CHAPTER 6
LONDON, ENGLAND
'So many times I wonder where I've gone and how I've found my way back in I'll look around for a while For something lost, Maybe I'll find it in the end...'
-Norah Jones-
"Stay back!" Peter warned, grabbing the closest thing to his fingertips, which proved to be no more then a switch.
The boys eyed him in utter amusement, tossing each, his own head, to the wind for a good laugh. The oldest sneered, regarding Peter cynically.
"What are you planning on doing? Poking us to death?" his posy roared louder at the comment.
Peter simply sneered through gritted teeth. Of course the boy, ignorant to Peter's unique abilities, failed to take the warning that the never boy was offering to him now. Oh yes, they should have known better, they should have seen the dangerous glimmer of mischief burning hotly behind the seas of emerald tides, but they did not. However, it's alright. We shant hold it against them, though, we can't say the same feat for Peter's case.
Wendy caught it of course, and she stood, watching on, her skin prickling in excitement and fear all at once. Excitement for Peter, deathly fear for his poor pitiful victims.
Peter now grinned, that horribly incorrigible grin, waggling his brows at them pleasantly. He was just like a little boy at Christmas time.
The leader, whom we shall call by the prefix, 'Kid', hung his mouth, astonished at this lad's cockiness. It caused his blood to chill, a mysterious voice whispering from the wind into his ear, 'Stay back! Leave now!...For you do not realize whom or what you are dealing with'.
"Listen you, I have no qualms about running you or your lady friend right through." He spat, pulling the blade of a dagger from its concealed sheath under his thick wool sweater.
The unnerving grin only increased by tenfold. Peter bowed gallantly towards his opponent.
"Care to try your luck?"
Kid screamed, rushing towards Peter, blinding rage guiding his blade.
"Cheeky bastard!"
peter merely side steeped the lad, causing him to lose his balance and he fell heavily into the snow. Peter laughed gaily, watching Kid try to escape the icy prison, scrambling to his feet, but alas, the lad slipped, falling face first back in the frost blanket. Muffled curses drifted up to Peter and Wendy's ears, causing both to giggle at the sight.
The two other boys of Kids, now regained their bearings, rushing forwards for their attempts at doing the cocky boy in. Their eyes glowed savagely, beams of malice seeping from the chilly depths of the presuppose with in them.
Peter parried steel, dodging, left, right, up and under. One boy flew in blinding crimson rage slashing his dagger for his impending victim's heart. Peter merely side stepped the attempt though, some how, the lad managed to slit the tweed material of Peter's jacket, leaving in its wake, a four inch rent in midst the fabric. Peter glanced at it, scowling in disgust. He may not have cared anything for the garment itself however, it was the notion that Wendy had purchased it for him that aggravated him. Needless to say, the thug landed in a garbage can, his world turning topsy-turvy at the view from the bottom of a dented medal canister. The youngest, shortly followed, landing back first, against some wooden pallets.
Peter crowed.
Wendy watched on, in absolute delight, too absorbed in the episode at hand to notice a shadow of a figure creeping up behind her. She probably would have never comprehended it if it weren't for the hand clamping with suffocating tightness over her mouth to choke out any screams that might arise in the back of her throat. Wendy's eyes widened, her fingers wildly clawing air in vain attempt at attaining her freedom. Her nails dug into the flesh of a strong arm wrapped tightly around her throat. The girl's struggle finally ceased as the unfriendly tip of a dagger was shoved at her throat in the most menacing way. There was nothing she could do and she felt like a rabbit, trapped by its hunter.
"Enough!" Kid's voice bellowed, echoing loudly through out the gray alley.
Peter's attention was quickly grabbed and he turned to face his opponent. At seeing Wendy being held hostage, his eyes quickly grew serious, a dark scowl staining his handsome face.
"I don't know who you think you are but this girl," he paused, sniffing Wendy's hair fully, inhaling the sweet essence of wild, rain ridden spring. "Yes, she is your girl isn't she?..." he grinned wickedly, relishing Peter's face as thunder clapped inside the rim of haunting darkness swirling about with in his eyes.
The starry twinkle diminished, leaving the bitter essence of malice in their wake, a requiem of joy, boiling to a peak of unbridled fury.
"Let her go."
It had not been a request nor, had it been a demand. Simply a statement. And if Kid had better judgment, he would be wise to follow the suggestion.
The other two boys were now grounded, and each was sneering at Peter in abhorrence for even they could not deny a simple truth. Their match may very well have been met on this very day, and as this new knowledge flooded their minds the battle of wits and cunning were soon to commence.
"If you want her, come and claim her!"
As quick as lightening streaking across an open plain, Kid whirled Wendy towards him, pilfering her kiss venomously, as if he had complete mastery over her being. A startled cry erupted our of her esophagus, climbing into the pungent open air, flying in desperation to the ears of Peter Pan.
Now, had things gone differently, Peter probably would have played as if it were all just one big game. This though, was clearly not the case and had Kid understood in the first place exactly what Peter truly was, he would have just turned the opposite way down the alley to begin with, but to, if that were the case, then this part of the chapter just wouldn't have seemed quite as fun you will agree?
The first boy fraternized an attack once again. Peter ducked an on coming blow, slamming a not so cordial fist into his stomach. The dagger that had been locked within the confines of boy's fingers, slipped away and Peter immediately dove to retrieve it.
"Release her!" Peter now demanded, pointing the edge at the leader.
Wendy gazed at him wide eyed. Desperately, trying to wriggle free once again from the restraint and as before she was so graciously remained why she had made haste to bring to ruin her struggle in the first place as a searing pain met with the smooth delicate skin her throat roughly. Again she cried out, this time biting back bitter tears of both fright along with deep seeded anger.
Kid ushered Peter a pious eye before tossing Wendy head long into a crate along side of the brick wall. Peter watched in anguish as her head struck the riveting structure, throwing her coldly to the ground as if she were nothing at all. The never boy's eyes widened mouth falling askew as a name drifted from it, sinking to the ground like nothing more then a light feather carried by the wings of an nimble wind.
"Wendy..."
The girl's head slowly lifted, her glassy eyes meeting Peter's quietly. A crimson trickle now glided out the corner of her lip, spilling down the side of her chin. A small pool mingled with in the tresses of umber, crying its claret tears against her temple. Her hand braced her against the wall, and she slowly scaled upwards till her sore limbs stood erect. It was amazing she still found herself a creature of consciousness in the world of the dreamless awake.
Peter's eyes drifted to Kid ominously, glaring at him several long moments. Suddenly, he lunged forwards, steel clashing with steel. Peter quickly appraised his opponent's skill as their forces keeled with eachother. It was obvious that the boy had, had some training at some point for, he did have some form. However, it was sluggish, overly laxed and in dire need of polishing. His movements were greatly predictable and overly done. It was these points that Peter took the greatest advantage of. So it was that Pan doted upon himself, the liberty of training the boy in the 'fundamentals'.
Peter waited for Kid to lunge at him, which he did quite predictably, for it was a very written part of the style he had not come to acquire and all the more easier on Pan by all means. He merely twisted up into the air, like a trapeze artist, volleying over Kid's head and came at him from his back. Kid wildly spun, dazed and confused. He turned only to have the razor point embedded sharply into his nose and the same pair of baneful eyes, their ocean of vicious green-blue ice water draining into the boy's blood, chilling it harshly as if winter had cast its gelid shadow inside his bones.
The other two boys gasped, weapons clattering to the ground. Kid's own two eyes were humbled to the ground, prostrating themselves amongst the cobblestone, where Peter's feet now hover a foot above.
Kid stumbled backwards, falling to the waiting arms of terra firma. Pan drew his sword, readying himself to strike the 'Pirate' down to his permanent dwelling within the gates of the hell. The blade's wrath came crashing down and Kid closed his eyes tightly, kissing the bitter air of memory and thought lingering to haunt him good-bye. But the blade never met its target, for something came between. A blur of color, swirling periwinkle and prune, innerving with the sentence of execution.
"Peter!" Wendy cried, arms spreading eagle in front of his forth coming victim.
The boy's eyes widen in alarm and the razor tip found itself flying oblique to its target.
"Wendy?!" he blurted, bewildered.
"No! Stop!"
"But...why? He's a Pirate!!" Peter protested passionately, a finger belligerently pointing in Kid's direction.
