TW: Discussions of abuse


Peter arrived early the morning after he and Wendy had agreed that Gavin would stay with her indefinitely. Wendy was still asleep in his cot and Gavin was curled up in her bed. Working his magic, he carved a set of stairs leading up to another level of the tree, opening at the side of Wendy's bed. Clambering up, he then made a room with large windows. He added a child's bed, drawers, a desk, a rocking chair and any other manner of things he could think of. As he worked, he tried not to think about why he was doing any of this. He simply let the compulsion guide him.

When he came back down the stairs, Wendy had gotten up. She propped herself up on her elbows in bed and gave him a cautious look, but not her usual glare. It seemed as if a spell had fallen over her and her animosity towards him had dissipated over the last week. She seemed almost content. He reminded himself that had he not kept her on this island, she might have been a mother by now with children even older than Gavin. Perhaps, she was getting a small taste of motherhood now.

She slid out of bed and followed him up the stairs as he silently showed her the room he had made. When she turned to look at him, her face was indecipherable. She furrowed her eyebrows, considering him silently for a moment. He worried that if she began to prod him for answers, he might have to come up with one. He was relieved when she said nothing.

When Gavin awoke, Wendy had breakfast already made and the three shared the meal together. Over the course of the meal, Wendy snuck him glances, looking at him as if he were the indecipherable one. After cleaning up, they showed Gavin the room. He excitedly raced over to the bed then the chairs then the drawers then to the chest full of toys. He pulled out the toys and turned to Peter, "Come join me!" Pulled forward by the boy, he joined him on the floor and played for what seemed like hours.

Peter couldn't explain it. The warmth he felt towards the boy or the… joy it gave him to see the boy safe and warm and happy. Perhaps it reminded him of when he was human. Gavin was having a much better childhood than he had ever had. Perhaps he wanted to experience that childhood? Peter brushed off the thought. He had not grown up. He did whatever he wanted when he wanted. He left the question of why he spent time with Gavin hanging in the back of his head. Did it really matter why he did any of this? He had no one to answer to. He could do as he liked. He was king, after all.

Soon, the days that he spent with Gavin and Wendy turned into weeks which in turn became months. Before he knew it, they had fallen into a routine. He went about his business during the day, and in the late afternoon would come to Wendy's treehouse. There he would play with Gavin until supper and then help him into bed and stay for some bedtime stories. He sat next to the bed as Gavin cuddled up to Wendy. When Gavin was particularly persistent, he would acquiesce and read a bedtime story or two while Wendy listened. When Gavin fell asleep, he would drink a silent cup of tea with Wendy before heading out. He found, to his great dismay, that he began looking forward to his time with Gavin and Wendy at the end of the day. When he took trips to other universes to recruit, his mind often turned towards the two of them. He wondered what they were doing without him, what stories they might read…. if they missed him (though, he certainly did not miss them).

One night, as he and Felix were packing up after a recruiting mission, Felix craned his neck over and saw the story books Peter had brought back for Gavin. The blond boy narrowed his eyes. "What's that for?" When Peter gave him an answer, Felix frowned. "That's weak."

Peter went stiff and cold. "What did you say?" Felix was the closest thing he had to a friend, but he was still a subordinate. No one questioned the king.

Felix turned back to him, chin tilted up defiantly. "I say this with all due respect, you're too soft on them."

"I don't find that very respectful," Peter bit back. "I'm king. I run the island how I see fit."

"The Boys are still upset you let him live," Felix said. "There are rumblings."

Peter waved his hand. "Let them rumble."

"It's not just that you spared his life. Now, he gets to live with Wendy and gets special attention from you," he explained. "Aren't all the Lost Boys equal?"

"Everyone gets what they need. Gavin gets what he needs."

"You should stop listening to Wendy. He'd be fine if you let him back."

Peter gave him a sharp look. "Aren't there rumblings? How would he be fine?"

"Lost Boys are supposed to fend for themselves," Felix said.

