The Neverland night was quiet, but certainly not still for all. For
while Neverland residents all over were sleeping gently, men aboard the
Jolly Roger were just now settling in to rest, talk abounds about trying to
find the whereabouts of the two kids who'd managed to embarrass them like
that. Jests from Peter Pan along those lines were almost expected daily,
but these people didn't seem to belong to the Lost Boys at all. As a matter
of fact, they didn't even seem to be part of Neverland. Tomorrow's
investigation, as Hook explained, would not be to kill or plunder. Simply
to find some answers. Because if they came into Neverland and weren't there
before, then there must be a way out of Neverland!
Billy was quite beside himself, though. While he did want to see if there really was a way out of Neverland, he knew that even if they left, things wouldn't have been the same as when they first came in. Time passed in the outside world, even though it didn't in here. And what's more, he genuinely hoped they wouldn't find the two they'd met, because just from the brief instances of seeing each of them, Billy already knew plenty about them. He'd been very quiet for most of the evening, occasionally fingering the two stone beads he'd found.
He sat down beneath the breast of Long Tom, staring out to the island distantly, his thoughts far too deep for such a lovely night. As Billy closed his eyes, he felt the rough and well-meaning hand of Mullins. "You've been awful quiet boy," he said as he took a seat next to him. "Whatcha thinkin'?"
Billy sighed deeply. "Those two kids," he replied quietly. "They're like me." He knew better, but he'd honestly hoped that that would be enough of an answer. When no reply came from his companion but an intent stare, he knew that Mullins wanted him to keep talking. "I was a castaway on a desert island when you guys found me. But before that, I belonged somewhere, with a whole bunch of someones. I was part of a roaming caravan of gypsies.
"Most of us came from Romania and the Slavic area of Europe, but it was always a customary thing to pick up other gypsies, or abandoned children. We were never looking for anything, but always wandering like we were searching for something; all gypsies are like that, no matter where their caravan is from. But in every town we'd stop in, it was always the same. We'd camp outside of town, perform a few days in the town, and either leave willingly or be forced out. And it's always been like that... no one wants a herd of gypsies. Any illnesses were blamed on us, any deaths, and any robberies were automatically our doing.
"We had just left from Paris, and opted that we wouldn't really stop until we got to Spain; there had been large riots in Paris, and the local judges wanted any gypsies arrested and hanged. We lost two in Paris, my uncle, and my younger cousin, Tanya. We fled the country as quickly as we could, and wouldn't stop to grieve until we'd made it to Spain, where we had other kin." Billy's voice trailed off as the young pirate bit back tears of unshed grief. "None of us had any idea that losing Alex and Tanya were only the first to be mourned."
Mullins didn't know what to do or say. What could he? Sure, he was a pirate and had always been one and nobody really wanted to be near one, but coming from a people that the world doesn't want? He put both his hands on Billy's shoulders and squeezed them firmly. Billy took a deep breath to continue.
"We didn't know that there were problems breaking out all over Europe. When we finally got to Spain, we thought we'd be safe, but... we weren't. We found our kin's camp, and it was deserted. The dogs were dead, the goats were gone, and what bodies weren't taken as captive by Church officials had been slaughtered. We stayed the night, burying our kin and mourning ours and theirs, and even the ones that we couldn't find. It was just after we went to sleep that they attacked us, just a few hours before dawn.
"It was pouring rain, which was why we didn't see or hear them coming. But the Spanish Guard was there, fighting us and shooting anyone that wouldn't surrender quietly. Those of us who could, ran, as fast and far as possible. Behind me I left my mother, her brothers and sisters, my grandparents, my friends, my cousins... Only a handful of us scrambled away to run for our lives, and I don't know what happened to them in the dark of the storm and night. But I ran for several miles, even when I couldn't hear anyone behind me. I found an old piece of driftwood and part of a paddle that washed up from some other ship that probably lost them in that dreadful storm and I took to the mercy of the ocean.
"I remember being shot at a few times but missed, and that I paddled right into the worse part of the storm. The waves were so rough, and there were several moments I thought I'd drown for sure. I recall seeing a large rock some distance away, but not long after that I blacked out. When I woke up, that rock I saw was a small island, several miles off the coast of Spain. You could walk around the island in less than half an hour. And that's when I realized that I was alone... Some miracle had spared me, I think just to torture me in my knowing that I was probably the only one of my clan who lived. About a day later the Jolly Roger found me..."
Billy sighed heavily, curling his knees up to his chest, and folded his arms around them to lay his forehead there. Why hadn't he said anything about his family before? Mullins shook his head; he knew why. On the general whole, who would give a damn, really? Or worse yet, who wouldn't find some way to use this wholly saddening information against him somehow? And at least now Mullins knew why Billy didn't want Hook finding that little girl's camp; though Billy couldn't save his own clan, he knew the boy would be damned before he'd let someone take the opportunity to hurt or destroy someone else's. Not if he had any say in the matter.
