Author's Note: I could explain where I've been, tell you a definitive schedule, all that jazz, but honestly, I'm just trying to figure it all out right now. I'll let everyone know where things are headed when I know myself. Pinky promise!
It had been so long since the last time she'd seen her best friend, Kat could barely remember what she looked like. Maybe she'd dyed her hair liked she always talked about. Maybe she'd lost that weight she always complained about. Maybe Kat had been gone for so long that, in the real world, Kayla had already grown old and died. She didn't know. Time in Neverland was tricky, one dayfeeling like a month and one week feeling like a day. For all Kat knew, everyone she ever loved was already dead!
Despite Peter's best efforts, the young woman would often lay in her hard bed softened by animal furs, clutching Kieran to her chest. He was getting older and was learning to speak, aging due to Peter's frequent visits to the mainland with him in an attempt to speed up his aging process. He would never bring Kat, nor tell her what he saw. She never dared to ask. Her sense of adventure was diminishing day by day, only ever stimulated by Peter demanding that she accompany him to see the mermaids or check on the pirates. Kat was never one to care much about pirates, so she usually passed on that, but she did enjoy seeing the mermaids. Cold and cruel, they were beautiful to watch and deadly to speak to. It was probably why whenever they tried to say anything to her, she ignored them. The mermaids didn't like her for being a female, even more so for being rude, but Kat never cared. She still liked to watch them. It was an activity that she was sure Kayla would've liked as well. Kayla had never cared what anyone said about her, a quality Kat herself half-possessed. Living with boys was doing wonders for her self-esteem.
Loneliness and cabin fever brought idle hands, and Kat frequently insisted that Peter and the boys hand over their ripped things for her to fix. She'd never been much of a seamstress, but was learning quickly.
One afternoon, Kat sat outside on one of the platforms, humming to herself as she sewed a patch onto Mory's britches. The young second-in-command had reluctantly handed over his pants to the blonde, blushing in frustration as he practically threw them at her. He, as well as most of the boys, still called her Tinkerbelle and Tink. She didn't mind too much, although was fairly certain they knew she wasn't the fairy. Peter called her by her name, which she was very happy about. It was nice to be called by her own name, lest she forget it. Nameless liked to call her Auntie, stating that it made him feel less bad about missing his aunt. In the days since her arrival, Kat had learned so much about these boys around her, including their pasts, their dreams, and even their real names (if they ever remembered).
The girl hissed as she pricked her index finger, pursing her lips in a small pout.
"Ow?" asked Kieran, looking up at her. It was his favorite word to say.
Kat nodded, leaning down to pick him up and set him on her lap. "Yup, that's right. Owwie." She held her finger up. "Kiss it better?" The boy leaned forward, pressing his lips to her finger in a sloppy, loud kiss. She laughed, then kissed his head before setting aside her sewing and standing up while securing him on her hip, his hands reaching for her tangled hair as they usually did when she held him. "Let's get something to eat." She wandered into the treehouse, calling out to see who was there. When no one answered, she shrugged and walked over to the cabinet she'd insisted Peter build her. It was about the size of a double-door refrigerator, made solely out of wood. For Kat, it served as a nice place to keep the mounds of fruit that the boys brought home for her and the baby to eat. She set Kieran into his high chair, another thing she'd forced Peter to build her.
After grabbing a bowl for herself and another for the child, the young woman filled them both with a small variety of fruit. She carried the bowls to the table, sitting next to Kieran and starting to cut up one of the strawberries. Taking a small bit, she lifted it to his mouth, smiling as he started to nibble on the red fruit. His appetite was growing as much as he was. If she remembered correctly, that was a very good thing. Then again, she wasn't completely sure. All of her knowledge of babies came from Kayla.
She froze, remembering yet again about her lost best friend. It felt like centuries since the last time they'd seen each other. She still remembered that day, albeit a little hazily. It took effort not to cry now, but when alone with Kieran at night, Kat wept. Yanked from her thoughts by the baby fussing, Kat continued her task of feeding him. Her ears perked as she heard noises on the platform, familiar voices shouting over each other. Sighing wearily, she kept feeding the boy. God knows he'll be too excited by the other boys to eat when they all clamber inside.
Peter's voice rose above all the others. "Hey, shut it!" He could be heard shoving them inside as they quieted. Kat looked up as the group of boys entered, two of them holding two bags each filled with fruit and vegetables. Striding past them, the tall redhead walked over to Kat and the latest Nameless, gently patting his head before poking Kat's forehead. "We got the stuff you asked for," he said, flying up to seat himself on the table, cross-legged.
The blonde's eyebrow quirked. "All of it? Even the broccoli?" she asked.
"Yeah, yeah. That stuff you said about us going blind and threatening to stab our eyes out yourself kinda got through to most of us." He glanced over to Mory, who stood off to the side with crossed arms. He clearly wasn't very happy about what was probably going to be for dinner.
Mory was a tall, skinny teenager, about a year or so younger than Kat, with scraggly black hair down to his shoulders and the patchy, uneven facial hair of an unkempt teen who had no idea how to shave and had no desire to learn. Like Peter, he called Kat by her given name, but considered them to be total equals. There was no respect for her age or her current profession as a foster mother. He challenged her often, refusing to eat what she made for dinner and bossing around the boys when she irritated him. She chose to take the high road and ignored him.
