Changing Toward Love
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Notes of the Authoress Anthy: Well, it's 6:21 AM in the morning and I feel sick, but at least I have a chapter to post tomorrow! I'm going to proofread it tomorrow, too ... yawn. Well, I ... I don't know quite what to say ... I'm just very tired, so, yawn and ... goodnight! Oh, but first ... thank you so much for all of the beautiful reviews! *hugs* You're all so wonderful. ^_^
Disclaimer: No, I don't own the book or the movie(s), but whoever does should be so proud (James M. Barrie, I mean you)! Please, don't sue me. ;_; I am just a poor romantic!
Review Questions Answered! No questions. *sniff*
And now the story!
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Peter stood frozen outside her bedroom door, a strange fear rushing into him. He was not used to fear by any means, but this fear was one quite different from the fear he briefly felt when a sword swiped off a lock of his hair or an arrow narrowly missed his leg as he soured through the air. This, rather, was a fear begun from the inside and not the out, and there was no weapon.
There was only the twisted feeling in his stomach knowing that Wendy was in her bedroom, shedding tears because of his ignorance of marriages ... and the fear that he would only make it worse by asking what they were.
He didn't want to ask, really. He wished that he could ask one of the lost boys, or Michael, or even the distant John to explain what a marriage was, but he knew, somehow, that as this marriage had so deeply hurt Wendy and not them, she would know best. Always, when it came to things that hurt from the inside, Wendy could be traced back as the answer ... or the source.
And so, with all these muddled thoughts racing through him, Peter swallowed his inside fear and reached for the doorknob, turning it with a little click.
Wendy froze, her hands still covering her tearstained face, as she heard his footsteps enter her bedroom, heard the second click of the door shutting tight.
Peter began, but already his tongue was tying. Everything inside him had stopped at the sight of Wendy on her bed like that, sitting with her head in her hands, her half-hidden face red and shiny, her hair disheveled around it. Her tears took even her beauty with them, flushed red her smooth, pale skin, skin normally the shade of a full summer moon.
His heart ceased to beat, his body ceased to move, his tongue forgot how to speak, and his mind erased itself with emotion- all for that one, miserable view of Wendy, crying because of him.
he tried again, when she did not raise her head nor move a single inch. Please ... don't cry.
Wendy said nothing for a moment, and then, grievously, she sighed and raised her head from her hands, staring at the wall instead of Peter with wide, empty eyes.
she asked quietly, always so quietly, did you follow me?
Peter began shakily, knowing the simple answer he had, but wanting suddenly to have a different one to give, a kinder, less simple one. To comfort you, Wendy. To heal you, so that I could see your beauty whole again ...
To ... to ask a question, Peter said at last, frowning.
A question?, repeated Wendy, turning halfway toward him, her hair still obscuring half of her face.
Peter stuttered, Yes, I ... I want to ask you ... what a marriage is.
At this, Wendy turned all the way toward him, her blue eyes wider than before, deep and tragic. Something within Peter's chest winced painfully at these eyes- they were more than sad, they were ... able to see through everything, see through him. No matter how gentle he tried to be, his words always seemed to bring about her empty, sorrowful stare.
A marriage, she repeated numbly, blinking. A fresh tear slid down her cheek, unnoticed by her, her expression frozen. You ... you don't know?
Peter shook his head, cursing, for the first time, his ignorance of many of the things not found in Neverland. He knew nothing of this danger that so plagued Wendy, and therefore he had no idea how to murder it. Knowing this invoked a bitter sense of shame within him, one he had never experienced before.
Wendy said bitterly. Of course. Of course ... you wouldn't know, would you, Peter?
She said his name in such a near-mocking way that Peter was momentarily stunned, shocked, for always in the past, the speaking of his name had been tender at her lips. Gentle, forgiving, tender ... to hear that slaughtered sent a knife through his heart, resonated with a stinging echo in his mind.
What do you mean by that?, he asked somewhat aggressively, though he didn't mean to sound so harsh; it simply slipped out that way, for though his body had grown, his sense of pride had still remained much the same.
I only mean, Wendy answered, the mocking gone now, replaced by a tone that was a mix of bitterness and sadness, that a marriage is something only a ... mature heart can understand.
Peter felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle at this, and at the same time, his heart dropped. The way Wendy was talking to him, he was beginning to think that she thought he hadn't a heart. And perhaps, and this pushed his heart down further into regret ... this made perfect sense.
I'll never understand it, he replied, trying very hard to keep his voice steady, if I don't know what it is.
