Disclaimer: No, I am not Mr. Barrie. Fortunately, I am still alive.
Author's Note: I got a few reviews asking why this story was rated R. Well, at the moment, it might be okay to rate it PG 13 or even PG, but in a couple of chapters there definitely will be sexual content and then the R-rating will be justified. J
I got so many reviews, it is absolutely mind-boggling. All of them were really encouraging and some were even outrageous.
Thank you for your support: Just Duck, Sucker For Romance, squidluvr4eva, FanFic Frankie, gReeNeYedeLfguRL13, Terriah, Zorrina, Ginevra-luvr, Anya3, lara-n-kurtis, bamaslamma29, dArKaNgEl A076, littleBUNNY92 DewDrop Sapphire,
SHOW ME HEAVEN
CHAPTER 12
Dreams
Daggers. Swords. Blood. Screams. Everybody around him was fighting and then, all of a sudden, he could feel the pain in his heart. The world around him went silent and time stood still. There was a man standing above him, sneering and smiling. An evil, triumphant smile. It was not his dagger that hurt him, even though he could sense the tip of the blade graze his skin, ready to cut his throat. It was the words the man spoke. He couldn't hear them, couldn't understand them, but he could feel the pain they caused in his heart. All he wanted to do was scream and cry, cry like a little boy. He could feel the blade cut into his throat, drawing blood even though it was nothing but a tiny scratch, he could hear himself scream, his voice sounding eerily high and there were others, screaming, crying, pleading voices…and then, suddenly, it was over.
Peter woke, his breath ragged and fast. His body was covered in sweat and his clothes stuck to his body. The nightmare. Every single night that he went to bed, he knew that soon after he fell asleep, the dreams would come. Not pleasant dreams, but nightmares that would hunt him and tear at him and never ever let go of him again.
Getting up, he stalked to his desk, lighting a single candle and pouring himself a glass of red wine. The small circle of light comforted him a little. His muscles hurt and ached after waking up and his heart was still beating hard and fast against his rib-cage. It was always the same after he woke up and he knew that if he went to bed again, he would fall into a restless, but thankfully dreamless sleep until everything would repeat itself the following night.
Slowly, he took off his shirt and let it drop to the floor. Smee would take care of it in the morning. Another simple linen shirt hung over a chair and would do for the rest of the night. Peter picked it up and walked over to the mirror, watching himself dress in the dim light. Shadows flickered across his face and his chest, hiding the bitter smile playing around his lips. Once again, he had found himself searching his face for wrinkles and lines that would show that he had changed since he had last looked into the mirror. The girl was making him go crazy. He had to stop thinking about what she told him.
His fingers stopped as he was about to button the last button of his shirt, because his gaze fell on his throat. Was it just a shadow or was it real? He leaned in a little closer to get a better look…but, yes, it definitely was there. There was a scar, a tiny little scratch at his throat, just like the one in his dream.
However, Peter was not the only person on the island to be plagued by nightmares.
High up in a tree, floating on his back right under the ceiling of the tree-house in his sleep, Jaz was crying. Tears found their ways out of his shut eyes and ran down his cheeks, dropping to the wooden floor with tiny splashes.
Wendy lay in the bunk bed in her little cabin on board the Jolly Roger, thinking. Ever since she had found out about Peter's changes, about Peter growing up and being a pirate, she had repeatedly told herself that she had to be cautious. It was so easy to be deceived by his looks. She knew that he would try and manipulate her, like Hook had manipulated and used Tink to get a chance to kill Peter. Instinctively, she felt that Peter would try and use her just in the same way if she just let him.
Something was wrong in Neverland. From time to time, Wendy thought that she could get a glimpse of different pieces to the puzzle, but she could never see the entire picture. There was a new…she hesitated to use the word, but, there was a new Pan in Neverland. Jaz. There was a new pirate captain, Peter. New Lost Boys and fairies…so many things had changed and yet everything felt oddly familiar. There were the same pirates, even though she thought that there were some new faces among them, too. It was as if the concept of Neverland hadn't changed at all, only its protagonists had been flipped and turned and twisted. And no one but her seemed to remember that once things had been similar, yet were now so different.
So far, Wendy's tactic had been to tell Peter about his past. Only, that this hadn't worked. He had gotten angry and threatened her, once even laughed at her, but he hadn't believed a single word she had told him. Her situation seemed to be hopeless. There had to be a way to make him remember. There had to!
Sighing, she turned in her bed and snuggled herself into the blankets. Only a few days ago, she would have given almost anything to be able to get back to Neverland and be with Peter. She had been missing him for such a long time and now that she was back, she wished to be at home again and to never have returned to the island. Then, Peter would still be a boy. Peter. He would still be hers.
The noise of the key turning in the lock cut through her thoughts. The door creaked open, carefully, slowly as if not to wake her should she be asleep. A golden glow filled the open door and the candle light tinged all in its reach in a warm and soft yellow. Wendy squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. Was this her chance to escape again from the ship? Whoever came to visit her here, certainly wouldn't expect her to suddenly jump up and rush past them. But did she want to escape? Where would she go? Wouldn't it be better to stay with Peter to try and get his memory back?
She could hear someone close the door, just as slowly and carefully as it had been opened before. Someone walked past her with gentle steps and Wendy opened her eyes a little to see who her nightly visitor was.
Peter stood there at the table. Even though she couldn't see his face, because he had turned his back to her, she knew it was him. She knew the way he held his shoulders and his hair looked just as messy and unkempt as it used to be after hours and hours of riding on the wind's back.
Quickly, Wendy closed her eyes again, as Peter turned and walked towards her.
Peter didn't know what had made him come here in the middle of the night. He hadn't wanted to talk to the girl, but his feet had taken him here and before he could stop himself he had unlocked the door and gone inside. There on the table lay the piece of cloth she had been working on earlier. What was she working on? He examined the tiny stitches on the fabric. It was a shirt. His shirt. The one he had worn when he had been injured. Obviously, she had mended it, sewn the cuts and holes back together so that now it looked as good as new.
He put the shirt back on the table and silently walked to the bed where she was sleeping. This girl was the strangest person he had ever met in his entire life. She looked almost pretty in the dim, soft light. Rosy cheeks, pink lips. So young and innocent. Making as little sound as possible, he put the candle down on the floor and kneeled beside the bed. She was so different.
Wendy.
She didn't belong here. She was no pirate and no Lost Boy. There was no place for her on the island and yet she was here.
Wendy.
He wanted to touch her. See, if she was real or if it had only been a dream. A dream instead of a nightmare. His fingers trembled as he extended his hand. Her lips, he wanted to feel them. Would they be soft? Warm?
Just then, she shifted in her sleep a little and immediately, he drew his hand back.
No, he wouldn't wake her. As cautiously as he had come, he stood back up and left the cabin, locking it carefully so that she wouldn't be able to escape. He felt relaxed and calm as he stood outside, his back leaned against the door. Peter felt good, for the first time he could remember, he felt good and tired and he knew that back in his cabin he would go back to bed and be able to sleep. A small, genuine smile played on his lips. Maybe he would come back and look after the girl tomorrow night.