Author's Note: Hey, kids. I figured that I kept you waiting long enough. My original draft was at least two, three pages longer than this one, but it was not finished and I didn't have any idea how to finish. So…here you are. Kinda short, but hey, it's better than nothing, right? I hope that I won't keep you waiting as long as I did for the next chapter. But who's to say; what with college apps and all…ahhhh, scary. Enjoy. Sorry for any of the mistakes that you may encounter. I've been fiddling with this chapter for quite some time now.

The Usual Disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan or the characters originally created by J.M. Barrie.

Nothing Gold Can Stay: chapter six

Karma Chameleon

All Wendy's feelings of horror and anger and frustration and sadness and worthlessness had balled themselves up and launched themselves in the form of a fist of fury, their target being the side of Peter's face. She regretted it at once when she saw him pathetically clutch his cheek and moan in pain. She was tempted to cry out in pain as well from the impact her fist made with his face. Instead, she just bit her lip and began feverishly shaking her hand.

Whatever had come over her was gone now and she was quick to apologize. "Oh—Peter—I don't know—are you alright—Peter—I didn't mean to—" It was her instinct to touch him, hug him even, but she did not dare. She watched his profile as he still clutched the side of his face. Momentarily, he spat, his red hued spittle carrying a tooth with it. Wendy put a hand to her mouth. Oh, my. She had not meant to hit him that hard. In fact, she had not meant to hit him at all. It was a mistake. A madness had come over her.

Seeing his tooth on the ground served as evidence that it had actually happened. Wendy had struck him. Peter's eyes narrowed and he spun around to face Wendy. Quickly, he took out his sword and distanced himself from her with it. It touched her midsection ever so slightly.

"If you come near me again," he said, slowly so that she would understand, "I will run you through. Understand? I will run you through!" He spat again and wiped his mouth. "Now," he said, relaxing his sword. "Go home."

Eyes shining, Wendy made the faintest movement of advancement towards him. "Please—"

Peter saw the movement towards him and swiftly lunged with his sword, when Tinkerbell flew in front of Wendy, her nose meeting the sword's tip.

"No!" she cried. "Stop it, just stop it!"

Wendy's eyes were wide and she trembled with anxiety. If there ever was a time she was thankful for the fairy, this was it.

Tinkerbell looked at the sword tip menacingly, as if daring it to move an inch closer. Her arms were spread and, in the air, she was firmly planted in position. "Tootles brought her—we brought her here."

Gradually, Peter's sword was lowered as he let the words sink in.

"She's here to help you, Peter. We brought her here to help you." She flew to him so that she could be face to face with him.

"I don't need her," growled Peter.

Wendy looked away, hurt, as Tinkerbell went on.

"You need something. Something's the matter with you, Peter. Tootles and I thought that if we brought her—"

"Tootles is on board that ship!" shouted Peter. "And if we don't get there by sundown, Slim will kill him."

Looking past Peter and Tinkerbell, Wendy could see that it was dreadfully near sundown.

"And I still can't fly," mumbled Peter, hanging his head in shame.

Peter Pan couldn't fly? "That's impossible," murmured Wendy in disbelief. Peter said nothing and it only stirred Wendy's urge to know what had happened in Neverland even more. But now was not the time. Something had to be done and fast or whoever this Slim fellow was would kill poor Tootles. It seemed rather hopeless, seeing that Peter could not fly.

He could not fly, but she…

"Peter…" said Wendy, rather tentatively. There was no guarantee that he still would not hesitate to use his sword.

Looking up, eyes stormy, Peter waited for Wendy to speak.

"Um…p-perhaps…" Just say it, you silly girl, and be done with it, Wendy prepped herself. "Well, I can fly." Receiving only a blank stare, she continued. "Perhaps…perhaps I could go. To the Jolly Roger. To save Tootles."

