Disclaimer: Peter Pan and all affiliated characters are not mine. They
belong to JM Barrie (and whoever else he says Peter Pan belongs to).
Chapter Three
Respite
Wendy's shoulder felt like it was on fire. In her dreams, the flames spread all throughout her body, from shoulder, to chest, to head, to foot, until it consumed her completely and there was nothing left of her. She thought she would die. Then, a cool, blessed light ignited on her brow and swelled. It was refreshingly soothing and comforting. It fought the burns, the aches, and the pains. The English girl slept on.
I'm sorry... But there was no choice, none really. I'm sorry.
The English girl stirred, a gentle rush of air kissing her peach lips as she breathed. No words breached her lips, but the crease in her brow told it all. Who...?
But so long as we walk together, I will protect you.
Her fingers curled gently, clutching at the fabric beneath her. Why?
There are certain advantages in my protection. But never forget this: ultimately, you will be giving the greater sacrifice.
The sixteen year old sighed. What?
My powers for your life. Your life for your heart. Your heart for the dreams of all.
Wendy curled herself in a fetal position. When...?
Nothing can stop it now. Had I but the strength to submit... but I had to try.
A tear slipped down Wendy's closed eyes, leaking through sooty lashes and trickling down the sweet curve of her face. Peter... I had not foreseen many things, especially you. Only the son of the gods can save you now. That, in its entirety, is a fool's hope.
This time Wendy did give life to her words. "Peter..." she whispered.
Something very soft pressed to her lips, light as a butterfly's wings, yet unbearably sweet. A feeling of tenderness spread all throughout her body, and warmed her from inside out. I know this feeling... Once before... the sweetest of all touches... Feels like I'm melting... Her sooty lashes fluttered, and the warmth disappeared. Stormy blue eyes opened dazedly, adjusting to the dim lighting of her surroundings. Her body, though weak and strangely feeling disconnected, arched in a sweet tension of muscle. She sighed and a hand touched her lips languorously. The slender girl spoke wonderingly, her voice husky and sensual from sleep, "I felt something touch my lips... Something called to me." Her eyes wandered over her surroundings, somehow already knowing, feeling the presence of the one she called for. "Did you...?"
"N-no!" replied the light voice defensively, "I didn't."
"Oh..." she murmured, still too weary to guess the nature of the reply nor was she able to mask the disappointed tinge in her voice. The London girl instead took stock of her surroundings. She appeared to be in a tent, an Indian tent if her guess what correct. The walls were made of smooth, bare animal skin of some color she could not determine. It was gloomy inside for there was no aperture with which light could shine through, and the outside seemed to be dark as well. The English girl was lying on a small, soft pallet of animal furs, pushed against one of the sloping sides of the tepee. A thick blanket covered her entire body, but sometimes in her sleep it had wound its way down her waist. A small, cold fireplace lay directly in the center. A bowl of water and a washcloth lay beside it, and Wendy knew that it had been used to bathe her forehead. Other than the bed, the fireplace, the water bowl, and washcloth, there was nothing in the small tepee. Except of course, there was Peter Pan in the far corner, still wreathed in shadow.
He stepped closer to her, a hesitance and nervousness in his movements uncharacteristic of the bold Peter Pan of Neverland. The shadows slid away from him like unfurling petals of a dark flower. The golden haired youth approached her cautiously, almost as if she was some wild animal and one wrong move would make her bolt. Or perhaps he was the wild animal, and she would make him bolt. His eyes, still clear despite the gloom, gazed at her in an expression she had never seen him display: that of fear and eagerness. It was almost as if he desperately desired, no, needed to drink in Wendy's appearance, but was also afraid of what he would find. Wendy could not puzzle it out, or perhaps she did not have the state of mind to puzzle it out.
They gazed at one another for a few moments or perhaps a long while, devouring one another with their eyes alone. Every new and old feature and gesture was closely scrutinized, wondered at, and memorized. From toe to the tips of the hair, they took their fill in a pregnant silence.
Ever since the fatal incident aboard the floating ship, Peter had spent an inordinate amount of time in, near, or around the tepee that housed this person, this stranger to him. When she had taken the arrow for him, and looked at him with those fathomless, stormy blue eyes, he had recognized her, known her, instinctively identified her as Wendy, his Wendy, the Wendy of the magical hidden thimble. He would know her anywhere if all he had to go by were her eyes. But since then, her eyes had closed and her appearance so disturbingly and confusingly altered that he had not known what to make of it. Her exit and entrance in his sphere of existence had been both dramatic and bittersweet. In truth, his memories or dreams of Wendy (at that point he was somewhat confused) had been so emotionally charged that, in his weaker moments, he wondered, truly wondered, if she was a dream entirely. But the kiss had been real. The touching of lips, and the eyes shining with raw feelings were real. That he could never deny. And now...
On the one hand, Peter was faintly annoyed that Wendy had indeed partially gone through the entire "growing up" process. On the other, her maturing body elicited a cacophony of emotions within him that were both vague and very pleasing. In quiet, rare moments when fate had conspired that Wendy was alone in the sleeping hut without the presence of the medicine woman and Tink was called away to the Vale, as he gazed upon her face those same emotions welled and intensified within him once more. He felt that he needed to do something, wanted to do something, but he wasn't sure what to do. And then she had called his name...
Peter licked his lips, diffident and unsure. "You should lay down," he said softly, a rare courteous gesture from him, "You haven't gotten well enough." The chestnut haired girl upon the pallet complied obediently, but she fixed her powerful stormy blue eyes upon him in a soulful stare. Those eyes again... It must be Wendy. But he had to make sure.
"You are... Wendy, aren't you?"
A flash of hurt leapt in the cornflower blue eyes, and it distressed the Neverland boy for some reason. "Yes..." she replied slowly, after a long pause, "Has it been so long, Peter Pan, that you had forgotten me?" His last promise to her was conjured in the air between them.
"Oh no!" replied the copper tanned boy, and unlike Wendy his response was instantaneous. "How could I forget you?" he continued, slightly horrified at the very idea.
The London girl made no answer but the smile she gave him was utterly gorgeous. Peter's stomach twisted and flip flopped. He felt giddy at the smile, and he wondered vaguely if perhaps he had caught a sickness as well. He usually didn't feel so weird. But then, Peter never caught a sickness so he dismissed that notion. Abruptly, he snapped out of his trance, and turned his back on her.
Wendy's smile faltered. She queried, "Is something wrong, Peter?"
"Nothing," answered Peter tersely. He shook his head wordlessly for a moment before turning back to her. His sea blue green eyes were troubled. "Everything. Wendy, why-" At that precise moment, a venerable old lady entered the tent. She was an Indian medicine woman, wizened, slow moving, but graceful. Her dark brown eyes and white hair spoke of wisdom gained through years of experience. She was only a little taller than Peter Pan, but she was powerful nonetheless. The healer spoke sharply to Peter, but affection tinged her words. Wendy hazarded that she was commanding Peter to leave. Peter nodded once, anxious for some reason Wendy did not know again, and cast one last, wordless glance at her. Then he turned to leave.
"Peter, wait," called out the English girl, sitting up. "Where are you going?"
Peter paused to acknowledge her words, but did not answer. He passed through the tent flap gracefully, and disappeared in the darkness outside.
"Peter," called the fair, slender girl again, futilely. Abruptly, she felt angry. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting so rudely and oddly? Granted, Peter did not behave within the conforms of what London might consider "polite" but he had at least been considerate to her.
At that point, her sleepiness left her completely, and her fingers tightened on her blanket in anger.
The old lady hummed to her in a soothing manner. She gently pushed Wendy back to lie down on the pallet. Wendy swallowed her rage, and managed a small smile at the helpful woman. The medicine woman smiled benignly back at Wendy before feeling the younger girl's forehead. Her smiling countenance switched to a frown as she noted a dark marking on Wendy's forehead, very much like a bruise. That hadn't been noticed before... But on the whole, Wendy appeared to be well on the way to recovery. Satisfied with what she found, she chatted in her own tongue to Wendy, and Wendy wished she could understand. The medicine woman, though her face was congenial, seemed to be telling something of importance. Wendy shook her head to indicate her ignorance, but the medicine woman merely smiled and patted Wendy's hand. With a final encouraging nod, the medicine woman left.
