Title: Island
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. I do not own Hook.
Author's notes: I'm sorry if it's all terribly cryptic and weird, and that chapter one hasn't been explained yet, or rather the space between these two hasn't been explained. It will be. Review, review!
Chapter two: Dreams
Wendy was dreaming.
She was suspended in air over an expanse of impossibly blue water. The clouds dripped pastel rain as they crept toward her curiously, and the wind was whispering a lullaby. She was drifting towards a labyrinth of green, and odorous flowers peered up at her with harlequin faces.
A mother's arms held her, warm currents of wind that pressed her shift to her body and carried her far from the woman's silhouettes that now hung in her closet. The fall came slowly, a lazy spherical landing that set her in a bed of acorns. The surface did not hurt, as it should have.
'Wendy, Wendy,' the wind was murmuring. Wendy's eyes were closed, and something kissed her eyelids, the colors of Neverland's sky blossoming on the black of their insides. Her hand was at her throat.
'Wendy, Wendy, wake up, Wendy.' Velvet tones, whispering mezzo- soprano; a mother's voice. And yet the command was so contrary to the somnolent effect the words naturally had. Wendy was dreaming, and confusion was impossible in dreams. When the voice spoke again, she smiled.
Her lips were naked, the kiss long ago given. They were warm with its memory, and Wendy's hidden eyes were placid in the pause before the kiss goodnight. The voice changed, but she was buried so deeply in the web of sleep and dreams that she did not notice.
The kiss came softly, pressed to the right-hand corner. Wendy was not dreaming.
What was distinctly her kiss was touching her lips, and her eyes flew open. The touch ceased and the dream ceased, but a part of it still hovered above her, regarding her quizzically. The dream was ending, then. He always came at the end.
Wendy reached upward to place her farewell touch and thusly wake to find herself caressing air. But her hand met skin, warm skin peppered with dirt. The scent of earth and youth was suddenly overpowering. Wendy gasped and her hand fell. Peter Pan smiled.
'You were smiling, Wendy. You were smiling, but there was no kiss,' there were stars housed permanently in the boy's eyes, and they winked jovially down at her. She sat up, feeling as if the last three years had not happened. Peter Pan had erased time when he flew in, but it clung to him. He was taller. Wendy dismissed it.
'Silly boy, I gave my kiss away.' There was something rehearsed about the words. Peter frowned, his countenance retaining the comic elasticity of a youth he had outgrown. Of course, he wasn't aware. She had given her kiss away? Memory niggled its way into his eyes, and he looked decidedly relieved, a ghost touch given to his lips. Of course!
'I thought I might give it back to you!' he beamed. The kiss had been real, then! Wendy frowned.
'Give it back?' Was he letting her go, then? He seemed much too happy to be letting her go. Peter had drawn quite close, on hands and knees. He certainly hasn't learned about personal space, thought Wendy. Her heart was hammering, and Peter was smiling his awful, awful smile. Horrid boy!
'Yes. So you can give it again!' he nearly crowed, and Wendy slapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes were all mischief. Oh, it was more than height, then. Some parts of Peter were quite aware that he had grown, and the parts that wouldn't accept it were reveling in the game.
'Hush!' she hissed, crossly. But nothing could taint the delight in her eyes. Peter Pan had come back to her window! And it certainly was her window, for she had left the nursery a year ago. She had no time to ask how the boy knew, for he had taken her hands and was pulling her to her feet.
'It is time, Wendy! Neverland calls your name!' His eyes were all light. Peter reached out and touched her hair, leaving a trail of golden light. There was fairy dust in his hand. They rose.
'Wait, Peter,' Wendy said. She could not refuse him now, nor could she be so careless in her leaving as she had three years ago. She plucked a leaf from the band across his chest. Peter looked mildly surprised, and let her go.
Wendy drifted down and walked to her bed, setting the leaf on her pillow. Sad, dutiful Wendy would stay behind, with the hourglass dresses in her closet. There were a few drops of childhood to be squeezed out yet, and Peter offered them. She glanced back to him. He was hovering with a look that said he knew she would come.
He flew down and took her hand, and like that they left her room from the door and crept to the nursery. The window was open and as one they alighted the sill. Wendy looked to her brothers, and Peter, already airborne, touched her shoulder. She turned to him, smiling. It was all quite simple, really.
Wendy stepped off the ledge. She loved him still.