That's true, Wendy said simply, and she paused, turning her eyes away from him for a second as though preparing herself, steadying herself internally. When she turned back, her eyes had changed again- they were like two oceans now, the water that filled them sadness.
Peter frowned, fighting the urge within himself to do something other than just stand there, staring into her. He wasn't sure what the do was, though ... his heart grew all muddled when he asked it this ... and so, he did nothing, only stared back. Her eyes never changed.
she began slowly, is when a ... man, and a woman ... grow to love each other so much that they ... realize ... for certain that they wish to spend forever with one another, and so they-
Peter gasped, understanding this concept in the same way that he knew the meaning of never'. Forever was always, unending, and to spend forever with just one person ... was very frightening.
Wendy answered simply. Forever. And so, they decide to marry and build a life together ... and they express their ... knowing that they'll be together always and desire to share their lives ... in a ceremony called a ... a wedding ... in which they promise to always care for one another and be loyal to each other ... and this is all called ... a ... a marriage.
When she had finished, she quickly turned her head away, trying her best to hide the fresh tears that were threatening to fall. Explaining her view of marriage had proved to hurt far, far more than looking at herself in her wedding gown. Especially since she was explaining it to ... him.
Do many people have a marriage?, Peter asked suddenly, trying to bring Wendy back to him as well as have his questions answers. Her definition had filled his mind with a river of thoughts- he had never heard of marriages before, and the complexion of it all overwhelmed him.
Oh, yes, Wendy whispered. So many. Especially young women. Young women nearly always marry. It's considered shameful to ... to not be able to find a ... a ...
Peter merely stared at her as she whispered, not understanding. How could many people be able to marry? It seemed impossible to him ... to find someone that you wanted to spend forever with. Surely, only a few people ever found the right person to do this with.
How do people find the person they have a marriage with?, Peter asked quietly. Wendy's lips had begun to quiver, and her body was very still, nearly rigid.
she whispered, so softly that Peter could barely hear her, Some people say that the person you marry is decided by fate ... in which case ... they call the person you marry your soulmate, because your souls are tied together. And some people say that God ... helps you to find them.
But what do you think, Wendy?, Peter asked, knowing that she knew so much, and that surely, her opinion meant more than that of some people.
I think, she whispered. That ... that if you find your one person, you are ... more than lucky, and that you should just ... love that person, and not ask questions about how they came into your life.
Peter frowned, nearly gasping as Wendy again turned from him, burying her face into her hands. So looked tired, so horribly tired, and he knew that she probably wanted him to leave, but he couldn't. He couldn't go anywhere until he understood.
he ventured carefully, his voice as gentle as he could muster, Tell me ... what does a marriage have to do with that ... that dress?
Wendy froze, not breathing for a moment. And then, her voice muffled by her wet hands, she said it simply.
That dress, she said numbly, is for my wedding.
Peter felt his eyes widen, felt his entire body freeze, rigid with shock and then, flowing through him like water far colder than ice, the pain that numbed every thought and feeling within him. No.
No. That was the only thing Peter could feel.
You're to be married, he half said, half gasped, not questioning so much as repeating in shaky disbelief. He heard only silence for a moment, and then, her voice so very, very quiet ...
she whispered, and his world crashed around him, shattered in shades of red and black, exploded with frigidly cold fire that ripped through everything, froze and killed everything inside him.
To who, he asked, though again it was not said as a question. And again, Wendy paused, trying to still her panic, to calm her pounding, aching heart.
she whispered. You'll meet him ... soon ... I'm sure ... if you ... you stay ...
I don't want to meet him!, Peter shouted, and Wendy turned up her head in shock. And how do you know, anyway? How do you know that he's the one you're supposed to be with forever? Forever is so long, Wendy ... so long ...
Wendy stared at him, shocked at his outburst, but her eyes did not change. Betraying only a hint of the dark rainstorm within her breast, they swirled blue-black with her inner turmoil.
Oh, Peter, she whispered. You must have known ... that someday, I would grow up.
Peter froze again, seething with anger that was dampened by the horrible ache growing within him, sending waves of pain throughout every inch of his body. He had known, yes, though he had tried to forget for so long, that she would soon no longer be a child, as he was. But this ... this was not about growing older. This was about ... marriage.
It doesn't matter, Peter snapped. I don't care if you're older, I just care that you're ... you're wrong, you know! Why do you have to have a marriage of your own? Why can't you just ... just ...
