Wow, a third chapter? Ok, here we go.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
III
Becky Matthews had never met a child quite like Peter in her life, and she had met a lot of bizarre children in her time. She was called in on 'special' cases, which meant that she had to handle the nut job kids.
But Peter wasn't crazy, at least not as far as she could tell. Ok, so insisting that he was Peter Pan wasn't making him seem too sane, but apart from that he seemed like a happy well-adjusted kid. Except he didn't exist.
There were no records of him anywhere. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't work out who the hell he was. It was almost worth considering that he was the real Peter Pan, if that wasn't impossible.
The theory was, so far, that he was the illegitimate son of someone famous, possibly royalty. It was possible that they had never registered his birth, and they hadn't reported him missing because he wasn't supposed to exist. Of course, this was all just guesswork, but that's all they had to go on.
When Becky had mentioned this to Peter he had just laughed and shook his head, saying that his parents were probably long dead, and he didn't care.
He was also; it turned out, completely uneducated. Well, that wasn't true. He seemed to be able to read simple writing, and do some simple adding and taking away, but that was it. He couldn't write, ar read anything much harder then the simplest children's books. He had no knowledge of history or geography or world events. His mathematics skills were almost non-existent, and he had no idea what science even was.
But the skills he had... He was a master swordsman, athletic, could build wonderful contraptions, and was extremely intelligent, despite being so un-educated. He also had no experience with technology at all.
He was an enigma. He could very well have been Peter Pan, if that wasn't impossible.
Becky sat opposite Susan, the woman who had found Peter, and tried to explain the main problem.
"Socially, he's at the stage of a two year old." She said carefully, "As far as I can tell, he's had people looking after him his whole life. He can't clean himself, he's never seen a toilette in his life, and I'm amazed that he was even able to dress himself. I'm really not sure if you or the other staff in the home can handle that. I'm sure he'll learn how to do all these things quickly, he's remarkably intelligent, but are any of you prepared to teach him? He's not a little boy, he seems to be about thirteen, and he's literally going to need someone to teach him to wipe his own...bottom...after he's been to the toilette."
"I see the problem." Susan nodded, "But I really think this is the best place for him. Look, the people who own the Home, Jack and Laura, they know how to handle kids like Peter, they get strange cases like this all the time. Jack will teach Peter everything he needs to know. They're on a training course just for this weekend, but they'll be back tomorrow. I've already phoned them, so they know what's going on."
"And it's just you, Laura and Jack?" Becky asked, raising an eyebrow.
"What? Oh, no." Susan shook her head, "Normally there are five of us here. But Laura and Jack are away on the course, and the two other carers, Nick and Edith, are having the weekend off. The older kids help out with the younger ones you see, so we don't always need everybody on board. So it's just me this weekend."
"And you really think you can handle Peter?" The social worker looked sceptical.
"Yes, I do, and more importantly I think he'll be happy here."
"Well, here's what I suggest." Becky told her, "Peter should stay here, but attend weekly meetings at my centre. One day a week, so that I can find out more about him. And I'll visit here once weekly also, in order to see how things are going. He won't be able to attend school, but I think he has a lot of potential, education wise. I'll give you my report on him as soon as I've finished it. And as for this whole Peter Pan thing...I think we should leave him to it unless he starts claiming that he can fly. Maybe give him the book, and see if he claims that it's about him. If he doesn't, then we can just assume that he likes the name."
Susan nodded, and smiled, even though she didn't particularly like Becky. It was the way she talked about Peter, like he was somehow difficult. Susan could honestly say that she didn't think she had ever met a sweeter boy. But at least it seemed that Peter would be staying with them, for the time being, at least.
III
Becky had fascinated Peter. His only encounters with people other than the English were with the Indians in Neverland, and he had never seen a black person in his life. But Peter thought she was probably one of the nicest looking people he had ever seen, except, of course, Wendy, and decided that, as no one else seem to think her different, he shouldn't either.
And then there was the book Susan had given him. Well, actually she had just read it to him, as it was a little too difficult for him to read himself.
It was called Peter Pan, and was written by someone called J.M.Barrie. It was, he supposed, an almost accurate portrayal of his time with Wendy, but there were some major mistakes. It seemed to ignore the most important aspect of the story, his and Wendy's love. And that was just one of the mistakes. The ending was all wrong, but then, it had been written before his return. And it said that he was he was arrogant! But it was possible that someone had heard Wendy's story, and adapted it to his own...