It was dark outside in Neverland despite that it was still mid afternoon and should be light. But ever since the foreign, floating ship had exploded in a shower of flaming timber, the skies had been cloudy and gray. Sometimes it rained light showers, but most of the time it remained gloomy. It was a depressing atmosphere and had done nothing to help Wendy's recovery. The medicine woman took it as a portent.
The old lady walked until she was some distance away from the tent that housed Wendy. Though her senses were not keen enough to detect Peter's location, her wisdom told her that he had not gone far. He had not gone very far for long since the young lady had been brought to the medicine woman's attention. "You are cruel, Peter Pan, and tempt the gods," spoke the lady in her own language.
As expected, Peter emerged somewhere from the far left, hidden cleverly in the shadows of the foliage. "How am I cruel?' he questioned back to her in Indian tongue, folding his arms. He was only mildly perturbed at the medicine woman's admonition.
"The lady was at death's door. Her fever ravaged her. Her wound would not close. There was evil in the arrow that pierced her flesh, and this evil spread. It should have consumed her," replied the gray haired woman evenly.
"It wouldn't have!" shot back Peter defensively. "She's much too strong for that."
"But it didn't," nodded the Indian healer. "But not through her own strengths. Her will to live and our skills combined could not have revived the dead. Nay, Pan, it is the will of the gods for her to live and suffer other fates. Yet now I see you spurn her. Did you not badly desire for her to live? You spit in the gift of the gods."
"I do not 'spurn' her," retorted the boy crossly. The sea blue green-eyed youth was never good at being lectured at, and he only endured through such tediousness with sulky compliance if it happened to be the fairy monarchs or Wendy. But hesitation danced in his eyes and colored his voice.
The dark skinned medicine woman clucked her tongue at the brash, impatient youth. She was much too familiar with Peter not to know that further reprimands were useless. But she drew breath to give one last warning in an attempt to impress upon the youngster the weight of the girl's recovery. "Have a care to the young girl's welfare, Pan. She almost died. It was a miracle she survived. I doubt she can suffer half of another blow for you and live."
"Wendy... Wendy wouldn't," mumbled Peter, this time taken aback by the medicine woman. She couldn't be serious, could she? She talked of Wendy dying, of Wendy going away to a place where he could never follow.
"It is... Wendy then?" asked the medicine woman, changing the subject. Her wise, brown eyes saw the fear in Peter's face and knew it was enough.
"Yes," nodded the boy, looking unsure once more.
"Ah," murmured the elderly woman. She lifted her head to look at the gray clouds. "I remember her in the great bonfire night so long ago, when you rescued Princess Tiger Lily from Hook. I was preoccupied with Wendy's brothers, but I saw her for a moment, and I heard her voice from afar. She was like your fairies, wreathed in twilight and spirit."
Peter nodded once more, muttering shamefully words that were completely uncharacteristic of Peter Pan, "She was... the one who saved your grandson. She sang for the pirates in exchange that your grandson's life be spared."
The medicine woman's face creased into a smile, "Did she now? All the gladder I am to have helped her out."
"How soon will she be well?"
The healer mock glared at Peter, "Without needless distress ailing her, then seven days. If you continue to upset her so, even longer."
"That long?" asked Peter, dismayed. "The fairies wanted to see us right away."
The medicine woman internally raised a brow at the bit of news. Usually, the woodland folk had little to do with Indians. Their chief contact to the outside world was Peter Pan, and Peter rarely if ever revealed information of his revels with the fairies. To hear that the fairies had business with someone other than Peter Pan, a girl from the outside at that, was startling indeed. Yes, her feelings were turning out correct. The troubles in Neverland had merely begun, and somewhere, somehow this Wendy of Peter's had something to do with it.
Peter did not come to Wendy anymore after their first real meeting, and this distressed Wendy in many levels. She was both angry and upset, wondering what she had done exactly that caused the cheeky youth to avoid her like the plague. She had not seen hide nor hair of him, though she often felt his presence lingering in the background. The only good thing about Peter's disappearance was that the medicine woman was now able to lavish her full medical regime upon Wendy, and Wendy grew healthy for it. Day by day her old strength returned to her, and she felt well enough to sit up, stand, walk, and feed herself. She walked a little around her tepee, and discovered, to her surprise, that she was standing relatively isolated from the Indian camp. Furthermore, she was kept to herself. She saw no other Indian, even Tiger Lily or the Indian boy she had tried to save upon the Basilisk, except the medicine woman. It made her feel a little edgy, and she wondered if perhaps this was because of her sickness or some other reason.
One such day she felt particularly irritable. She was kept confined at day, and her repose at night gave her no rest. Dreams plagued her, dreams she was never able to recall, but unsettling dreams nonetheless. The medicine woman must have seen her puffy eyes. Wendy tried laughing it off and gestured futilely. "There's no reason to worry," she said, though it was far too much to hope the woman would understand her, "It's just that I've been having bad dreams, that's all. In fact, all this... feels like a dream. It feels like I'm dreaming even though my eyes are wide open." The woman nodded quietly, and left her alone. The next morning, she presented Wendy with two, small, dream catcher earrings carved ornately from some white, animal bone. The making was extremely detailed and fine. A small feather hung from each of the elaborate circles as a finishing touch. Wendy felt a rush of gratitude and warmth to the woman who had been tirelessly taking care of her, and she expressed these feelings by hugging the elder woman impulsively. The lady seemed to understand, and she seemed every bit as happy as Wendy.
With proper rest this time (Wendy was inclined to believe her dream catcher earrings truly worked), Wendy's head cleared and she was allowed to think. However, thinking inevitably lead to headaches, dream catcher or no. Wendy could not puzzle out her situation no matter how hard she though of it. Last thing she knew, she was playing a song in a London ballroom when an evil man had tried attacking her. Next, she was zipping through worlds, crash landed on a Neverland beach, and was near assaulted by what seemed to be new pirates. Then a unicorn had come to her, disappeared, and a pirate captain had abducted Wendy herself. Soon after, she had tried saving an Indian boy from inevitable death, had to sing a song for it (in eerie reminiscence of her story telling to Hook's pirates), and then taken part in a hostile take over. Lastly, she had taken an arrow meant for Peter. That unhappy incident led her to where she was now, recovering from an illness she was not aware of and in a place that bred questions but gave no answers. She felt like screaming.
On the fourth or fifth day of this confinement, Wendy had had enough. Though the weather was still gloomy, the English girl prevailed upon the medicine woman, with much strain on both their part from the language handicap, to let her go to a stream or pool. To Wendy's delight, she was led to a hot spring. Once the medicine woman had gone, Wendy looked around to check that no one was near. She bit her lip, hesitating. "If you're out there, Peter Pan," she warned, "you had better not be looking." Silence answered her. Wendy waited a few more moments before quickly shedding her soiled gown (the shoulder was ripped from the arrow's entry and the Indians' ministrations anyway) and dunking inside the spring. The waters felt deliciously warm, and the chestnut haired girl felt all the aches and tension of her muscles dissolve. She leaned against a smooth rock, resting with her eyes closed.
That was how Peter found her some time later. He had been out hunting with some of the Indian braves just to take his mind off of what to do with the young girl recovering in the sick tent. Upon returning with a successful kill, he was waylaid with a message from Tiger Lily. Her father, the great chief, needed to talk to Peter. This did not puzzle Peter too much. Peter had a feeling that the chief wanted to know more about the strange people coming in floating ships to hunt down Neverland's inhabitants, man and beast alike. By the time that had been done, it was already several hours into the evening. He had known almost immediately that Wendy was not in her tent, and this led him in a short but frenzied flight to find the medicine woman. The old lady merely shrugged, smiled, and pointed in the direction of the hot springs. "She wanted a bath, Peter," grinned the old lady. "It was good for her anyway."
Peter felt very cross. "What if she was too sick to take a bath?" he asked the old lady none too gently. "What if it was dangerous by the hot springs?"
She merely pressed a bundle into his surprised hands and asked coyly, "What if someone found her there all by herself?" There was something very teasing about her question that curdled Peter's blood. Without further ado, he had flown at top speed to where the hot springs were. For some reason, he felt extremely angry and offended, as if someone had done great injustice to him. So upset was he that he had no room for what he might find at the hot springs. His only concern was to get Wendy safely and soundly back to the sick hut.