Wendy sighed loudly, her face falling to her hand. She inhaled deep gulps of air into her lungs, trying to calm the rapid palpitation of her heart.
"Peter, this is London, not Neverland! Things work so differently here! You can't just go about killing....pirates!" "But why not?! It would be three less! And less is always a better number!" he reasoned, raising the dagger to strike again, but Wendy stood her ground.
Quietly tears fell from her eyes as she took a step forwards, placing a hand upon his shoulder.
"Peter, you don't understand." She whispered, giving her all to explain. "They would punish you."
A smirk curled his lip from where he was hovering off the ground and defiant fists found his hips.
"You mean 'they' as in London."
Again Wendy sighed, lowering her sights to the ground.
"No not London Peter. London is but a city! I mean, 'they' as in the hierarchy. They would take what you value most from you, your freedom. They would take and remove it as far from you as is humanly possible and that is such a long way. They would cast you aside, in cage of bars like an animal, chained chattel. Peter, they have the power to banish you, from both worlds, and I wouldn't be able to do a thing about it....Peter, I'd be powerless to stop it."
The boy blinked at her, astonishment filling the youthful orbs that, once in a while, smiled of innocence, but not in this instant. It this moment, the cringed, clouding with fear of the word...'banish'...and the cutlass fell to his feet. Banish...in this case, the only way to banish him, was through death and this knew was what Wendy was trying to tell him would happen.
Wendy, glanced at Kid, as she tugged at the astonished Never boy's arm, pulling him out of the dank alley and into the brighter daylight of the city. Fortunately for them, an officer was stationed on the corner of the St. directly ahead of them, which happened to be Dunbar. Just above the officer, was a window, barren and bleak. It looked as though, it had been abandoned for quite sometime. None the less, it was a perfect place for a lookout. Wendy now ran to the officer, relying all the following events that had most recently occurred and with the telling, the officer strode down the alley, Billy club beating into his open palm with a matter of taking care of business.
A course wind descended from the heavens, whistling past Peter's ears and the boy's eyes lingered upwards, catching the window for a brief moment, watching remains of fabric flap in cool crisp breeze through the spidered pane of glass.
"Peter."
He glanced at Wendy, eyes alert to any danger. Her eyes caught the gentle splash of color melting into the gray tweed of his jacket and she sighed.
"You're bleeding again. You should not have flown." She scolded lightly, tugging at the jacket to examine the wound.
Peter looked towards the sky while Wendy worked, his eyes searching it longingly. Peter had always been a good at hiding things but Wendy had always been better at sensing and finding things. She now gazed at the boy, not in the least surprised to see Peter's eyes misting with fog. He didn't seem to notice, as his eyes never moved from the passion, desire and one true love...
"Peter, we should go home now."
Peter's eyes molded to the battered and contusing derma. The puffy, swelling skin of her lip, the residual residue of arid blood left to streak across the surface of what was once undamaged. His finger's grazed the wound lightly, searching it with empathetic eyes that displayed a wave of concern and anxiety.
"Wendy you..."
"Its nothing Peter, I'll be fine."
A heavy breath sank in her ears and she slowly reached over intertwining her fingers amongst his own, leading him down the path to number fourteen and away from the memory of the day's events.
Three Days Later...
Now, this night began much like all others. Quite typical really, the illusion of ordinary. The stars shone brilliantly, twinkling breathlessly at the whole expanse of London, whispering their goodnight lullaby in the ears of sleeping children, however they only winked for one.
The boys were stationed, quite settled as usual. All scooted close by the fire light for the air had a drafty bite to it and was intent on nibbling at their fingers and toes. Michael sat with his studies, reciting, aloud, the words of Tomas Moore from a passage in his book 'Utopia.' John was calculating mathematical figures. Figuring equations in his mind. His fingers would pause before bawling into agitated fists, starting all over again from the top. Wendy just sat quietly, eyes glowing thoughtfully, as they swirled with the intense orange heat of fire reflecting in her eyes. In her hands, she darned a pair of Michael's socks which had worn quite thin with the passing of time. Only the extra figure, carelessly lounging on an over easy chair, a leg swung over the arm lazily as it spontaneously rocked back and forth, seemed a bit of an oddity for the intimate family setting. Of course, Peter wasn't accustomed to the ordinary anyhow so you can be sure that things could have easily changed form the smoothness to a scene of delicious naughtiness. One thing with Peter was certain, never was there a dull moment that passed. However, for this stage in time, he was behaving himself quite well. But perhaps it was just because he was lost deep in the realm of his own thoughts at that very moment.
Maybe it was because of such a lax setting that the thought never entered into Wendy's mind or perhaps it was just because she too was off in her own world, to say the least. Contemplating things deep with in the power of her own reason. Whatever be the case, little did she or the other boys, yes this does include Peter himself, know that their second grand adventure with Peter Pan was about to begin on that very eve.
Peter sat, starring into the fire, the soft glow, warming his cheeks as the ocean of this mind splashed the tides of memories towards the surface, rushing images behind the boy's eyes.
'Home'
The word echoed beautifully through his ears and he gave a small sigh of relief. This wretched place! He hated London almost as much as he hated Hook and he was glad to finally ride himself of it! Farewell and good riddance! His only regret, Peter frowned lines creasing fin his brow, Wendy. He wanted her to go so desperately. To leave it all behind her, to come see the wonder, to relieve the magic! He missed the stories, he missed having a mother!
Peter gazed at the girl, watching her fingers nimblely work the yarn with skillful ease. It shot him back to the tree fort, where she would sit in her rocking chair, darning the lost boy's socks, while she would tell them wild and gallant stories of adventures and their heroines that saved the day every single time. Every so often, she would glance up at Peter and grin at him as if she had a secret that both knew and only they shared with lone another. He would always grin back even though her, he knew not.
Now, Wendy was back in this world and six years had passed...Wendy had grown up and Peter knew to be. He could not deny it no matter how much he tried to, not even cocky Peter Pan could believe his own lie. Not this time. She was an adult, and that was simply that. Nothing could change it now. And nothing could undo it neither.
He felt his heart wretch inside his body, like a dull dagger twisting and turning in measly attempt to skewer the muscle. His eyes burned and he bit his lip. Why did it have to end like this? How could have Hook been so right?
Peter inspected the islands, as always about this mid part in the day, from the top of the great tree in Neverland Garden. The Garden had an uncanny resemblance to Kensington Gardens and it has been argued that, that might very well be the reason the lord of Neverland found himself so much at home in this particular spot. It too has been quarreled that it was the fairies for, Neverland garden was in the midst of the Fairy's domain. And as it was no secret to all the inhabitance, the boy had a strange and mystical connection to the small flying creatures, as well as the very islands themselves. Why, he could even go as far to control the weather of the content's sky.
Now on this particular occasion, Peter spotted Hook standing alone one the deck of his Jolly Roger and a strange notion passed through his mind. Something extremely risky, out of the ordinary, and un-Pan like from all angles of perspective yet, none less, there it was. Peter leaped into the sky, flying across the jungle in route to Pirate's Cove.
"Oh Captain Hook!" he called, with that edge of cockiness dripping in the back of his throat that the captain found himself loathing the sound of as much as the ticking of a clock.
His blade drew immediately as his eyes madly darted upwards, meeting where sea meets sky, the figure zooming towards him at neck breaking speeds.
"Pan?!"
Hook glanced around for his crew but found nothing but an empty hull. The matter of the fact was, that at that very moment, Smee and the other band of swarthy pirates, under Hook's very own orders, were on the shore making a diligent search for Peter Pan. Hook growled at the boy flying about.
"Hey Hook!" Pan began, suddenly stopping to sit on the wooden rail. "You wanna talk a moment."
Hook blinked at the youth flabbergasted. His face turned deadly pale, such as the color of ash.
"I beg your pardon? You simply must be joking!" he scoffed chuckling heartily.
"No I'm not!" Peter insister, tossing his dagger at his feet.
It enraged Hook to see the boy at such lax in his presence. Not a single nervous twitch of fright directed in the captain's presence, giving no indication Pan had any realization that he may very well be placing himself in a wretched position. Thoughts of taking this opportunity flashed thought the pirate's mind however, he suddenly remembered that, just because Peter didn't look ready for action, didn't mean that he wasn't and it was because of this, the thought vanished. Instead, Hook blinked once again at the personification of childhood.