Wendy sighed, breathing it up and out from deep down inside her. Her face was still red and glossy from the tears, blank and empty from her habit of concealing everything.
There are other reasons for getting married, Peter, she said simply.
Like what?, Peter replied somewhat shakily, for already he hated this concept of marrying, wished it was something that could be killed with one or two stabs. But it wasn't ... no. Marriage was something far more threatening than anything that had ever attacked him, and this one had dove in deep, slashing far below the belt.
Wendy whispered, You can only have children if you marry, and I ... I would like children very much. I want to raise them to be ... happy, and joyous, and ... knowing that there is so much more in the world than what will be offered them. And ... marriage is the only way to ... escape ...
Escape what?, Peter asked, wanting now to kill that which Wendy was running from as well. Oh, if he got the chance, it would be in so many bloody slices that nothing would be able to piece it back together.
Have you ever been lonely, Peter, she whispered in reply, so lonely that you could only ... ...
But her voice trailed off, muffled and trembling.
Peter's frowned deeply, and deep within himself, he knew he understood. He understood her words completely. He wanted to tell her now, but ... he had to convince her against marrying. It was the only thing he could do, he ... could not find the strength to do anything more.
You don't have to marry to have children, Peter explained hesitantly. You are the lost boys' mother. You take care of them, don't you? And I'll ... I'll be your son if you want.
Wendy said nothing to this, simply stared at him, her eyes lost and dull, glossy with new tears. They were devoid of all hope.
In truth, Peter didn't want to be Wendy's son. The idea of it sent a shiver of deep protest through his mind; he could never, and would never, he knew, be her son. It was simply something he couldn't fathom ... but ... he would do anything to convince her not to marry. Anything.
You just don't understand, Peter, she said, staring through him and missing his single intention, What it is to have your own child. One that you bring into the world yourself, and care for until they too are grown ... it is ... it is something that can never, never ... be make believe.
Peter could say nothing to this, knowing somehow, in some hidden, silent way, that she was right. He had been a Father to the boys before, and never had it meant much; it had only been another role to play that empathized his authority over his troop, a role like Captain or Leader. That and it was a role that placed Wendy always at his side, but ... in general, it was mostly a role that selfishly served him.
Wendy had told him years ago that a mother's love was just the opposite, patient and restless, unending, everything but selfish. Wendy had never been wrong about matters of the heart; never. Now was no time to disbelieve her.
He had to end her plans for having a marriage. He simply had to, or else ... he would have no future. If he lost Wendy, he would never discover why his body had grown, and as such it would continue to grow, and he would quickly become a man, alone in a world that hated his spirit just as it tied down the spirit of Wendy.
Without Wendy, there was nothing, no light at the end of the road of his life to lead him on. He sensed this, knew that if he lost Wendy, he lost that within himself that had ached so long for her, cried out with waves of pain for her voice and touch.
And, he thought, swallowing the tightness in his throat ... what would become of her kiss? She had promised it to him long ago, assured him that it was, and always would be, his. In fear of the ache, he had pushed this great memory away, but now it resurfaced, blurry and worn thin, like an old love letter read too many times. Would she press her lips to his once again only to take the kiss back, to reclaim the kiss that had been promised to him, so that she could give it to a man named ... Caleb?
Oh, how he longed to slash open his stomach and spill out his insides. If he could just erase him from the picture for good ... yes, that would the easiest thing. He itched to reach for his dagger just thinking about it. However ... he knew that this would not do. It had to be Wendy's choice to let him go, or else, his fight would be worth nothing ...
And there was one final and great reason why he had to end the future marriage, why it was so dire that he did. The marriage was killing his sweet, loving Wendy. It had drained the life from her pretty body, sucked from her beauty that she had expressed in every story, every gesture, every smile. It had taken the life from her, weakened her into the quiet, submissive, miserable woman he now saw before him. He felt he would die if he did not see the youth return to her eyes in a bright glow, see her smile softly for him, content and perfect.
All this swirled in Peter's head, some of it harder to read than others, but each thought clear in its intent: end the marriage and protect Wendy. End the marriage and ... save himself from the darkness that he felt creeping into his heart when he thought of life without her.
Wendy whispered, startled. He had been staring out into space for so long, lost in his thoughts.
he said, breaking free. And then, they came to him ... the right words. He would solve everything by doing the simplest, most honest thing he could think of ... he would tell Wendy the truth at last. He would tell her ... how he had been feeling, and why, truly, his heart had pulled him from his Neverland home and again to her window, again to her glowing presence.