"Wendy!" he yelled the minute he burst upon the hot springs. "Wendy, are you-" Peter's words died in his throat, and his eyes widened. His jaw dropped. Wendy lay fast asleep, curled in the shallows of the comfortable hot spring. Her head was pillowed by her arm and kept above the water level. Most of her body was submerged in the water and in the gathering dark it was impossible to see much. But it was possible to see shapely contours and outlines that sent a strange sensation curling within Peter's stomach. Furthermore, her dark chestnut hair was spread in all its glossy glory around the girl, and it contrasted sharply with her pale skin. The Indian medicine woman was right. She looked more to be a fairy, a trick of the light, rather than a human girl. Peter's mouth felt dry, and he automatically clicked it shut. A blush burned bright in his cheeks for reasons he again knew not, and he felt a vague inkling that he should look away. Ah well. Peter was not one to listen to little inner voices of society and the painting presented before his eyes was too delicious a temptation not to succumb to.
Peter felt that he could have gazed at her forever, exploring her new body with his highly curious and eager eyes. But all good things must come to an end, and Wendy began to stir. The girl shakily raised her head, blearily looking around in confusion. The first thing she registered was the soothing water lapping her naked body. The next thing she registered was Peter Pan floating above the pool. The third thing she registered wa- Wait, a minute. Peter???
Wendy shrieked and dunked her body further underwater though it was poor protection. She gave Peter a lethal glare and said in the most scandalized voice, "Peter Pan, what in God's name are you doing here?!" The youth started at her shriek, and he floated nearer to her, looking curious. But was that a blush on his cheeks?
"I was worried about you," replied Peter and there was a definite hint of embarrassment in his voice. "So I came looking."
"But here... now?!" she whispered furiously. "Peter Pan, don't you dare come any closer! Go away!"
"What?" asked Peter crossly. "What's the matter with you?"
Wendy's eyes widened in exasperation. "What's the matter with me??? What's the matter with you! You're not supposed to spy on girls when they bathe, Peter Pan!" she yelled.
"I was not spying!" cried Peter indignantly. "I just came looking...and you were like that! Besides, didn't you want to talk to me?"
"I didn't want to talk to you like this! Peter, I'm not dressed!" screamed Wendy, thoroughly exasperated and almost in despair. This was highly scandalous. If anyone were to know... The air between the two of them practically sizzled with exasperation and resentment.
Unexpectedly, something wet plopped on Peter's nose. The young boy blinked, looked up, and saw that rain had begun to fall. He looked positively surprised at the drop of rain. Wendy began to laugh, and the tension dissolved. The London girl laughed softly in the air despite the falling rain, drawing her arms and knees around herself. Peter turned towards her, grinning as well, and he soon joined her in her laughter. At that moment, when their laughter joined in the air, it felt like old times again, exactly like old times. It made old feelings rise within Wendy and she smiled her joy at Peter. She thought he could feel it too.
"Very well, Peter," sighed Wendy, smiling wryly. "Turn around and don't look. I shall get out of the bathing spring, and we can talk again once I'm properly dressed."
Smiling cheekily at her, Peter turned around before abruptly swinging back. "Oh yeah," he said. "The medicine woman wanted me to give you this. " He offered the bundle in his hand, and Wendy realized it was an Indian dress. She smiled, both at the medicine woman's thoughtfulness and at Peter.
"Drop it by the shore, please," requested Wendy.
Peter shrugged, floating closer and pressing it to her hand. "Why?" he asked carelessly, but the minute he locked eyes with her, the minute his hand touched hers, the tension went back in the air. But it was a different tension this time, a tension of a different nature. Wendy felt a shiver run through her body, and she licked her lips, confused and a bit frightened. Peter's eyes held hers captive, and she felt herself drowning in a world of sparkling sea blue green. She felt very hot and vulnerable. Peter seemed to be leaning closer...
Thunder rumbled overhead, and Wendy snapped away from her spell. She gasped, cheeks flaming. "Don't look at me like that," she breathed, looking away.
Peter blinked, surprised himself. He backed away from her, every bit as frightened as she was at the intensity a moment before. "I didn't look at you like anything," he responded defensively. "G-Go dress then!" With those words, he sped away to some place hidden by the trees. Wendy watched him go, troubled. Her heart was beating rapidly within her breast, and her thoughts ran in frenzied circles in her mind. What was she doing? Why had she felt that... Wendy abandoned the trail of thought, afraid to see what lay at the end. Unbidden, a hysterical giggle threatened to rise up from her throat. The situation was getting completely out of hand.
Hurriedly, she rushed out of the bathing stream and ducked behind a protective screen of foliage. As rapidly as she could, Wendy scrubbed herself with the soft cloth that came with the Indian dress, and then donned the dress itself. The material was soft deerskin, and it molded intimately to her body in a way none of her London gowns ever had. It was a strange sensation, and she felt both comfortable and uncomfortable at once. The close fitting, slitted skirt fell to her knees and a vine belt twined around Wendy's tiny waist. A fringe decoration accentuated her bust, and the dress itself ended a few inches beyond that. The fringe went off shoulder in a manner Wendy recognized in some of her ball gowns. Without the usual undergarments that went along with London gowns, the young girl felt very naked. Her only consolation was that Indian dresses made no room for the dreaded corset. She gathered the discarded garments, and stepped out hesitantly. "Peter?" she called.
The youth sulkily came into view. It appeared that he worked himself into a worse temper, and he asked sulkily, "Are you ready now?"
Wendy shrugged, her hair sliding sensuously to her back. She had to remember to ask for a comb later. She fixed her eyes on Peter, and once again found him staring at her in a most discomfiting manner. His sea blue green eyes had brightened like the sun, and it held her captive in its beams. Wendy licked her lips, fighting to keep from staring back at him. "I guess so," she murmured.
Unexpectedly, he grinned at her. He smiled at her the exact same way he had smiled when he had first taken her to Neverland. That smile full of mischief and promise, a smile she was never able to resist. "Come with me, Wendy," he urged softly, coming to hover closer and closer to her. "Come away with me." He was so close. His soft, charmingly boyish, golden features filled up her vision, and his eyes insisted pleadingly with her. His breath touched her face, feeling like warm velvet. "Come with me. " The bundle Wendy held twitched then was dropped to the floor. Peter dipped his hand in a hidden pouch by his waist and withdrew it. He spread the glittering fairy dust all over Wendy who closed her eyes the minute the enchanted powder touched her soft skin.
"I'm not sure," murmured Wendy, "if I remember how to do this right. I can't seem to think happy...."
"Look at me, Wendy," commanded the copper tanned youth. Wendy seemed hesitant, and he cupped her face in his hand. Her stormy blue eyes flew open in shock, and he held them locked with his own gaze. "Forget it. Leave it all behind you. Think of me."
Wendy felt like she was drowning. All she could hear was Peter's voice sliding silkily in the air; all she could see were Peter's intense sea blue green eyes drawing her in; all she could feel was his warmth drenching her. It was as if she had fallen under a spell, and couldn't seem to pull out of it. Even his last statement failed to rouse any response from her.
Peter smiled softly at her. He took her white hands, placed one on his shoulder, and the other he held with his hand exactly like that night such a long time ago. He stepped up to her, skin-to-skin, and whispered in her ear, "Dance with me." He started slowly, gently, never breaking his intense rapport with the pliant young girl in his arms. And, just as slowly, Wendy responded to him. Both began to hear music only they could hear, a rich symphony of sound and emotion that reverberated within them both.
The couple began to float in the air, twirling with supernatural grace. The floating steam over the hot springs, the otherworldly coloring of the Neverland foliage, and the very image of the two themselves served to paint a scene of unsurpassed unorthodox beauty. And neither Peter nor Wendy noticed. The two were completely wrapped with each other.
It was only when Wendy's foot dipped low and drew warm water from the hot springs that she realized their position. She gasped, wrapping her arms around Peter instantly. "Peter!" she whispered.
Peter laughed, his own arms around her waist just to keep her secure. "Relax," he breathed into her. "I have you." Wendy stilled her nervous movements, the intimacy of their embrace or his words not lost upon her. He slowly rose in the air, keeping Wendy next to him.
"Peter..."
"Let's not talk here. Let's talk, if we have to, some other place. I have an idea," he grinned cheekily. "Can you manage?"