"Talk?!"
peter rose an indignant brow, arms folding snidely.
"How many times must I repeat myself?! Yes! Talk!"
Hook scratched his chin with his iron claw in awe, and not exactly sure of what to do or make of his current situation. So, for the time being, he decided to play along in Peter's little game just to see where it lead them, maybe just maybe he could learn something he wasn't suppose to or better yet, find a way to take advantage of the situation.
"Ok Peter, we'll....talk."
"Ok."
Hook waited as moments seemed to gait by, not a sound echoed across the ocean and the captain mopped his brow with a finger of discomfort.
"Well, what was it you wished to discuss?" he prodded.
Peter shrugged carelessly, gazing at the captain.
"Don't know. What do you want to discuss?"
Hook practically jumped up in the air, his already lacking patience dwindling only further.
"Pan, I thought you wanted to talk!" he growled.
Peter just stared at him blankly.
"We are talking aren't we?"
That was it. Hook's foot stomped twice on the wooden boards of the Jolly Roger's bridge.
"PAN!"
The boy watched the older man in amusement, as his face turned from, white, to cream, to light rose, to a red rose, to deep crimson and finally plain out plum. Finally when it had seemed Captain Jas. Hook had calmed a bit, Peter hopped off the rail, sitting Indian style in mid air. A zephyr up from the sea rustled his hair lightly, twisting its spindles of liquid sun endless with the music.
Peter said the first thing that popped into his head, not thinking of the consequences that might have been if the question so gallantly decided to meet up with Captain's Hook's ears. And it is because of this that we suppose we shall call Peter naïve in this instance.
"Have you a mother Codfish?"
At first reaction, the Captain just marveled in disbelief at the inquiry. Then, it abruptly threw hook into a quandary and he almost had a conniption. However, pondering the matter further, he saw it...there, yes, there it was, a pleasant opportunity. Oh yes a flawless, incorruptible opportunity that could take such an innocent question, and twist it into a virulent weapon. Now Hook was a very intelligent man to be perfectly frank and honest, and he was, with out a doubt brave though many a times he got carried away, becoming overly boisterous. Unfortunately for him, it was what caused him to fail in his plains so many times. A small flick of a grin brandished his lips. Not this time however. This time, as his thoughts brooded into a mold of a plot, and as he placed the finishing touches to it, smoothing the edges roughness, he knew he had established one of Pan's weaknesses, perhaps, the only one.
"You mean like Wendy?" he whispered aberrantly. "Oh to be sure, however, she was not nearly as grand. I would have liked to have had Wendy as my mother."
Peter suddenly laughed, audaciously crowing towards the volatile sky.
"But you couldn't have her cause she was my mother!"
Hook gritted his teeth, dropping the statement like a hot potato, determined that the little whelp wouldn't be allowed to get under his skin ever again. Especially since this new and interesting topic had suddenly arisen. Yes, it was a fine day for Capt. Jas. Hook. Fine day indeed.
"That is very true." He sighed, placing a dramatic claw over his face in anguish. "Oh, I simply can not believe how much time has passed since her departure. Oh so dreadfully long. Neverland hasn't been quite the same since."
Hook just waited and naturally, the poor, naïve and unsuspecting Peter, ambulated right into the trap, playing into the captain's hands....err....hand...perfectly.
"Time?"
A grin once again possessed Hook's lips and his countenance dripped of every sort of injurious thing and he gaze upon the boy in "pity".
"Oh Peter do you not realize how much time has gone by?" "No." "Why six years lad. Wendy must be an adult by now."
Peter's hover dipped however, he caught himself before hitting the deck. Eyes wide. Yes, Hook had pushed a button, several actually. Oh and how he loved it!
"No! That's not true! It's only been a few months!" he insisted, backing away from the dark natured sinister man who was intent on coming closer to the boy.
"But it's true Pan. I keep impeccable track of time!"
Peter had no doubt that this was probably quite true, still, he couldn't fathom it and because he could not possibly conceive the concept, it was therefore, simply not true. Hook simply continued grinning.
"I'll tell you what Pan, since you dropped in for a little chat, I'll make you a deal in good form. If I am wrong, and Wendy is still a little girl, then you can, by all means, help yourself to my left hand."
Peter just blinked at him a moment. A storm brewed off the horizon, pitching tar across the mid day sky. Peter could feel his heart pound with in the hollow of his chest as his breaths became short and sporadic. A course gale rocked the galliant back and forth, causing its captain's eyes to flit around the open sea. It whipped his long ebony curls in endless spirals. Not far from the deck, a bolt of lightning hit the water, causing a mild tidal wave to shake the stern and Hook found it hard to keep his balance. Peter gazed sky wards at the swirling black fog before suddenly welcoming it with open arms as he jaunted long into the air, ridding the wind westwards, toward Neverland's exit.
Hook cried out in dismay as Peter's voice yelled an acknowledgement at his nemesis, before he faded like a distant star, through an open light.
"PAN!!" Hook screamed at the top of his lungs. "Come back here! I'm not finished with you yet!!"
Oh no, this wasn't happening, it was the perfect plot, most insidious, to do Neverland's guardian in...why, Why, Why?! Hook was never given the chance to finish by adding 'But if she is all grown up, then, you are mine savvy?' At this turn of events, the captain watched the sky return to normal as he wept bitterly over the bulwark.
A loud snap of burning wood in the fire place heaved Peter back to his senses and to the present. His eyes roamed about the room, gazing distantly, with the intense inklings, hidden within the abyss of misery of those heavy orbs. Those that so many didn't take the time to look to far beyond, beneath all the anarchy and mischief churning in a coiling cyclone, for many found them to be quite intimidating and feared they'd tread upon dangerous ground.
Peter's finger's slipped to his belt where his pan pipes resided. Quietly, he placed them to his lips taking a breath of pure energy. As the first notes were played, the air seemed to move to the rhythm of their magic, his spirit began to become encased in their existence, leading his soul soothed at every note progressing forwards, the biting tongue of memory fleeting into the inky distance from winst it came. Slowly, Peter's taunt muscles began to relax, and the warm breath of agility once again breathed life into him. The mellow tune reached the ears of all and the quiet peace cast its mold amongst them, lingering in the sweetly piquancy air.
Peter rose from his chair moments later, glancing at all the faces, busily working to complete their tasks. Michael's eyes would widen as a portion of the words of Tomas Moore would grow exciting and the emphases of his voice would increase, Peter had a feeling that Michael would someday become just as great of storyteller as his sister before him. Then there was John, sitting tall, ankle crossed over his knee, hair slicked down with some kind of fashionable ointment. He was dressed to a T, every bit the English Gentleman that his parents had wanted him to be. Peter frowned, wondering just how miserable the lad was beneath the façade. Peter wasn't stupid and he had plainly seen beneath the icy sheen John had conjured up and to the lost soul, divided between the two worlds. Finally, there was Wendy...Wendy. She was on her fourth pair of socks, and she now glanced up at Peter with that same secret grin, giving the notion of the secret she believed they shared, he only wished he knew what it was. He sighed solemnly, placing his Pan Pipes, in the corner of the chair he had, only moments ago, occupied.
"Goodnight." He whispered, gazing at the boys in front of him.
Michael's head rose immediately, his azure eyes meeting Peter's in surprise, for it was well known that Peter was a creature of the night.
"Going to bed so soon Peter?"
"Yes, I believe so, I am quite fatigue."
Michael smirked at him, his eyes dwindling humorously. Even the great Peter Pan could grow in exhaust.
"oh, alright. I hope that you rest well. Good night Peter."
John nodded his eyes flashing mixed signals at the boy in which Peter didn't very well understand.
"Goodnight Peter." He stated casually, returning almost immediately to his reckoning.
Wendy too, gazed at the never boy in suspicion.
"Are you ill boy?"
peter grinned shaking his head vigorously. He was following Wendy's thoughts quite well and it was obvious to him that if admitted to feeling any sort of illness, then he would be provided with medicine....the sweet, sticky kind. In no way was he apt to stand for it.
"Goodnight Wendy." He chided quietly, glancing at the stairs, ascending them ethereally.
He paused only momentarily to add, "Don't ever stop dreaming or believing."
