Part 2

Chapter 10

Assimilation

The new boys didn't assimilate. On the contrary, the group dynamic changed to suit them. Pan's attention was distributed differently, and he even limited the places on the island we could go, saying he needed a place to get away from it all.

I too wished I could have a place to get away, but it wasn't my place to offer such a selfish suggestion.

There were fifteen of us on the island when it started, and it steadily grew as Pan's shadow would drop more boys into our camp. Boys who said they believed in Peter Pan and were miserable in their lives. Boys who needed Neverland. Eventually we grew passed thirty, causing complaints from time to time about how crowded it was getting.

As our numbers increased, it was a sort of obligation of mine to introduce the new arrivals to the island. Rufio and I, occasionally with a few of the more charismatic boys, went to the beach or the wood to explain the miracle that had just occurred.

And if they disagreed that it was a miracle Rufio always had his crossbow loaded.

It didn't happen much, most of the boys were rightfully ecstatic to be in such a place. Usually they couldn't contain themselves when we'd lead them into camp to meet Pan, thinking about all the games they'd play and all the fun they'd have.

Ironically, Pan never waited too long to assign a metier for the new arrivals. Some were required for maintenance, some served as sentries and scouts to make sure the Natives, Mermaids, and other creatures stayed in their place. Some were hunters, some were cooks. Et cetera.

As for me, I simply remained faithfully by Pan's side.

When I wasn't directly to his right, I'd teach the new arrivals how to handle clubs and spears. Hand-to-hand combat was a strength of mine, even if I was a piss poor teacher.

I don't think my teaching ever did much for them; it was all Pan. This became more and more obvious as time went on.

"Eyes up," I reminded a boy standing across from me one spring afternoon, trying to knock a blunted stave away from his hands. "You won't be a threat if you're looking at your feet."

The sweat stained boy nodded shakily, tightening his grip until his knuckles turned white over the wood.

A circle of boys surrounded us, cheering and crying out for victory for one of us. Mostly for him.

I smashed my stave downwards, almost breaking his in two, poking at his stomach, causing him to dash away, hobbling over inarticulate feet.

"Don't fumble like that," I swung at him. "Trips you."

He nodded, assuming a stance similar to mine, and the spar continued.

I poked him in his stomach; he fell back. He took a moment to get his breath back while I continued to prod as his legs, hitting under his knees. Returning to a standing position, he began whacking at my stave.

It was nothing like sparring with Pan. This boy had no skill.

I was clearly in control. The familiar adrenaline rush from fighting still overtook me, or wanted to, in my dominance. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have such blatant power over something smaller than me.

But I had a responsibility so I couldn't think about it too much or let it go to my head.

He met my stave with decent precision for my purposefully delayed attacks, hitting in the middle, and trying to sashay away from me. He'd forget to defend and I often came crashing down on the slope of his shoulder, causing a pink welt to appear on contact.

The fight took itself to the wall at the edge of the camp.

"Get up." I told him gesturing to the now sun-blanched rock wall. "I'm taller than you, use your surroundings to gain leverage."

He obliged, giving me a questioning look. I nodded, going further to instruct him how to notice weakness. To see if your opponent favors right or left and try to throw them off guard.

"Break my balance." I told him.

Although it was a simple enough instruction, he didn't seem to really get it, simply hitting my weapon over and over again.

"Hit me," I insisted, "Not the stick."

He looked panicked. "What if I hurt you?"

I half wanted to laugh, honestly doubting he could even if he tried.

Pan beat me to it, however, appearing out of thin air and leaning against a tree. "If you're worried about that, Marmaduke, how can you ever expect to go on any adventures?"

The boy - Marmaduke apparently - frowned; clearly the thought hadn't registered before.

"I need you," Pan continued, turning to the company, "All of you to be as brave and imaginative as possible. You're in Neverland, after all; you can be anything you want to be."

The boys shuffled and murmured agreement under their breaths.

"Besides," Pan pressed on, giving me a bright look. "Felix is tougher than he looks. I bet I could do anything to him and he'd barely flinch. Or maybe not."

I scolded myself inwardly for imagining a suggestive tone in his words.

Marmaduke nodded, inhaling deeply, and wielding the stick in his hands a bit tighter than before.

Leave it to Pan to provide perfect motivation.

In mere moments, Marmaduke suddenly learned combat very well, and I was on the defensive. I skittered away, careful to demonstrate the control I often bragged about. Meeting him in the midst of an attack was nothing special, he was still a novice, but I couldn't deny that he definitely seemed to have a better grasp of what he was doing.