When Susan had asked if the story was about him, he had denied it, for then she'd know that he lived in Neverland, and might send him back. But he had asked her how many other children had read it, and was not completely surprised by the answer.
"Oh, thousands I suppose, maybe even millions." She told him, "They even made a cartoon of it a few years ago, and even more kids will have seen that. And even people who haven't read the book or seen the movie know the story of Peter Pan and Wendy."
Millions. Millions of children believing, if only for a second, in a land where mermaids haunt the water, fairies roam the air and little children can fly on the power of happy thoughts. For years Neverland had only had Peter, one boy to fill it with life and stories. It would not let go of its live blood, it's heart, and it had bound the boy to its land. But now it had millions of children pouring life and belief into it, and the one boy it had once needed was obsolete. Worse than that, he was constricting. He would not allow Neverland to grow to accommodate all these new stories and dreams. He insisted on a small amount of lost boys, the Indians as his allies, and the pirates of his enemies.
Neverland did not need him anymore; it did not want him anymore. It had released its ties to him, and he had felt it. He had felt himself being thrown into exile. That is what had prompted him to think of Wendy, not that Lost Boy's want for stories. It was Neverland showing him the home he would always be welcomes to, and telling him to go. Peter thought that he was free of all children's greatest weakness, the inability to deny their parents, or anyone else's wishes. But when Neverland wanted him to leave, he had been unable to disobey.
"I thought I was making my own choice." He whispered to Tinkerbell in the dark, "I thought it was my choice to come here and grow up. But I was made to come here, I was thrown out of my home."
Tinkerbell bowed her head sadly, because she had felt it too, had felt the moment when Peter and Neverland had stopped being one, and the boy had become unconnected.
"Don't worry Tink, I've got it all planned out in my head." He reassured her, "Neverland doesn't want me because I don't have enough stories. I didn't let it grow. But I'm going to get a lot more stories here; I'm going to make Neverland call me back. Then Wendy and me can go back, and have so many wonderful adventures. And you'll stay with me, because if you don't, I'll forget how to fly."
Tinkerbell nodded, and smiled at Peter. He climbed into his bed, closed his eyes and fell almost instantly asleep. Tinkerbell's smile faded then, as she flew over to the sleeping boy. He looked so calm and confident, but Tinkerbell knew that it was not going to be that easy. He forgot things so easily, she wasn't sure would be able to keep his memory of Neverland alive. And if she did, all it would mean was that he and Wendy would be reunited, and she'd be alone again.
"Love you Peter." She whispered in fairy language to the sleeping boy.
III
Years actually pass quite quickly, despite how it sometimes feels. And years in the Summers Children Home passed especially quickly, as it was a home filled with children, and there is nothing quite as short as childhood.
Years saw Peter grow tall, and handsome, and yet still have something very childish about him. Years saw girls heads slowly start to turn as they noticed that the strange little oddball kid was actually not too bad. Years saw Peter's understanding of the world grow, until he could almost have passed for a normal teenage boy.
And, if they looked closely at night time and were quick about it, years saw a tiny little fairy's glow become weaker and weaker.
III
At the age of sixteen, well, approximately sixteen, Peter was very different from the strange little boy who had wandered the streets of London three years ago. He was basically educated, could pass for normal amongst a group of teenagers, had a good grasp of technology apart from the more complicated aspects of computers, and was actually clean. The only thing that set him apart from other teenage boys was his lack of interest in girls. He'd flirt with them, flirt shamelessly, but would never so much as hug any of the girls he knew. Once, Karla, who was a year younger than him, had tried to kiss him, and he had fell over himself trying to back away. She didn't talked to him for a week after, and then went back to normal, although maybe slightly more formal than before.
It has been mentioned before that Peter's arrival caused many changes in the Summer's Home, but now how. Upon his arrival, Peter gathered the younger children and the boys his age into a tribe much like the Lost Boys. He and a boy named Shem had ruled over them, and they were a force to be reckoned with. Teenage girls would come running from their rooms, screaming because of the gifts the tribe had left them. The carers are lucky to have never checked in on the children in the night and found them gone, because often Peter would take them on prowls around the streets. But apart from one or two of the children, the tribe was mainly harmless pranksters, who were just a bit more inventive now that Peter was around.