Wendy set her yarn on the cushion of her chair, raising to the mouth of the staircase. She knew well...she couldn't explain it, she just knew and as she opened the nursery door, she perceived exactly what she had expected.
Peter was indeed not in his bed. No, instead, his eyes were riveted heaven ward, racing amongst the stars as if they were one with the sky. His eyes pooled of liquid silver from the moonlight flooding its beams towards him, causing them to glow like two brilliant diamonds under an auroral light. A single star in the distance shone down, casting its mythical aura upon him, winking only for him.
Wendy's eyes drifted from the breath taking phenomenon before her, to the discarded garments scattered across the width of the floor boards bellow her. knickers, jacket, hat, stockings, tunic and boots. Peter sat clad amongst the conglomerate of his leaves and vines once again, his feet left bare to kiss the wind with their freeness.
"Peter..." She called out.
His eyes never adverted from the starry dusk, he had known she would come, she always did.
"You're leaving aren't you?"
"You know I can't stay." Came the reply.
Wendy stepped closer to the figure, the hard heels of her boots clacking across the ligneous floor.
"You know I can't come."
He gazed at her, a quirky smile forming his lips as his eyes danced along to the melody of some kind of melancholic serenade.
"Then we are at an impasse then?"
"I suppose we are."
Moments ticked by on the clock as both just stood, motionless, gazing at eachother with a shared expression. It could have been easy, well as easy as it was however, he couldn't just let go, and he wouldn't give up so easily, for this was not in the nature of Peter Pan.
"Why can't you come?!" "Peter, we've been over this before." She mused, her silken tresses falling across her shoulders as her head fell forwards, his words practically cutting the tears from her soul, wringing them out like a damp cloth to the floor. "Its not running away to leave it all behind Wendy! It's not running to want to see Coney Island, to want freedom, its not!" "Then why can't you stay?"
Peter's eyes fell upon her abruptly, however, their sharpness faded as he caught the tears freely cascading down her pale cheeks. He hovered off the ledge, floating towards Wendy, stopping only when he was six inches from her face.
"Wendy, I always want to just be a boy and have fun." He chided softly.
The girl regarded him with pity as she searched his face, the color of his cheeks, the delicacy of the fine spindles of hair caressing his forehead in their curtain, the full perkiness of his mouth and the gentle sway of the willow eyes starring at her with a deep pleading ness. She leaned forwards, grazing the smooth bronze skin of his forehead with the dusting of a full rose from the sweet kiss of her lips.
"Oh Peter, to be perfectly honest, I don't think you know what you want any more."
Peter's soul with drew deeper into the shadows, further beneath the web of frozen fire with in the well of the lost and everything forgotten and it was in that instant the he suddenly seemed older to Wendy somehow. The boy's finger's timidly caught the cord dangling around Wendy's throat, and he plucked it to his view. The moonlight peeking its spidery eyes through the window, cast its illuminating glow on the wooden mesh of the acorn button residing in his palm, causing it to seemingly spring to life.
"My Kiss."
"Yes Peter."
Peter's hand suddenly found Wendy's in the dark and he lead the delicate fingertips to the bare flesh of his chest. Wendy's mouth fell lightly as she caught a glimmer of silver in the white light and her finger's clasped around the small shape of a thimble. The same one she had bestowed upon him when they first met. The girl's eyes misted, closing in memory, her fingers clutching the little amulet tighter as she found her feet gliding forwards, even closer then before.
"Peter, do you remember thimbles?"
"Yes, I do believe I do. You showed me on the night we first met."
"Yes, I did."
A crystal stream escaped her eye, falling down her cheek.
"You wont forget them, will you?" she asked quietly.
Peter shook his head, that crooked grin falling upon his lips.
"Never!"
The boy stepped to the window ledge, gracing the balcony lightly with his feet, until he floated just above it into the chilly night air. A lingering breeze kissed his face, telling him to hurry, ride its back to the stars and so far beyond. He bowed lightly, raising a hand in a makeshift wave.
"You wont forget your medicine correct? Or to change your flannels?"
He nodded in a mock salute. With that, the never boy began skimming away however, Wendy called out to him, making him pause a moment.
"Peter, please send the Lost Boys the love of their mother and tell them she still thinks of them every day."
A warm smile greeted the boy's face and he nodded.
"I will."
"Take care Peter, mind your shoulder..."Again, Wendy found the words melting across her tongue, far more difficult to divulge then before. Though, as before, they found their way out of her lips, saying them as bravely as she could possibly manage, striving so much to maintain her dignity. "Good-bye Peter."
"Fare well, Wendy-lady."
With that, he gaily twisted away into the night, a shout ringing out across the roof tops of London, and some chimney sweeps removed their hats, waving a good-bye to the one who could share such a view from their world, between the pavement and stars. The one to share the magic and adventure and far beyond the ordinary.
Wendy's perfect ears echoed of a sound that would always bring a warm light to her heart no mater how old she got and how her life went. For it is a rare privilege when magic itself can touch you so strongly that it becomes a part of you living inside of you. Peter had experienced that long, long ago, on his first encounter with the mischievous little fairy that would later become his eternal companion. And it can be said that later, as this new tale of adventure starts unfolding, the same magic springs to life with in the very blood of Wendy Darling.
It was at this point however, that Wendy could no longer stop the tears from falling, and indeed they fell, like a waterfall they were.
"Wendy?"
the girl watched Peter disappear through the misty clouds before finally turning away from the window, peering into the eyes of her youngest brother compassionately.
"Where's Peter?"
She sighed, eyes drifting heaven ward again.
"He's gone Michael. He's gone."
That night, she dreamed of Neverland and the memories surfaced, haunting her mind with images of past.
"Its just make-believe right Wendy?" "Of course Peter...of course."
Wendy winced as peter sighed heavily, in obvious relief.
"Oh good. I'm sorry, you see, it'll just make me seem awfully old if I were a real father."
He giggled cheerfully, but Wendy remained serious.
"Peter, what are your exact feelings for me?"
He blinked at her in bewilderment.
"Why that of a devoted son." "Dear me, I though as much." She muttered softly, feeling her heart drop with in the pit of her stomach. "Don't you ever imagine what it would be like to grow up?"
Peter simply glared at her, leaning forwards ever so close to her ear, whispering but one word in the most metallically bitter tone.
"Never." "Peter, what are you so afraid of?" "The very concept offends me and has no place to even be spoken about in Neverland!" he growled. "But what about it vexes you so? I simply can not understand."
Peter's eyes glinted furiously, his words spat coldly, like the venom of a snake.
"When I was ten, I ran away to Kensington Gardens. I met Tink and Tink showed me a world in which I would never have to worry about becoming a man. She showed me Neverland, where the impossible happens every day and that is the way I like it! I make my own rules, not go about following others. I don't have to grow up and their for I don't die! I can have as much fun and adventure as I want when I want! Growing up has absolutely not appeal to me and why should it when all I need is right here!" "All you need?" Wendy whispered, her eyes silently pleading with his soul.
Peter leaned closer till Wendy's nose was touching his.
"All." He seethed.
With that, he rose in the air, fleeing through the open trunk of the tree leaving Wendy in anguish and wondering what to do or how she would ever get home.
Wendy was abruptly ripped from her slumber by something viciously shaking her body to and fro.
'An earthquake!' she thought, but quick realization brought to her the knowledge that was in fact hands, one on either shoulder, that were the responsible party.
Her eyes snapped open as she struggled to clear the fog of groggy sleep from her head. Her eyes met with two orbs, that were intensely staring at her with frightful panic. The girl inhaled sharply, immediately sitting up in her bed, fully alert to all. Her jaw fell in sudden realization, a gasp owing up from her lips, twisting to the stale air.
"Peter?!"
sure enough, the boy was huddled in front of her, looking devastatingly helpless and it scared her deeply, for this broken husk was not the Peter she was so familiar with. No more were the arrogant and cocky air, they had been replaced with a shadow, a fiber, a mere whisper. He wasn't even trying to hold back the tears still glistening against the chilly flesh of his cheeks.
"What is wrong!?" she spudered, grabbing his shoulders in her palms. "Peter!?"
"I-I..."
"Its ok," she coed, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Calm down. You'll be fine. Now what is going on?"
The frightened boy's eyes crashed into her, an overwhelming sea of distress and tumulus waves crashed the swirling waters around stiffly.
"I-I forgot...I can't remember my way back to Neverland!"