"Am I not the one fending for them? I give them a home, eternal life, food, shelter. All the things a boy could want," Peter said. "You're on thin ice." He paused and looked at his friend, who still stared at him with steely eyes. It was clear that Felix would not back down on this. "You question my decision about this, you question me. Do you question me?"

Felix, above all else, was loyal to Peter and he knew this. He may have had his objections, but Felix would not cross him. At least, he thought he wouldn't.

"I question that human bitch," Felix spat. Ah yes, Felix's jealousy of Wendy. It had been a sore spot ever since she had dropped out of the sky. "She's a prisoner here. She shouldn't be calling the shots."

"Just because I sided with her does not mean she is calling the shots. Are you questioning my hold on this island? Are you questioning me?" Peter demanded, repeating his earlier question. He gave Felix his most fear-inducing look and hoped the boy would back down. No one questioned his authority. Peter was king and that was that. "Answer me."

Felix lowered his eyes, the fight over. "No, King. I'm not."

"Good." He paused and gave another glower for good measure. "I don't want to hear another word of this. If I do, I'll consider it treason." Treason meant he would kill Felix. Although Felix was indeed dear to Peter, nothing was more dear to him than his power. He would protect that above all else.

When he arrived later that night with a bundle of books in his pack, he went straight to Wendy's instead of to his rooms. It was nearing Gavin's bedtime and he wondered if the boy would be up. He had still not worked out why he enjoyed spending time with Gavin, but he had come to the conclusion that it was more than just regaining his childhood. After all, he had an infinite childhood; he was the immortal boy king. It wasn't just that spending time with Gavin was fun. The emotion that spread through his chest when he thought of Gavin (and even, Wendy) safe and happy in the treehouse was fierce and warm. It was something that he almost couldn't contain at times. It was something that he wished someone had felt for him. Perhaps his mother had, all those centuries ago.

He couldn't name this feel. Nor did he want to name it.

Nevertheless, it spread through his chest as he climbed the stairs two at a time. When he opened the door, there was a scrambling of feet and then Gavin was running at him full force. The boy wrapped his arms around Peter's legs and looked up at him with a smile that was missing two front teeth. His blond bird's nest had been lovingly washed and combed and he wore fine pyjamas. Peter's chest was about to burst.

"I missed you!" the child exclaimed, beaming. Peter had the sudden urge to pick the child up and give him a hug. He resisted, however. He patted Gavin on the head and attempted to pry his arms off of him.

He looked over to Wendy. She sat at the kitchen table with a look of disappointment, different from her usual look of general disapproval. He wondered momentarily if she felt the same way about the boy as he did. He wondered if she had been able to name the feeling.

"He's not in bed," he said, still trying to pry Gavin from him. The boy was relentless. After a couple of moments, he gave up and let the child cling to his leg as he walked over to the table and sat down. The child squealed with glee as Peter walked and he found himself laughing along. Even Wendy gave a smile, not even a half-hearted one.

"Gavin wanted to wait up for you," she told him.

"I see no Gavin," he told her. "Only this strange monkey on my leg." Gavin laughed uproariously.

"I'm no monkey! I'm Gavin," he cried gleefully.

Wendy played along. "I don't know where he's gone off to. And I don't know how this monkey got in here." She threw up her hands in mock exasperation. "I don't know what to do!"

"I'm here! I'm here!" Gavin cried, still clinging to Peter's leg.

"Only monkeys climb on people's legs, not little boys," Wendy said, beaming.

Peter nodded. That feeling in his chest had spread to his entire body. "And I can't give gifts to monkeys, only to Gavin. What should I do?"

Wendy shrugged and tapped her finger on her chin. "Maybe give the gifts back. Or shall we keep them for ourselves since we can't find Gavin?" He could barely hear her over Gavin's shrieks of laugher.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. I like gifts for myself," Peter agreed.

Finally, Gavin let go of Peter's leg and jumped up. "I'm here! I'm a boy! Not a monkey!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, thank God!" Wendy said. "I thought we'd never find you."

"Gavin, you should have seen. There was a monkey in here!"

