AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is picking up where Kimberly Appelcline's "The
First Kiss" fanfic leaves off (you can find the fic on this very site),
somewhere halfway through the epilogue. Kimberly's story, in turn, is a
continuation of P.J. Hogan's movie Peter Pan, which is of course a version
of J.M. Barrie's novel Peter Pan, which is in itself a sequel (of sorts) to
Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens (also by Barrie - which can be read at
gutenberg.net). Confused yet? ;-)
Here's Chapter XIII......More comments please! (
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XIII. A MOST PERFECT DAY
What passed for daylight at this time in Neverland was a musky orange glow that seeped in from behind the grayish clouds. If one stood and watched long enough, they would vaguely see the Sun, despite all his grandeur, playing a childish game of hide-and-seek with the island below, as if even he was afraid of inciting Captain Hook's wrath. But little by little was Anthony Pan beginning to coax him out of his exile.
And so, when the first indications of what must have been morning crept upon the shores of Neverland, Peter and Wendy resolved to make as much good use out of what was sure to be a most brief period of time as was possible. Conversely, this sudden yet discriminating appearance of the long dormant Sun sent Captain Hook back into the sullen recesses of his ship to await the next cover of darkness before making his move.
And so began an entire day of what only could be described as Pure Bliss for Peter and Wendy. All the many things they had dreamed about doing with their son for years at long last came to fruition. And it was all so very extra special that it should take place within the beloved Neverland. The ecstatic couple relished completely in doting on their boy again, and Anthony received their love and kindness most willingly – though always with one eye and ear open to anything shifty.
While Wendy stayed in the tree home to tidy the place up – heaven knows it could use it! – Peter accompanied Anthony on one of his many excursions to rouse Neverland from its frosty slumber. In all this time, Peter never revealed to his son whom he really was, that he was the legendary Peter Pan and had been The Boy of Neverland long before Anthony, or that he knew the place like he knew his own reflection. So, when Anthony insisted "Daddy, may I introduce you to the island?", Peter happily agreed, delighting in his son's enthusiasm in showing off this sacred place.
It ought to be mentioned here that, although Anthony did refer to Peter as "Daddy" on this occasion, he was only doing so as part of The Game. Peter had divulged his and Wendy's Christian names to the boy, and so would he prefer to address them thusly, except with a mannerly "Mr" or "Miss" tagged onto the front.
While the boys were away, Wendy toiled in the tree home, putting it back in its proper order and taking a moment to breathe in all the memories this little place held. At last was she able to sit and ponder her great and interminable love for Peter with a free mind and a clear conscience. And the cherished recollection of how Peter had proven his own total devotion to her upon the large bed-hollow tucked inside the tree prompted her to throw her arms feverishly around his neck once he returned with Anthony – something she had not felt comfortable to do in nearly three years.
The threesome spent what they assumed was the afternoon on a lovely beachside picnic. There were a few trees in the jungle beginning once again to bear fruit, and so they all helped in gathering some to eat. They also gathered a handful of some hardened berries from off of still-frozen bushes with which Peter and Anthony used to play a few lively rounds of marbles. Peter, being far more shrewd and experienced, defeated his son soundly on several occasions, prompting Wendy to whisper kindly in his ear to allow the boy to win a few times, lest his confidence – so vital to ruling Neverland – be compromised.
Peter also decided to teach Anthony the relatively new game of baseball, which had been gaining popularity back in London, fashioning a sturdy tree branch into a bat and using an immature coconut as a ball. Anthony took to it instantly, and even adjusted the game to his own preference by having Peter throw the "ball" hard out over the ocean so that Anthony may fly, at top speed, after it and whack it back to Peter on shore. This would often cause Wendy to duck for her life, as Anthony had not yet perfected his aim in this sport. But always would she emerge from her huddle with a kind smile on her face, much to Anthony's delight.