LONDON, ENGLAND
'So many times I wonder where I've gone and how I've found my way back in I'll look around for a while For something lost, Maybe I'll find it in the end...'
-Norah Jones-
"Stay back!" Peter warned, grabbing the closest thing to his fingertips, which proved to be no more then a switch.
The boys eyed him in utter amusement, tossing each, his own head, to the wind for a good laugh. The oldest sneered, regarding Peter cynically.
"What are you planning on doing? Poking us to death?" his posy roared louder at the comment.
Peter simply sneered through gritted teeth. Of course the boy, ignorant to Peter's unique abilities, failed to take the warning that the never boy was offering to him now. Oh yes, they should have known better, they should have seen the dangerous glimmer of mischief burning hotly behind the seas of emerald tides, but they did not. However, it's alright. We shant hold it against them, though, we can't say the same feat for Peter's case.
Wendy caught it of course, and she stood, watching on, her skin prickling in excitement and fear all at once. Excitement for Peter, deathly fear for his poor pitiful victims.
Peter now grinned, that horribly incorrigible grin, waggling his brows at them pleasantly. He was just like a little boy at Christmas time.
The leader, whom we shall call by the prefix, 'Kid', hung his mouth, astonished at this lad's cockiness. It caused his blood to chill, a mysterious voice whispering from the wind into his ear, 'Stay back! Leave now!...For you do not realize whom or what you are dealing with'.
"Listen you, I have no qualms about running you or your lady friend right through." He spat, pulling the blade of a dagger from its concealed sheath under his thick wool sweater.
The unnerving grin only increased by tenfold. Peter bowed gallantly towards his opponent.
"Care to try your luck?"
Kid screamed, rushing towards Peter, blinding rage guiding his blade.
"Cheeky bastard!"
peter merely side steeped the lad, causing him to lose his balance and he fell heavily into the snow. Peter laughed gaily, watching Kid try to escape the icy prison, scrambling to his feet, but alas, the lad slipped, falling face first back in the frost blanket. Muffled curses drifted up to Peter and Wendy's ears, causing both to giggle at the sight.
The two other boys of Kids, now regained their bearings, rushing forwards for their attempts at doing the cocky boy in. Their eyes glowed savagely, beams of malice seeping from the chilly depths of the presuppose with in them.
Peter parried steel, dodging, left, right, up and under. One boy flew in blinding crimson rage slashing his dagger for his impending victim's heart. Peter merely side stepped the attempt though, some how, the lad managed to slit the tweed material of Peter's jacket, leaving in its wake, a four inch rent in midst the fabric. Peter glanced at it, scowling in disgust. He may not have cared anything for the garment itself however, it was the notion that Wendy had purchased it for him that aggravated him. Needless to say, the thug landed in a garbage can, his world turning topsy-turvy at the view from the bottom of a dented medal canister. The youngest, shortly followed, landing back first, against some wooden pallets.
Peter crowed.
Wendy watched on, in absolute delight, too absorbed in the episode at hand to notice a shadow of a figure creeping up behind her. She probably would have never comprehended it if it weren't for the hand clamping with suffocating tightness over her mouth to choke out any screams that might arise in the back of her throat. Wendy's eyes widened, her fingers wildly clawing air in vain attempt at attaining her freedom. Her nails dug into the flesh of a strong arm wrapped tightly around her throat. The girl's struggle finally ceased as the unfriendly tip of a dagger was shoved at her throat in the most menacing way. There was nothing she could do and she felt like a rabbit, trapped by its hunter.
"Enough!" Kid's voice bellowed, echoing loudly through out the gray alley.
Peter's attention was quickly grabbed and he turned to face his opponent. At seeing Wendy being held hostage, his eyes quickly grew serious, a dark scowl staining his handsome face.
"I don't know who you think you are but this girl," he paused, sniffing Wendy's hair fully, inhaling the sweet essence of wild, rain ridden spring. "Yes, she is your girl isn't she?..." he grinned wickedly, relishing Peter's face as thunder clapped inside the rim of haunting darkness swirling about with in his eyes.
The starry twinkle diminished, leaving the bitter essence of malice in their wake, a requiem of joy, boiling to a peak of unbridled fury.
"Let her go."
It had not been a request nor, had it been a demand. Simply a statement. And if Kid had better judgment, he would be wise to follow the suggestion.
The other two boys were now grounded, and each was sneering at Peter in abhorrence for even they could not deny a simple truth. Their match may very well have been met on this very day, and as this new knowledge flooded their minds the battle of wits and cunning were soon to commence.
"If you want her, come and claim her!"
As quick as lightening streaking across an open plain, Kid whirled Wendy towards him, pilfering her kiss venomously, as if he had complete mastery over her being. A startled cry erupted our of her esophagus, climbing into the pungent open air, flying in desperation to the ears of Peter Pan.
Now, had things gone differently, Peter probably would have played as if it were all just one big game. This though, was clearly not the case and had Kid understood in the first place exactly what Peter truly was, he would have just turned the opposite way down the alley to begin with, but to, if that were the case, then this part of the chapter just wouldn't have seemed quite as fun you will agree?
The first boy fraternized an attack once again. Peter ducked an on coming blow, slamming a not so cordial fist into his stomach. The dagger that had been locked within the confines of boy's fingers, slipped away and Peter immediately dove to retrieve it.
"Release her!" Peter now demanded, pointing the edge at the leader.
Wendy gazed at him wide eyed. Desperately, trying to wriggle free once again from the restraint and as before she was so graciously remained why she had made haste to bring to ruin her struggle in the first place as a searing pain met with the smooth delicate skin her throat roughly. Again she cried out, this time biting back bitter tears of both fright along with deep seeded anger.
Kid ushered Peter a pious eye before tossing Wendy head long into a crate along side of the brick wall. Peter watched in anguish as her head struck the riveting structure, throwing her coldly to the ground as if she were nothing at all. The never boy's eyes widened mouth falling askew as a name drifted from it, sinking to the ground like nothing more then a light feather carried by the wings of an nimble wind.
"Wendy..."
The girl's head slowly lifted, her glassy eyes meeting Peter's quietly. A crimson trickle now glided out the corner of her lip, spilling down the side of her chin. A small pool mingled with in the tresses of umber, crying its claret tears against her temple. Her hand braced her against the wall, and she slowly scaled upwards till her sore limbs stood erect. It was amazing she still found herself a creature of consciousness in the world of the dreamless awake.
Peter's eyes drifted to Kid ominously, glaring at him several long moments. Suddenly, he lunged forwards, steel clashing with steel. Peter quickly appraised his opponent's skill as their forces keeled with eachother. It was obvious that the boy had, had some training at some point for, he did have some form. However, it was sluggish, overly laxed and in dire need of polishing. His movements were greatly predictable and overly done. It was these points that Peter took the greatest advantage of. So it was that Pan doted upon himself, the liberty of training the boy in the 'fundamentals'.
Peter waited for Kid to lunge at him, which he did quite predictably, for it was a very written part of the style he had not come to acquire and all the more easier on Pan by all means. He merely twisted up into the air, like a trapeze artist, volleying over Kid's head and came at him from his back. Kid wildly spun, dazed and confused. He turned only to have the razor point embedded sharply into his nose and the same pair of baneful eyes, their ocean of vicious green-blue ice water draining into the boy's blood, chilling it harshly as if winter had cast its gelid shadow inside his bones.
The other two boys gasped, weapons clattering to the ground. Kid's own two eyes were humbled to the ground, prostrating themselves amongst the cobblestone, where Peter's feet now hover a foot above.
Kid stumbled backwards, falling to the waiting arms of terra firma. Pan drew his sword, readying himself to strike the 'Pirate' down to his permanent dwelling within the gates of the hell. The blade's wrath came crashing down and Kid closed his eyes tightly, kissing the bitter air of memory and thought lingering to haunt him good-bye. But the blade never met its target, for something came between. A blur of color, swirling periwinkle and prune, innerving with the sentence of execution.
"Peter!" Wendy cried, arms spreading eagle in front of his forth coming victim.
The boy's eyes widen in alarm and the razor tip found itself flying oblique to its target.
"Wendy?!" he blurted, bewildered.
"No! Stop!"
"But...why? He's a Pirate!!" Peter protested passionately, a finger belligerently pointing in Kid's direction.