Wendy flushed, knowing he meant if she was comfortable with flying. She nodded, "I think so." Very slowly, she let go of Peter's neck, and, very slowly, Peter disengaged his arms from her waist. He stayed very close just in case, but Wendy seemed able to hover. He grinned once again, very smug that his plan had worked. He took her hand and led her into the night sky. The two rose to vast heights until they were at level with the thick clouds. Wendy was apprehensive at first, but she quickly understood why Peter had brought her the minute they had broken through the stormy clouds. From above those very clouds, the world was a snowy wonderland. Puffy clouds, wispy clouds, thick clouds of snow white stretched from one horizon to the next, and the large, beautiful, moon shone down this magical world in all her silver glory. Innumerable stars of all colors, intensities, and sizes dotted the firmament.
The stormy blue-eyed girl had forgotten what it was to fly. She had forgotten the sensation of the wind racing past your body as you cut through the air in dizzying speeds. It was an intoxicating feeling, and the ability to fly quickly rushed back to the chestnut haired girl. For about half an hour, she twisted and swooped in the air, laughing delightedly, and Peter played with her. They played a sort of hide and seek, and tag game. The clouds were a wonderful place to play in. No hiding place was too safe and at any minute the other could find the other simply by bursting through the thick clouds. Peter won each time, of course, but Wendy was a fair sport and she wasn't easy to beat at all.
Giddy with joy and drunk with laughter, the girl flopped back on a sinfully comfortable cloud. Her stormy blue eyes reflected the firmament above, and her fair skin was ivory in the moonlight. Her silky hair lay in wild abandon all over, and she felt peace, contentment, security, and joy. Feelings she thought would never come together again.
Peter threw himself beside her a minute later, still laughing from their wild antics. His eyes were sparkling humor, mischief, and joy. Wendy couldn't help but respond to the smile on his face. Peter boldly laid an arm across Wendy's waist and he pulled himself closer to her. The girl's eyes widened at the unexpected actions, and she made move to speak. However, he silenced her words with a finger to her lips, and his arm tightened around her. His eyes gazed desperately in her face, searching for something. The stormy blue-eyed girl thought she saw something glimmer in his eyes, and it made her chest tighten.
The boy shook his head, switching moods abruptly as he began it. He sat up cross-legged, peering intently at her. "I guess we really do need to talk, don't we?" he asked, frowning.
Wendy blinked a few times, dazed by the fast changes in his behavior. Nonetheless, she rose to a sitting position, her legs folding lady like underneath her. She nodded solemnly, hair sliding luxuriously around her bare shoulder, "Yes, we must."
She thought for a moment. "It's been... three years since we last parted ways," Wendy began, her eyes focusing on the distant stars. "It's been so long. I... grew up. Some things changed." She shrugged, gesturing vaguely at herself. "I went to a ... gathering at night in the house of some great... hmm... manager, or lord, of a great company my father works in. I was feeling strange. Well, I had been feeling strange for... about a year or half a year now. It feels as if someone's watching me, or something's searching for me. It frightens me. At times, it goes away. Other times, it grows so strong it's almost as if an invisible person is standing so close bearing down upon me." A shiver wracked her fragile frame, and Peter crowded close to her. "Anyway, in this party the feeling intensified. It felt so close, closer than it's ever been before. The... lord's son was dancing with me, and he asked me to play a song for him." Wendy was far too absorbed in her narration and in her thoughtful minute pauses in which she sought to explain the situation in terms Peter would understand to notice his dark scowl at the mention of the dancing and song playing. "After I finished playing the song, the room was empty," continued Wendy. She hesitated, before turning her bewildered and half frightened eyes on him. "Everybody was gone. The furniture was there; the food was still there. It's just that... nobody was there. No servants, no guests. No one. It was very dark as well, and the only light came from a balcony. When I went... a man was there. A dreadful man. He looked... so ...He was beyond evil. He whispered such things to me... terrible things. It frightens me to think of it now. I couldn't think. I didn't think I could run. All I could feel was such fear and revulsion. It paralyzed me. I didn't think I could fight. I think... I think he would have taken me." Unconsciously, a hand crept up to her acorn necklace. She closed her eyes as if to shut out the bad memories. The slender girl drew breath and plunged on, "Then I remember your ... thimble. And I started singing. It was all I could think of to keep from breaking down. The more I sang, the stronger I felt, and the angrier he was. It frightened me still, but I kept on singing. When I reached the end of my song, it was as if an explosion had occurred. Light enveloped me. I think I was dreaming for a while... when I came to, I was at the beach. Pirates... those dark pirates aboard the Basilisk. I met them, but they left me alone. Again, I think I was dreaming or had fainted. I was walking in the forest following something when that Pirate captain abducted me... Rahul. He gave me a drug and when I came to, I was on the Basilisk. I think you know what happened afterwards." Both remained silent after her lengthy narration.
Wendy watched Peter's reaction anxiously, trying to gauge out what he thought. But the boy's face remained childishly confused. "I don't understand any of it," announced the copper tanned youth not so long after Wendy ended her story. "Could the man be a ghost? I did not know you could cross worlds and come to Neverland without my help or the fairies' help."
"Neither did I," assented Wendy. "I don't even know whether the ghost stranger brought me here or whether that light was something else entirely."
"He didn't," stated the sea blue green-eyed youth, and Wendy was surprised by the firmness in his statement. At her questioning gaze, he reiterated, "It is clear to me that this man wished to do you harm. If the light at the end of your song brought you here to Neverland, then it brought you to safety. He would not have brought you here to safety."
The chestnut haired girl smiled, amused at the simplistic logic yet powerful truth of his words.
"Furthermore," continued the boy, chewing on his lower lip, "he may have been the reason why you've been feeling so jumpy. Ghosts are known to haunt people. Maybe he was haunting you?"
"But why?" wondered the English girl. "Why not before? There is no reason for him to..."
"Maybe there is," replied Peter solemnly, "but we just don't know yet."
Wendy drew her knees against herself, feeling pensive. "So then... tell me what happened to you after I ... left?" she prodded.
"Neverland is the same," answered Peter cockily, grinning. "Adventures are perhaps not so grand since Captain Hook was swallowed by the crocodile, but it's still great fun." His eyes fairly danced with the same old sparkle, tempting Wendy once more to partake in his bold undertakings.
Wendy smiled gently at the tease. "Where is Tinkerbell?" she asked softly. "I haven't seen her since that night... on the Basilisk."
Peter's smile faded at the mention, and he seemed unsure once more. "She's been gone awhile. Come to think of it, more and more of the fairies are being called back to the Fairy Vales for a while now. Tink was one of the last to leave. She seemed upset for some reason. That night on the Basilisk was once in a while that I had seen the fairies come out en masse."
"What did happen with the Basilisk, Peter? Are they new pirates? I haven't seen the Jolly Roger...I didn't know ships in Neverland could fly."
"They are pirates," answered Peter slowly, as if thinking of it for the first time. "But they're not like the pirates from the Jolly Roger. I talked to the pirates on Jolly Roger, and they swore they never saw pirates like these. They're one of the first to come in floating ships. I don't know how they float. The fairies promised me that there weren't other fairies aboard. No one was really sure what to make of them. I came close to a lot, but they always shot at me. They stayed far away from me, so I didn't care much. Then they started going down to the islands. They took plants, animals, of all kinds. No one really minded at first. But then they started taking people... Jolly Roger Pirates, Indian captives.... I've heard the mermaids say that they've tried catching mermaids and fairies, but fairies and mermaids are much too quick for them still. This time, they captured Raven Wing, the medicine woman's grandson. The people of Neverland made a rescue attempt. But... we hadn't expected..." Peter shrugged, and Wendy partly knew what he meant. These events were entirely unheard of in Neverland.
Peter touched her knee to bring her attention back to him. "The Indian chief has been talking to me," he said earnestly. "He wants to know about these newcomers. The mermaids talk to me as well. They say they are afraid. The Jolly Roger Pirates talk amongst themselves and the Indians. They're waiting for my decision. And the fairies... The fairies want me to go to the Fairy Court, as soon as you are able."
Wendy blinked in surprise. Was her presence so important to the fairies? In her entire experience with them, they had their whole contact exclusively with Peter. But it made sense. These were not just strange new occurrences. They were downright terrifying, and Wendy hadn't the faintest inkling of what was happening to Neverland or her. If anyone knew the truth of these matters, then it was the fairies. She nodded. "All right then," she agreed. "Tomorrow in the morning. Let us go to the fairies."