"You?" asked Peter, incredulously. It was unheard of, unthinkable. He would not allow it. Wendy would not go and save Tootles. Not alone. That would be sending her to her death. "You can't fight—"

"Ah, but I can," said Wendy. Peter had taught her to fight and although it had been long since she had brandished a sword, it would no doubt come back to her. She supposed that it was like riding a bicycle; once you learned, you never lost the skill. Or at least, she hoped that she had not lost it. "I can try."

Peter snorted. "Try is not good enough. It's either can or can't."

Seeing the doubt that Peter held for her in his eyes only made Wendy more determined. "Can. I can fight." She looked down at the hand that held his sword. "I shall need your sword."

Peter looked away for a moment. He admired Wendy for her bravery, he truly did, but what she wanted to do was ludicrous. Why, even he did not plan on going to the Jolly Roger now. What good would it be? He had not flight on his side. And how would he get there? He was just an ordinary man.

No. No need to say it. He was not quite a man yet…or was he…

Throwing the thought out for the time being, he looked at his sword, silently willing it to bring Wendy the luck that she needed. She would definitely need luck on her side.

"You want to go?" He handed Wendy his sword. "Then go." He turned his back on her and noted how beautiful the ship looked with the sun falling gracefully behind it. It was a terrible observation at a time like that.

Wendy looked at his back, silently wishing that he would turn around. She wanted him to give her one last look, a look that would fill her with courage. Hurt when he did not, she gazed at the sword. She would be brave. If not for herself, then for Tootles. And for Peter, if he ever would allow for her to do anything for him again. Forcing out a pained smile and exchanging one last glance with the worried fairy perched on Peter's shoulder, Wendy lifted herself into the air and flew past Peter, towards the ship.

Sadly, Tinkerbell watched her go. The mysterious outcome of that fateful day laid a burden on her shoulders. How could Peter just let her go like that? How was Wendy to survive, much less get herself and Tootles off of that ship?

"She said that she saw Nibs die," said Tinkerbell, heavily.

"You mean—"

"She went to the Tree."

Not knowing what to make of this, Peter thought, cringing at the memory of the Tree. The Tree. The old underground house. It was cursed. It spoke, but only to two others—himself and one of the Twins. It showed them things…and now Wendy, too, had seen those things…

"Did I do the right thing, Tink?" asked Peter, suddenly. "Should I have let her go?"

"No," she said, truthfully. "But when have you ever listened to me?" She continued to watch Wendy before declaring, "I must go with her."

Since when did Tinkerbell care so much? Since when did you stop, Peter's conscience asked him. Though he had treated Wendy poorly, he did care. He had never stopped caring, not enough to condemn her to death as he just had.

"Wait," he called after Tinkerbell. It was as if he had not actually expected her to stop and wait for him to speak, for he did not know what he wanted to say. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to do the right thing, and the right thing was to go to the Jolly Roger. "Tink…" So, what would he do? Which would it be? To stay or to go? To suddenly begin to care again after what seemed like eons of moping and feeling sorry for himself?

Tootles meant so much to him, more to him than Peter had ever let him know. He was the only lost boy that had stayed with him. He owed him what little sanity he had left. And Wendy, he cared about Wendy. He knew that much. She meant something to him as well; he just did not know what. No. He was afraid to know what. Perhaps it was better that way. Maybe he should keep himself distanced from her.

Besides, what did she know about what he had been through? She had gone home and left him to grow up. She knew nothing. She knew nothing about how he had suffered. Where had she been when everyone had abandoned him? If anything, she had started the trend. And where she been when he had lost to Hook? Where had she been when he had needed her most?

Well, he did not need her now. Certainly not. An eye for an eye. She had left him, so he would do the same to her.

"What is it, Peter?"

"Nothing," he said, affirming his decision. He would not go after her. "Go, if you must."

(Yeah...there's supposed to be a space here, but the site won't let me. Sorry. Proceed.)

What on earth am I doing, Wendy asked herself as she finally touched the Jolly Roger. At first, she had flown to the ship, remaining as close to the water as she dared without making actual contact with it. Then, when she had been far enough from the Lagoon, she thought it would be better to swim to the ship. But she had not thought about how difficult it would be with a sword in tow.

