Chapter Three: Deliver Me
Rhi awoke the next morning, her eyes on fire. Actually, it was just the sunlight coming in from the top of the tree, but it felt the same. Groaning, she realized that she was, still, in fact, dirty. Very dirty. Extremely, sickeningly dirty. And she hated it.
Peter was still asleep, or so she assumed, for she heard loud snoring coming from across the room. Rhysenn was asleep as well, because both of her legs were strewn across Rhi's stomach, effectively immobilizing her for the time being.
"Ugh," she muttered, shoving her sister's legs off of her. She needed to get to a bathtub, as soon as possible. Peter, however, didn't own one.
So, on June 21st, 1905, Rhiannon Isabella Montesano did something she would never forget: she bathed in a lake.
Peter stared glumly at the scars on his foot where Wendy had sewn his shadow back on. He had awoke early, and spent half an hour "snoring" unconvincingly, or so he thought.
He played with a thread that was still sticking out most delicately, wrapping it around his index finger.
I could sew it on for you, if you'd like…Peter remembered how he had shown off, saying that it was all his idea, and his stomach clenched. He remembered the hurt look on Wendy's face when he had said she did nothing.
A sudden wave of regret and nausea claimed him, and he ripped the thread out of his foot. He gasped in pain as the skin broke, but quickly stifled the gasp out of pride.
Pride. It had cost him Wendy. Pride and stubborness had cost him the one thing he had loved more than anything in the world. Even more than he loved being a boy.
But still, he had refused to give it up for her. She had given him everything that he had asked for, but he still refused to try for her. The hate that Peter felt for himself at that moment rivaled any hate he had ever felt before. He disgusted himself.
"Damnit," he whispered harshly, partly from pain and partly from sheer anger. His blood made small trails down his foot, branching out once it got to his heel, and dripping down onto the floor.
From across the room, he heard one of the twins stir. Peeking his head out from behind the chair where he had been sleeping, he saw that it was Rhiannon. She had stripped down to just a shift, her hair a mess of frizzy curls, and was leaving the tree, looking very determined.
Peter felt something inside him snap, and then tug. He moved zombie-like after her, using all his powers of stealth to keep quiet. The next thing he knew, he was hiding in the bushes by the lagoon, watching Rhi undress.
Rhiannon had never been average, in any sense of the word. She had always been exceptionally beautiful, exceptionally talented, exceptionally smart. She had always been "too much". The same went for her body. She had the body of a model, as did her sister.
The lake was warm that day, unnaturally so. The sun had shone all night, a rare occurrence in Neverland ever since Wendy left. Rhi gasped as her long cream colored legs slid into the water. It was just like the bath water she ran at home, warm and soothing.
Not wanting to get her camisole wet, Rhi had undressed competely. Puberty, thank God, had been kind to her. Luckily, she did not have limbs that misbehaved, or unbecoming fits of clumsiness.
In actuality, she was quite graceful and feminine. Her black curls clung to artfully sculped shoulders and small breasts. Her torso and stomach were concave, the shadows dipping into the hollow of her hipbones.
Peter, now, was seeing all of this from the bushes. It was all he could do not to cry. Why he wanted to cry, however, he didn't know. And it scared him, more than anything else ever had. He had never, ever felt this way about Wendy.
But then again, he had never seen her naked, either.
All he knew was that feelings were appearing, feelings that he had no idea what to do with. He felt choked, and wrapped tight, as he watched Rhiannon bathe.
Something awoke in Peter Pan that day that scared him, scared him more than anything else ever had. Not the cold steel of a hook pressed against his throat, not the fear of losing Wendy, not the death of Tinkerbell. Not even his own death.
He was growing up.
As much as he tried to fight it, to close his heart to it like curtains on windows, he couldn't. He just couldn't. The fears he had been running from all the years of his life, he had been hiding from behind the façade of fun, happiness, and flight, all revealed themselves to him.
They threw back the blankets and broke through the walls, and revealed Peter for what he truly was: a scared, insecure, little boy.
Peter Pan never prayed, but at that moment, he dropped to his knees. What he was praying to, he didn't know. Did he deserve salvation? Did he even deserve to be listened to? When he had cheated nature for this long? What god would even acknowledge him?
Deliver me out of my sadness.
Deliver me from all of the madness.
Deliver me courage to guide me.
Deliver me strength from inside me.