Peter grinned smugly, his eyes leaping in her countenance. He already thought it a fine adventure.
Chapter Three
Respite
Wendy's shoulder felt like it was on fire. In her dreams, the flames spread all throughout her body, from shoulder, to chest, to head, to foot, until it consumed her completely and there was nothing left of her. She thought she would die. Then, a cool, blessed light ignited on her brow and swelled. It was refreshingly soothing and comforting. It fought the burns, the aches, and the pains. The English girl slept on.
I'm sorry... But there was no choice, none really. I'm sorry.
The English girl stirred, a gentle rush of air kissing her peach lips as she breathed. No words breached her lips, but the crease in her brow told it all. Who...?
But so long as we walk together, I will protect you.
Her fingers curled gently, clutching at the fabric beneath her. Why?
There are certain advantages in my protection. But never forget this: ultimately, you will be giving the greater sacrifice.
The sixteen year old sighed. What?
My powers for your life. Your life for your heart. Your heart for the dreams of all.
Wendy curled herself in a fetal position. When...?
Nothing can stop it now. Had I but the strength to submit... but I had to try.
A tear slipped down Wendy's closed eyes, leaking through sooty lashes and trickling down the sweet curve of her face. Peter... I had not foreseen many things, especially you. Only the son of the gods can save you now. That, in its entirety, is a fool's hope.
This time Wendy did give life to her words. "Peter..." she whispered.
Something very soft pressed to her lips, light as a butterfly's wings, yet unbearably sweet. A feeling of tenderness spread all throughout her body, and warmed her from inside out. I know this feeling... Once before... the sweetest of all touches... Feels like I'm melting... Her sooty lashes fluttered, and the warmth disappeared. Stormy blue eyes opened dazedly, adjusting to the dim lighting of her surroundings. Her body, though weak and strangely feeling disconnected, arched in a sweet tension of muscle. She sighed and a hand touched her lips languorously. The slender girl spoke wonderingly, her voice husky and sensual from sleep, "I felt something touch my lips... Something called to me." Her eyes wandered over her surroundings, somehow already knowing, feeling the presence of the one she called for. "Did you...?"
"N-no!" replied the light voice defensively, "I didn't."
"Oh..." she murmured, still too weary to guess the nature of the reply nor was she able to mask the disappointed tinge in her voice. The London girl instead took stock of her surroundings. She appeared to be in a tent, an Indian tent if her guess what correct. The walls were made of smooth, bare animal skin of some color she could not determine. It was gloomy inside for there was no aperture with which light could shine through, and the outside seemed to be dark as well. The English girl was lying on a small, soft pallet of animal furs, pushed against one of the sloping sides of the tepee. A thick blanket covered her entire body, but sometimes in her sleep it had wound its way down her waist. A small, cold fireplace lay directly in the center. A bowl of water and a washcloth lay beside it, and Wendy knew that it had been used to bathe her forehead. Other than the bed, the fireplace, the water bowl, and washcloth, there was nothing in the small tepee. Except of course, there was Peter Pan in the far corner, still wreathed in shadow.
He stepped closer to her, a hesitance and nervousness in his movements uncharacteristic of the bold Peter Pan of Neverland. The shadows slid away from him like unfurling petals of a dark flower. The golden haired youth approached her cautiously, almost as if she was some wild animal and one wrong move would make her bolt. Or perhaps he was the wild animal, and she would make him bolt. His eyes, still clear despite the gloom, gazed at her in an expression she had never seen him display: that of fear and eagerness. It was almost as if he desperately desired, no, needed to drink in Wendy's appearance, but was also afraid of what he would find. Wendy could not puzzle it out, or perhaps she did not have the state of mind to puzzle it out.
They gazed at one another for a few moments or perhaps a long while, devouring one another with their eyes alone. Every new and old feature and gesture was closely scrutinized, wondered at, and memorized. From toe to the tips of the hair, they took their fill in a pregnant silence.
Ever since the fatal incident aboard the floating ship, Peter had spent an inordinate amount of time in, near, or around the tepee that housed this person, this stranger to him. When she had taken the arrow for him, and looked at him with those fathomless, stormy blue eyes, he had recognized her, known her, instinctively identified her as Wendy, his Wendy, the Wendy of the magical hidden thimble. He would know her anywhere if all he had to go by were her eyes. But since then, her eyes had closed and her appearance so disturbingly and confusingly altered that he had not known what to make of it. Her exit and entrance in his sphere of existence had been both dramatic and bittersweet. In truth, his memories or dreams of Wendy (at that point he was somewhat confused) had been so emotionally charged that, in his weaker moments, he wondered, truly wondered, if she was a dream entirely. But the kiss had been real. The touching of lips, and the eyes shining with raw feelings were real. That he could never deny. And now...
On the one hand, Peter was faintly annoyed that Wendy had indeed partially gone through the entire "growing up" process. On the other, her maturing body elicited a cacophony of emotions within him that were both vague and very pleasing. In quiet, rare moments when fate had conspired that Wendy was alone in the sleeping hut without the presence of the medicine woman and Tink was called away to the Vale, as he gazed upon her face those same emotions welled and intensified within him once more. He felt that he needed to do something, wanted to do something, but he wasn't sure what to do. And then she had called his name...
Peter licked his lips, diffident and unsure. "You should lay down," he said softly, a rare courteous gesture from him, "You haven't gotten well enough." The chestnut haired girl upon the pallet complied obediently, but she fixed her powerful stormy blue eyes upon him in a soulful stare. Those eyes again... It must be Wendy. But he had to make sure.
"You are... Wendy, aren't you?"
A flash of hurt leapt in the cornflower blue eyes, and it distressed the Neverland boy for some reason. "Yes..." she replied slowly, after a long pause, "Has it been so long, Peter Pan, that you had forgotten me?" His last promise to her was conjured in the air between them.
"Oh no!" replied the copper tanned boy, and unlike Wendy his response was instantaneous. "How could I forget you?" he continued, slightly horrified at the very idea.
The London girl made no answer but the smile she gave him was utterly gorgeous. Peter's stomach twisted and flip flopped. He felt giddy at the smile, and he wondered vaguely if perhaps he had caught a sickness as well. He usually didn't feel so weird. But then, Peter never caught a sickness so he dismissed that notion. Abruptly, he snapped out of his trance, and turned his back on her.
Wendy's smile faltered. She queried, "Is something wrong, Peter?"
"Nothing," answered Peter tersely. He shook his head wordlessly for a moment before turning back to her. His sea blue green eyes were troubled. "Everything. Wendy, why-" At that precise moment, a venerable old lady entered the tent. She was an Indian medicine woman, wizened, slow moving, but graceful. Her dark brown eyes and white hair spoke of wisdom gained through years of experience. She was only a little taller than Peter Pan, but she was powerful nonetheless. The healer spoke sharply to Peter, but affection tinged her words. Wendy hazarded that she was commanding Peter to leave. Peter nodded once, anxious for some reason Wendy did not know again, and cast one last, wordless glance at her. Then he turned to leave.
"Peter, wait," called out the English girl, sitting up. "Where are you going?"
Peter paused to acknowledge her words, but did not answer. He passed through the tent flap gracefully, and disappeared in the darkness outside.
"Peter," called the fair, slender girl again, futilely. Abruptly, she felt angry. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting so rudely and oddly? Granted, Peter did not behave within the conforms of what London might consider "polite" but he had at least been considerate to her.
At that point, her sleepiness left her completely, and her fingers tightened on her blanket in anger.
The old lady hummed to her in a soothing manner. She gently pushed Wendy back to lie down on the pallet. Wendy swallowed her rage, and managed a small smile at the helpful woman. The medicine woman smiled benignly back at Wendy before feeling the younger girl's forehead. Her smiling countenance switched to a frown as she noted a dark marking on Wendy's forehead, very much like a bruise. That hadn't been noticed before... But on the whole, Wendy appeared to be well on the way to recovery. Satisfied with what she found, she chatted in her own tongue to Wendy, and Wendy wished she could understand. The medicine woman, though her face was congenial, seemed to be telling something of importance. Wendy shook her head to indicate her ignorance, but the medicine woman merely smiled and patted Wendy's hand. With a final encouraging nod, the medicine woman left.
