Author's Note: And the saga continues! If reviews are anything to go by, though, it looks like everyone is reading my sex-fic "Awakenings," instead of this bit of fluffy innocence and mystery. Hmm. I guess sex sells, eh?
Thanks: Thanks again to my husband and Mara Trinity Scully for their beta-reading. And thanks again, also, to those who have taken the time to review!
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. This fic, however, is mine. Please don't take it without my permission.
Chapter 9
An Unexpected Visitor
~
Days and weeks passed, and Wendy continued to tell Peter stories, and Peter continued to change, becoming ever more like the Peter Pan of her stories, young and merry and self-assured.
Along with his health, Peter also gradually recovered nearly all of his memories, and any remaining gaps might be blamed just as easily on Peter's own careless disregard for such things. He now remembered what Hook had said to bring him crashing to the deck of the Jolly Roger, and so that mystery was now solved for him, though he still did not tell Wendy. He did not want for her to know how much it had bothered him to think of her leaving and forgetting him.
Now that he remembered everything, he was even more pleased than he had been previously that Wendy had searched for him so persistently on Oxford Street and in Whitechapel. She had not forgotten him! He felt quite smug about the whole thing.
And, as more days passed, and Wendy told even more stories, Peter noticed that the plaster upon his leg gradually become loose enough that he could squeeze his leg out of it, and he was once again free of the horrid encumbrance, much to his ensuing delight. In celebration, he proceeded to joyfully race up and down the stairs repeatedly, until Aunt Millicent shouted rather desperately for quiet.
For, as you may have guessed, Peter had continued to grow younger and younger, fed by Wendy's stories, until he at last arrived once more at the age at which he had first met her. He was once again a joyful and carefree boy, who showed very little concern for this unusual transformation, since being young again felt perfectly natural, and he felt nothing but glee at being once more himself.
There was no one else to witness this transformation except Wendy, for Aunt Millicent kept largely to herself, and Lottie felt it impolite to notice. And so Wendy had known for some time that Peter was growing younger, and in truth it had saddened her, for Peter had gone from a handsome young man of her own age ... to being a boy significantly younger than she. How did not matter, for it was incomprehensible to her, though her heart told her that it was her stories that had accomplished this marvelous feat.
No, what mattered most to Wendy was that Peter Pan was once more a child, while she was not. Was she to treat him as a younger brother, as with the boys? She could never feel about him as she should toward a brother, and so this was all quite quite hopeless.
Peter Pan was once more the boy of her dreams and stories, but Wendy herself was not the same bright-eyed girl who had played with him so long ago.
She remained a woman, grown up ... and growing increasingly ill.
Neither Peter nor Aunt Millicent realized how sick Wendy was becoming, for she attempted to hide her illness from them as best she could, and the sly Dr. Carew on his unwelcome fortnightly visits continued to dismissively diagnose her with nothing but a persistent cold.
Her sleep was terribly disturbed by chills and sweats, and coughing still plagued her, but the worst affliction was her lack of energy, for she felt always weak and exhausted. Luckily, circumstances had conspired to keep her always at home, most often by Peter's bedside.
But now that Peter had doffed his plaster cast and was no longer confined to his bed, Wendy had no reason to remain at home instead of resuming her previous routine of social visits to Aunt Millicent's elegant acquaintances. However, Aunt Millicent herself remained less sociable than usual, preferring to remain home and sew in the sitting room, which suited Wendy well.
Peter's healthy exuberance was rather trying on the older lady's nerves, however, and so she and Wendy sought ways to keep the boy occupied. As December dawned, an answer emerged.
The boy could put up the Christmas decorations.
Of course, since Aunt Millicent was rather particular about appearances within her well-appointed home, the task required her to work closely with the boy. This was particularly inconvenient when Wendy begged off, uncharacteristically claiming to prefer to sit quietly beside the fire with her needlework.
"Come, boy," commanded Aunt Millicent, showing Peter to the large box in the entryway, where Harry had deposited the greenery for this year's festive adornment. The box overflowed with sprigs and branches of fragrant spruce, balsam, laurel, cedar, ivy, mistletoe, and holly. The entryway smelled quite as pleasant and woodsy as any forest, and Peter felt a pang of homesickness for the wilderness of Neverland.
But his pleasure at the scent did not blind him to the fact that it seemed quite odd for this fussily-attired lady to bring pieces of trees into her tidy home. "Why do you have branches?" he asked Aunt Millicent.
"They are Christmas decorations," she explained tersely, wanting the boy to get to work without so much conversation. She showed him how to drape greenery along the woodwork in the entryway.