Wendy sighed loudly, her face falling to her hand. She inhaled deep gulps of air into her lungs, trying to calm the rapid palpitation of her heart.
"Peter, this is London, not Neverland! Things work so differently here! You can't just go about killing....pirates!" "But why not?! It would be three less! And less is always a better number!" he reasoned, raising the dagger to strike again, but Wendy stood her ground.
Quietly tears fell from her eyes as she took a step forwards, placing a hand upon his shoulder.
"Peter, you don't understand." She whispered, giving her all to explain. "They would punish you."
A smirk curled his lip from where he was hovering off the ground and defiant fists found his hips.
"You mean 'they' as in London."
Again Wendy sighed, lowering her sights to the ground.
"No not London Peter. London is but a city! I mean, 'they' as in the hierarchy. They would take what you value most from you, your freedom. They would take and remove it as far from you as is humanly possible and that is such a long way. They would cast you aside, in cage of bars like an animal, chained chattel. Peter, they have the power to banish you, from both worlds, and I wouldn't be able to do a thing about it....Peter, I'd be powerless to stop it."
The boy blinked at her, astonishment filling the youthful orbs that, once in a while, smiled of innocence, but not in this instant. It this moment, the cringed, clouding with fear of the word...'banish'...and the cutlass fell to his feet. Banish...in this case, the only way to banish him, was through death and this knew was what Wendy was trying to tell him would happen.
Wendy, glanced at Kid, as she tugged at the astonished Never boy's arm, pulling him out of the dank alley and into the brighter daylight of the city. Fortunately for them, an officer was stationed on the corner of the St. directly ahead of them, which happened to be Dunbar. Just above the officer, was a window, barren and bleak. It looked as though, it had been abandoned for quite sometime. None the less, it was a perfect place for a lookout. Wendy now ran to the officer, relying all the following events that had most recently occurred and with the telling, the officer strode down the alley, Billy club beating into his open palm with a matter of taking care of business.
A course wind descended from the heavens, whistling past Peter's ears and the boy's eyes lingered upwards, catching the window for a brief moment, watching remains of fabric flap in cool crisp breeze through the spidered pane of glass.
"Peter."
He glanced at Wendy, eyes alert to any danger. Her eyes caught the gentle splash of color melting into the gray tweed of his jacket and she sighed.
"You're bleeding again. You should not have flown." She scolded lightly, tugging at the jacket to examine the wound.
Peter looked towards the sky while Wendy worked, his eyes searching it longingly. Peter had always been a good at hiding things but Wendy had always been better at sensing and finding things. She now gazed at the boy, not in the least surprised to see Peter's eyes misting with fog. He didn't seem to notice, as his eyes never moved from the passion, desire and one true love...
"Peter, we should go home now."
Peter's eyes molded to the battered and contusing derma. The puffy, swelling skin of her lip, the residual residue of arid blood left to streak across the surface of what was once undamaged. His finger's grazed the wound lightly, searching it with empathetic eyes that displayed a wave of concern and anxiety.
"Wendy you..."
"Its nothing Peter, I'll be fine."
A heavy breath sank in her ears and she slowly reached over intertwining her fingers amongst his own, leading him down the path to number fourteen and away from the memory of the day's events.
Three Days Later...
Now, this night began much like all others. Quite typical really, the illusion of ordinary. The stars shone brilliantly, twinkling breathlessly at the whole expanse of London, whispering their goodnight lullaby in the ears of sleeping children, however they only winked for one.
The boys were stationed, quite settled as usual. All scooted close by the fire light for the air had a drafty bite to it and was intent on nibbling at their fingers and toes. Michael sat with his studies, reciting, aloud, the words of Tomas Moore from a passage in his book 'Utopia.' John was calculating mathematical figures. Figuring equations in his mind. His fingers would pause before bawling into agitated fists, starting all over again from the top. Wendy just sat quietly, eyes glowing thoughtfully, as they swirled with the intense orange heat of fire reflecting in her eyes. In her hands, she darned a pair of Michael's socks which had worn quite thin with the passing of time. Only the extra figure, carelessly lounging on an over easy chair, a leg swung over the arm lazily as it spontaneously rocked back and forth, seemed a bit of an oddity for the intimate family setting. Of course, Peter wasn't accustomed to the ordinary anyhow so you can be sure that things could have easily changed form the smoothness to a scene of delicious naughtiness. One thing with Peter was certain, never was there a dull moment that passed. However, for this stage in time, he was behaving himself quite well. But perhaps it was just because he was lost deep in the realm of his own thoughts at that very moment.
Maybe it was because of such a lax setting that the thought never entered into Wendy's mind or perhaps it was just because she too was off in her own world, to say the least. Contemplating things deep with in the power of her own reason. Whatever be the case, little did she or the other boys, yes this does include Peter himself, know that their second grand adventure with Peter Pan was about to begin on that very eve.
Peter sat, starring into the fire, the soft glow, warming his cheeks as the ocean of this mind splashed the tides of memories towards the surface, rushing images behind the boy's eyes.
'Home'
The word echoed beautifully through his ears and he gave a small sigh of relief. This wretched place! He hated London almost as much as he hated Hook and he was glad to finally ride himself of it! Farewell and good riddance! His only regret, Peter frowned lines creasing fin his brow, Wendy. He wanted her to go so desperately. To leave it all behind her, to come see the wonder, to relieve the magic! He missed the stories, he missed having a mother!
Peter gazed at the girl, watching her fingers nimblely work the yarn with skillful ease. It shot him back to the tree fort, where she would sit in her rocking chair, darning the lost boy's socks, while she would tell them wild and gallant stories of adventures and their heroines that saved the day every single time. Every so often, she would glance up at Peter and grin at him as if she had a secret that both knew and only they shared with lone another. He would always grin back even though her, he knew not.
Now, Wendy was back in this world and six years had passed...Wendy had grown up and Peter knew to be. He could not deny it no matter how much he tried to, not even cocky Peter Pan could believe his own lie. Not this time. She was an adult, and that was simply that. Nothing could change it now. And nothing could undo it neither.
He felt his heart wretch inside his body, like a dull dagger twisting and turning in measly attempt to skewer the muscle. His eyes burned and he bit his lip. Why did it have to end like this? How could have Hook been so right?
Peter inspected the islands, as always about this mid part in the day, from the top of the great tree in Neverland Garden. The Garden had an uncanny resemblance to Kensington Gardens and it has been argued that, that might very well be the reason the lord of Neverland found himself so much at home in this particular spot. It too has been quarreled that it was the fairies for, Neverland garden was in the midst of the Fairy's domain. And as it was no secret to all the inhabitance, the boy had a strange and mystical connection to the small flying creatures, as well as the very islands themselves. Why, he could even go as far to control the weather of the content's sky.
Now on this particular occasion, Peter spotted Hook standing alone one the deck of his Jolly Roger and a strange notion passed through his mind. Something extremely risky, out of the ordinary, and un-Pan like from all angles of perspective yet, none less, there it was. Peter leaped into the sky, flying across the jungle in route to Pirate's Cove.
"Oh Captain Hook!" he called, with that edge of cockiness dripping in the back of his throat that the captain found himself loathing the sound of as much as the ticking of a clock.
His blade drew immediately as his eyes madly darted upwards, meeting where sea meets sky, the figure zooming towards him at neck breaking speeds.
"Pan?!"
Hook glanced around for his crew but found nothing but an empty hull. The matter of the fact was, that at that very moment, Smee and the other band of swarthy pirates, under Hook's very own orders, were on the shore making a diligent search for Peter Pan. Hook growled at the boy flying about.
"Hey Hook!" Pan began, suddenly stopping to sit on the wooden rail. "You wanna talk a moment."
Hook blinked at the youth flabbergasted. His face turned deadly pale, such as the color of ash.
"I beg your pardon? You simply must be joking!" he scoffed chuckling heartily.
"No I'm not!" Peter insister, tossing his dagger at his feet.
It enraged Hook to see the boy at such lax in his presence. Not a single nervous twitch of fright directed in the captain's presence, giving no indication Pan had any realization that he may very well be placing himself in a wretched position. Thoughts of taking this opportunity flashed thought the pirate's mind however, he suddenly remembered that, just because Peter didn't look ready for action, didn't mean that he wasn't and it was because of this, the thought vanished. Instead, Hook blinked once again at the personification of childhood.