It was dark outside in Neverland despite that it was still mid afternoon and should be light. But ever since the foreign, floating ship had exploded in a shower of flaming timber, the skies had been cloudy and gray. Sometimes it rained light showers, but most of the time it remained gloomy. It was a depressing atmosphere and had done nothing to help Wendy's recovery. The medicine woman took it as a portent.
The old lady walked until she was some distance away from the tent that housed Wendy. Though her senses were not keen enough to detect Peter's location, her wisdom told her that he had not gone far. He had not gone very far for long since the young lady had been brought to the medicine woman's attention. "You are cruel, Peter Pan, and tempt the gods," spoke the lady in her own language.
As expected, Peter emerged somewhere from the far left, hidden cleverly in the shadows of the foliage. "How am I cruel?' he questioned back to her in Indian tongue, folding his arms. He was only mildly perturbed at the medicine woman's admonition.
"The lady was at death's door. Her fever ravaged her. Her wound would not close. There was evil in the arrow that pierced her flesh, and this evil spread. It should have consumed her," replied the gray haired woman evenly.
"It wouldn't have!" shot back Peter defensively. "She's much too strong for that."
"But it didn't," nodded the Indian healer. "But not through her own strengths. Her will to live and our skills combined could not have revived the dead. Nay, Pan, it is the will of the gods for her to live and suffer other fates. Yet now I see you spurn her. Did you not badly desire for her to live? You spit in the gift of the gods."
"I do not 'spurn' her," retorted the boy crossly. The sea blue green-eyed youth was never good at being lectured at, and he only endured through such tediousness with sulky compliance if it happened to be the fairy monarchs or Wendy. But hesitation danced in his eyes and colored his voice.
The dark skinned medicine woman clucked her tongue at the brash, impatient youth. She was much too familiar with Peter not to know that further reprimands were useless. But she drew breath to give one last warning in an attempt to impress upon the youngster the weight of the girl's recovery. "Have a care to the young girl's welfare, Pan. She almost died. It was a miracle she survived. I doubt she can suffer half of another blow for you and live."
"Wendy... Wendy wouldn't," mumbled Peter, this time taken aback by the medicine woman. She couldn't be serious, could she? She talked of Wendy dying, of Wendy going away to a place where he could never follow.
"It is... Wendy then?" asked the medicine woman, changing the subject. Her wise, brown eyes saw the fear in Peter's face and knew it was enough.
"Yes," nodded the boy, looking unsure once more.
"Ah," murmured the elderly woman. She lifted her head to look at the gray clouds. "I remember her in the great bonfire night so long ago, when you rescued Princess Tiger Lily from Hook. I was preoccupied with Wendy's brothers, but I saw her for a moment, and I heard her voice from afar. She was like your fairies, wreathed in twilight and spirit."
Peter nodded once more, muttering shamefully words that were completely uncharacteristic of Peter Pan, "She was... the one who saved your grandson. She sang for the pirates in exchange that your grandson's life be spared."
The medicine woman's face creased into a smile, "Did she now? All the gladder I am to have helped her out."
"How soon will she be well?"
The healer mock glared at Peter, "Without needless distress ailing her, then seven days. If you continue to upset her so, even longer."
"That long?" asked Peter, dismayed. "The fairies wanted to see us right away."
The medicine woman internally raised a brow at the bit of news. Usually, the woodland folk had little to do with Indians. Their chief contact to the outside world was Peter Pan, and Peter rarely if ever revealed information of his revels with the fairies. To hear that the fairies had business with someone other than Peter Pan, a girl from the outside at that, was startling indeed. Yes, her feelings were turning out correct. The troubles in Neverland had merely begun, and somewhere, somehow this Wendy of Peter's had something to do with it.
Peter did not come to Wendy anymore after their first real meeting, and this distressed Wendy in many levels. She was both angry and upset, wondering what she had done exactly that caused the cheeky youth to avoid her like the plague. She had not seen hide nor hair of him, though she often felt his presence lingering in the background. The only good thing about Peter's disappearance was that the medicine woman was now able to lavish her full medical regime upon Wendy, and Wendy grew healthy for it. Day by day her old strength returned to her, and she felt well enough to sit up, stand, walk, and feed herself. She walked a little around her tepee, and discovered, to her surprise, that she was standing relatively isolated from the Indian camp. Furthermore, she was kept to herself. She saw no other Indian, even Tiger Lily or the Indian boy she had tried to save upon the Basilisk, except the medicine woman. It made her feel a little edgy, and she wondered if perhaps this was because of her sickness or some other reason.
One such day she felt particularly irritable. She was kept confined at day, and her repose at night gave her no rest. Dreams plagued her, dreams she was never able to recall, but unsettling dreams nonetheless. The medicine woman must have seen her puffy eyes. Wendy tried laughing it off and gestured futilely. "There's no reason to worry," she said, though it was far too much to hope the woman would understand her, "It's just that I've been having bad dreams, that's all. In fact, all this... feels like a dream. It feels like I'm dreaming even though my eyes are wide open." The woman nodded quietly, and left her alone. The next morning, she presented Wendy with two, small, dream catcher earrings carved ornately from some white, animal bone. The making was extremely detailed and fine. A small feather hung from each of the elaborate circles as a finishing touch. Wendy felt a rush of gratitude and warmth to the woman who had been tirelessly taking care of her, and she expressed these feelings by hugging the elder woman impulsively. The lady seemed to understand, and she seemed every bit as happy as Wendy.
With proper rest this time (Wendy was inclined to believe her dream catcher earrings truly worked), Wendy's head cleared and she was allowed to think. However, thinking inevitably lead to headaches, dream catcher or no. Wendy could not puzzle out her situation no matter how hard she though of it. Last thing she knew, she was playing a song in a London ballroom when an evil man had tried attacking her. Next, she was zipping through worlds, crash landed on a Neverland beach, and was near assaulted by what seemed to be new pirates. Then a unicorn had come to her, disappeared, and a pirate captain had abducted Wendy herself. Soon after, she had tried saving an Indian boy from inevitable death, had to sing a song for it (in eerie reminiscence of her story telling to Hook's pirates), and then taken part in a hostile take over. Lastly, she had taken an arrow meant for Peter. That unhappy incident led her to where she was now, recovering from an illness she was not aware of and in a place that bred questions but gave no answers. She felt like screaming.
On the fourth or fifth day of this confinement, Wendy had had enough. Though the weather was still gloomy, the English girl prevailed upon the medicine woman, with much strain on both their part from the language handicap, to let her go to a stream or pool. To Wendy's delight, she was led to a hot spring. Once the medicine woman had gone, Wendy looked around to check that no one was near. She bit her lip, hesitating. "If you're out there, Peter Pan," she warned, "you had better not be looking." Silence answered her. Wendy waited a few more moments before quickly shedding her soiled gown (the shoulder was ripped from the arrow's entry and the Indians' ministrations anyway) and dunking inside the spring. The waters felt deliciously warm, and the chestnut haired girl felt all the aches and tension of her muscles dissolve. She leaned against a smooth rock, resting with her eyes closed.
That was how Peter found her some time later. He had been out hunting with some of the Indian braves just to take his mind off of what to do with the young girl recovering in the sick tent. Upon returning with a successful kill, he was waylaid with a message from Tiger Lily. Her father, the great chief, needed to talk to Peter. This did not puzzle Peter too much. Peter had a feeling that the chief wanted to know more about the strange people coming in floating ships to hunt down Neverland's inhabitants, man and beast alike. By the time that had been done, it was already several hours into the evening. He had known almost immediately that Wendy was not in her tent, and this led him in a short but frenzied flight to find the medicine woman. The old lady merely shrugged, smiled, and pointed in the direction of the hot springs. "She wanted a bath, Peter," grinned the old lady. "It was good for her anyway."
Peter felt very cross. "What if she was too sick to take a bath?" he asked the old lady none too gently. "What if it was dangerous by the hot springs?"
She merely pressed a bundle into his surprised hands and asked coyly, "What if someone found her there all by herself?" There was something very teasing about her question that curdled Peter's blood. Without further ado, he had flown at top speed to where the hot springs were. For some reason, he felt extremely angry and offended, as if someone had done great injustice to him. So upset was he that he had no room for what he might find at the hot springs. His only concern was to get Wendy safely and soundly back to the sick hut.