Swift movements countered each other, I'd charge to stab his stomach, he'd slip out of the way and hit me in the back. Clever. He'd try to knock my weapon out of my hand, and I'd use the pressure against him, almost accomplishing the same task.

And so it went. The cheers from the the other boys, calling out for my defeat, almost gave me a headache, and probably would have if I wasn't so focused on knocking the stick out of the boy's hand and winning.

Yes, so Pan's presence might have been motivation for me as well.

Marmaduke swung his stave with a little more force, drawing it high to hit me on the head. I managed to quell the blow. Then low, trying at my knees. I used the stick as a shield and pushed him back.

The cheers grew louder and more annoying. They all wanted me to lose. Somewhat irksome.

He faked one way and drew his stick in the opposite direction, hitting my shoulder.

"You're learning."

He nodded at my comment, but having learned, he didn't stop swinging his makeshift weapon.

That's when the ground loosened under me. While I was off balance, Marmaduke seized the opportunity and slammed his stick on my chest with reasonable force for someone so scrawny.

With my equilibrium off, I fell to the ground, stave out of my hand. His eyes were big, breath hitching as though it was hard to believe that I'd faltered.

I was a little shocked myself.

I peered up at him from under my hood, after a moment of intimidating him with eye contact, I nodded. "Good."

He smiled broadly, holding his arms above his head in victory as the boys ran to him to show their congratulations. Pan hung back slightly, shoulders bobbing almost unnoticeable with laughter, as he offered slow and deliberate applause for the boy.

As Marmaduke accepted the hearty back-pats and congratulations from the rest of the boys, I sat up in the dirt and took a moment to take a better look at my new pupil.

He was one of the younger set, and if appearances were any indication he was twins with the boy currently ruffling his hair. Brown hair and grey eyes and a set of freckles that made him look absurd when he was focused. If he had been perhaps two years older I'd have had the grounds to call him attractive.

But, as it was he was fourteen. And it wasn't as though I was going to have sex with the boys, anyway.

Well, not the younger ones.

It was first drawn to my attention one hot afternoon, while I was sitting against the wall, tossing my club up in the air. Pan was a few paces away, watching some of the boys race up a rope.

Rufio slid down next to me, his cloak catching on the rough bark. "Want to know who's willing to fuck you?"

I blinked, eyes shifting to Pan. I lowered my voice. "No."

He ignored me. "You've got about five candidates. (Six if we can get Nibs to come out.) Oddly high for a group this size - five gay boys is over the typical number - but I suppose it makes sense that they'd feel unloved." He blanched, sensing his faux pas. "Y'know... society.."

I growled.

"Anyway, there's that one over there-"

Having quite enough, I gave him a nosebleed in attempt to put a stop to the conversation.

He frowned through the blood cascading from his nose. "Excuse me for trying to help you get off."

I paused, handing him a rag to catch the blood in. "Don't ever say that again."

"Agreed."

He shuddered, and just like brothers we were laughing then.

He might have underestimated my observational skills, but I did notice.

The issue was that out of the five, two were in the younger set, one was afraid of me, and one was simply uninteresting to an insulting degree. That left one and exclusivity made casual sex harder.

Besides, my dreams had gotten so frequent and possessing I wasn't even sure that I could get up without thinking of Pan's face anymore.

Either way, that wasn't important. The important part was that I did what Pan wanted me to. And so I trained them. Everyone from the oldest down to the boy of seven who could barely hold up a blade without tottering.

They used staves at first, just blunt cylinders to poke and prod with, and I taught them my simple technique. They'd almost immediately make it complex and artistic, causing a hot-and-cold reactions within the spars.

It didn't bother me that they deviated from my instruction so quickly; I was still doing as I was told.

And Pan seemed to reward me for it. Nothing obvious, no kind words or trophies. Just attention.

But, hell, that was worth everything wrapped up into one, wasn't it?

While the boys danced to music I couldn't hear, Pan would stand next to me, playing his flute and occasionally nudging my shoulder absently with his hip.

It numbed my mind, partially because of the contact and partially because I refused to think on the matter.

His actions towards me had changed since the group multiplied. Half the time it seemed charged with subtle innuendo that I didn't understand. Perhaps it was the fact that, because of the other boys, our time together was reduced. Perhaps I was just that starved for attention, to feel special or important.

Part of me thought I was simply reading too deep into our interactions.

If it were anybody else, his teasing would have made me angry. But with Pan? Well, his attention is valuable no matter what the motivation.

No, with Pan, it was simply a little frustrating.

But he didn't say anything about it, and so I wouldn't either.