-Not part of the Story- The characters of Peter Pan, Wendy, Michael,
John, Nibs, Tootles, Slightly, the Twins, Curly, Mr. and Mrs. Darling
belong to J.M. Barrie. The character of Aunt Millicent, I believe, belongs
to P.J. Hogan? This is based on the 2003 movie and the book. Loosely. I
always forget this sort of stuff in the first chapter, sorry.-Back to
the Story, folks.-
-The next morning-Wendy noticed when she woke up the next morning that the house was silent- her mother wasn't rattling around in the kitchen making breakfast. She knew her father left for work early, so she herself went to find her mother. Opening the door of her parents' master bedroom, she walked inside. A figure lay huddled in a pile of down blankets on the bed, and as Wendy came closer to it, she saw it was her mum. Mrs. Darling's face was deathly pale, her eyes shut peacefully. Wendy reached out and shook her mother. "Mum...Mother, wake up." When she received no response, she pulled back the covers and sat her mother up, holding her in her arms and shaking her slightly. After a moment, Wendy noticed that she didn't feel a heartbeat underneath her hand, and it was directly on her mother collarbone. Laying her mum down, Wendy pressed an ear to her mother's chest. Silence. She wasn't breathing either. A flash of black on the white carpet caught Wendy's eye. It was an empty medicine bottle. A glass on Mrs. Darling's bed stand was empty, with lipstick prints on the edge. Wendy looked at her mother white face, dark circles under her eyes, and began to scream. "No! No!" She howled violently, rocking her mother in her arms. Tears ran in rivers down her face, and she did not stop screaming. Her mother was so cold, icy, and Wendy rubbed her hands, tucked the covers over them. She brushed the hair from her mother's high cheekbones, kissed her eyelids. "Mummy..." she wept. Her mother did not answer.
-A day later-Wendy sat stiffly at the funeral, black lace obscuring her view. She started to push it aside, and Aunt Millicent smacked her hand. Slowly, Wendy began to count the number of feathers on the hats in the audience- anything to keep her mind from reality. Her eyes fixed themselves on the coffin, and tears rolled down her face. She would never see her mother's piercing blue eyes again, would never hear her laugh or feel her loosen Wendy's corset laces when Aunt Millicent wasn't looking- Wendy swallowed hard and began to sing to herself very softly, trying with all her might to stop crying for the sake of her brothers. She felt small hands slide around her waist, and a face buried itself in her black velvet gown. Wendy looked down to see John's dark hair as he used her skirt to muffle his moans. He had been the closest to Mrs. Darling, where as Michael was "his father's son". The priest said softly, "Lord, deliver us all from this world where we must face tragedies such as the death of a loved one..." Wendy's head jolted up with a start, and she got a reproachful glance from Aunt Millicent, who did not approve of "jolting". "'Deliver us all from this world...'" Peter! Peter could save them, if he came back. All they would need to do is wait, stay where they were.
-A few days later -"Could you repeat that?" Wendy asked, blinking. "You heard me. This is a terrible environment for you children to grow up in, considering...recent circumstances." Aunt Millicent trailed. "So I have arranged for you all to leave in a week for America- they have nice schools and your Aunt and Uncle Margaret and Ewan will be housing and raising you three." Wendy raised her eyebrows. "Us three? We are eight." Aunt Millicent shook her head absently. "Well, naturally the others will go to an orphanage. You can't expect to force your mother's charity on others." "I don't believe this!" Wendy yelled. "I won't stand for it. They're coming with me or I'm not going!" She ran upstairs, and tripped on her gown, ripping the front of the fabric but not stopping. John and Michael stared after her, and then John yelled almost as loudly, "Me neither!" and ran upstairs. Michael asked his aunt suspiciously, "Is there much chocolate in America?" Aunt Millicent sighed and walked over to the phone. "Yes, I'd like a telegram delivered to Mr. and Mrs. Ewan Scott..." A few moments later, she brushed into Wendy's room. "Such inappropriate behavior from a young lady should not be rewarded! But, luckily, Ewan and Margaret have agreed to take in all eight of you, provided you use good manners and etiquette. Is that understood?" Wendy flung her arms around the old woman. "Oh, thank you, Aunt!" Aunt Millicent smiled and went downstairs to tell Liza what to make for dinner. Wendy sighed and began to pack- she had decided to celebrate the small victories.
