A/N: AHHH YOU GUYS ARE SO AWESOME! Never in a million years did I think that people would actually like something I wrote, so this means so, so much to me. I'm sorry if this chapter is a little shorter than normal (I honestly have no idea whether it actually is or not) but I am practically falling asleep right now, so I decided to just keep this one short and sweet.
Also, this chapter has a tad bit of gore in it again, and the italicized text later on indicates a memory.
Please continue to let me know what you think! And thanks for following, favoriting, and/or subscribing! :)
-Chapter 10-
-Peter-
Peter could have watched Faith's soft form sleep for hours. Her deep breaths filled the sound of the room, and occasionally, her lips would twitch in her sleep and she would mutter softly. He loved the way her skin felt, so soft and smooth. He could feel the fine hairs across the skin on her stomach. His lips rested against her neck, feeling the sensitive skin there, and he resisted the urge to bite a mark on the unblemished flesh. It seemed as though Peter was resisting a lot of things these days.
He had never felt this way about a girl before, not even in his previous realm (his other life, he liked to call it). Sure he'd been with his share of women, but none of them had left any real impact on his life. He was afraid of commitment, but even more so afraid of rejection. Peter was afraid to lay his ugly heart on the line and have a sweet, innocent girl like Faith see that ugliness, and stomp on it.
Bloody coward. The dark voice in his head echoed. He hated that voice, but fucking hell was it always right. Sometimes Peter thougth it was the voice of the shadow, still bound to him by magic. He had after all used magic to remove his shadow; perhaps this was the draw. Or perhaps he just loathed himself that much.
Peter was roused from his thoughts by a harsh chuckle, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He whipped his head up, looking around the small tree house, his eyes finally setting on the dark corner where the bookshelf stood. Those damn purple eyes.
"You know, I had a suspicion that you were growing soft, Peter, but this? This is far worse than I could've imagined," His shadow sneered at him sarcastically. Peter felt a hot rage seep throughout his body, and he slowly untangled himself from the sleeping girl to face his shadow.
"Shut the fuck up," Peter spat bitterly at his shadow.
"Tsk, tsk, vulgarity will get you no where," it chastised the teen, making his jaw grind together.
"Was there any particular reason you've been watching me? And I don't just mean now, I mean for the past week. Don't think I haven't noticed," the surly boy asked his shadow darkly. The shadow smiled before answering.
"I just thought I'd see how everyone was adjusting to...recent events," The dark form emphasized, gesturing towards Faith as he did so.
"You're a bloody liar," Peter snarled, not quite believing the answer he received.
"Would I lie to you, Peter?" the shadow asked rhetorically. A tense moment passed between the two, neither daring to say a word. Finally, the shadow sighed dramatically and shook his head.
"I just thought you were better than this, Pan. I thought we were better than this."
"What the hell are you on about?" Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was this stupid shadow always so vague.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You have feelings for the girl," the shadow hissed, losing all pretense of sarcastic politeness.
"I...don't, I mean, I never said-" Peter stuttered pathetically. He still didn't want to admit it.
"Oh, please, even a blind hag could tell how you feel. The way you look at her. The way you speak to her. It sickens me," his shadow was practically spitting the words by now.
"You're seeming to forget your place," Peter uttered dangerously, his eyes dancing with rage. Any normal being would have probably taken cover at this point, but Peter's shadow just scoffed derisively.
"And you seem to forget yours. You're Peter Pan. Owner of Neverland. Ruthless, heartless, and unwilling to relent. Reduced to a sniveling mess by a mere mortal girl," the shadow was circling him by now, spitting the words at him. Peter's fists were clenched so hard that he began to draw blood in his palms; if he ground his jaw any harder, it would probably crack.
"Watch your fucking tone, I swear to the gods," Peter warned, his tone barely above a whisper.
"I thought we agreed that love makes you weak. Love stomps all power away from the glorious. Love makes you, might I say-"
"Don't you fucking dare," Peter cut the shadow off, feeling his rage begin to settle deep in his heart, now icing his veins. Had the shadow not been so hellbent on taunting Peter, it would have noticed the dark, swirling magic floating around Peter's hands. And if Peter hadn't been so busy listening, he might've, as well.
"-A coward." The shadow finished, stopping inches away from Peter's face with a frightening smile. That was it; Peter lost it. The dark mist around his hands erupted and beamed towards the shadow, knocking it back against the wall. It convulsed madly, screaming in agony.
"I. AM NOT. A COWARD." Peter thundered, emphasizing each word with another painful surge of magic towards the dark being. It flopped around madly, positively shrieking by now, only fueling Peter's mad desire to cause it pain. He had never felt so alive, so powerful.