"Wendy!" he yelled the minute he burst upon the hot springs. "Wendy, are you-" Peter's words died in his throat, and his eyes widened. His jaw dropped. Wendy lay fast asleep, curled in the shallows of the comfortable hot spring. Her head was pillowed by her arm and kept above the water level. Most of her body was submerged in the water and in the gathering dark it was impossible to see much. But it was possible to see shapely contours and outlines that sent a strange sensation curling within Peter's stomach. Furthermore, her dark chestnut hair was spread in all its glossy glory around the girl, and it contrasted sharply with her pale skin. The Indian medicine woman was right. She looked more to be a fairy, a trick of the light, rather than a human girl. Peter's mouth felt dry, and he automatically clicked it shut. A blush burned bright in his cheeks for reasons he again knew not, and he felt a vague inkling that he should look away. Ah well. Peter was not one to listen to little inner voices of society and the painting presented before his eyes was too delicious a temptation not to succumb to.
Peter felt that he could have gazed at her forever, exploring her new body with his highly curious and eager eyes. But all good things must come to an end, and Wendy began to stir. The girl shakily raised her head, blearily looking around in confusion. The first thing she registered was the soothing water lapping her naked body. The next thing she registered was Peter Pan floating above the pool. The third thing she registered wa- Wait, a minute. Peter???
Wendy shrieked and dunked her body further underwater though it was poor protection. She gave Peter a lethal glare and said in the most scandalized voice, "Peter Pan, what in God's name are you doing here?!" The youth started at her shriek, and he floated nearer to her, looking curious. But was that a blush on his cheeks?
"I was worried about you," replied Peter and there was a definite hint of embarrassment in his voice. "So I came looking."
"But here... now?!" she whispered furiously. "Peter Pan, don't you dare come any closer! Go away!"
"What?" asked Peter crossly. "What's the matter with you?"
Wendy's eyes widened in exasperation. "What's the matter with me??? What's the matter with you! You're not supposed to spy on girls when they bathe, Peter Pan!" she yelled.
"I was not spying!" cried Peter indignantly. "I just came looking...and you were like that! Besides, didn't you want to talk to me?"
"I didn't want to talk to you like this! Peter, I'm not dressed!" screamed Wendy, thoroughly exasperated and almost in despair. This was highly scandalous. If anyone were to know... The air between the two of them practically sizzled with exasperation and resentment.
Unexpectedly, something wet plopped on Peter's nose. The young boy blinked, looked up, and saw that rain had begun to fall. He looked positively surprised at the drop of rain. Wendy began to laugh, and the tension dissolved. The London girl laughed softly in the air despite the falling rain, drawing her arms and knees around herself. Peter turned towards her, grinning as well, and he soon joined her in her laughter. At that moment, when their laughter joined in the air, it felt like old times again, exactly like old times. It made old feelings rise within Wendy and she smiled her joy at Peter. She thought he could feel it too.
"Very well, Peter," sighed Wendy, smiling wryly. "Turn around and don't look. I shall get out of the bathing spring, and we can talk again once I'm properly dressed."
Smiling cheekily at her, Peter turned around before abruptly swinging back. "Oh yeah," he said. "The medicine woman wanted me to give you this. " He offered the bundle in his hand, and Wendy realized it was an Indian dress. She smiled, both at the medicine woman's thoughtfulness and at Peter.
"Drop it by the shore, please," requested Wendy.
Peter shrugged, floating closer and pressing it to her hand. "Why?" he asked carelessly, but the minute he locked eyes with her, the minute his hand touched hers, the tension went back in the air. But it was a different tension this time, a tension of a different nature. Wendy felt a shiver run through her body, and she licked her lips, confused and a bit frightened. Peter's eyes held hers captive, and she felt herself drowning in a world of sparkling sea blue green. She felt very hot and vulnerable. Peter seemed to be leaning closer...
Thunder rumbled overhead, and Wendy snapped away from her spell. She gasped, cheeks flaming. "Don't look at me like that," she breathed, looking away.
Peter blinked, surprised himself. He backed away from her, every bit as frightened as she was at the intensity a moment before. "I didn't look at you like anything," he responded defensively. "G-Go dress then!" With those words, he sped away to some place hidden by the trees. Wendy watched him go, troubled. Her heart was beating rapidly within her breast, and her thoughts ran in frenzied circles in her mind. What was she doing? Why had she felt that... Wendy abandoned the trail of thought, afraid to see what lay at the end. Unbidden, a hysterical giggle threatened to rise up from her throat. The situation was getting completely out of hand.
Hurriedly, she rushed out of the bathing stream and ducked behind a protective screen of foliage. As rapidly as she could, Wendy scrubbed herself with the soft cloth that came with the Indian dress, and then donned the dress itself. The material was soft deerskin, and it molded intimately to her body in a way none of her London gowns ever had. It was a strange sensation, and she felt both comfortable and uncomfortable at once. The close fitting, slitted skirt fell to her knees and a vine belt twined around Wendy's tiny waist. A fringe decoration accentuated her bust, and the dress itself ended a few inches beyond that. The fringe went off shoulder in a manner Wendy recognized in some of her ball gowns. Without the usual undergarments that went along with London gowns, the young girl felt very naked. Her only consolation was that Indian dresses made no room for the dreaded corset. She gathered the discarded garments, and stepped out hesitantly. "Peter?" she called.
The youth sulkily came into view. It appeared that he worked himself into a worse temper, and he asked sulkily, "Are you ready now?"
Wendy shrugged, her hair sliding sensuously to her back. She had to remember to ask for a comb later. She fixed her eyes on Peter, and once again found him staring at her in a most discomfiting manner. His sea blue green eyes had brightened like the sun, and it held her captive in its beams. Wendy licked her lips, fighting to keep from staring back at him. "I guess so," she murmured.
Unexpectedly, he grinned at her. He smiled at her the exact same way he had smiled when he had first taken her to Neverland. That smile full of mischief and promise, a smile she was never able to resist. "Come with me, Wendy," he urged softly, coming to hover closer and closer to her. "Come away with me." He was so close. His soft, charmingly boyish, golden features filled up her vision, and his eyes insisted pleadingly with her. His breath touched her face, feeling like warm velvet. "Come with me. " The bundle Wendy held twitched then was dropped to the floor. Peter dipped his hand in a hidden pouch by his waist and withdrew it. He spread the glittering fairy dust all over Wendy who closed her eyes the minute the enchanted powder touched her soft skin.
"I'm not sure," murmured Wendy, "if I remember how to do this right. I can't seem to think happy...."
"Look at me, Wendy," commanded the copper tanned youth. Wendy seemed hesitant, and he cupped her face in his hand. Her stormy blue eyes flew open in shock, and he held them locked with his own gaze. "Forget it. Leave it all behind you. Think of me."
Wendy felt like she was drowning. All she could hear was Peter's voice sliding silkily in the air; all she could see were Peter's intense sea blue green eyes drawing her in; all she could feel was his warmth drenching her. It was as if she had fallen under a spell, and couldn't seem to pull out of it. Even his last statement failed to rouse any response from her.
Peter smiled softly at her. He took her white hands, placed one on his shoulder, and the other he held with his hand exactly like that night such a long time ago. He stepped up to her, skin-to-skin, and whispered in her ear, "Dance with me." He started slowly, gently, never breaking his intense rapport with the pliant young girl in his arms. And, just as slowly, Wendy responded to him. Both began to hear music only they could hear, a rich symphony of sound and emotion that reverberated within them both.
The couple began to float in the air, twirling with supernatural grace. The floating steam over the hot springs, the otherworldly coloring of the Neverland foliage, and the very image of the two themselves served to paint a scene of unsurpassed unorthodox beauty. And neither Peter nor Wendy noticed. The two were completely wrapped with each other.
It was only when Wendy's foot dipped low and drew warm water from the hot springs that she realized their position. She gasped, wrapping her arms around Peter instantly. "Peter!" she whispered.
Peter laughed, his own arms around her waist just to keep her secure. "Relax," he breathed into her. "I have you." Wendy stilled her nervous movements, the intimacy of their embrace or his words not lost upon her. He slowly rose in the air, keeping Wendy next to him.
"Peter..."
"Let's not talk here. Let's talk, if we have to, some other place. I have an idea," he grinned cheekily. "Can you manage?"
