Chapter 7
Okay, so you guys are the best! Thank you so much for the reviews/follows/favourites- they all make me so happy :)
Anyway, as promised, here is the Peter/Wendy-centric chapter.
The whoops and victory cries of the Lost Boys almost drowned out the fast beating of the drums as the fire grew, the flames flickering in the colours of their success: red, orange, black, blue, white. The colours of Peter Pan's eyes when he wanted something. He wanted to take Rufio back from Captain Hook on that ship, and so, with his Shadow holding Hook still to prevent him from moving, that was exactly what he'd done. Wendy had not seen Peter fight before- and now she had, and she had never seen any like it. He moved so quickly and ferociously that surely he can't have been completely human. There were fifteen pirates on that ship, and Peter overcame each one of them with a single blow each- some with even less. By the time he reached Mister Smee, the pirate dropped Rufio on the deck and fell to his own knees, his mouth shaking too much to beg for mercy. Felix and Tootles had lifted Rufio up, and Peter had bid farewell to the defeated Captain. He transported them all back to the clearing, to commence the bonfire, and to celebrate. Rufio was on his feet already, having a grand old time with the rest of the boys around the fire. Peter, despite having called for the celebrations, was nowhere to be seen.
Wendy stood aside from the rest, still trying to process everything that had just transpired. She knew now never to be surprised by anything she witnessed in Neverland- and yet in the short space of that very day, she had been told of magical pipes, encountered a fairy named Tinkerbelle, and been offered a life of piracy by a devilishly handsome man with a hook on one hand- only to be stolen back away by the boy who wanted to get rid of her so desperately. If she was back with Ty, she thought, this was the kind of day she would end with a drink or two. Or three.
"Won't you come join the party, Wendy?" Rufio called, beckoning her over. He grinned. "Tootles told me how you tried to bargain with Hook to save me."
Tootles blushed, nodding. "That was…brave of you," he stammered. "Thanks."
"What can I say? I love threatening pirates," she smiled back at them, too exhausted to make it a very wide one. "But it was Peter who got you back."
Tootles and Rufio shared a look, and Wendy frowned.
"What is it?" she demanded. "You're both looking at each other like you're thinking the same thing- what?"
"Nothing, Wendy," Tootles said. "I just… Peter hasn't been that angry in a long time."
"Well, I imagine, when one's Lost Boy is kidnapped, one has cause to be angry," Wendy shrugged.
Rufio hesitated, shaking his head. "No, Wendy-lady. You don't understand. This isn't the first time one of us has been taken by the pirates. Or anyone, really. Usually he talks to Hook- comes to an understanding."
"He let Hook keep one of us, once!" Tootles blurted out, and Rufio brought his fingers to his lips warningly, indicating that they should lower their voices.
Wendy was stunned. "He let Hook keep one of you?" she whispered. "But why-"
"Wendy." It was Felix. He had noticed the trio huddled beside the party, and approached them quietly until he was directly behind her. Wendy turned around, and for the first time since she'd arrived, she saw Felix had his hood down, allowing her to properly see his face. His hair was blond and messy, he had a scar across his cheek, and his lips were twisted into what almost looked like a smile. He extended his hand to her unexpectedly, and she just stared at it for a moment, confused until he elaborated. "Care to properly join the celebrations and dance with me?"
"You want to dance with me?" she said suspiciously. She wasn't an idiot- and she certainly hadn't missed the poison looks he had been giving her since she'd arrived. If he wanted to dance, she knew, it would be more of a dance contest than a duet.
"It occurred to me that we might have gotten off on the wrong foot," he said, the attempt at a smile still there. "You were brave tonight. The Lost Ones value bravery. So yes, I think you should dance with me."
"That's kind of you," Wendy wasn't buying it- but she saw no need to say it. "But I'm afraid I don't know how to dance." She glanced him up and down and smirked. "Unless of course, you're talking about a different kind of dancing."
"Dance with me," Daniel had said, but the curl of his lip, and his hands all over her, said something else.
She had quickly discovered that every dance could be mastered. Every dance must be led. And if she could only ensure that she was that master, that leader- well, then she could control her partner perfectly.
Felix, not as oblivious as she had taken him for, turned red, his smile vanishing. "I don't know what you're referring to. But what kind of girl doesn't know how to dance?"
"I think, Felix, the question we should be asking, is what kind of girl wants to be a pirate?" Peter was back- and wearing a loose white tunic instead of his usual attire. The weapons he usually carried were no longer jammed across his belt- not that he needed them when he had his magic. It was the scowl he was wearing that Wendy found herself most concerned about.