"No! That was me!" the child laughed. He then hopped onto Peter's lap without any hesitation. Peter looked to Wendy for a moment, bewildered. She gave him a wary glance, on the edge of disappointment. Peter instead let Gavin sit on his lap. "May I see the gifts, please?"

"Good manners," said Wendy. She brushed a lock of Gavin's hair back. He beamed at her and she smiled a warm smile that Peter had never seen before. Peter concluded that she most definitely the same way as he did.

Peter put his bag on the table and pulled out the package of books. He passed it to Gavin, who clumsily opened it. As he pushed back the wrapping, he exclaimed, looking at the ornately decorated books of fairy tales and bedtime stories. Peter had sought out the finest books he could find and spent a great deal of money on them. As Gavin leafed through the pages of a book, the pictures shone in the warm light of the treehouse. The colours glowed in the dim light of the treehouse. Gavin's small, chubby hands touched the pages lightly, as if the book was fragile and might break if it were handled wrong.

Peter stole a glance at Wendy. She no longer had the look of disappointment on her face. Instead, she looked at him, a bit wary, but perhaps, in awe. Now, would have been the usual time for a snarky comment, but he refrained.

"Thank you, Peter," Gavin said, turning his head to look at him. He leaned his head against Peter's chest. Peter closed his eyes and couldn't contained the warmth anymore. He gave Gavin a hug back.

"You're welcome," he said. "I hope you'll enjoy them."

Gavin paused for a moment and looked over to Wendy. "Can he read a story tonight?" Story reading was usually Wendy's job and she did a fairly good job at it. Peter enjoyed listening.

Wendy smiled. "You'll have to ask him."

Gavin turned to Peter. "Will you?"

Gavin didn't need to pester this time around. Peter nodded. "I suppose I can."

They all made their way up the stairs to Gavin's room. Tonight, as Gavin settled in his bed, Peter was the one to sit on the bed with him, his arms around the child and Wendy watching from the rocking chair. He read a story about a princess who saved her eleven brothers after they had all been turned into swans by an evil queen. The room was warm and cozy as Peter's voice filled it. Gavin's eyes were wide at the start, in awe of the colours and pictures that seemed to jump off the page. He asked questions and wondered at the illustrations, but as the story continued, the comments became less frequent. By the end of the story, the boy was soundly asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly.

Peter carefully disentangled himself from the child and crept down the stairs behind Wendy. Wordlessly, she made them each a cup of tea and they sat at her kitchen table silently. He felt her eyes on him and he looked up to meet her quizzical stare.

"What?" he asked.

She tilted her head, considering him skeptically. She looked at him as if he were a puzzle. "I shouldn't ask."

"Then don't."

He let the silence fall for a few more minutes. He, too, had formed a question in his mind and he also wondered if he should dare to ask it.

"Do you think this is how your parents felt?" he asked. He couldn't bare to look at her. He stared dutifully down at his steaming cup of tea instead.

There was a long pause before she answered, barely above a whisper, "Yes."

Though he didn't dare acknowledge it, his previous question had been answered.

XXX

As the months passed by, Gavin grew. Not physically, of course. But he spoke in longer, more articulate sentences. He was able to read a lot more and identify many words. He learned how to climb trees and Pan taught him how to swim. But even as all this time passed, he never spoke of his life before Neverland.

Wendy wondered, of course. How could she not? This child (her child, she thought tentatively) had come bounding into her life, broken and bruised and wonderful. She wondered where such a child had come from and if he was missed anywhere. She wondered if there was another mother out there, missing Gavin. She figured that if there was, she was being selfish keeping Gavin all to herself. But she didn't ask Gavin. Talking about his brother was still extremely painful for the child and she didn't want to push him. He was still so fragile.

She buried her curiosity and contented herself with the days she had with him. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that Pan would eventually have him rejoin the Lost Boys. She knew she wouldn't be able to bare that day when it came so she tried not to think of it. She languished in the time she had with Gavin. She paid little heed to how long he had been with her, but when she counted, she found it had been more than a year. She wondered how long she might have left if it had already been this long. Perhaps, Pan will not send him back instead, she wondered, naively.