Peter fought back bitter tears as he prayed to anything that would hear his plea. He didn't care who it was, or what it stood for, he just wanted something to listen to him.
"Don't let me grow up," he whispered, his face upturned to the sky above him, the sun shining on it like glory upon saints. "Don't let me have these feelings. Please, whoever you are, let me stay the way I am and have fun. Don't make me grow up."
Although he tried to hold them back, his tears were now falling of their own accord.
Letting a choked sob past his lips, Peter prayed one last time.
"Please…"
"Peter?" It was Rhiannon, dressed now in a blanket, her hair still dripping. "Why are you crying?"
Flash back to Wendy, smiling. Head hurting. Staring down at her, into her curious blue eyes. If only he had known what she was worth then…
But this time wasn't afraid to admit he was scared.
Rhiannon sat down next to Peter, and in an uncommonly sincere gesture, wiped away a tear from his cheek.
All of my life I've been in hiding.
Wishing there was someone just like you.
Rhiannon nodded patiently, waiting for Peter to begin.
Why does she look so much like Wendy now? Why does she look so beautiful? Peter thought. So grown up…
Peter's mouth was suddenly dry, and, like before, his stomach clenched into knots that no happy thought would undo. But were the knots because of his happy thoughts?
What happened next, Peter couldn't really discern. All he knew was that Rhi was suddenly very close to him, and his cheek was pressed against her lap. She was warm, and he could feel her tense up as she ran her fingers through his hair. Tiny drops of water splashed down onto his cheeks from her hair.
Now that you're here, now that I've found you
I know that you're the one to pull me through.
"I was…" Peter started, hesitantly. "Scared." The last word was said in a whisper, so quiet that if Rhiannon hadn't been listening, she wou'd've missed it. But she was listening, and she did hear it.
Peter closed his eyes and braced himself for the mocking laughter he was sure would come next. The great Pan? Scared? Never! He had long considered himself above feelings, especially fear. Fear wasn't even in his vocabulary.
But the laugher never came. Peter slowly opened one eye, and saw that Rhiannon was about to let tears of her own spill down her cheeks.
Peter abruptly sat up.
"Now look what I've done," he said, digging his fingers into the dirt, "I've gone and made you cry. And you a lady and all."
This was entirely uncharacteristic of Peter, you must understand, for someone as arrogant as him would never even think to put himself down.
But there he was, furious with himself.
He started to stand up, but Rhiannon took his hand and pulled him back down, sending a jolt from the tips of his toes all the way up through his body.
"Peter," she said softly, "don't go."
Peter gave in as he saw the pleading in Rhiannon's eyes. It wasn't fake, like before, that much he knew for sure. This time, she really did want him to stay, out of her own heart. This time, no jealousy existed.
Deliver me, loving and caring.
Deliver me, giving and sharing.
Deliver me, the cross that I'm bearing.
The desperation in Rhiannon's voice melted Peter's resolve, and he decided to stay. Peter sat down.
As he was looking at the plea in Rhiannon's eyes, he also saw something else. Something that made his breath catch in his throat. The only time he had ever looked into a mirror, he had seen the same thing that was now in Rhiannon's eyes. Pain. Fear. Loss. And it looked like had been there for awhile.
So the great Pan wasn't the only one to be rejected? He wasn't the only one that had his heart broken?
This realization startled him, so much so, that he didn't realize how silent he had been about Wendy. He realized he had not told the girls one single thing about her. And she was such a part of his life. Well, she had been…
"Rhi?" He asked. Rhiannon blinked, and shook her head a little. Once her daze was gone, she replied.
"Yes?" Her gaze shifted to her feet, and Peter found it endearing that she was suddenly blushing.
"I want to tell you a story…"
Rhi smiled a bit, wrapped her arms around her knees, and let Peter speak.
"Once upon a time," Peter began, putting his arm around Rhiannon's shoulders, "There was a boy named Peter Pan, who decided not to grow up…"Rhysenn had awoken to the sharp tugs of Tinkerbell yanking on her hair, motioning wildly for her. She looked desperate, and if Rhysenn could've understood the fairy language at that moment, she would've heard Tinkerbell describe in detail all she had seen happen between Peter and Rhiannon in the bushes.
"Wha-?" Rhysenn mumbled, swatting Tink with a swift backhand. Not discouraged, however, Tinkerbell continued to pull and drag Rhysenn up and out of bed.
Rhysenn yawned groggily.