"The kind of girl who appreciates leather-bound honour."
"And yet you saw that pirate take Rufio, like a coward," he said.
"He would have let him go."
"No," Peter shook his head. "He would not have let him go, Wendy. He would have traded him. Tell me, what is so honourable about that?"
Wendy just shook her head. "Everything is honourable about being given the choice."
A shadow fell over Peter's face as he stepped towards her, but instead of arguing, he reached his hand out towards her.
"I think it's time somebody taught you how to dance," he said, and he led her closer to the fire, turning to face her. "Put your hand on my shoulder."
"What?"
"Left or right, either will do," he added impatiently. She paused for a moment before rolling her eyes and doing as he asked.
"And the other hand?" She asked, humouring him.
His right hand found her left one, and his fingers slipped through hers. "Just like this," he murmured. The boys were dancing around them, not paying much attention. They were too caught up in their own rhythms.
"Are you sure this is how it goes?" Wendy half-joked. "It seems none of the others are dancing quite like this."
"Are you going to listen to me, Wendy Darling?" he said, not paying her question any mind. "I'm going to need you to step a bit closer."
"That's what they all say," she said, slightly uneasy- not because she was uncomfortable with their proximity, but because this was Peter Pan. And, while he was by no means being kind, or, god forbid, romantic, he was not being horrible- and that made her more apprehensive than anything else.
He sighed, placing his free hand on her waist and shifting her closer when she didn't move.
"Step back with your right foot, then to the side with your left," he said. She tilted her head, letting him know that she was confused by the whole thing, but she did as he said, nevertheless. With every step she took backwards, he would step forwards. She was so taken aback by it that she almost stumbled a few times, but he would tighten his grip on her waist, stopping her from properly tripping over. The whole time, he would not stop looking at her- and while, from a distance, she was able to smirk to herself, glad for his attention, up this close, she found she was unable to feel so smug- even unable to look at him. Her eyes darted from side to side, as they passed different boys, circling around the fire. She looked at her feet, and his. Anything but his eyes.
Suddenly, the pressure of his hand on her waist was gone, and she thought perhaps that he meant to trip her over, but instead, he raised their joined hands, spinning her under them. The sudden movement made her propel forwards, and her free hand ended up against his chest, keeping her steady.
He very nearly smiled. "Almost. Hand on the shoulder." She scowled, returning her hand to his shoulder with more force than entirely necessary. "Better," he said, undeterred. "Do you really not know how to dance, Wendy Darling?" There were tiny flames in his eyes, reflections of the fire that warmed her skin as they danced closer.
"I'm surprised that you do," she replied. "And I thought I told you not to call me Darling."
"You did," he admitted. "You did not tell me why. Is Darling not a term of endearment?"
"It is," Wendy said. "And terms of endearment are patronising. I do not wish to be patronised by you."
"By me?" he noted her choice of words. "Would it be alright to be patronised by somebody else?"
"Of course not."
"And yet you specified that I should not call you Darling," he mused.
Wendy sighed. "Interpret what you will, Peter. My name is Wendy, and I wish to be called it."
"Very well," he spun her again, and this time she spun so quickly that the fire and the boys and Peter all blended together in her eyes, her dizziness making her breathless. "Wendy." His lips were very close to her ears when he said her name, voice slow and steady. Then he drew back, his eyes narrowed as though something had displeased him.
"What is it this time?" she said, although she did not much care.
"You're bleeding," he noted, and she glanced at her arms, realising that he was right. Some of the wounds from the blood-sucking leeches that had attacked her earlier had begun to bleed again, scarlet drops making a trail down her arm.
"Whose fault is that?" she said accusingly, knowing full well that he was about to make some proud comment about how brilliant his plan to lure her into that retched leech-infested lagoon was. But, as it happens, that was not what he did. Instead, the troubled look did not go away, and he raised his hand from her skin so that his fingers just barely skimmed the surface of her arms, following the trail all the way down her arm. Her gaze followed it too, and she gasped out loud at what she saw. As his fingers passed by, the wounds would heal- so quickly that it was like they weren't there to begin with. Their faint stinging was gone, and even the blood that they left disappeared under his hands.
"You…" she didn't quite know what to say. Something nice, probably- but that was never going to happen, and so she settled for something sarcastic instead. "Using magic to heal your opponents? Gosh, Peter, you're on the verge of winning our bet. Really, you're coming across as quite terrifying over here."
