each and collapsed onto the bed, with an adorable, green-eyed and caramel-haired boy smiling sleepily at me before he pulled a twine rope. The lantern above went out. I could already hear a gentle snoozing sound from beneath the furs. Fatigue washed over me almost forcefully, but it brought with it a numbness which alleviated the burning of my head.
I climbed onto the bed and found a strange white garment- a nightdress- and an image of a pretty, golden-haired child flashed in my mind's eye. Too tired to linger on the image, I removed the still damp shirt and skirt, briefly wondering why I was in my school uniform, and slid into the white cotton. It was too short, but the hazy clouds of sleep rendered that insignificant. Moonlight brushing through translucent leaves at night was so beautiful. A single star smiled at me from between the leaves. I only wished I hadn't left mother at home without saying goodbye. The last time I saw her I'd been in a rush to get to school, and I'd only had time to wave to her as she drove away. I wondered if the forecasted snow had started to fall yet. My head throbbed. The star blurred and lost its brilliance behind the closed lids of my eyes. Mother… If only I'd said goodbye…
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