Indeed, Anthony's enthusiasm for this Game he was playing with these peculiar adults was starting to grow exponentially. He scarcely wanted it to end at all, and, upon completing one thrilling excursion, would beg for a new one to begin. Peter and Wendy would try to oblige him in all his wishes, however, they could hardly escape the troublesome fact that they *were* grown-ups and had not the energy and exuberance they once did so very long ago. They attempted several times to implore Anthony to take a nap, but he would hear none of it. Now he wanted to play hopscotch with Wendy!
And so she did. For after tomorrow, her chance to ever do so would abruptly cease.
What you and I call "time" moves swiftly in Neverland. Peter and Wendy both were painfully aware of this; so when they saw the sun begin to draw back his few tentative rays, they were quickly struck with a feeling of urgent sadness. Soon, they would have to say goodbye. Forever.
As they stood on the edge of the forest watching the sunlight disappear, Peter and Wendy looked at each other with sorrowful eyes. But behind those gloomy regards were tiny sparkles that jumped about their irises, each telling the other to be brave and that everything would be okay. But the couple's silent reverie was soon interrupted when they each felt a tiny hand slip inside one of their own. Casting their eyes downward, they saw Anthony, their precious son, grasping their hands and looking up at them with a wistful grin, as if to let them know that he now trusted them enough to touch him. After all, it was only a Game, wasn't it?
And so the handsome family strolled, hand-in-hand, back toward the tree home in the forest. On their way, Wendy's keen maternal eye caught Anthony trying desperately to stifle a yawn, but with little success. She tittered to herself.
Once back at the home, Anthony climbed into the large bed-hollow and asked Wendy to tell him one of her famous stories. Peter left them alone and climbed up onto the lookout platform above them so as to keep a watchful and protective eye over his little clan. And so Wendy nestled the boy snuggly amongst the furs and blankets in the bed and settled in to regale him with her legendary story of Cinderella. Anthony lay rapt as Wendy told of how Cinderella swiftly defeated the evil pirates and then was joyfully reunited with the Prince, who searched high and low for the wearer of a tiny glass slipper. His eyes were good and closed by the time Wendy got to "happily ever after," and those words lingered in her mind a moment longer following her speaking them – the irony of it cutting her heart into a million pieces.
When the story was finished and Anthony appeared to be in a peaceful state of slumber, Wendy leaned over and placed a warm kiss upon his forehead. It was not the Hidden Kiss, for that belonged to Peter only, but it was indeed a very special one nonetheless. And one she imagined Anthony would not accept were he still awake.
Wendy rose from the bed hollow and crossed to the pit on the other side of the room to stoke the small fire within. After a few quiet moments, she suddenly heard a tiny voice behind her:
"Miss Wendy?"
She turned and saw Anthony sitting upright in the bed, a rather uncertain look about his face.
"Yes, Anthony, what is it?"
He avoided her eyes. "You don't suppose that you and Mr. Peter could...maybe...come back and play with me again sometime?"
Wendy's heart skipped a beat, and she put a hand on her chest to keep it at bay. "Well, I...no, Anthony, I don't believe that will be possible."
"Well..." Anthony bit his lip. "May I...perhaps...come and visit you where you live?"
Wendy stood frozen. She had scarcely expected such a question, especially in light of his apparent bind with Neverland. But upon hearing it, she knew of no other answer to give: "Why, I think that would be perfectly lovely of you, Anthony."
The boy's eyes lit up excitedly, and without saying another word, he cheerfully crouched back down under the blankets and drifted off to sleep, a satisfied smile remaining upon his lips.
Wendy watched him for a little while, a renewed sense of optimism welling up within her. But she was mindful of becoming too hopeful, for she was aware of how Neverland could play tricks with time and memories. There was a larger chance that Anthony should forget all about Peter and Wendy than of him actually returning to visit them in London. But still, the notion was a sweet one, and something she could hold on to for the time being.
After thoroughly ensuring that Anthony was deep in sleep, cuddling with a wooden elephant that Peter had earlier whittled for him, Wendy climbed the long latter up toward the lookout platform to find her husband.