-A week later- Wendy was dressed for America, in a fawn hoop skirt trimmed with inky lace sewn with pearls and a low swooping (slightly padded) neckline, drawing attention to her budding breasts. Her hair was pulled back in a bun held by a pearl-studded black lace net, and she looked at her aunt. Tearfully, she hugged her tightly, and Aunt Millicent kissed her forehead. She pulled a bag from her side and handed it to Wendy. "It was your mother's. Open it on the boat," she whispered. Wendy nodded and lipped into the carriage, her brothers piling in beside her, except Curly (Theodore), whom she saw slip behind the house with a young girl his age and come out bright red with a lip mark on his cheek. Tootles/Rupert had given "his lady" the address in America, as had Charles and Geoffrey (The Twins) with their own. Nibs, who they'd thought hadn't a lady, had been casting longing glances at a brunette girl from his class who had appeared, tearful in a tightly busted red dress with a low neckline. As the carriage pulled away, that same girl had run forward and pulled a handkerchief from her bust, thrusting it through the window desperately. "Angus- don't forget me! Don't forget my kisses!" Nibs turned red and grabbed the handkerchief, stuffing it into his pocket. Michael cupped his hands over his chest, puckered and said in a falsetto voice, "Angus! Don't forget my kisses!" Nibs thumped the red-haired devil over the head and muttered, "Oh, shut up."
-Yet another day later-While on the boat, the S.S. Queen Elizabeth, Wendy discovered that she was seasick. She hadn't been on the pirate ship, but the sea was choppy and grey, matching the threatening sky. As she stood on deck, rain began to pelt her, and as her siblings raced for cover inside, she stayed in the rain, letting the clouds pour down on her, lightning flashing behind her. Wendy thought she heard them screaming for her to go back inside, but if they did, she could not remember. For the longest and happiest time of her life thus far, Wendy sat in the pouring rain, letting her gown soak through and not caring; feeling thunder rumble the boat beneath her; letting her curls stick to her face and clothing. She felt close to her mother in that moment for a mysterious reason, and when droplets poured down her face, she couldn't tell if it was rain or tears. Wendy fell asleep on the deck, and when she awoke, it wasn't raining, but her ruined dress was still soaked, stuck to her skin. Peter sat on the railing of the boat, watching her, and she jumped up, slipping on the wet wood and landing in the same position she'd been in before. He smiled and reached out one hand for her to pull herself up. "Where are you going?" He asked. Wendy swallowed, and her face grew troubled as she bit her lip. "Peter, my mother...my mother killed herself," She rushed. "I have to go to America. To live with my aunt and uncle, so that we don't have to live in the same house." Peter pulled her up next to him and they ran into an empty room in the cruise ship halls. Obscured by a stack of chairs, the boy pulled her into his arms and murmured, "I am so sorry. I came when I saw you left your locket. I have no idea how you feel, but you can talk to me." Wendy pressed her face into his bare shoulder. "It's enough that you came," she said. They both started as the door flew open. A giggly brunette of about seventeen came in, wearing a sage green dress that swirled around her when she moved. Her long brown curls spun around her face like the dress, and she wore a bright smile. A young man, tall and broad-shouldered, maybe nineteen at the most, slipped in behind her, laughing, his entire face moving when he smiled. He has blue-green eyes and light brown hair, streaked with blond. Bowing to her, he waited for her to finish her curtsy, then danced over to the baby grand piano in the corner. He played a few bars of a waltz, then began to furiously hum it at the top of his lungs, sending the young woman into a fit of laughter. He took her hands and began to waltz her to his hum, twirling and spinning her and sending the tips of her skirt fluttering to