Wendy flushed, knowing he meant if she was comfortable with flying. She nodded, "I think so." Very slowly, she let go of Peter's neck, and, very slowly, Peter disengaged his arms from her waist. He stayed very close just in case, but Wendy seemed able to hover. He grinned once again, very smug that his plan had worked. He took her hand and led her into the night sky. The two rose to vast heights until they were at level with the thick clouds. Wendy was apprehensive at first, but she quickly understood why Peter had brought her the minute they had broken through the stormy clouds. From above those very clouds, the world was a snowy wonderland. Puffy clouds, wispy clouds, thick clouds of snow white stretched from one horizon to the next, and the large, beautiful, moon shone down this magical world in all her silver glory. Innumerable stars of all colors, intensities, and sizes dotted the firmament.
The stormy blue-eyed girl had forgotten what it was to fly. She had forgotten the sensation of the wind racing past your body as you cut through the air in dizzying speeds. It was an intoxicating feeling, and the ability to fly quickly rushed back to the chestnut haired girl. For about half an hour, she twisted and swooped in the air, laughing delightedly, and Peter played with her. They played a sort of hide and seek, and tag game. The clouds were a wonderful place to play in. No hiding place was too safe and at any minute the other could find the other simply by bursting through the thick clouds. Peter won each time, of course, but Wendy was a fair sport and she wasn't easy to beat at all.
Giddy with joy and drunk with laughter, the girl flopped back on a sinfully comfortable cloud. Her stormy blue eyes reflected the firmament above, and her fair skin was ivory in the moonlight. Her silky hair lay in wild abandon all over, and she felt peace, contentment, security, and joy. Feelings she thought would never come together again.
Peter threw himself beside her a minute later, still laughing from their wild antics. His eyes were sparkling humor, mischief, and joy. Wendy couldn't help but respond to the smile on his face. Peter boldly laid an arm across Wendy's waist and he pulled himself closer to her. The girl's eyes widened at the unexpected actions, and she made move to speak. However, he silenced her words with a finger to her lips, and his arm tightened around her. His eyes gazed desperately in her face, searching for something. The stormy blue-eyed girl thought she saw something glimmer in his eyes, and it made her chest tighten.
The boy shook his head, switching moods abruptly as he began it. He sat up cross-legged, peering intently at her. "I guess we really do need to talk, don't we?" he asked, frowning.
Wendy blinked a few times, dazed by the fast changes in his behavior. Nonetheless, she rose to a sitting position, her legs folding lady like underneath her. She nodded solemnly, hair sliding luxuriously around her bare shoulder, "Yes, we must."
She thought for a moment. "It's been... three years since we last parted ways," Wendy began, her eyes focusing on the distant stars. "It's been so long. I... grew up. Some things changed." She shrugged, gesturing vaguely at herself. "I went to a ... gathering at night in the house of some great... hmm... manager, or lord, of a great company my father works in. I was feeling strange. Well, I had been feeling strange for... about a year or half a year now. It feels as if someone's watching me, or something's searching for me. It frightens me. At times, it goes away. Other times, it grows so strong it's almost as if an invisible person is standing so close bearing down upon me." A shiver wracked her fragile frame, and Peter crowded close to her. "Anyway, in this party the feeling intensified. It felt so close, closer than it's ever been before. The... lord's son was dancing with me, and he asked me to play a song for him." Wendy was far too absorbed in her narration and in her thoughtful minute pauses in which she sought to explain the situation in terms Peter would understand to notice his dark scowl at the mention of the dancing and song playing. "After I finished playing the song, the room was empty," continued Wendy. She hesitated, before turning her bewildered and half frightened eyes on him. "Everybody was gone. The furniture was there; the food was still there. It's just that... nobody was there. No servants, no guests. No one. It was very dark as well, and the only light came from a balcony. When I went... a man was there. A dreadful man. He looked... so ...He was beyond evil. He whispered such things to me... terrible things. It frightens me to think of it now. I couldn't think. I didn't think I could run. All I could feel was such fear and revulsion. It paralyzed me. I didn't think I could fight. I think... I think he would have taken me." Unconsciously, a hand crept up to her acorn necklace. She closed her eyes as if to shut out the bad memories. The slender girl drew breath and plunged on, "Then I remember your ... thimble. And I started singing. It was all I could think of to keep from breaking down. The more I sang, the stronger I felt, and the angrier he was. It frightened me still, but I kept on singing. When I reached the end of my song, it was as if an explosion had occurred. Light enveloped me. I think I was dreaming for a while... when I came to, I was at the beach. Pirates... those dark pirates aboard the Basilisk. I met them, but they left me alone. Again, I think I was dreaming or had fainted. I was walking in the forest following something when that Pirate captain abducted me... Rahul. He gave me a drug and when I came to, I was on the Basilisk. I think you know what happened afterwards." Both remained silent after her lengthy narration.
Wendy watched Peter's reaction anxiously, trying to gauge out what he thought. But the boy's face remained childishly confused. "I don't understand any of it," announced the copper tanned youth not so long after Wendy ended her story. "Could the man be a ghost? I did not know you could cross worlds and come to Neverland without my help or the fairies' help."
"Neither did I," assented Wendy. "I don't even know whether the ghost stranger brought me here or whether that light was something else entirely."
"He didn't," stated the sea blue green-eyed youth, and Wendy was surprised by the firmness in his statement. At her questioning gaze, he reiterated, "It is clear to me that this man wished to do you harm. If the light at the end of your song brought you here to Neverland, then it brought you to safety. He would not have brought you here to safety."
The chestnut haired girl smiled, amused at the simplistic logic yet powerful truth of his words.
"Furthermore," continued the boy, chewing on his lower lip, "he may have been the reason why you've been feeling so jumpy. Ghosts are known to haunt people. Maybe he was haunting you?"
"But why?" wondered the English girl. "Why not before? There is no reason for him to..."
"Maybe there is," replied Peter solemnly, "but we just don't know yet."
Wendy drew her knees against herself, feeling pensive. "So then... tell me what happened to you after I ... left?" she prodded.
"Neverland is the same," answered Peter cockily, grinning. "Adventures are perhaps not so grand since Captain Hook was swallowed by the crocodile, but it's still great fun." His eyes fairly danced with the same old sparkle, tempting Wendy once more to partake in his bold undertakings.
Wendy smiled gently at the tease. "Where is Tinkerbell?" she asked softly. "I haven't seen her since that night... on the Basilisk."
Peter's smile faded at the mention, and he seemed unsure once more. "She's been gone awhile. Come to think of it, more and more of the fairies are being called back to the Fairy Vales for a while now. Tink was one of the last to leave. She seemed upset for some reason. That night on the Basilisk was once in a while that I had seen the fairies come out en masse."
"What did happen with the Basilisk, Peter? Are they new pirates? I haven't seen the Jolly Roger...I didn't know ships in Neverland could fly."
"They are pirates," answered Peter slowly, as if thinking of it for the first time. "But they're not like the pirates from the Jolly Roger. I talked to the pirates on Jolly Roger, and they swore they never saw pirates like these. They're one of the first to come in floating ships. I don't know how they float. The fairies promised me that there weren't other fairies aboard. No one was really sure what to make of them. I came close to a lot, but they always shot at me. They stayed far away from me, so I didn't care much. Then they started going down to the islands. They took plants, animals, of all kinds. No one really minded at first. But then they started taking people... Jolly Roger Pirates, Indian captives.... I've heard the mermaids say that they've tried catching mermaids and fairies, but fairies and mermaids are much too quick for them still. This time, they captured Raven Wing, the medicine woman's grandson. The people of Neverland made a rescue attempt. But... we hadn't expected..." Peter shrugged, and Wendy partly knew what he meant. These events were entirely unheard of in Neverland.
Peter touched her knee to bring her attention back to him. "The Indian chief has been talking to me," he said earnestly. "He wants to know about these newcomers. The mermaids talk to me as well. They say they are afraid. The Jolly Roger Pirates talk amongst themselves and the Indians. They're waiting for my decision. And the fairies... The fairies want me to go to the Fairy Court, as soon as you are able."
Wendy blinked in surprise. Was her presence so important to the fairies? In her entire experience with them, they had their whole contact exclusively with Peter. But it made sense. These were not just strange new occurrences. They were downright terrifying, and Wendy hadn't the faintest inkling of what was happening to Neverland or her. If anyone knew the truth of these matters, then it was the fairies. She nodded. "All right then," she agreed. "Tomorrow in the morning. Let us go to the fairies."
Peter grinned smugly, his eyes leaping in her countenance. He already thought it a fine adventure.