When she at last emerged, she saw Peter standing with his back to her, his arms folded and his eyes fixed toward the waters beyond. She could tell from where she stood that he had a dreamy grin on his face, not unlike the one Anthony donned as he slept. As she approached him quietly, she became aware of what he was looking at. The waters of Mermaid's Lagoon had been all but completely thawed, with only a handful of small chunks of ice floating on the surface, with which the mermaids themselves were now using to play a game that looked similar to water polo.
Wendy immediately shared Peter's amusement at the sight. The mermaids were often so foreboding and aloof that it was a bizarre sight indeed to see them behave so whimsically. And they had been dear allies to Peter and Wendy during some dark times, and so they delighted in watching them experience a rare moment of levity.
Stepping softly, Wendy crept up beside Peter and placed a warm hand onto his arm, resting her cheek lightly upon his shoulder. Peter responded as if he had known she was there all along, and, keeping his eyes aft toward the mermaids, slipped his arm around Wendy's waist and pulled her close to him.
The majestic moon shone huge and round above the waters, intimidating the clouds to keep their distance so that it may cast its glow upon the lagoon as if a great spotlight meant for Peter and Wendy only. The romance of the evening was quite palpable. A cool breeze whistled through the trees, the mermaids continued their merry sport, and their son was down in the tree home sleeping soundly.
For the first time since they could scarcely remember, all was right with the world.
As if reading each other's minds – as they are often so wont to do – Peter and Wendy's focuses finally met, and they both saw within each other's gaze the undeniable truth of their great love for one another. Now, at last, they could finally admit it, and they could finally express it. Peter brought his hand up so he may gently caress his wife's lovely cheek as he swam deeper into the ocean of her eyes. And then, cupping her chin, he leaned in to retrieve his Kiss, which had been eluding him for so long. It was just as he had remembered it – so soothing and yet so exciting all at once. And Wendy gave willingly of her Kiss, relishing the taste of her beloved husband's lips upon hers again with just as much eagerness.
As if the island itself could sense something very special was afoot in the treetops, the leaves and bushes began to rustle joyously under the gentle caress of the evening breeze. The gloomy clouds that had overruled the island for so long began themselves to blush coyly. And the mermaids abandoned their rocks of ice so that they may swim in formation, altogether humming a seductively haunting tune.
The pair's kissing was becoming more fevered now. It would not be long before they should collapse upon the lookout platform and relive their wedding night right then and there for all of Neverland to see. But they cared little, for their long-dormant passion could hardly be denied any longer. Peter pressed Wendy closer to him, kissing her so hard that neither of them could barely breathe. They carried on as if it was both the first and last time they would ever be able to do so.
They quickly became oblivious to anything else around them.
Including the tree home below their feet, where little Anthony continued to sleep soundly and carelessly. He had not slept so hard and lusciously since his first arrival in Neverland. Perhaps this accounts for why he did not hear the entrance to his home being breached.
Nor did he stir when bows and plates were kicked recklessly aside, or at the eerie scratching against the bark. He moved not a muscle as the sinister cackling came closer and closer to his bed.
Not until the ropes and gags were swiftly upon him did his eyes fly open. But by then, it was much too late. He could not move at all when he was snatched from his bed. And he could not call out for his mother and father as he was flung over a beefy shoulder and hauled back up through the unobtrusive tree entrance. In fact, no one at all might have been alerted to his predicament had his kidnapper not dropped his lantern as he attempted to squeeze back through the hole he came in by, letting it shatter most noisily upon the ground below. But once again, the alarm came too late.
High up in the trees above, a subtle yet quite noticeable din caused Peter and Wendy to abruptly break away from their passionate embrace. It had undeniably come from the home below. They both gasped.
Anthony!
As fast as their aging bones could take them, Peter and Wendy raced for the ladder and climbed swiftly down back into the tree, hazardously bypassing several rungs along the way. When at last they broke through into the little room, their eyes immediately darted towards the bed-hollow. It was empty.
Not knowing what else to do, the frantic parents began to call out Anthony's name. Perhaps he may be just playing a practical joke on them. But given their history, the Pans would find little humor in such a lark. Nevertheless, it became evident rather quickly that the boy was indeed gone, to where they knew not. Until Peter spotted the dastardly clue upon the wall.