produce olive green petticoats. Finally, almost out of breath, he tried to hum a big finish to the song and ended up puffing and squeaking out air as he dipped the girl low to the ground and kissed her sweetly on the nose. After they straightened, the two heard the door open and tried to duck behind chairs like Peter and Wendy, though they were apparently not aware of the teenagers' presence. A sharp grey-haired man in a tuxedo boomed, "Alex! Emma! What are you doing in here? Come back to the party at once!" He stormed out and Alex laughed, shooing Emma out the door. "Back to the party at once," he imitated gruffly. Before he shut the door, he turned and waved at the exact spot Peter and Wendy were hiding and called, "Goodbye," before leaving. Wendy looked at Peter with wide green eyes. "How did he..." Peter shrugged and shook his head. Then he asked her, "Do you remember when we danced with the fairies?" "Oh, yes," she answered nostalgically. Wendy looked at him seriously. "Peter...we could be like them." He looked at her darkly, and she dropped her eyes with the subject. Quietly, Peter stood. "I will miss your mother. She told the first stories, before you. Do you know how old I was when I heard her tell Cinderella from the window? Four. I need a mother sometimes, though I usually won't admit it, and she was there for the stuff most kids would forget." Wendy was hushed. Four? He had been watching her than since she was three or four. Peter...loved her. Suddenly, she knew it, more than anything else, that it was constant, and real. Wendy leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing her hand over his heart, her ivory hand pale against his bare tanned chest. She felt it for fourteen beats, one for each year of his life she had missed, and then, she kissed him, softly. "Peter," Wendy said, pulling back. "I think that you and I fit together." She stood up and waited as he looked at her, curls stuck to her cheeks and spilling out of her bun, eyes bright and anticipating. Her peach dress clung to her stomach and fell off her hips carelessly, but the ruined satin clung to her breasts and arms as she held them out to him. She too was looking at him, this newly grown boy with mostly light russet curls and broader shoulders. She tucked her body into his, sliding her hand into his and putting her hips touching his. They swayed to unheard melodies, and clung to each other as the world spun around them, and they were not paying attention to it.
-Not part of the Story- Well, kiddies, that's it for now. Please, review, sorry about the bad formatting.-The End for Now-
-The next morning-Wendy noticed when she woke up the next morning that the house was silent- her mother wasn't rattling around in the kitchen making breakfast. She knew her father left for work early, so she herself went to find her mother. Opening the door of her parents' master bedroom, she walked inside. A figure lay huddled in a pile of down blankets on the bed, and as Wendy came closer to it, she saw it was her mum. Mrs. Darling's face was deathly pale, her eyes shut peacefully. Wendy reached out and shook her mother. "Mum...Mother, wake up." When she received no response, she pulled back the covers and sat her mother up, holding her in her arms and shaking her slightly. After a moment, Wendy noticed that she didn't feel a heartbeat underneath her hand, and it was directly on her mother collarbone. Laying her mum down, Wendy pressed an ear to her mother's chest. Silence. She wasn't breathing either. A flash of black on the white carpet caught Wendy's eye. It was an empty medicine bottle. A glass on Mrs. Darling's bed stand was empty, with lipstick prints on the edge. Wendy looked at her mother white face, dark circles under her eyes, and began to scream. "No! No!" She howled violently, rocking her mother in her arms. Tears ran in rivers down her face, and she did not stop screaming. Her mother was so cold, icy, and Wendy rubbed her hands, tucked the covers over them. She brushed the hair from her mother's high cheekbones, kissed her eyelids. "Mummy..." she wept. Her mother did not answer.