"Talk?!"
peter rose an indignant brow, arms folding snidely.
"How many times must I repeat myself?! Yes! Talk!"
Hook scratched his chin with his iron claw in awe, and not exactly sure of what to do or make of his current situation. So, for the time being, he decided to play along in Peter's little game just to see where it lead them, maybe just maybe he could learn something he wasn't suppose to or better yet, find a way to take advantage of the situation.
"Ok Peter, we'll....talk."
"Ok."
Hook waited as moments seemed to gait by, not a sound echoed across the ocean and the captain mopped his brow with a finger of discomfort.
"Well, what was it you wished to discuss?" he prodded.
Peter shrugged carelessly, gazing at the captain.
"Don't know. What do you want to discuss?"
Hook practically jumped up in the air, his already lacking patience dwindling only further.
"Pan, I thought you wanted to talk!" he growled.
Peter just stared at him blankly.
"We are talking aren't we?"
That was it. Hook's foot stomped twice on the wooden boards of the Jolly Roger's bridge.
"PAN!"
The boy watched the older man in amusement, as his face turned from, white, to cream, to light rose, to a red rose, to deep crimson and finally plain out plum. Finally when it had seemed Captain Jas. Hook had calmed a bit, Peter hopped off the rail, sitting Indian style in mid air. A zephyr up from the sea rustled his hair lightly, twisting its spindles of liquid sun endless with the music.
Peter said the first thing that popped into his head, not thinking of the consequences that might have been if the question so gallantly decided to meet up with Captain's Hook's ears. And it is because of this that we suppose we shall call Peter naïve in this instance.
"Have you a mother Codfish?"
At first reaction, the Captain just marveled in disbelief at the inquiry. Then, it abruptly threw hook into a quandary and he almost had a conniption. However, pondering the matter further, he saw it...there, yes, there it was, a pleasant opportunity. Oh yes a flawless, incorruptible opportunity that could take such an innocent question, and twist it into a virulent weapon. Now Hook was a very intelligent man to be perfectly frank and honest, and he was, with out a doubt brave though many a times he got carried away, becoming overly boisterous. Unfortunately for him, it was what caused him to fail in his plains so many times. A small flick of a grin brandished his lips. Not this time however. This time, as his thoughts brooded into a mold of a plot, and as he placed the finishing touches to it, smoothing the edges roughness, he knew he had established one of Pan's weaknesses, perhaps, the only one.
"You mean like Wendy?" he whispered aberrantly. "Oh to be sure, however, she was not nearly as grand. I would have liked to have had Wendy as my mother."
Peter suddenly laughed, audaciously crowing towards the volatile sky.
"But you couldn't have her cause she was my mother!"
Hook gritted his teeth, dropping the statement like a hot potato, determined that the little whelp wouldn't be allowed to get under his skin ever again. Especially since this new and interesting topic had suddenly arisen. Yes, it was a fine day for Capt. Jas. Hook. Fine day indeed.
"That is very true." He sighed, placing a dramatic claw over his face in anguish. "Oh, I simply can not believe how much time has passed since her departure. Oh so dreadfully long. Neverland hasn't been quite the same since."
Hook just waited and naturally, the poor, naïve and unsuspecting Peter, ambulated right into the trap, playing into the captain's hands....err....hand...perfectly.
"Time?"
A grin once again possessed Hook's lips and his countenance dripped of every sort of injurious thing and he gaze upon the boy in "pity".
"Oh Peter do you not realize how much time has gone by?" "No." "Why six years lad. Wendy must be an adult by now."
Peter's hover dipped however, he caught himself before hitting the deck. Eyes wide. Yes, Hook had pushed a button, several actually. Oh and how he loved it!
"No! That's not true! It's only been a few months!" he insisted, backing away from the dark natured sinister man who was intent on coming closer to the boy.
"But it's true Pan. I keep impeccable track of time!"
Peter had no doubt that this was probably quite true, still, he couldn't fathom it and because he could not possibly conceive the concept, it was therefore, simply not true. Hook simply continued grinning.
"I'll tell you what Pan, since you dropped in for a little chat, I'll make you a deal in good form. If I am wrong, and Wendy is still a little girl, then you can, by all means, help yourself to my left hand."
Peter just blinked at him a moment. A storm brewed off the horizon, pitching tar across the mid day sky. Peter could feel his heart pound with in the hollow of his chest as his breaths became short and sporadic. A course gale rocked the galliant back and forth, causing its captain's eyes to flit around the open sea. It whipped his long ebony curls in endless spirals. Not far from the deck, a bolt of lightning hit the water, causing a mild tidal wave to shake the stern and Hook found it hard to keep his balance. Peter gazed sky wards at the swirling black fog before suddenly welcoming it with open arms as he jaunted long into the air, ridding the wind westwards, toward Neverland's exit.
Hook cried out in dismay as Peter's voice yelled an acknowledgement at his nemesis, before he faded like a distant star, through an open light.
"PAN!!" Hook screamed at the top of his lungs. "Come back here! I'm not finished with you yet!!"
Oh no, this wasn't happening, it was the perfect plot, most insidious, to do Neverland's guardian in...why, Why, Why?! Hook was never given the chance to finish by adding 'But if she is all grown up, then, you are mine savvy?' At this turn of events, the captain watched the sky return to normal as he wept bitterly over the bulwark.
A loud snap of burning wood in the fire place heaved Peter back to his senses and to the present. His eyes roamed about the room, gazing distantly, with the intense inklings, hidden within the abyss of misery of those heavy orbs. Those that so many didn't take the time to look to far beyond, beneath all the anarchy and mischief churning in a coiling cyclone, for many found them to be quite intimidating and feared they'd tread upon dangerous ground.
Peter's finger's slipped to his belt where his pan pipes resided. Quietly, he placed them to his lips taking a breath of pure energy. As the first notes were played, the air seemed to move to the rhythm of their magic, his spirit began to become encased in their existence, leading his soul soothed at every note progressing forwards, the biting tongue of memory fleeting into the inky distance from winst it came. Slowly, Peter's taunt muscles began to relax, and the warm breath of agility once again breathed life into him. The mellow tune reached the ears of all and the quiet peace cast its mold amongst them, lingering in the sweetly piquancy air.
Peter rose from his chair moments later, glancing at all the faces, busily working to complete their tasks. Michael's eyes would widen as a portion of the words of Tomas Moore would grow exciting and the emphases of his voice would increase, Peter had a feeling that Michael would someday become just as great of storyteller as his sister before him. Then there was John, sitting tall, ankle crossed over his knee, hair slicked down with some kind of fashionable ointment. He was dressed to a T, every bit the English Gentleman that his parents had wanted him to be. Peter frowned, wondering just how miserable the lad was beneath the façade. Peter wasn't stupid and he had plainly seen beneath the icy sheen John had conjured up and to the lost soul, divided between the two worlds. Finally, there was Wendy...Wendy. She was on her fourth pair of socks, and she now glanced up at Peter with that same secret grin, giving the notion of the secret she believed they shared, he only wished he knew what it was. He sighed solemnly, placing his Pan Pipes, in the corner of the chair he had, only moments ago, occupied.
"Goodnight." He whispered, gazing at the boys in front of him.
Michael's head rose immediately, his azure eyes meeting Peter's in surprise, for it was well known that Peter was a creature of the night.
"Going to bed so soon Peter?"
"Yes, I believe so, I am quite fatigue."
Michael smirked at him, his eyes dwindling humorously. Even the great Peter Pan could grow in exhaust.
"oh, alright. I hope that you rest well. Good night Peter."
John nodded his eyes flashing mixed signals at the boy in which Peter didn't very well understand.
"Goodnight Peter." He stated casually, returning almost immediately to his reckoning.
Wendy too, gazed at the never boy in suspicion.
"Are you ill boy?"
peter grinned shaking his head vigorously. He was following Wendy's thoughts quite well and it was obvious to him that if admitted to feeling any sort of illness, then he would be provided with medicine....the sweet, sticky kind. In no way was he apt to stand for it.
"Goodnight Wendy." He chided quietly, glancing at the stairs, ascending them ethereally.
He paused only momentarily to add, "Don't ever stop dreaming or believing."
Wendy set her yarn on the cushion of her chair, raising to the mouth of the staircase. She knew well...she couldn't explain it, she just knew and as she opened the nursery door, she perceived exactly what she had expected.