Near the entrance where Anthony had been so violently dragged away was scrawled a in a most hideous fashion:
"BLUFFS AT 12 FOR YOUR SON, J. HOOK."
Here's Chapter XIII......More comments please! (
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XIII. A MOST PERFECT DAY
What passed for daylight at this time in Neverland was a musky orange glow that seeped in from behind the grayish clouds. If one stood and watched long enough, they would vaguely see the Sun, despite all his grandeur, playing a childish game of hide-and-seek with the island below, as if even he was afraid of inciting Captain Hook's wrath. But little by little was Anthony Pan beginning to coax him out of his exile.
And so, when the first indications of what must have been morning crept upon the shores of Neverland, Peter and Wendy resolved to make as much good use out of what was sure to be a most brief period of time as was possible. Conversely, this sudden yet discriminating appearance of the long dormant Sun sent Captain Hook back into the sullen recesses of his ship to await the next cover of darkness before making his move.
And so began an entire day of what only could be described as Pure Bliss for Peter and Wendy. All the many things they had dreamed about doing with their son for years at long last came to fruition. And it was all so very extra special that it should take place within the beloved Neverland. The ecstatic couple relished completely in doting on their boy again, and Anthony received their love and kindness most willingly – though always with one eye and ear open to anything shifty.
While Wendy stayed in the tree home to tidy the place up – heaven knows it could use it! – Peter accompanied Anthony on one of his many excursions to rouse Neverland from its frosty slumber. In all this time, Peter never revealed to his son whom he really was, that he was the legendary Peter Pan and had been The Boy of Neverland long before Anthony, or that he knew the place like he knew his own reflection. So, when Anthony insisted "Daddy, may I introduce you to the island?", Peter happily agreed, delighting in his son's enthusiasm in showing off this sacred place.
It ought to be mentioned here that, although Anthony did refer to Peter as "Daddy" on this occasion, he was only doing so as part of The Game. Peter had divulged his and Wendy's Christian names to the boy, and so would he prefer to address them thusly, except with a mannerly "Mr" or "Miss" tagged onto the front.
While the boys were away, Wendy toiled in the tree home, putting it back in its proper order and taking a moment to breathe in all the memories this little place held. At last was she able to sit and ponder her great and interminable love for Peter with a free mind and a clear conscience. And the cherished recollection of how Peter had proven his own total devotion to her upon the large bed-hollow tucked inside the tree prompted her to throw her arms feverishly around his neck once he returned with Anthony – something she had not felt comfortable to do in nearly three years.
The threesome spent what they assumed was the afternoon on a lovely beachside picnic. There were a few trees in the jungle beginning once again to bear fruit, and so they all helped in gathering some to eat. They also gathered a handful of some hardened berries from off of still-frozen bushes with which Peter and Anthony used to play a few lively rounds of marbles. Peter, being far more shrewd and experienced, defeated his son soundly on several occasions, prompting Wendy to whisper kindly in his ear to allow the boy to win a few times, lest his confidence – so vital to ruling Neverland – be compromised.
Peter also decided to teach Anthony the relatively new game of baseball, which had been gaining popularity back in London, fashioning a sturdy tree branch into a bat and using an immature coconut as a ball. Anthony took to it instantly, and even adjusted the game to his own preference by having Peter throw the "ball" hard out over the ocean so that Anthony may fly, at top speed, after it and whack it back to Peter on shore. This would often cause Wendy to duck for her life, as Anthony had not yet perfected his aim in this sport. But always would she emerge from her huddle with a kind smile on her face, much to Anthony's delight.
Indeed, Anthony's enthusiasm for this Game he was playing with these peculiar adults was starting to grow exponentially. He scarcely wanted it to end at all, and, upon completing one thrilling excursion, would beg for a new one to begin. Peter and Wendy would try to oblige him in all his wishes, however, they could hardly escape the troublesome fact that they *were* grown-ups and had not the energy and exuberance they once did so very long ago. They attempted several times to implore Anthony to take a nap, but he would hear none of it. Now he wanted to play hopscotch with Wendy!
