Peter woke terrified. His body was covered in a sheet of cold sweat and he was severely constricted. The fabric around his body was itchy and too hot. What was this new torture device that the pirates had come up with? Surely this was one of the Captain's ideas.
How had he been knocked out? Was it poison? Or had he passed out again? Peter hadn't even spoken to Tink about all the times he'd just collapsed lately. He did feel short of breath.
Peter was about to open his eyes when he heard the sound of running from nearby. It must the crew coming to check on him. Peter stayed still and pretended to be asleep; maybe the pirates would leave him alone if he wasn't awake yet. Peter waited anxiously under the blankets and braced himself to be hit. But he wasn't. The sound of feet running soon vanished and Peter exhaled, opening his eyes. Peter screamed.
He wasn't on the Jolly Roger. He wasn't even on a ship. Heck! He wasn't even in Neverland! Last night came back with a rush to Peter, making him feel light headed. Darn those stupid fairies wiping his memory!
Someone was knocking on the door. Peter couldn't find his voice to tell them to come in. "Cccmmm nnnn," Peter growled and then winced. His throat was sore from the cold.
Mrs. Brown opened the door and rushed to his side.
"Are you alright, Peter?"
Swallowing hard and then wincing again, Peter nodded.
"You screamed?"
"Sorry. I forgot that I was here." Peter tried to smile.
Mrs. Brown touched his cheek, smiling. Her hand was like ice against his skin. Mrs. Brown's smile faded as she took her hand away.
"Do you feel okay? Sickish maybe?" Mrs. Brown asked him, putting the back of her hand against his forehead.
"My throat hurts," Peter explained, pointing to his throat with his fingers, which were slightly blue. Mrs. Brown noticed and started warming them between her hands.
"Well, come with me and let's see what I can do to help that," she smiled.
Peter got up and followed her to the kitchen, which was warmer. She got a glass and filled it up with water, and then poured something in it. Mrs. Brown handed the glass to him and directed him to the sink.
"Gargle this and then spit it out. I'll be right back," she said, leaving Peter on his own.
Peter drank the liquid and swished it around at the back of his throat. Suddenly he felt like gagging. Disgusted, Peter spat the vile substance in the sink and then washed his mouth out with the tap water.
That was grosser that accidentally eating a fish fin. It was like warm, disgusting sea water. Peter shuddered just as Mrs. Brown came back into the kitchen, holding a little glass stick. She unbuttoned his shirt and lifted his arm, placing the stick in the pit of his arm. It was cold and Peter shivered.
"This will tell if you have a fever, Peter. Try not to move it too much," she instructed. "And you need to finish gargling all of that."
Grudgingly, Peter lifted the glass to eye level. Shaking his head slightly, he drank it again, swishing it around in his mouth until it became too much.
Peter would have rather been taken captive by Hook.
Three hours later, Peter was riding in a car, on his way to the doctor. When Mrs. Brown had taken out the "thermometer," she had noticed several cuts and bruises across Peter's chest. Not to mention he had a 103 fever.
"Have you ever been to a doctor before, Peter?" Mrs. Brown asked.
Feeling a little nervous, Peter shook his head. The last doctor he could remember was a particularly nasty pirate that had a complete stock of bad jokes. He was the one who had introduced Hook to poisons. Needless to say, Peter wasn't looking forward to the event.
When they got to the office, the doctor took almost a century to get to Peter's room. When he finally did, he insisted on seeing Peter alone.
He made Peter undress and he inspected him everywhere. Finally he prescribed some medicine for fever and allowed them to escape. Mrs. Brown asked about vitamins, but the doctor said Peter was in perfect condition, besides the fever.
After they left the office, Mrs. Brown insisted on taking Peter to get some clothes for himself. Peter, of course, only wanted to be allowed to wear his animal skins, but Mrs. Brown refused.
Apparently, only savages ran around in bear skins. Peter would have informed her that he was a savage, but then he remembered that she was letting Peter live with her and her family.
So Peter tried on the thick pants and the wooly shirts; Mrs. Brown had found him some extremely soft ones that didn't scratch at Peter too badly. They bought the soft clothes and then, per Mrs. Le'Cannon's request, went to get Peter a haircut. Before the cut, his hair had been to the middle of his neck, but now Peter looked like almost every other boy in London.
He felt depressingly unordinary. As they walked back to the car, Peter saw a tiny flash of light from somewhere in the midst of a tree. Automatically, Peter ran towards the light, without even thinking to warn Mrs. Brown.
Climbing into the tree, Peter exclaimed, "Tinker Bell!" She smiled in response and then chimed out in her fairy voice.
"*Peter! You ass!*" she told him, pointing her little finger at his face. "*What did you leave without me for?*"
Peter shrugged, "I forgot, sorry. Maybe you should get your friends to fix my memories?"
Tink sat down on a branch and crossed her arms. "*You know that wasn't my fault! You're the one who populated the lagoon with fish mutants!*"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh yeah…"
"*And the pirates…*"
Peter grunted.
"*And the Indians…*"
"Alright, alright," Peter shrugged her accusations off, "I agree. Bad ideas, but the Indians weren't too horrible."