That year had been the most peaceful one she ever experienced on Neverland. She and Pan never fought, although they were never kind to each other. Instead, they were cordial. They were nice enough to each other in front of Gavin and had shared companionable silences almost every night.

Sometimes, she forgot he was the enemy.

Sometimes, it seemed Pan had forgotten that, too. He came in the evenings to spend his time with Gavin and he even joined them some days to go to the beach. He seemed to be enjoying his time with Gavin, too. Wendy wondered if Pan felt the same way about Gavin as she did, but she tried not to get her hopes up. This was Pan, Boy King of Neverland. He was immortal and heartless. He did not feel things the same way mortals did. Emotions and people did not reach inside him and touch his soul the way they did for Wendy. She had been on the island long enough to know that. But still, she couldn't stop believing in her heart, hoping, that he loved Gavin as much as she loved the child.

Gavin enjoyed his days, too. He was a joyful, intelligent, mischievous child. He would remind Pan and Wendy when the skipped over words in his storybooks. He quickly memorized all the herbs in Wendy's garden and was able to recite all their uses. He was able to sneak past Wendy to swipe cookie dough, much to Pan's approval. He had a big laugh for such a small child and delighted himself by hanging off of Pan's limbs like a monkey. When he did something wrong (which was not often) he would apologize sincerely to Wendy, even though Pan would grin at whatever he had done. He was enjoying what might have been his eternal childhood.

One day, as he lay in bed, half-awake, Wendy read to him a story about a girl who had been formed out of snow, made by a couple who had desperately wanted a child. As she read about how the parents had loved her very much and had wept when she melted in the spring, he asked, "Are you my parents?"

Wendy paused, words caught in her throat. She looked wildly at Pan who sat at the end of Gavin's bed. He looked far off, cold and unreachable, but he met her eyes. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Swallowing, Wendy asked, "Don't you have parents? Back in your world?"

Gavin thought for a second. "We ran away from them," he said in a matter-of-fact way. "They hit us. And sometimes, if we were extra bad, we wouldn't get any food." Wendy's heart squeezed in her chest. All the times she had thought of Gavin's parents, she had imagined that they were respectable people who grieved their missing sons. She had imagined that Gavin had a room back in his world like he did on Neverland. She had thought he had been loved before he came to Neverland. She never would have imagined that he had been abused.

"I'm sorry that happened to you. That was unkind and they shouldn't have done that," she said. Her voice shook.

"Parents aren't supposed to do that," Gavin said. It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"No, they aren't."

He paused for a moment, considering her answer. She could see the gears turning in his head. "They feed you and give you clothes. They read you bedtime stories and play with you. They love you," Gavin said, listing the attributes of what parents were supposed to do. It was clear to her that he had spent a significant amount of time thinking about this.

"Yes, they do."

"You do that," he observed.

"Yes, we do." Wendy snuck a glance at Pan, who still remained stony-faced. She waited for him to protest at his inclusion, but he didn't.

"So, then you're my parents," he concluded.

Wendy looked to Pan for a moment and she saw him nod, almost imperceptibly. If she hadn't known him as well as she did, she might have missed it. She turned her gaze back to Gavin. "Yes," she answered.

He thought for a moment again. "Do I call you Mother and Father?" he asked.

"You can call me what you'd like and you'll have to ask Peter," Wendy said.

Gavin thought for a moment, tapping his chin for extra effect. Finally, he scrunched his nose. "I like Peter and Wendy," he concluded.

"That's fine with us," she said. She touched his golden curls absently and ran her hand down to his cheek. He stared up at her, eyes full of love and her heart warmed. She no longer had to worry about being selfish. There was no mother out there missing Gavin. She was his only mother.

Gavin, content with his questions being answered, snuggled back into bed. "Can I have another story please?" he asked. "But this time I want Peter." Wendy smiled and handed Peter the book. They switched places and she watched from the end of the bed as Peter animatedly told a story and Gavin's eyes began to droop. Her heart glowed as she looked upon her strange, little family.