Peter had a few friends in the Summer's Home, but only four close ones. Shem was his age, and the two were probably the most mischievous children the carers had ever encountered. Abbey, when Peter had arrived, had been the baby of the house, and he had a soft spot for the little girl, who he imagined would be much like Wendy when she grew older. Jolie was Karla's best friend, but unlike Karla she showed little interest in boys, which was the reason Peter was able to get close to her without feeling bad about Wendy. And finally there was Nathaniel. He had left the house the year Peter had arrived, but had continued to visit regularly, and apart from Jack, who was almost a father figure, Nathaniel was the only person Peter looked up to. Strong, gentle, intelligent and kind, Nathaniel was what Peter aspired to be.
Peter attended a special school to accommodate his lack of previous education, and this school didn't take up a lot of his time. Unfortunately, the other children did attend full time school, and Peter would often find himself with hours of free time. When this happened the carers would often find Peter sitting at the back of the garden, where it always seemed to be a little brighter or sunnier then the rest of the garden. But maybe it wasn't quite so much brighter in recent years and months.
III
It was late in the night when Peter awoke to the sound of jingling bells. It took him awhile to translate the words in his head, too long, but still quicker than anyone else could.
"Thanks Tinkerbell." He whispered, and he had to be very quiet. He had long ago moved out of the small single bedroom, and now shared a room with Shem and another boy their age, Finn. He enjoyed sharing a room, but missed the privacy, and being able to talk openly with Tinkerbell.
"Is it tonight?" The fairy asked, cocking her head inquiringly.
"Yeah Tink, tonight we go get Wendy." He told her, grinning. He slid out of bed and silently changed into the clothes he had prepared before going to bed. It didn't occur to him to write a note explaining that he had left. It didn't really occur to him that he'd be missed. He understood so much more these days, but in some ways he was still very ignorant, "Um, Tink? I haven't flown for a long time. I might be a bit rusty."
Tinkerbell insisted he wouldn't be, and he stood at the window, looking out. It occurred to him for a moment that he might jump out and just fall, but he shook the thought from his head. No, he was Peter Pan, and he would fly.
Taking a deep breath, he summoned the thought of seeing Wendy again, and felt his feet rise from the ground. It was like he had never stopped flying, he felt it come back to him so naturally that he almost crowed with happiness, and took himself even higher. He slipped through the window, and then soared into the air.
The wind beat against his face, which was stretched into the biggest smile ever. His heart beat hard in his chest, and adrenaline pumped in his ears. He had forgotten the pure joy of this, the pure joy of not being tied to anything. But of course, he was tied to something. His heart slowed, and his adrenaline lowered, and he began the flight towards Wendy's home.
Three years ago he had been muddled by the banishment from Neverland, although he hadn't known that that was what it was back then. He had flown by instinct to Wendy's bedroom, and had taken no note to the scenery. But now he did, and he saw that things were not quite right. Most the houses looked the same, but at one point, where there had been houses there was a strange block like building, and then, where Wendy's house had been, there was a house quite different.
It gleamed white in the moonlight, and the window ledge was dark blue. But it was Wendy's house! He knew it was. So, edging closer, he peeked through the window of Wendy's room, and spied the sleeping figure.
It was a girl, a girl of the right age and size, and so Peter knew that he had got the right house.
"Tink, open the window." He whispered, and she obeyed. The latch opened, and the window slid open, allowing Peter to fly through. He entered the room, which looked a lot like Jolie's room, and flew over to the bed. He carefully took hold of the cover, and pulled it away from the sleeping girl's face, and then let out a yell of shock. There was a girl in that bed, but that girl was not Wendy!
And now she was awake.
III
Alix Temple was sixteen years old, and still believed in fairies. But only slightly. Most of her friends claimed to believe in fairies too, so it wasn't something she ever felt she needed to hide.
She also believed in dragons too, but slightly less than fairies, and she suspected that there weren't many of them left, maybe none at all. She also studied magic, but never practised it, not wanting to be disappointed if it didn't come true.
In short, Alix was a believer of the mystical, but did not believe that the mystical would ever happen to her.
But when she woke up to the sound of a gasp, and the sight of a boy hovering above her bed, she realised that she might have to re-evaluate her beliefs.
III
Kittybro: It's sweet? Ok, if you insist... Thank you!
Azul Bloom: I did think about the whole Peter Pan growing up thing, and I've explained my theory. It makes more sense in my head, but I hope I've explained it clearly enough in the story. And as for descriptive writing, I suck at it. Thanks for your comments though.
Kasmira36: I am a true Peter/Wendy shipper, and although I do fancy the pants of Jeremy Sumpter, I promise I won't pair Peter off with anyone other than Wendy. I know she's a hundred years dead, but I have a plan. It's cunning.