"The parasites didn't succeed in scaring you- there's no need for the wounds to remain. Ugly, you know." He said stiffly.
"As is Rufio's shirt," she gestured at her excuse for a dress. "But I don't suppose you can magic up a real dress."
Peter just raised his eyebrows at her.
"Seriously? And yet you've made me borrow shirts from your friends-"
"I did offer you my own assistance, if you recall," he reminded her, laughing at her as she glared at him.
"Come on- you get a change of clothes for tonight, and I don't? That's not fair, Peter."
"And we all know how much you value 'fairness'," he said, mouth forming a hard line as he alluded the events earlier on the pirate ship. Albeit reluctantly, he raised his free hand over her, closing his eyes. Sure enough, when she looked down, Rufio's shirt was gone in favour of a dark green dress- much like Tinkerbelle's. It was tight and a little itchy, but it was clean and new, and completely took her by surprise. Now, she thought, was definitely the time to thank him. It was only right.
And yet,
"Careful Peter. I'm starting to think you're going soft."
Well. Close enough.
"You're thinking whatever I want you to think," he corrected her, and for a moment she worried that perhaps she was. He drew her back towards him then, returning his hand to her waist. He glanced over her new attire for a moment- but it was a moment that did not go unseen by Wendy.
"Better?"
"I don't see why I must have an opinion," he answered curtly, looking away hastily. Wendy chuckled, but when he asked why, she just shook her head, letting it go.
"You do not think yourself important," he said suddenly, and she was surprised enough by his words that she looked directly at him as they began to move again. She wondered if the Lost Boys were listening to their conversation- but then, she did not really care regardless.
"What?"
"You do not think yourself important," he repeated. "That is why you wanted me to shoot the arrow at you. It's why you were reckless enough to bargain with Captain Hook."
She pursed her lips for a moment, quiet. Then, "are you asking me, or are you telling me?"
"I am asking you to confirm or deny a statement."
"Deny." She said simply, and she spun under his arm, pulling back to him automatically, hand falling onto his back. She could feel his breath on her neck, and it was warm- although perhaps it was the heat of the fire that she felt instead. She was quite dizzy still, and was not quite sure of anything that she was feeling.
"Oh?" he said. "Then tell me. Why."
"I think myself mortal," she told him, after deciding not to lie through her teeth. "I think that there are so many ways for one to die, every day, and what is the point of living if you are forever afraid of dying? I want to have fun in life and in death. So you see," she was closer to him now than she had ever been before, "I adored being shot at by you. And I adored the thought of becoming a pirate today. Just as I adored playing the same games in my world. Standing in front of a train- standing for longer than all the others. To die would be an awfully big adventure, you see." She knew that perhaps, in order for her plan to properly work, she should not have told him as much as she did- but then she saw his face, and she realised that it was working as well as she could have hoped, for he was looking at her the way she was sure she had looked at the mermaids the first time she had ever seen them- the terrifying creatures that called out to her. Honesty- that was Peter Pan's mermaid- beckoning him out towards her, making him wonder.
"If you think yourself mortal," he said unevenly, "then why come to Neverland?"
Wendy did not answer. At this point, she was so tired and giddy that she did not know where the drumming was coming from- nor the whooping cheers that echoed around her, nor the warm hand on her waist.
She closed her eyes for a moment, but it only took a moment for her body to stop whirling. She blinked at Peter, wondering what he was doing as he reached behind him, and she flinched, readying herself to leap out of the way of another arrow, or a trap- some means of scaring her. Instead, he retrieved his pipes. She stepped back and watched him, waiting as he raised the pipes to his lips.
Then something most fascinating happened. The moment he blew into the delicate instrument, the Lost Boys each let out a wild exclamation, a sigh, a whoop of laughter- and they began to dance in circles, faster and with more enthusiasm than they had before, never stopping, growing faster and faster as Peter played more. And yet Wendy, for all she strained her ears, could hear nothing of the sort.
But the drums were still beating, and the boys' energy was contagious, and so she allowed herself to be swept away in the crowd, Rufio clutching one hand and Tootles holding the other as they pranced in a circle, each person to a different song- Wendy to no music at all. They pranced and sung and laughed for the longest of times.
Later, just before she closed her eyes, the drumming stopped. The hand was back on her waist. It laid her down to sleep, and she did so peacefully. For the first time in a long time.
Ta-daa! Please do let me know what you thought of this chapter by leaving a review? I would appreciate it so much :)