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. I do not own Hook.
Author's notes: I'm sorry if it's all terribly cryptic and weird, and that chapter one hasn't been explained yet, or rather the space between these two hasn't been explained. It will be. Review, review!
Chapter two: Dreams
Wendy was dreaming.
She was suspended in air over an expanse of impossibly blue water. The clouds dripped pastel rain as they crept toward her curiously, and the wind was whispering a lullaby. She was drifting towards a labyrinth of green, and odorous flowers peered up at her with harlequin faces.
A mother's arms held her, warm currents of wind that pressed her shift to her body and carried her far from the woman's silhouettes that now hung in her closet. The fall came slowly, a lazy spherical landing that set her in a bed of acorns. The surface did not hurt, as it should have.
'Wendy, Wendy,' the wind was murmuring. Wendy's eyes were closed, and something kissed her eyelids, the colors of Neverland's sky blossoming on the black of their insides. Her hand was at her throat.
'Wendy, Wendy, wake up, Wendy.' Velvet tones, whispering mezzo- soprano; a mother's voice. And yet the command was so contrary to the somnolent effect the words naturally had. Wendy was dreaming, and confusion was impossible in dreams. When the voice spoke again, she smiled.
Her lips were naked, the kiss long ago given. They were warm with its memory, and Wendy's hidden eyes were placid in the pause before the kiss goodnight. The voice changed, but she was buried so deeply in the web of sleep and dreams that she did not notice.
The kiss came softly, pressed to the right-hand corner. Wendy was not dreaming.
What was distinctly her kiss was touching her lips, and her eyes flew open. The touch ceased and the dream ceased, but a part of it still hovered above her, regarding her quizzically. The dream was ending, then. He always came at the end.
Wendy reached upward to place her farewell touch and thusly wake to find herself caressing air. But her hand met skin, warm skin peppered with dirt. The scent of earth and youth was suddenly overpowering. Wendy gasped and her hand fell. Peter Pan smiled.
'You were smiling, Wendy. You were smiling, but there was no kiss,' there were stars housed permanently in the boy's eyes, and they winked jovially down at her. She sat up, feeling as if the last three years had not happened. Peter Pan had erased time when he flew in, but it clung to him. He was taller. Wendy dismissed it.
'Silly boy, I gave my kiss away.' There was something rehearsed about the words. Peter frowned, his countenance retaining the comic elasticity of a youth he had outgrown. Of course, he wasn't aware. She had given her kiss away? Memory niggled its way into his eyes, and he looked decidedly relieved, a ghost touch given to his lips. Of course!
'I thought I might give it back to you!' he beamed. The kiss had been real, then! Wendy frowned.
'Give it back?' Was he letting her go, then? He seemed much too happy to be letting her go. Peter had drawn quite close, on hands and knees. He certainly hasn't learned about personal space, thought Wendy. Her heart was hammering, and Peter was smiling his awful, awful smile. Horrid boy!
'Yes. So you can give it again!' he nearly crowed, and Wendy slapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes were all mischief. Oh, it was more than height, then. Some parts of Peter were quite aware that he had grown, and the parts that wouldn't accept it were reveling in the game.
'Hush!' she hissed, crossly. But nothing could taint the delight in her eyes. Peter Pan had come back to her window! And it certainly was her window, for she had left the nursery a year ago. She had no time to ask how the boy knew, for he had taken her hands and was pulling her to her feet.
'It is time, Wendy! Neverland calls your name!' His eyes were all light. Peter reached out and touched her hair, leaving a trail of golden light. There was fairy dust in his hand. They rose.
'Wait, Peter,' Wendy said. She could not refuse him now, nor could she be so careless in her leaving as she had three years ago. She plucked a leaf from the band across his chest. Peter looked mildly surprised, and let her go.
Wendy drifted down and walked to her bed, setting the leaf on her pillow. Sad, dutiful Wendy would stay behind, with the hourglass dresses in her closet. There were a few drops of childhood to be squeezed out yet, and Peter offered them. She glanced back to him. He was hovering with a look that said he knew she would come.
He flew down and took her hand, and like that they left her room from the door and crept to the nursery. The window was open and as one they alighted the sill. Wendy looked to her brothers, and Peter, already airborne, touched her shoulder. She turned to him, smiling. It was all quite simple, really.
Wendy stepped off the ledge. She loved him still.