And so she did. For after tomorrow, her chance to ever do so would abruptly cease.
What you and I call "time" moves swiftly in Neverland. Peter and Wendy both were painfully aware of this; so when they saw the sun begin to draw back his few tentative rays, they were quickly struck with a feeling of urgent sadness. Soon, they would have to say goodbye. Forever.
As they stood on the edge of the forest watching the sunlight disappear, Peter and Wendy looked at each other with sorrowful eyes. But behind those gloomy regards were tiny sparkles that jumped about their irises, each telling the other to be brave and that everything would be okay. But the couple's silent reverie was soon interrupted when they each felt a tiny hand slip inside one of their own. Casting their eyes downward, they saw Anthony, their precious son, grasping their hands and looking up at them with a wistful grin, as if to let them know that he now trusted them enough to touch him. After all, it was only a Game, wasn't it?
And so the handsome family strolled, hand-in-hand, back toward the tree home in the forest. On their way, Wendy's keen maternal eye caught Anthony trying desperately to stifle a yawn, but with little success. She tittered to herself.
Once back at the home, Anthony climbed into the large bed-hollow and asked Wendy to tell him one of her famous stories. Peter left them alone and climbed up onto the lookout platform above them so as to keep a watchful and protective eye over his little clan. And so Wendy nestled the boy snuggly amongst the furs and blankets in the bed and settled in to regale him with her legendary story of Cinderella. Anthony lay rapt as Wendy told of how Cinderella swiftly defeated the evil pirates and then was joyfully reunited with the Prince, who searched high and low for the wearer of a tiny glass slipper. His eyes were good and closed by the time Wendy got to "happily ever after," and those words lingered in her mind a moment longer following her speaking them – the irony of it cutting her heart into a million pieces.
When the story was finished and Anthony appeared to be in a peaceful state of slumber, Wendy leaned over and placed a warm kiss upon his forehead. It was not the Hidden Kiss, for that belonged to Peter only, but it was indeed a very special one nonetheless. And one she imagined Anthony would not accept were he still awake.
Wendy rose from the bed hollow and crossed to the pit on the other side of the room to stoke the small fire within. After a few quiet moments, she suddenly heard a tiny voice behind her:
"Miss Wendy?"
She turned and saw Anthony sitting upright in the bed, a rather uncertain look about his face.
"Yes, Anthony, what is it?"
He avoided her eyes. "You don't suppose that you and Mr. Peter could...maybe...come back and play with me again sometime?"
Wendy's heart skipped a beat, and she put a hand on her chest to keep it at bay. "Well, I...no, Anthony, I don't believe that will be possible."
"Well..." Anthony bit his lip. "May I...perhaps...come and visit you where you live?"
Wendy stood frozen. She had scarcely expected such a question, especially in light of his apparent bind with Neverland. But upon hearing it, she knew of no other answer to give: "Why, I think that would be perfectly lovely of you, Anthony."
The boy's eyes lit up excitedly, and without saying another word, he cheerfully crouched back down under the blankets and drifted off to sleep, a satisfied smile remaining upon his lips.
Wendy watched him for a little while, a renewed sense of optimism welling up within her. But she was mindful of becoming too hopeful, for she was aware of how Neverland could play tricks with time and memories. There was a larger chance that Anthony should forget all about Peter and Wendy than of him actually returning to visit them in London. But still, the notion was a sweet one, and something she could hold on to for the time being.
After thoroughly ensuring that Anthony was deep in sleep, cuddling with a wooden elephant that Peter had earlier whittled for him, Wendy climbed the long latter up toward the lookout platform to find her husband.
When she at last emerged, she saw Peter standing with his back to her, his arms folded and his eyes fixed toward the waters beyond. She could tell from where she stood that he had a dreamy grin on his face, not unlike the one Anthony donned as he slept. As she approached him quietly, she became aware of what he was looking at. The waters of Mermaid's Lagoon had been all but completely thawed, with only a handful of small chunks of ice floating on the surface, with which the mermaids themselves were now using to play a game that looked similar to water polo.