"What is Christmas?" he asked, following her instructions with a rather haphazard hand, undeterred by her sour face.
And so, defeated by Peter's curiosity, Aunt Millicent proceeded to explain Christmas to him in great detail, covering not only the religious significance but also the secular. Peter's eyes glazed over after a relatively brief time, for most of her explanations defied Peter's comprehension, but he was captivated by certain elements of what he did understand.
"Gifts? You give gifts?"
"Yes, gifts. Some are hand-made, and others are found in stores."
Peter had little idea what "stores" were, though the pirates often kept stores of rum and treasure, so he innocently imagined that London folk went into pirates' hoards to obtain their Christmas presents. It seemed a risky proposition, and not one he would expect from Wendy's aunt.
"That sounds rather brave," he allowed reluctantly, feeling some small increase in respect for the unpleasant older lady that she would speak so calmly of facing pirates and stealing their booty.
Pausing in her task of showing Peter how to festoon spruce branches along the banisters, Aunt Millicent looked at him, truly looked at him, for perhaps the first time. "Brave?" she scoffed. "No, my boy, it is not brave." But at the sound of that simple word, her conscience twinged, reminding her of a politeness long overdue.
Stopping Peter in his work, Aunt Millicent looked down at him with a solemn expression. "I have never thanked you for saving my niece," she said stiffly, not accustomed to feeling beholden to young men so below her in station. "She is very dear to me, and I would have been quite heartbroken to lose her."
Thinking on his own feelings toward Wendy, Peter nodded and admitted, "Me, too."
Peering at him in surprise and disapproval, Aunt Millicent told Peter firmly, "I hope you are nursing no expectations where my niece is concerned. Despite your bravery in rescuing her, you have nothing to offer her in the way of prospects, and you are far too young."
Peter's back stiffened at the words "nothing to offer her," reminding him as they did of Hook's taunt to the same effect. In truth, the comment smarted most because he believed it himself. What could he have to offer Wendy, particularly now that Neverland was gone? But he would not allow his youth to be so maligned.
"I am not too young!" he replied testily. "I am precisely the right age!"
Examining the boy through her reading spectacles, Aunt Millicent commented curiously, "You did seem rather older when first we met, for I had imagined you somewhat older than my niece, but upon closer examination it is clear that you are certainly inappropriately younger than she."
His face growing only more determined, Peter responded, "I protect her and save her, so who is to say I'm too young?"
Caught, Aunt Millicent watched the boy for a long moment, and then murmured as if to herself, "Indeed. Despite your youth, you have shown courage such as I could never have."
Thinking of her Christmas gift explanation, Peter replied easily, "Oh, I'm sure you are very brave in the face of pirates."
Aunt Millicent gasped in horror, "Pirates? Why, no! I could never!"
Frowning in confusion, Peter eyed her, and then turned to carelessly pin another lopsided laurel branch around the newel post. "I am sure you are very brave when necessary." He was being polite, of course, for in truth he had lost all ability to understand what the old lady was talking about, as all of his previous understandings seemed incorrect.
Tilting her head and watching the boy with eyes that gleamed in response to such an unexpected, and most likely undeserved, compliment, Aunt Millicent proclaimed, "You shall dine with us this evening, young man, now that your health permits."
Peter looked dubious, but shrugged agreeably, offering no thanks for the invitation, nor any recognition that such thanks might be due, as was his careless wont.
And so that evening, Wendy, Peter, and Aunt Millicent supped in the fine dining room decorated and scented with festive Christmas greenery. Wendy had little appetite, as had become usual, and so spent her time instead smiling proudly and encouragingly at Peter. Aunt Millicent ate delicately, as a fine lady should do. And Peter Pan put his elbows upon the table and slurped his soup most alarmingly, but otherwise did not offer any great offense.
Aunt Millicent, it seemed, finally approved of him.
That night, Wendy dreamed again of Neverland. She dreamt of the tall trees, their trunks bending and twisting so that they were optimally climbable. She dreamt of the flowering vines that trailed all through the jungle. She dreamt of the high waterfall, crashing into the blue pool beneath, the spray producing wild arcing rainbows in every direction.
She dreamt of swimming in Neverland's ocean with Peter by her side, showing her fantastic fishes and mysterious reefs of multi-colored coral. He took her hand and swam with her down into the coral mazes, guiding her through arches and into underwater chambers, pulling her along to see tall white towers beneath the sea.
And as Wendy lay dreaming in her ruffled, curtained bed ... far away in a magical land built by dreams and stories, a waterfall cascaded anew down a green hillside, and towers of coral began to grow beneath the sea.