Finally, Peter forced himself to stop, almost becoming overwhelmed at the sense of dark power he had received. The shadow slumped to the floor, gasping loudly. Peter stared his shadow down with the most malicious look.
"Do remember your place, shadow," it was Peter's turn to spit viciously. The shadow flicked its menacing purple eyes towards the towering teen's face before he slipped out the window, as if he had never been there.
Peter stood staring at the spot where his shadow had just been, trying to comprehend what had just happened. In all of his time at Neverland (a funny saying it was: time in Neverland), Peter had never felt that sort of magic before. He had also never been able to use magic against his own shadow like that. Lost Boys cowered in fear at his magic hands, but his own shadow could only be tamed using fire.
"Peter?" a soft voice sounded from behind him, making him nearly jump out of his skin. He had forgotten she had been there. The slight note of fear in her voice made Peter cringe with guilt. He almost didn't want to turn around a face her, but he made himself.
Faith was staring at him wide-eyed, a terrified look in her eyes. She was sitting up on the bed now, blankets drawn to her chest, and breathing heavily. Part of him wanted to reach out and comfort her, but the voice in his head protested. No, Peter! She makes you weak.
Instead, he gave her a cold look before saying, "What the hell are you looking at?" and vanished into thin air.
(Felix)
Felix was roused from his sleep by the sound of a commotion coming from Peter's tree house. At first he tried to ignore it, his exhausted brain rationalizing that Peter could probably handle it, but the noise became too much. Opening his eyes, he stifled a yawn and looked out of the flap of his tent. With surprise, Felix noted there was a strange, yet brilliant glow of purple coming from Peter's tree house. He made to go towards his friend's dwelling, but was stopped cold by the tone in Peter's voice; he knew better than to interfere when Peter sounded like that.
Felix sat down by the dying embers of the fire, trying to ignore the commotion, knowing that Peter would find him when he was ready. His mind wandered to Faith, and the look of absolute pain in her eyes, so familiar to him. His heart had ached as he had watched her struggle from the corner of the room; it was like reliving a personal hell.
In every way, Faith reminded him of his sister. His sweet, innocent sister. She hadn't been older than fourteen when she was taken from him so cruelly. Sometimes when he couldn't sleep, Felix remembered the entire scene vividly, as if experiencing the trauma all over again.
His father had been piss drunk as usual, the alcohol seeping from every pore in his thick body. He was hardly understandable as he ranted about something else that had pissed him off. Suddenly, Felix's father had turned on Melindre with a cold rage in his eyes.
"And you 'lil slut," he pointed accusingly at Felix's sister. Felix felt a confused rage roar through him; what the hell was his father talking about.
"Father, I-" Melindre had begun to say, but their father silenced her with a sloppy sweep of his arm.
"Save your words, whore. I know you've been sneakin' around with the farmer's 'lil bastard! How many times has he used your disgusting body? You make me sick," the older man slurred angrily, coming closer and closer to where Felix and his sister stood. He heard a sob break out from Melindre, and saw tears began to leak onto her face. Felix snapped; enough was enough.
"Don't talk to her like that!" Felix yelled at the inebriated mess of his father. The man furrowed his brow and bared his teeth, grabbing his knife from his belt and wobbling closer.
"What did you say to me, boy?"
"You heard me. Father. Or has the drink slowed your brain even more than usual?" Felix snapped, his fists clenched into tight balls.
"Don't you speak to me like that boy," his father roared, continuing to advance.
"Or what, old man? You'll threaten me to death?" Felix challenged boldly, fed up with his father's shit.
At this the man snarled savagely before advancing surprisingly fast for somebody drunk off their ass. His knife was held before him, aiming straight for Felix's heart.
"No!" Felix heard a shout erupt from his sister's mouth, and before he could react, Melindre had jumped in front of him, the knife sinking deeply into her chest. The young girl fell to the ground in a heap, blood already leaking onto the floors.
"You fucking bastard!" Felix screamed in fury, launching himself at his drunken father, both of them tumbling to the ground in a heap.
Felix scratched, and pounded at his father's face, ignoring the older man's screams as he rained blows upon him. Felix picked up his father's walking stick that was lying next to them, and brought it down over the man's head again and again, until blood was pouring from every orifice of his father's face. He bashed until he could no longer recognize the disgusting, drunken features, finally throwing down the staff when the man had stopped fighting back.
Felix realized with a slight chill that the older man was painfully still, but he then found that he didn't really care. He instead turned his attention to the crumpled pile that was Melindre a few feet away. Felix picked up her weak body and cradled it in his arms. Melindre coughed violently, flecks of blood flying across her mouth. She looked so small and vulnerable right now. With a weak smile, she looked up at Felix.