A glowing presence that had been darkened and faded by this marriage, by the pain that thrived within her. She had become so miserable, so cold, so ... lonely.
She had said that she was lonely. Lonely ... just like ...
Wendy asked, her voice uneasy. Peter had never looked quite so ... serious before. He was so lost in thought, something that she had never ... deemed him capable of. Never before had he looked so sure of his words.
he began, breathlessly. I know you think that I've been careless all this time, happy in Neverland ... and I was there, but ... I ... was not happy in the least. I was lonely, too. Always, my heart felt like ... like this ...
And at this, he reached out and grabbed Wendy's shaking hand in both of his, cradling it for a moment with his head downward. And then, digging his dirty fingernails into her soft skin, he suddenly tightened his hold, squeezing her hand tightly until she visibly winced.
Peter released her hand, looking up into the mournful blue eyes that were now locked, waiting in surprise, on him.
he continued, I couldn't sleep at night. I dreamt always of what Hook said to me, when we were fighting ...
Wendy asked, confused now. What did Hook say to you?
He ... he warned me of this, Peter said, his eyes darkening. He told me that I would be ... replaced ... by a man called a ... a ...
But at that moment, the door made its click as it was swung rudely open, the knob banging as it hit the bedroom wall. Peter froze, backing away several steps from the seated Wendy as his head turned toward the door and the unwelcome intruder.
Wendy, dearest, a cheery voice said smoothly, Your mother told me that I might find you upstairs. Look, I've brought you these ... they're fresh from the flower market, I thought they might compliment your lovely room.
Peter frowned in disgust at the tall young man that blocked the bedroom doorway, dressed primly in a gray suit and blue tie, his dark hair slicked back perfectly. Wendy frowned as well, lifting her hand to franticly wipe clean her moist eyes.
Who are you?, Peter asked when Wendy said nothing, placing a hand automatically on his waist. He tried to best to hold down his irritation at this bastard's poor timing, wanting to get rid of him as soon as possible.
My name is Caleb Walter Williams, the man said easily, offering a disgruntled sort of smile. He had completely missed Peter, his eyes locked instead on Wendy's slumped body. And you are?
Peter ... Pan, he nearly growled, lowering his hand irresistibly toward his belt and dagger, ready to slash Caleb Walter Williams, the man Wendy was to marry, open at the slightest hint of aggression.
Caleb said, raising an eyebrow. What a queer name. Are you a friend of her brothers? Wendy, dearest, are you quite all right? You look rather pale.
I'm fine, Wendy said quietly, standing, Caleb. Thank you ... for the flowers. I'll ... I'll put them in water ...
She walked forward and took the flowers from him numbly, slinging the bundle into her arms as she walked toward the door.
Peter frowned deeply, never moving his eyes from Caleb. He could feel his hand shaking from the temptation, but he knew it would be an unfair fight. His opponent was unarmed, and from what Peter could tell, he had also never so much as touched a sword in his life ... perhaps not even as a child. And Peter Pan never fought unfairly.
Caleb simply stared back at Peter, disgusted with Peter as much as Peter was with him. He frowned severely at his bare chest and feet, at the old pair of black pants John had lent to him, at his unruly hair and generally untamed, free appearance.
Peter stared back, eager for blood.
Caleb, who had stood in contest with Peter as Wendy disappeared through his door, now turned up his nose at him and followed with an air of dignity, closing the bedroom door as he went with its soft click'.
If you lay so much as one finger on Wendy, Peter whispered out loud, promising himself, I'll gut you full through and feed you to the London pigeons.
His let his fingers slid lightly over the bulge of his dagger, and then, feeling more full of feeling and anger than ever before in his long, long life, he turned to follow Wendy and her ... mistake down the stairs.
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-- End Chapter Eight --
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Ending Notes: I wanted Peter to attack him so badly. Ohh, I did. But then there would be no story afterwards, would there? Well ... maybe ... but not the one I have in mind. I think this is an important chapter, because it sort of shows how Peter has grown ... he doesn't know, verbally or factually, the definitions for things like marriage, but he can sense the seriousness of marriage and of finding (or choosing) a lifelong mate. Heh, I tried.
Beta readers: I'm still looking for people! There is still time ... heh heh, if anyone cares to beta, you can write me about your amazing beta skills by emailing me at anthy17@hotmail.com. Thanks so much!
I hope that you're still enjoying CTL, and that you'll come back again for the next chapter. ^^;;