Peter was indeed not in his bed. No, instead, his eyes were riveted heaven ward, racing amongst the stars as if they were one with the sky. His eyes pooled of liquid silver from the moonlight flooding its beams towards him, causing them to glow like two brilliant diamonds under an auroral light. A single star in the distance shone down, casting its mythical aura upon him, winking only for him.
Wendy's eyes drifted from the breath taking phenomenon before her, to the discarded garments scattered across the width of the floor boards bellow her. knickers, jacket, hat, stockings, tunic and boots. Peter sat clad amongst the conglomerate of his leaves and vines once again, his feet left bare to kiss the wind with their freeness.
"Peter..." She called out.
His eyes never adverted from the starry dusk, he had known she would come, she always did.
"You're leaving aren't you?"
"You know I can't stay." Came the reply.
Wendy stepped closer to the figure, the hard heels of her boots clacking across the ligneous floor.
"You know I can't come."
He gazed at her, a quirky smile forming his lips as his eyes danced along to the melody of some kind of melancholic serenade.
"Then we are at an impasse then?"
"I suppose we are."
Moments ticked by on the clock as both just stood, motionless, gazing at eachother with a shared expression. It could have been easy, well as easy as it was however, he couldn't just let go, and he wouldn't give up so easily, for this was not in the nature of Peter Pan.
"Why can't you come?!" "Peter, we've been over this before." She mused, her silken tresses falling across her shoulders as her head fell forwards, his words practically cutting the tears from her soul, wringing them out like a damp cloth to the floor. "Its not running away to leave it all behind Wendy! It's not running to want to see Coney Island, to want freedom, its not!" "Then why can't you stay?"
Peter's eyes fell upon her abruptly, however, their sharpness faded as he caught the tears freely cascading down her pale cheeks. He hovered off the ledge, floating towards Wendy, stopping only when he was six inches from her face.
"Wendy, I always want to just be a boy and have fun." He chided softly.
The girl regarded him with pity as she searched his face, the color of his cheeks, the delicacy of the fine spindles of hair caressing his forehead in their curtain, the full perkiness of his mouth and the gentle sway of the willow eyes starring at her with a deep pleading ness. She leaned forwards, grazing the smooth bronze skin of his forehead with the dusting of a full rose from the sweet kiss of her lips.
"Oh Peter, to be perfectly honest, I don't think you know what you want any more."
Peter's soul with drew deeper into the shadows, further beneath the web of frozen fire with in the well of the lost and everything forgotten and it was in that instant the he suddenly seemed older to Wendy somehow. The boy's finger's timidly caught the cord dangling around Wendy's throat, and he plucked it to his view. The moonlight peeking its spidery eyes through the window, cast its illuminating glow on the wooden mesh of the acorn button residing in his palm, causing it to seemingly spring to life.
"My Kiss."
"Yes Peter."
Peter's hand suddenly found Wendy's in the dark and he lead the delicate fingertips to the bare flesh of his chest. Wendy's mouth fell lightly as she caught a glimmer of silver in the white light and her finger's clasped around the small shape of a thimble. The same one she had bestowed upon him when they first met. The girl's eyes misted, closing in memory, her fingers clutching the little amulet tighter as she found her feet gliding forwards, even closer then before.
"Peter, do you remember thimbles?"
"Yes, I do believe I do. You showed me on the night we first met."
"Yes, I did."
A crystal stream escaped her eye, falling down her cheek.
"You wont forget them, will you?" she asked quietly.
Peter shook his head, that crooked grin falling upon his lips.
"Never!"
The boy stepped to the window ledge, gracing the balcony lightly with his feet, until he floated just above it into the chilly night air. A lingering breeze kissed his face, telling him to hurry, ride its back to the stars and so far beyond. He bowed lightly, raising a hand in a makeshift wave.
"You wont forget your medicine correct? Or to change your flannels?"
He nodded in a mock salute. With that, the never boy began skimming away however, Wendy called out to him, making him pause a moment.
"Peter, please send the Lost Boys the love of their mother and tell them she still thinks of them every day."
A warm smile greeted the boy's face and he nodded.
"I will."
"Take care Peter, mind your shoulder..."Again, Wendy found the words melting across her tongue, far more difficult to divulge then before. Though, as before, they found their way out of her lips, saying them as bravely as she could possibly manage, striving so much to maintain her dignity. "Good-bye Peter."
"Fare well, Wendy-lady."
With that, he gaily twisted away into the night, a shout ringing out across the roof tops of London, and some chimney sweeps removed their hats, waving a good-bye to the one who could share such a view from their world, between the pavement and stars. The one to share the magic and adventure and far beyond the ordinary.
Wendy's perfect ears echoed of a sound that would always bring a warm light to her heart no mater how old she got and how her life went. For it is a rare privilege when magic itself can touch you so strongly that it becomes a part of you living inside of you. Peter had experienced that long, long ago, on his first encounter with the mischievous little fairy that would later become his eternal companion. And it can be said that later, as this new tale of adventure starts unfolding, the same magic springs to life with in the very blood of Wendy Darling.
It was at this point however, that Wendy could no longer stop the tears from falling, and indeed they fell, like a waterfall they were.
"Wendy?"
the girl watched Peter disappear through the misty clouds before finally turning away from the window, peering into the eyes of her youngest brother compassionately.
"Where's Peter?"
She sighed, eyes drifting heaven ward again.
"He's gone Michael. He's gone."
That night, she dreamed of Neverland and the memories surfaced, haunting her mind with images of past.
"Its just make-believe right Wendy?" "Of course Peter...of course."
Wendy winced as peter sighed heavily, in obvious relief.
"Oh good. I'm sorry, you see, it'll just make me seem awfully old if I were a real father."
He giggled cheerfully, but Wendy remained serious.
"Peter, what are your exact feelings for me?"
He blinked at her in bewilderment.
"Why that of a devoted son." "Dear me, I though as much." She muttered softly, feeling her heart drop with in the pit of her stomach. "Don't you ever imagine what it would be like to grow up?"
Peter simply glared at her, leaning forwards ever so close to her ear, whispering but one word in the most metallically bitter tone.
"Never." "Peter, what are you so afraid of?" "The very concept offends me and has no place to even be spoken about in Neverland!" he growled. "But what about it vexes you so? I simply can not understand."
Peter's eyes glinted furiously, his words spat coldly, like the venom of a snake.
"When I was ten, I ran away to Kensington Gardens. I met Tink and Tink showed me a world in which I would never have to worry about becoming a man. She showed me Neverland, where the impossible happens every day and that is the way I like it! I make my own rules, not go about following others. I don't have to grow up and their for I don't die! I can have as much fun and adventure as I want when I want! Growing up has absolutely not appeal to me and why should it when all I need is right here!" "All you need?" Wendy whispered, her eyes silently pleading with his soul.
Peter leaned closer till Wendy's nose was touching his.
"All." He seethed.
With that, he rose in the air, fleeing through the open trunk of the tree leaving Wendy in anguish and wondering what to do or how she would ever get home.
Wendy was abruptly ripped from her slumber by something viciously shaking her body to and fro.
'An earthquake!' she thought, but quick realization brought to her the knowledge that was in fact hands, one on either shoulder, that were the responsible party.
Her eyes snapped open as she struggled to clear the fog of groggy sleep from her head. Her eyes met with two orbs, that were intensely staring at her with frightful panic. The girl inhaled sharply, immediately sitting up in her bed, fully alert to all. Her jaw fell in sudden realization, a gasp owing up from her lips, twisting to the stale air.
"Peter?!"
sure enough, the boy was huddled in front of her, looking devastatingly helpless and it scared her deeply, for this broken husk was not the Peter she was so familiar with. No more were the arrogant and cocky air, they had been replaced with a shadow, a fiber, a mere whisper. He wasn't even trying to hold back the tears still glistening against the chilly flesh of his cheeks.
"What is wrong!?" she spudered, grabbing his shoulders in her palms. "Peter!?"
"I-I..."
"Its ok," she coed, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Calm down. You'll be fine. Now what is going on?"
The frightened boy's eyes crashed into her, an overwhelming sea of distress and tumulus waves crashed the swirling waters around stiffly.
"I-I forgot...I can't remember my way back to Neverland!"