Wendy hated wash day. She hadn't before, but recently – since that first trip to the lagoon with Ray, in fact – something had felt wrong. Every time she was forced to make the long journey, bearing her load of laundry, she was bitterly reminded of Ray's words to Peter. Everything changes. But it wasn't supposed to, not in Neverland. Neverland was a place for the eternals; good and evil, life and youth, spirit and happiness.
Things changed, though. The most disturbing were in herself and those around her. Peter, who could not have been more than eleven when they met, had aged every one of the years she'd spent here. She knew, because she had counted them. He looked sixteen now, though he was probably well over a hundred. But he'd spent innumerable years without changing. It was a disturbing thought, especially when she put it together with the conversation she'd overheard.
She had aged too, although that didn't bother her so much. It had always been secretly appealing, imagining herself as a grown woman, wearing a proper dress and running a proper household. Those were just dreams, she knew. Her dress didn't reach her ankles, her house was a giant tree, its occupants children playing at being grown up.
She pushed on through the jungle, following Tootles carefully. Ray was up ahead, leading the group along the ever-changing path to the lagoon. "Are there any pirates about?" she called up to him. She was determined to bring him into the family she'd created, and his continued resistance only made her more so.
"There will be if you yell like that, came his reply. Wendy had to bite back an angry retort. The insolent whelp! Almost three months and still he hadn't learned any manners. Leaves rustled, as if the forest were laughing at her.
She didn't credit the younger boys' tales of demons and spirits, but she was sure there was something out there in the forest, something that didn't like her.
A strangely echoing yet unmistakable voice cut the forest's only slightly hostile tranquility. "Mister Smee!" Wendy clapped a hand across her mouth, only stopping part of her scream. The basket balanced on her hip waver precariously. Hook had found them. But perhaps there was still hope. They could hide, and maybe the pirates wouldn't find them.
Even as she began looking about frantically, Ray destroyed and chance they had of getting away. "C-c-coming Captain!" he responded in a passable imitation of the boson.
Wendy fought back tears of fear and despair. She would not let Hook see her cry. She wouldn't give Ray that satisfaction either.
She couldn't stop herself, however. It was several minutes before she realised there wasn't any sound in the forest besides what she and the children were making. When she mastered herself she found Ray laughing softly, leaning back against a tree with that degree of insolence that always annoyed her so badly. Twirling about one finger was a pirate's hat. One of Hook's hats.
"You really believed that was Hook, didn't you? Poor, poor Wendy." The honorific 'mother' that should have come before her name was notably absent. So too was any trace of politeness in his expression.
"Ray, you should know better than to play jokes like that," she scolded,
mastering herself completely. "It scares the others."
"But not you, eh Wendy?" He chuckled and tossed the hat in the air,
catching it on his head. "You don't seem to mind when Peter does it."
"That's different."
Ray nodded slowly, as though in understanding. "Aye, it's different. It's always different, when it's not your precious Peter." He scowled at her. Suddenly, any fear of pirates Wendy had had evaporated in the face of Ray. Being held hostage by pirates would be preferable to being stuck with him. "The little boys can't eavesdrop, but it's alright if Wendy does it. And Peter can steal biscuits, but woe betide the boy who goes looking for an afternoon snack." He pulled the pirate hat low over his brow and stalked away through the jungle, leaving the rest of them to follow.
When Wendy reached the lagoon shore, he was gone. His shirt, which Wendy and the girls worked so hard to keep clean, was lying in the mud, with the mysteriously acquired hat on top. It, she noted, didn't have any mud on it at all.
Ray didn't appear until they were finished the washing. He dropped out of a tree behind Wendy, soundless. It was Tootles's cry of alarm that alerted the rest of them to his presence.
"What were you doing?" Ray demanded. "You should have seen me a long time ago. What if I had been pirates? Eh, what then? You'd all be dead or captive, that's what."
Tootles looked sheepishly around at the other boys, probably hoping
for support. All the others looked away, as red in the face as he. They
were as much to blame as Tootles. "Pirates make more noise than you do,
he ventured at last.
Ray's expression changed. Or, more accurately, he gained one. More of his expressions were just blanks, as far as Wendy could tell. Now he actually looked mad. "It's a wonder you lot have survived this long," he said angrily. "And here I thought Peter was at least competent."
Wendy bristled at the comment about Peter. "Ray, you aren't being fair. I understand you're upset, and you have reason to be, but…" Wendy foundered. She was trying to be supportive and understanding, but Ray didn't seem to understand those things. He had turned his angry gaze on her. Wendy felt herself going red, and her tongue getting mixed up. She was trying to help, couldn't he see that?
"You've already caused enough trouble. Be quiet." No anger, no malice, just sinister calm. Wendy closed her mouth. Ray looked around at the children. "What are you waiting for? Back to the tree."