And then came the evening when it all changed most unexpectedly. As Peter lay asleep in his abhorrently pink and white bed, the window latch began suddenly to turn, seemingly all on its own. Slowly, slowly, the latched wiggled and woggled and at last the window flew upon with a clatter, sending the curtains billowing into the room.
Peter woke from his sleep to drowsily gaze about him in confusion, only to suddenly leap fully awake from the bed when he saw a golden light fly haphazardly into the room. "Tink?" he cried with great hope in his heart. "Tinker Bell, is that you?"
And, indeed, the light flew toward him to tweak his ear and giggle to him, and it was Tinker Bell, just as she had always been, as if she had never ever vanished into nothing and left him confused and alone.
"Tink! What happened? Where did you go?" Peter had so many questions he was not even sure which to ask first, but these seemed the most important.
But Tinker Bell simply scolded him for being silly, and said that she had not gone anywhere, and what was he talking about? And why was he away from Neverland so long? He must come back, right away!
Peter was shocked by these developments, but he believed Tinker Bell with the easy trust that children bestow so freely, and so he immediately resolved to return with her immediately.
There was only one problem. Wendy.
Peter padded silently to Wendy's bedroom, Tinker Bell flitting about just over his right shoulder. He knocked quietly, but there was no answer. Quietly opening the door, he slipped inside and crept to her bedside. Wendy slept fitfully, sweat gleaming on her skin, but Peter did not notice, so excited was he with his unexpected news.
"Wendy," he whispered, leaning over her in her bed. Her eyes opened and she saw him there, hovering over her again, just as he had the first time she had ever seen him. He looked the same as he had done then, the light in his eyes calling to her, tempting her to follow this strange and wonderful boy wherever he might lead. "Wendy," he whispered again, joy in his voice.
"What is it, Peter?" she whispered in reply, rubbing her eyes and sitting up in bed ... only then noticing Tinker Bell beside Peter's ear. Gasping with surprise and wonder, Wendy nearly shouted aloud with happiness, but quickly hushed her own voice to say quietly, "Tinker Bell! You're alive!"
Tink, of course, thought this a perfectly ridiculous thing to say, because of course she was alive, and why were Peter and Wendy behaving so strangely, and Peter must return to Neverland immediately, so bye-bye!
Peter explained only the final part of what Tink had said. "I must return to Neverland, Wendy," he told her. "Tink says that it is just as always, and I don't know what has happened, but I must return."
Wendy gave a weak smile and said softly, "I am glad for you, Peter. I am glad that Neverland is safe once more, however it happened."
"But you must come with me!" Peter insisted. It had not occurred to him that Wendy would assume he was leaving alone. Why would she think that? She had seen it in his eyes, hadn't she? She knew, didn't she? She had to come with him!
"No, Peter, I cannot. I have grown too old for Neverland now. I made my choice more than three years ago, Peter, a long time ago. I must stay here." It broke her heart to say so, but looking at Peter, so young and merry, Wendy knew that she could not possibly stay with him as she now was. She would have given much to return to those days in the nursery, and make a different choice, but that time had long passed.
"No!" Peter stamped his foot. "You must come with me to Neverland. Why would you want to stay in this horrible place?"
Wendy smiled sadly and said, "I am grown up now, Peter. My Aunt Millicent needs me, Peter. She has given me so much ... I cannot leave her alone like this. My life has changed, Peter. I'm sorry. I cannot go. I will not go."
"Fine!" hissed Peter. "I hope you die!" He did not mean to be cruel, of course, but he was very angry at not getting what he wanted, and so lashed out as any selfish child might. He did not, of course, want for Wendy to die. He only wanted for her to come with him. But she was refusing him, and he was in a terrible pout over it.
"I'm leaving!" he announced, waiting for Wendy to attempt to stop him. When she did not, he turned sulkily to walk back toward his room, where the open window waited for him.
"Peter," Wendy called very softly, and Peter turned with a smug smile, certain that she must have changed her mind and was coming with him. "Peter, I will miss you."
That was all? She truly was not coming with him? Peter turned his back on Wendy and walked back to the horrid pink guest room, bidding it good-bye with a last burst of loathing. "Who wants her, anyway!" he muttered angrily, betraying in his tone perhaps more than a small amount of grief and hurt, however much he might have denied it.
And with that, Peter Pan stepped up to the window, accompanied by Tinker Bell, and flew out into the night.
At the window beside the one from which he had flown, a young woman's white face was illumined by the moonlight as she pressed her palm to the glass, as if she were bidding a sad and silent farewell.
To Be Continued ...