Frusterated, Tinkerbell waved her hands in front of Rhysenn's face, saying "Watch me!"
Tinkerbell put her hands on her hips and grinned proudly, sticking her chest out. She messed up her hair for further effect.
"Peter?" Rhysenn guessed. Tinkerbell nodded feverishly, and continued her pantomime.
She curstied and batted her eyelashes, but Rhysenn just stared, confused. Not fazed, Tinkerbell proceeded to fawn over an invisible person, pouting and winking. Then she pointed to her and made curling motions.
"Oh!" Rhysenn gasped, "Rhi!" Tink nodded once again, and made kissing faces. She pantomimed Rhysenn once, then Peter, then made the kissing face.
Rhysenn's eyes narrowed with jealousy as she understood. That was why Rhi had asked me the previous night if I loved her! She was going to steal Peter, and wanted to make sure I wouldn't hate her. I…am going…to…kill…her.
Rhysenn balled her hands into fists, while Tinkerbell squealed with delight. No one was going to take her Peter, especially not a silly little girl.
"Come on, Tink." Rhysenn said, and started up the stairs, "show me where they are."
Tink nodded once in obedience, and proceeded to fly out of the tree. Rhysenn followed her gladly, hell bent on revenge.
"And where do you think you're going?" A voice called out.
Rhysenn had been walking for about five minutes when she was so abruptly interrupted.
Rhysenn froze, recognition hitting her hard. Fyr stepped in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, holding her in place.
"Move!" She yelled, and tried to push him backwards. He caught his balance, however, and only held her tighter.
"Tsk tsk," he said, a proud grin gracing his features. "That's no way a lady should act."
Fyr bowed down, plainly mocking Peter. "My lady," he said. For a moment, Rhysenn thought she saw a hint of sincerity in his eyes, a hint of kindness.
But she couldn't afford to have any sympathy, not now, not for him.
"Out of my way, Fyr." Rhysenn said through gritted teeth, "I have somewhere to be." She pushed past the boy and started to walk away.
"Wait!" Fyr called, desperation plain in his voice, "Stay, just for a moment."
There was something raw in his voice, something akin to fear, to basic loneliness, and it threw Rhysenn off-guard for a moment.
She stopped, hesitant to turn around. Should she risk it, after what he did to her before?
"Why?" Rhysenn asked, a perfectly reasonable question in her mind. Something was knotted in her stomach, and an uneasy shiver was slowly crawling up her skin.
She turned around, wating for Fyr to reply. He was chewing his lower lip, and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets. He seemed absorbed in the intricate patterns of the forest floor.
"I wanted to…" he started, slowly, deliberately. "er…say that…well, I wanted to tell you…"
"Yes?" Rhysenn encouraged, nodding. Fyr seemed to take heart, and he stood up straight, pulling his hands out of pockets.
"I wanted to apologize for my earlier behavior." He said, extending a hand slowly.
"Another trick, Fyr?" she asked quietly, and the boy shook his head, smiling a little.
"Not this time," Fyr replied, his grin widening.
Rhysenn hesitantly placed her hand into Fyr's, and Fyr slowly raised it to his lips, kissing her hand softly.
"Forgive me?" Fyr asked, straightening up. His eyes pleaded with her. Although he tried to mask it, it was obvious to anyone who would look that Fyr was deeply fearful. He wasn't sure why, however.
Rhysenn smiled, her hand still nestled safely in his. She decided to keep it there. What better way to get back at Peter than falling in love with his rival? Rhysenn thought, revenge still fresh in her mind.
"I forgive you."
"Oh, before I forget," Fyr said, reaching to his waist, "give this back to Peter." He handed her Peter's dagger that he had stolen the previous day. Rhysenn noticed that he had cleaned it. "Tell him I'm sorry, would you?"
"Don't be," Rhysenn replied, gripping the dagger hard. "Peter's an arrogant son of a bitch anyways."
Fyr's eyes grew huge at Rhysenn's use of such vulgar language. From what he knew, ladies didn't use those words.
"What?" Rhysenn asked, hands on her hips. Fyr shook his head and smiled.
"Nothing. Let's go."
Author's Note: Remember to review! Sorry that was such a dull ending. I pomise there will be some serious snogging in the next chapter, but I won't tell you who will be doing it. This chapter was particularly hard for me, as I could've gone in a lot of different directions. Hugs and thimblesLil Sarah