"Stay strong, Felix. You can only have faith that one day things will get better," Melindre said to him solemnly, before closing her eyes for the last time.
"No, no, no, NO!," the blond boy screamed in disbelief, as her body shuddered and stilled. He cradled her in his arms, rocking her back and forth and sobbing morosely. He had never cried so much in his life, and he never would again.
When the morning sun rose again, Felix felt different; he felt numb. It was as if he had spent all of his emotions the previous night, and he just didn't care anymore.
He dug a grave for his sister, placing her in it softly and kissing her forehead one last time. He took his time covering her, knowing he had nowhere to go, and nobody to be with; nobody to live for anymore. When he was done, he outlined the newly tilled earth with the seashells they had collected together, and placed a single daisy in the center; her favorite flower.
As for his father, he simply spat on the corpse and left it to rot. Let the crows feast on his pathetic flesh. Felix had thought bitterly.
Having nowhere to go, Felix wandered the surrounding forest, completely empty inside. And that night was the very first night he had heard the sound of the flute.
Felix hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep until he felt a foot nudging insistingly in his back. He sat up groggily, hair mussed up and body stiff from sleeping on the hard ground.
"Ehwhat?" he mumbled sleepily, eyes blinking furiously. It was still night, that much he could determine, and when his head finally cleared, he saw the lanky form of his leader standing behind him with a grim look on his face.
"Everything alright, Peter?" Felix asked cautiously, sitting on the log behind him. Peter sighed and sat down next to him.
"Peachy," his friend replied. Peter didn't elaborate further, and Felix didn't ask any questions. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, each staring at the smoldering embers of the once roaring fire pit.
"I'm going to be gone for a little while, so you'll be in charge. You'll also need to take care of the girl. Clean and dress her bandages twice a day," Peter commanded suddenly, his voice lacking any detectable emotion.
"Where are you going?" Felix asked slowly, hoping it wouldn't irritate his leader. But, Peter just sighed again before answering.
"I need to figure some things out," he replied simply. "If her condition gets worse, call Tinkerbell; she'll help. And don't go looking for me. If I see another soul while I'm gone I'll lose my shit."
The two exchanged a knowing glance before Peter suddenly disappeared, leaving Felix sitting on the log in a slight daze. So many questions were running through his mind. For example, what the hell had happened in the tree house? And why was Peter refusing to refer to Faith by her name? And what the ever living fuck did he need to figure out? Felix knew better than to seek the answers to these questions, but they still echoed curiously in his mind.
Felix made himself rise from his seat, shaking the swirling questions from his mind. Instead, he focused on rebuilding the fire, knowing he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep again.
After an hour of searching for usable timber, and after a few tries, Felix got the fire roaring merrily again. With a sigh, he lay on his back, staring up at the sky. It was already beginning to lighten, the stars disappearing as a new day made it's appearance.
~Faith~
When Faith first woke up, all she heard was terrifying shrieks of pain, and saw a dark purple light being reflected around the tiny room. Wincing slightly, she sat up, looking around and stopping cold when she saw Peter standing near the corner.
His back was to her, but Faith had no doubt that the expression he wore was deadly. But that wasn't the thing that scared her. It was the dark black mist erupting from his hands with such a force, it was no wonder he hadn't fallen over. The screams were coming from Peter's shadow, contorted violently against the wall, its purple eyes glowing madly. She heard Peter scream something, but she didn't absorb what it was, she was too busy focusing on the dark magic surrounding him.
Suddenly, just as soon as it had started, Peter stopped, and muttered something to his shadow, who took off like a flash. Faith sat in stunned silence, not sure what the hell had just happened. Why was he attacking his own shadow like that? And why had that dark substance made Faith violently nauseous.
"Peter?" Faith softly blurted out before she could stop herself. She wanted to see his face, hoping he would give her that easy smirk and proclaim the incident as a joke. But when the teen slowly turned to face her, Faith felt a soft gasp slip from her lips.
She had never seen such a look of cold rage and power on a person before, and that alone terrified her. This could not have been the same person who had cuddled her to sleep, who had kissed away her tears and told her it would all be okay.
"What the hell are you looking at?" she heard Peter snap at her, looking at her so coldly it almost stopped her heart. And just like that he was gone, as if he had never been there.
Tears pricked at Faith's eyes as she dried to decipher his words. What had made him snap like that? And why was Peter taking it out on her? What had she ever done to him?
Faith forced herself to lay back on her side, feeling a sharp pain every time she drew a breath. She missed Peter's warmth against her, and his soothing words being muttered in to her neck. Even though she was afraid of the contact, she found herself craving it, and wished more then ever that she could feel his body against hers again.
Faith drifted off into a reluctant sleep, having nightmares about giant shadowy numbers chasing her, while Peter egged them on.