-A day later-Wendy sat stiffly at the funeral, black lace obscuring her view. She started to push it aside, and Aunt Millicent smacked her hand. Slowly, Wendy began to count the number of feathers on the hats in the audience- anything to keep her mind from reality. Her eyes fixed themselves on the coffin, and tears rolled down her face. She would never see her mother's piercing blue eyes again, would never hear her laugh or feel her loosen Wendy's corset laces when Aunt Millicent wasn't looking- Wendy swallowed hard and began to sing to herself very softly, trying with all her might to stop crying for the sake of her brothers. She felt small hands slide around her waist, and a face buried itself in her black velvet gown. Wendy looked down to see John's dark hair as he used her skirt to muffle his moans. He had been the closest to Mrs. Darling, where as Michael was "his father's son". The priest said softly, "Lord, deliver us all from this world where we must face tragedies such as the death of a loved one..." Wendy's head jolted up with a start, and she got a reproachful glance from Aunt Millicent, who did not approve of "jolting". "'Deliver us all from this world...'" Peter! Peter could save them, if he came back. All they would need to do is wait, stay where they were.
-A few days later -"Could you repeat that?" Wendy asked, blinking. "You heard me. This is a terrible environment for you children to grow up in, considering...recent circumstances." Aunt Millicent trailed. "So I have arranged for you all to leave in a week for America- they have nice schools and your Aunt and Uncle Margaret and Ewan will be housing and raising you three." Wendy raised her eyebrows. "Us three? We are eight." Aunt Millicent shook her head absently. "Well, naturally the others will go to an orphanage. You can't expect to force your mother's charity on others." "I don't believe this!" Wendy yelled. "I won't stand for it. They're coming with me or I'm not going!" She ran upstairs, and tripped on her gown, ripping the front of the fabric but not stopping. John and Michael stared after her, and then John yelled almost as loudly, "Me neither!" and ran upstairs. Michael asked his aunt suspiciously, "Is there much chocolate in America?" Aunt Millicent sighed and walked over to the phone. "Yes, I'd like a telegram delivered to Mr. and Mrs. Ewan Scott..." A few moments later, she brushed into Wendy's room. "Such inappropriate behavior from a young lady should not be rewarded! But, luckily, Ewan and Margaret have agreed to take in all eight of you, provided you use good manners and etiquette. Is that understood?" Wendy flung her arms around the old woman. "Oh, thank you, Aunt!" Aunt Millicent smiled and went downstairs to tell Liza what to make for dinner. Wendy sighed and began to pack- she had decided to celebrate the small victories.
-A week later- Wendy was dressed for America, in a fawn hoop skirt trimmed with inky lace sewn with pearls and a low swooping (slightly padded) neckline, drawing attention to her budding breasts. Her hair was pulled back in a bun held by a pearl-studded black lace net, and she looked at her aunt. Tearfully, she hugged her tightly, and Aunt Millicent kissed her forehead. She pulled a bag from her side and handed it to Wendy. "It was your mother's. Open it on the boat," she whispered. Wendy nodded and lipped into the carriage, her brothers piling in beside her, except Curly (Theodore), whom she saw slip behind the house with a young girl his age and come out bright red with a lip mark on his cheek. Tootles/Rupert had given "his lady" the address in America, as had Charles and Geoffrey (The Twins) with their own. Nibs, who they'd thought hadn't a lady, had been casting longing glances at a brunette girl from his class who had appeared, tearful in a tightly busted red dress with a low neckline. As the carriage pulled away, that same girl had run forward and pulled a handkerchief from her bust, thrusting it through the window desperately. "Angus- don't forget me! Don't forget my kisses!" Nibs turned red and grabbed the handkerchief, stuffing it into his pocket. Michael cupped his hands over his chest, puckered and said in a falsetto voice, "Angus! Don't forget my kisses!" Nibs thumped the red-haired devil over the head and muttered, "Oh, shut up."