"*Once they got over the fact that they were stuck on a floating island forever,*" Tink laughed and Peter joined her.
"What on earth are you doing Peter?" called Mrs. Brown from under the tree.
"Sorry," Peter called down before whispering to Tinker Bell. "Follow me home okay?" She nodded and Peter jumped down gracefully.
"What were you doing Peter?" Mrs. Brown asked, looking up into the tree for possible answers.
"Umm…I used to sleep up there," Peter admitted. It wasn't a lie; he had slept there a couple of times. But still, Peter felt guilty.
They drove home in silence, until Peter got self-conscious about himself. Would Margret and Lucy even recognize him?
Now that he thought of it, Peter couldn't remember seeing them this morning.
"Mrs. Brown?" Peter asked.
"Yes, Peter?"
"Where were the girls this morning?"
"Margret was helping her father at work and Lucy was at school. Would you like me to enroll you?"
"No thanks!" Peter said quickly. He left Neverland to get back at the fairies, not to grow up.
Mrs. Brown chuckled to herself as they pulled up to the house.
They were barely inside when Peter saw Lucy walking around the corner. A boy was following her, trying to speak. Lucy spun around and pointed her finger at him, huffing out smoke in the cold. Peter could sense a fight coming and ran over to her.
"Hey Lucy," he said, crossing his arms at the black haired boy. "Is he bothering you?"
The boy interrupted before Lucy could answer. "Who's this Lucy? Your bodyguard?" he made a face.
Lucy narrowed her brown eyes until they were dangerous little slits.
The boy took the hint and backed up, "Aww come on, go to the dance with me!"
"Steven! It's ages away and-and-" Lucy pleaded.
"And she's going with me!" Peter finished, putting his arm around her. His fever warmed her right down.
Steven, the black-haired boy, leaned in close to Peter's face, threateningly. Peter breathed in his face, hoping to make him sick. The boy must have gotten scared because he ran off then.
"What's his problem?" Peter asked, his arm still around her.
"He's been bugging me to go to this dance with him all year. He's a real jerk, though, so I won't go with him," Lucy explained.
"Aren't you a little young for dances?" Peter asked. He was sure Wendy never went to a dance until she was twenty-one.
"This isn't the nineteenth century, Peter?"
"Right…" The customs must have changed. "So how old are you anyway?"
"Fourteen. You?"
"Umm… Fifteen… I think…" Lucy looked confused. "I'm not sure about my birthday," Peter explained.
"Oh," was all Lucy could say as they walked back to the house.
Mr. Caprein made them both some cider and they drank it in silence. Peter drank much too quickly and burned his tongue while Lucy barely sipped hers at all. The sound of music drifted into the kitchen and Lucy jumped up.
"Oh! You have to play the flute for Mother!" she insisted.
"Okay," Peter agreed as the dragged him to the music room. "Why do you call Mrs. Brown your mother?"
"Mine died when I was young and then when my brother died, I came to live with Margret and they sort of adopted me."
"How long ago was that?" Peter asked.
"About three years ago," Lucy said and Peter made a silent 'oh' with his mouth as they entered into the music room.
"Here, Peter," Lucy said as she handed him the flute. Mrs. Brown stopped her playing to watch him. They both smiled encouragingly at him as he began to play.
He closed his eyes. He felt extremely subconscious right now with both of them staring at him. He had started playing before he even noticed it. The music calmed him down and reminded him of Neverland even more. He missed everything about it.
The warmth of the sun and they way he was connected to it. The animals and the Indians. Tinker Bell would be missing him and would have to fix the hole in the roof without him. Suddenly he felt the unexplainable urge to go back. The fairies had done their job well.
Peter heard the door open downstairs as Mr. Brown and Margret arrived home and he stopped playing. His audience was too shocked to clap. Mrs. Brown's mouth was almost hanging open and Lucy looked incredibly pleased. They both shouted praises at him until an almighty sneeze shook the house, followed by Margret's "Bless you, Father!"
Mrs. Brown excused herself as she went to go see to her husband. They set in silence until Lucy begged him to play again. Peter obliged and played his oldest tune. It had a quirky, unforgettable melody that made Lucy smile. Being Peter, which includes being slightly arrogant, he began to play louder.
Suddenly, the door flung open, revealing a very upset Margret. Her face was tear streaked and her lips quivering. Peter stopped playing immediately, but she cried out.
"No Peter! Don't stop." She locked eyes with Lucy and suddenly she gasped and stared at Peter.
She looked at Margret again and said, "Are you sure it's his?"
"Positive. Just listen," she motioned for Peter to keep playing. Peter inhaled and started the song again. He doubted that they knew this song; Peter had come up with it himself. Lucy was still unsure, so Margret went over to the piano and started playing along with Peter.
Lucy's eyes widened and she ran out of the room, crying softly. Margret continued playing even though she too was crying. Peter kept playing because he didn't have anything to say.
So… cliff hanger! Hahahaha! If anyone want's to guess how they heard the song, inbox me (:
And I know that people see this story, so please review! I promise it gets more fun later(:
-Story167