"Good. Now go wash up, you're all filthy. I know you like to go play with the tribe, but do you have to come back covered in mud after I've spent all day cleaning? I'm not your maid!" She wagged her finger at them, then stood upright and sighed. "but I suppose you've all been very good at keeping your spaces clean. Why don't I make us something for dessert? How does pie sound?" She laughed lightly at the delighted response, gesturing to Peter. "Gonna need a few more things."
"I'm on it, Missus." Peter grinned, floating over to her to ruffle her hair. "after dinner, let's go flying." His request was whispered, but everyone knew he was asking her to go flying again. He always did.
And Kat always nodded and said-
"Sure."
Meanwhile, back on the ship, Kayla and Philip spent every spare moment wrapped up in each other's arms. She didn't have to think about home whenever she was being held by him; her worries and troubles were long gone as he pressed his lips to her neck and ran his fingers up and down her sides and through her thick hair. Gentle sighs and quiet gasps could be heard in the medical bay late, late at night when there was no one there to interrupt or command chores be done.
Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for during the day. For reasons unknown to the new couple, the captain was getting more and more demanding of the two. He insisted that the deck be scrubbed spotless by Philip, everyone but Kayla permitted to assist. Meanwhile, she was made to stay in the medical bay, on her hands and knees as she washed every inch of the room. It had to be sterile by her own admission, but even this was overkill. All she did for hours every day was clean. Her soft hands, gradually but gently calloused by years of violin playing, were often rubbed raw and red, unused to this amount of abuse. It hurt enough to make her cry on occasion, but then Philip would kiss her palms and hold her close, whispering sweet nothings in her ear about how they were going to run away from all of this the second they touched port. It had months since the last time they were at port, however, since before Kayla had appeared on board, and there was no shortage of provisions from what she could see. Despite that, Philip's promises were enough for her tears to run dry and her smile to return.
Life with the captain wasn't as wonderful. He was rude, barging into her private cabin without invitation and refusing to allow her to use his personal library. She had taken to having Mr. Smee sneak books out, but it wasn't enough. She needed the comfort of literature for whenever Philip was busy and her loneliness began to soar, but there was nothing she could do. The captain was acting more and more erratically, and being worse and worse to her.
The brunette sighed as she sat on her stool, wrapping up a wound on one of the crew member's arms. It hadn't needed stitches, fortunately, but it wasn't a very pretty sight. A couple more applications of pumice and it would be good as new, she'd told him last week, but he didn't take good care of it. She knew she was the acting medical officer while the doctor was dying of alcohol poisoning, but she didn't know she had to be a mother too!
Her thoughts were interrupted by the door bursting open. Mr. Smee rushed in, sweat beading on his red face that had been burned by the sun. "Miss, you must return to your cabin." He urged, ushering her patient out of the door. "There's been a raid on the shore and the captain suspects that Peter Pan is on his way."
"Peter Pan?" she repeated. "The Peter Pan? Why do I have to hide inside my cabin?"
"He's dangerous, Miss."
"So am I."
"I said dangerous, not passive-aggressive."
"You know, this time in the water has made you sassy, Mr. Smee."
He waved his hands in the air. "I'm serious, Miss. You must get to your cabin. If Pan is spotted close to the ship, the captain is going to be very, very cross. He'll try to shoot him down."
She held up a finger. "Yeah, you see, I don't get that. In the book, Captain Hook hates Peter Pan because Pan chopped his hand off and fed it to the crocodile, but the captain we're dealing with has both of his hands. This can go one of two ways: one, our captain hates Pan for a different reason and the books were changed because truth in fiction is impossible, or two, Pan chopped off our captain's father's hand and that feud is still going on even after the old codfish croaked."
Mr. Smee sighed, struggling not to roll his eyes. "Okay, we don't have a lot of time, Miss. I'll talk to the captain about explaining this all to you, but you really need to go to your cabin this second."
"Fine, fine." Kayla stood up, reaching for her belt to take off the two keys she had. She held one in her hand, the other dangling, and speed-walked over to her cabin. She glanced upwards just in time to see a green and red blur in the sky, narrowing her eyes and smiling to herself. How cute, he really could fly! Now then, where's Tinkerbelle? She was never too far away. Oh, there she is! Wow, she's a little too big-
Wait.
Kayla stood completely still, face directed upwards and her jaw slacked in shock, one hand still on the handle for her cabin door. The captain walked over, boots stomping on the hard wood of the ship as he approached her.
"Hey! You're supposed to be in your cabin!" he barked, waiting for a response that didn't come. He reached and roughly grabbed her shoulder, turning her around. "What're you looking at?"
She stared at him, eyes large and filled with emotion, then caught her breath as she crumpled to the ground.
James watched her fall, falling to his knees and barely catching her before her head struck the ground. He scooped her up, lifting her up and carrying her over to his cabin. Even Philip couldn't speak as he walked inside and shut the door behind him. The blue-eyed captain lay her on his cushy bed, covering her with a thick blanket. His hand gently touched her hair, brushing a dark curl from her face as his eyes softened. She acted so strong, but had fainted twice now. Maybe she wasn't as tough as she liked to pretend.
His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet snore. He blinked, then chuckled. By the time Kayla finally began to come around, he was back on deck, barking orders as they turned the ship and started back for deeper waters. The further they were from Neverland's island, the better. At least, for now.
Author's End Note: Well, there you have it: chapter seven. I'm going to try to write the next chapter within the next few days. It might be a week until I manage to get the heck out of my block again, but I'm going to try very hard to stay true and finish this fic. Til next time, my lovelies.