-Yet another day later-While on the boat, the S.S. Queen Elizabeth, Wendy discovered that she was seasick. She hadn't been on the pirate ship, but the sea was choppy and grey, matching the threatening sky. As she stood on deck, rain began to pelt her, and as her siblings raced for cover inside, she stayed in the rain, letting the clouds pour down on her, lightning flashing behind her. Wendy thought she heard them screaming for her to go back inside, but if they did, she could not remember. For the longest and happiest time of her life thus far, Wendy sat in the pouring rain, letting her gown soak through and not caring; feeling thunder rumble the boat beneath her; letting her curls stick to her face and clothing. She felt close to her mother in that moment for a mysterious reason, and when droplets poured down her face, she couldn't tell if it was rain or tears. Wendy fell asleep on the deck, and when she awoke, it wasn't raining, but her ruined dress was still soaked, stuck to her skin. Peter sat on the railing of the boat, watching her, and she jumped up, slipping on the wet wood and landing in the same position she'd been in before. He smiled and reached out one hand for her to pull herself up. "Where are you going?" He asked. Wendy swallowed, and her face grew troubled as she bit her lip. "Peter, my mother...my mother killed herself," She rushed. "I have to go to America. To live with my aunt and uncle, so that we don't have to live in the same house." Peter pulled her up next to him and they ran into an empty room in the cruise ship halls. Obscured by a stack of chairs, the boy pulled her into his arms and murmured, "I am so sorry. I came when I saw you left your locket. I have no idea how you feel, but you can talk to me." Wendy pressed her face into his bare shoulder. "It's enough that you came," she said. They both started as the door flew open. A giggly brunette of about seventeen came in, wearing a sage green dress that swirled around her when she moved. Her long brown curls spun around her face like the dress, and she wore a bright smile. A young man, tall and broad-shouldered, maybe nineteen at the most, slipped in behind her, laughing, his entire face moving when he smiled. He has blue-green eyes and light brown hair, streaked with blond. Bowing to her, he waited for her to finish her curtsy, then danced over to the baby grand piano in the corner. He played a few bars of a waltz, then began to furiously hum it at the top of his lungs, sending the young woman into a fit of laughter. He took her hands and began to waltz her to his hum, twirling and spinning her and sending the tips of her skirt fluttering to produce olive green petticoats. Finally, almost out of breath, he tried to hum a big finish to the song and ended up puffing and squeaking out air as he dipped the girl low to the ground and kissed her sweetly on the nose. After they straightened, the two heard the door open and tried to duck behind chairs like Peter and Wendy, though they were apparently not aware of the teenagers' presence. A sharp grey-haired man in a tuxedo boomed, "Alex! Emma! What are you doing in here? Come back to the party at once!" He stormed out and Alex laughed, shooing Emma out the door. "Back to the party at once," he imitated gruffly. Before he shut the door, he turned and waved at the exact spot Peter and Wendy were hiding and called, "Goodbye," before leaving. Wendy looked at Peter with wide green eyes. "How did he..." Peter shrugged and shook his head. Then he asked her, "Do you remember when we danced with the fairies?" "Oh, yes," she answered nostalgically. Wendy looked at him seriously. "Peter...we could be like them." He looked at her darkly, and she dropped her eyes with the subject. Quietly, Peter stood. "I will miss your mother. She told the first stories, before you. Do you know how old I was when I heard her tell Cinderella from the window? Four. I need a mother sometimes, though I usually won't admit it, and she was there for the stuff most kids would forget." Wendy was hushed. Four? He had been watching her than since she was three or four. Peter...loved her. Suddenly, she knew it, more than anything else, that it was constant, and real. Wendy leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing her hand over his heart, her ivory hand pale against his bare tanned chest. She felt it for fourteen beats, one for each year of his life she had missed, and then, she kissed him, softly. "Peter," Wendy said, pulling back. "I think that you and I fit together." She stood up and waited as he looked at her, curls stuck to her cheeks and spilling out of her bun, eyes bright and anticipating. Her peach dress clung to her stomach and fell off her hips carelessly, but the ruined satin clung to her breasts and arms as she held them out to him. She too was looking at him, this newly grown boy with mostly light russet curls and broader shoulders. She tucked her body into his, sliding her hand into his and putting her hips touching his. They swayed to unheard melodies, and clung to each other as the world spun around them, and they were not paying attention to it.
-Not part of the Story- Well, kiddies, that's it for now. Please, review, sorry about the bad formatting.-The End for Now-