The sun was going down. Wendy could hear the pirates making a ruckus onboard the ship and she knew that if she should act, she should act now. She would just take her time about acting now. Slowly, she flew up just enough so that she could peer over the side to see what was happening. The scene unfolded in front of her.

Tootles was being carried by a wave of pirates, their hands passing him above their heads easily and swiftly, so that he could provide them entertainment just as swiftly, but perhaps not so easily on his part. They deposited him in the center of their crudely formed circle, making it so that Wendy had to struggle to see through arms and around torsos and moving bodies.

As Tootles sat in the middle of the circle, Wendy wondered to herself which one Slim was. She looked around, imagining this large but lean man whose stare offered no mercy. Her imagination worked harder. He would be ferocious and have enormous muscles that could wring the life out of you at the slightest touch—

But that would be ridiculous. The man that Wendy had constructed in her mind was dangerous, far too dangerous for Wendy to take on. Peter would never send her off to the Jolly Roger if he knew what she would be facing. However, a group of bloodthirsty pirates was just as bad as one abominably large bloodthirsty pirate. She was quite frightened as she thought of this and found the prospect of herself saving Tootles on her own quite unrealistic. She needed help.

And at the thought of this, she suddenly remembered a gift that she had been given only hours before. A kiss. And not just any kiss, but a fairy's kiss. Touching the apple of her cheek, she faintly remembered the lovely, tingling feeling that the kiss had left. Wendy did not know the power of a fairy's kiss, nor the bind that it created, but she did remember the fairy's words.

"Now we will meet again. Just call out my name."

Ren. Ren, the charming little fairy who had freed her from that awful underground house. How in the world would he hear her if she called out his name? Wendy had no idea where he was; the island was quite large and he could be in any one of its boroughs.

The cheering grew in volume and Wendy grew attentive to the young man who was making his way through the crowd of pirates and into the middle, stopping just across from Tootles. Why, he was not large or ferocious at all! He did not even have the enormous muscles that she had envisioned. He was rather slight. Perhaps that is why they call him Slim, Wendy observed. And something about his face was familiar. Quite familiar, in fact.

She examined him for a few moments more until she heard splashing below her. It was almost like a pitter-patter at first, and then it grew more and more fervent. Wendy turned, her back to the ship, and looked down.

Mermaids.

There were quite a few of them, and they all looked up with her, hatred in their eyes. But they masked their hatred with their audible merriment. They laughed and shrieked, as if they were playing together in the privacy of their Lagoon.

"Stop!" Wendy loudly whispered, though it could not be heard over the mermaids' noise. "Please!" she begged. She would be given away for sure. Thinking of nothing else, she waved the sword, hoping that it would scare them off. This did nothing but cause them to laugh and splash about more so. Wendy pressed her back against the ship and squeezed her eyes shut. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't flee—what about Tootles? And she couldn't hide; the mermaids would certainly follow her.

"Poor dear. She's frightened," said one of the mermaids with mock concern. The others laughed.

"Yes," observed another. "Shall we sing her a song to soothe her?"

Wendy's eyes opened at the word song. But it was too late. They had begun to sing and she had begun to listen. The feelings came, faster this time, and the images. She felt the anger, the hatred, ooze from them. She saw herself killing their sister, over and over again. They did not want her to forget. They would not let her forget.

And as their revenge, Wendy would be taken captive on board the Jolly Roger. They would make sure of it. So they simply watched her as her mind became clouded with their sweet voices. They watched her struggle, allowed themselves to feel her struggle, so that they would know exactly when she lost against them. They watched as the pictures of anger and hatred weighed her down into their waiting arms.

And they watched her eyes grow as large as shells when the rock came speeding towards her head.

End Note: Well, what'd you think? Short and sweet. With a cliffhanger. I know how you all love those. Alright, well, I'd love some feedback. Thanks for reading!