Mullins sighed lightly and gave the boy's shoulder a sympathetic pat. "Just don't ye get caught, or Cap'n Hook'll have yer gizzard. Got me?" Billy looked up, slightly surprised, and gave his friend a faint smile.
"Got it."
Billy was quite beside himself, though. While he did want to see if there really was a way out of Neverland, he knew that even if they left, things wouldn't have been the same as when they first came in. Time passed in the outside world, even though it didn't in here. And what's more, he genuinely hoped they wouldn't find the two they'd met, because just from the brief instances of seeing each of them, Billy already knew plenty about them. He'd been very quiet for most of the evening, occasionally fingering the two stone beads he'd found.
He sat down beneath the breast of Long Tom, staring out to the island distantly, his thoughts far too deep for such a lovely night. As Billy closed his eyes, he felt the rough and well-meaning hand of Mullins. "You've been awful quiet boy," he said as he took a seat next to him. "Whatcha thinkin'?"
Billy sighed deeply. "Those two kids," he replied quietly. "They're like me." He knew better, but he'd honestly hoped that that would be enough of an answer. When no reply came from his companion but an intent stare, he knew that Mullins wanted him to keep talking. "I was a castaway on a desert island when you guys found me. But before that, I belonged somewhere, with a whole bunch of someones. I was part of a roaming caravan of gypsies.
"Most of us came from Romania and the Slavic area of Europe, but it was always a customary thing to pick up other gypsies, or abandoned children. We were never looking for anything, but always wandering like we were searching for something; all gypsies are like that, no matter where their caravan is from. But in every town we'd stop in, it was always the same. We'd camp outside of town, perform a few days in the town, and either leave willingly or be forced out. And it's always been like that... no one wants a herd of gypsies. Any illnesses were blamed on us, any deaths, and any robberies were automatically our doing.
"We had just left from Paris, and opted that we wouldn't really stop until we got to Spain; there had been large riots in Paris, and the local judges wanted any gypsies arrested and hanged. We lost two in Paris, my uncle, and my younger cousin, Tanya. We fled the country as quickly as we could, and wouldn't stop to grieve until we'd made it to Spain, where we had other kin." Billy's voice trailed off as the young pirate bit back tears of unshed grief. "None of us had any idea that losing Alex and Tanya were only the first to be mourned."
Mullins didn't know what to do or say. What could he? Sure, he was a pirate and had always been one and nobody really wanted to be near one, but coming from a people that the world doesn't want? He put both his hands on Billy's shoulders and squeezed them firmly. Billy took a deep breath to continue.
"We didn't know that there were problems breaking out all over Europe. When we finally got to Spain, we thought we'd be safe, but... we weren't. We found our kin's camp, and it was deserted. The dogs were dead, the goats were gone, and what bodies weren't taken as captive by Church officials had been slaughtered. We stayed the night, burying our kin and mourning ours and theirs, and even the ones that we couldn't find. It was just after we went to sleep that they attacked us, just a few hours before dawn.
"It was pouring rain, which was why we didn't see or hear them coming. But the Spanish Guard was there, fighting us and shooting anyone that wouldn't surrender quietly. Those of us who could, ran, as fast and far as possible. Behind me I left my mother, her brothers and sisters, my grandparents, my friends, my cousins... Only a handful of us scrambled away to run for our lives, and I don't know what happened to them in the dark of the storm and night. But I ran for several miles, even when I couldn't hear anyone behind me. I found an old piece of driftwood and part of a paddle that washed up from some other ship that probably lost them in that dreadful storm and I took to the mercy of the ocean.
"I remember being shot at a few times but missed, and that I paddled right into the worse part of the storm. The waves were so rough, and there were several moments I thought I'd drown for sure. I recall seeing a large rock some distance away, but not long after that I blacked out. When I woke up, that rock I saw was a small island, several miles off the coast of Spain. You could walk around the island in less than half an hour. And that's when I realized that I was alone... Some miracle had spared me, I think just to torture me in my knowing that I was probably the only one of my clan who lived. About a day later the Jolly Roger found me..."
Billy sighed heavily, curling his knees up to his chest, and folded his arms around them to lay his forehead there. Why hadn't he said anything about his family before? Mullins shook his head; he knew why. On the general whole, who would give a damn, really? Or worse yet, who wouldn't find some way to use this wholly saddening information against him somehow? And at least now Mullins knew why Billy didn't want Hook finding that little girl's camp; though Billy couldn't save his own clan, he knew the boy would be damned before he'd let someone take the opportunity to hurt or destroy someone else's. Not if he had any say in the matter.
Mullins sighed lightly and gave the boy's shoulder a sympathetic pat. "Just don't ye get caught, or Cap'n Hook'll have yer gizzard. Got me?" Billy looked up, slightly surprised, and gave his friend a faint smile.
"Got it."