Wendy immediately shared Peter's amusement at the sight. The mermaids were often so foreboding and aloof that it was a bizarre sight indeed to see them behave so whimsically. And they had been dear allies to Peter and Wendy during some dark times, and so they delighted in watching them experience a rare moment of levity.
Stepping softly, Wendy crept up beside Peter and placed a warm hand onto his arm, resting her cheek lightly upon his shoulder. Peter responded as if he had known she was there all along, and, keeping his eyes aft toward the mermaids, slipped his arm around Wendy's waist and pulled her close to him.
The majestic moon shone huge and round above the waters, intimidating the clouds to keep their distance so that it may cast its glow upon the lagoon as if a great spotlight meant for Peter and Wendy only. The romance of the evening was quite palpable. A cool breeze whistled through the trees, the mermaids continued their merry sport, and their son was down in the tree home sleeping soundly.
For the first time since they could scarcely remember, all was right with the world.
As if reading each other's minds – as they are often so wont to do – Peter and Wendy's focuses finally met, and they both saw within each other's gaze the undeniable truth of their great love for one another. Now, at last, they could finally admit it, and they could finally express it. Peter brought his hand up so he may gently caress his wife's lovely cheek as he swam deeper into the ocean of her eyes. And then, cupping her chin, he leaned in to retrieve his Kiss, which had been eluding him for so long. It was just as he had remembered it – so soothing and yet so exciting all at once. And Wendy gave willingly of her Kiss, relishing the taste of her beloved husband's lips upon hers again with just as much eagerness.
As if the island itself could sense something very special was afoot in the treetops, the leaves and bushes began to rustle joyously under the gentle caress of the evening breeze. The gloomy clouds that had overruled the island for so long began themselves to blush coyly. And the mermaids abandoned their rocks of ice so that they may swim in formation, altogether humming a seductively haunting tune.
The pair's kissing was becoming more fevered now. It would not be long before they should collapse upon the lookout platform and relive their wedding night right then and there for all of Neverland to see. But they cared little, for their long-dormant passion could hardly be denied any longer. Peter pressed Wendy closer to him, kissing her so hard that neither of them could barely breathe. They carried on as if it was both the first and last time they would ever be able to do so.
They quickly became oblivious to anything else around them.
Including the tree home below their feet, where little Anthony continued to sleep soundly and carelessly. He had not slept so hard and lusciously since his first arrival in Neverland. Perhaps this accounts for why he did not hear the entrance to his home being breached.
Nor did he stir when bows and plates were kicked recklessly aside, or at the eerie scratching against the bark. He moved not a muscle as the sinister cackling came closer and closer to his bed.
Not until the ropes and gags were swiftly upon him did his eyes fly open. But by then, it was much too late. He could not move at all when he was snatched from his bed. And he could not call out for his mother and father as he was flung over a beefy shoulder and hauled back up through the unobtrusive tree entrance. In fact, no one at all might have been alerted to his predicament had his kidnapper not dropped his lantern as he attempted to squeeze back through the hole he came in by, letting it shatter most noisily upon the ground below. But once again, the alarm came too late.
High up in the trees above, a subtle yet quite noticeable din caused Peter and Wendy to abruptly break away from their passionate embrace. It had undeniably come from the home below. They both gasped.
Anthony!
As fast as their aging bones could take them, Peter and Wendy raced for the ladder and climbed swiftly down back into the tree, hazardously bypassing several rungs along the way. When at last they broke through into the little room, their eyes immediately darted towards the bed-hollow. It was empty.
Not knowing what else to do, the frantic parents began to call out Anthony's name. Perhaps he may be just playing a practical joke on them. But given their history, the Pans would find little humor in such a lark. Nevertheless, it became evident rather quickly that the boy was indeed gone, to where they knew not. Until Peter spotted the dastardly clue upon the wall.
Near the entrance where Anthony had been so violently dragged away was scrawled a in a most hideous fashion:
"BLUFFS AT 12 FOR YOUR SON, J. HOOK."