Spirited Away

by weezer42

PW Wendy is returned to Neverland in an unexpected way. Once there she must deal with the barbarous business of growing up and a boy that doesn't remember her.

1. Lost and Apparantly Forgotten

Title: Spirited Away

Author: Squeezynz

Chapter: One - Lost and Apparently Forgotten

Rating: PG13 bordering on an R later on

Category: quite shameless Peter/Wendy fluff, what else do I do.

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Author's note:Hardly a month gone by and I can't resist another dip into the PP universe. Of course, its because of all your wonderful feedback on my other adventures that keeps prompting me to write another one. You all know what to expect, barrel loads of adventure, a smattering of smut, lashings of fluff, you know the formula...enjoy.
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Life at number fourteen, Rose Avenue, Bloomsbury, London, had almost returned to some semblance of normalcy after the extraordinary events that had occurred the night the Darling family increased from five to eleven. The small house was filled to bursting and it was with some relief, on Mrs.Darlings behalf assuredly, that her husband announced that they were all moving to somewhere more commodious to better suit their present needs. The children were adamant that such an event couldn't possibly happen, that the present house was quite adequate, and that they didn't really need to take so many baths and tie up the bathroom for so long.

Their cries and protests were ignored.

So it was that six month after their adventures in Never Neverland, Wendy Darling and her brothers found themselves staring at the plaster exterior of a large house situated back from the main road, quite some distance from their old home. The driveway curved and circled back on itself as it approached the front door, which appeared very grand, the edges of the gravel lined with neatly trimmed shrubs. The family arrived in two carriages, a third following with their combined luggage and a dray behind that carrying their furniture. Wendy thought the new house not at all pretty or snug, the windows staring back blindly at its new occupants as they piled out of their conveyances and surveyed their new domain.

"He won't be able to find us here," muttered Nibs, one foot digging the toe of his second best shoes into the loose gravel of the drive.

"Of course he will, I left him a note." Wendy assured him, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt as the boys swirled around her.

They all trooped inside when the door was opened by their maid Liza who had gone on ahead and their parents gestured them forward. The bare floors echoed the many footfalls, the walls strangely marked with the faint outlines of pictures that had hung there previously.

"Of course it will have to be cleaned from top to bottom." Mary Darling announced as she surveyed the entrance hall, their maid, Liza, peering past her mistress and looking glum at the prospect of so much more work.

"I'll need help." Liza replied, to which Mary Darling nodded in agreement before walking further into the new house and opening the first door on the left.

"Let's see our new bedrooms." John called, him and Michael racing each other to the stairs that climbed upwards in a stately sweep, the upper levels shrouded in gloom as the windows remained obscured with closed curtains. With a whoop the other boys quickly followed, leaping and bounding up the stairs with an alarming amount of noise that drew their mother back to peer anxiously upwards, her elegant brows drawn together.

"Not so much noise, if you please boys...walk, don't run."

Tutting to herself, Mary Darling returned to her perusal of the rooms on the ground floor, leaving her eldest to explore on her own.

Wendy stood for a moment gazing around her at the unfamiliar walls, her nose wrinkling at the faint smell of neglect that coated everything. She was well aware that her father had managed to obtain the house at a greatly reduced rate through the bank exactly because it had been empty for some time, and that her father considered it quite a bargain. It would certainly accommodate their newly expanded family without any difficulty and it was closer to her father's work which would help to allow that gentleman to work longer hours to earn more; but Wendy couldn't help feeling that their move from Bloomsbury was just another step along the way to severing their connections to what had happened not all that long ago.

Moving through the hallway, Wendy found herself entering a small parlor at the back of the house where sunlight peeked through the chinks in the curtains. Pulling them back she gasped to see elegant French doors leading the eye out to a paved courtyard which in turn led out into the back garden. Unlike the front which had seen the attention of a recently engaged gardener, the back garden was a wilderness of neglect and over-growth. It was almost a jungle, a clear demarcation where the paving stones appeared newly swept and the long grass started. Hearing the returning patter of her brothers above her head, Wendy wrestled with the catch on the door for a moment before pulling it wide and stepping through, her lungs filling with the fresh air and heady scents of the untamed plants beyond the small cleared space. Glancing down at her neat half boots, she hitched up her skirts and plunged into the greenery. She was later to question why she had felt so strongly lured to explore the wilderness, but for now, heedless of the damp and spiders webs that quickly marked her skirts, Wendy pushed her way through the undergrowth, the sun struggling to reach her through the tangled branches above her head. Faintly she thought she heard someone call her name but she ignored it, parting the shrubbery in front of her to squeeze through. All of a sudden she noticed that the noises around her had changed. Where before she had heard the faint twitter of sparrows disturbed by her arrival combined with the fainter clatter of a carriage passing, she now noted the raucous call of an exotic parrot somewhere off to her left followed almost immediately by her attention drawn to the splash of water on rock as if from a waterfall. Intrigued, she pressed on, her gloved hands pushing back a particularly tightly knitted screen of greenery that parted very suddenly and pitched her forward onto her hands and knees.

"Oh drat!" She could feel the moist loam soaking through the fabric of her skirt and hurriedly scrambled to her feet, staring with aggravation at the wet stains on her skirt. Brushing at the bits of leaf and twig that stubbornly adhered to her clothing, Wendy didn't notice anything unusual until she tried to right her chip-straw hat.

"Good grief!" The sound of splashing water was now very loud and Wendy could see what appeared to be a substantial waterfall just beyond the stand of trees in front of her. Casting a glance over her shoulder she could not see the outline of the house that she knew was just behind her, her brow furrowing as she was sure that father had not mentioned anything about a water feature in the grounds of the house. Passing between the tree trunks she stood and stared open mouthed at a towering rock formation and the stream of foaming water that cascaded over the edge, falling to a rock pool at the base before overflowing that and disappearing once more into the dense jungle.

Totally confused now, Wendy spun around and headed back to where she thought she'd come through, the sound of the water rapidly diminishing as the shrubs and trees swallowed her up. Starting to feel more than a little frightened, Wendy picked up her pace as much as she was able, barging her way through vines and branches, several catching at her hair and clothes until she was almost sobbing with frustration. After several minutes she paused, panting, her hat askew, face perspiring, completely and utterly lost with no sign that a house had ever existed anywhere near her.

"Help! Help! Can anyone hear me?"

Feeling thoroughly frightened now, Wendy called and called but received no reply to her cries, her voice breaking on a sob when she eventually gave up. Taking a deep breath she fought back weak tears and straightened her shoulders. She could only be a few feet away from the house, she just had to wait until someone came looking for her. She remembered hearing her name being called, so someone was probably already telling her parents that she was missing. Looking around, she tried to remember if she had already passed that way, but she saw nothing to indicate she had been through there, the ground quite clear of any evidence of her foot prints or damaged foliage from her earlier arrival. Not allowing herself to panic, Wendy set about repairing her appearance, setting her hat at a jaunty angle before tugging at her gloves to remove a wrinkle. Satisfied that she had done all she could she slowly turned around and listened intently. Some strange bird was incessantly calling high up in a tree, its warbling cry unlike anything she'd heard in the suburbs of London, certainly no blackbird or thrush made such a song. Behind her the noise of the waterfall was almost completely muffled leaving her with only the sound of the wind ruffling the leaves for company.

"How simply ridiculous, to be lost in ones own back garden. Mother will be so cross."

Seeing a large grey lump rising out of the ground, she approached and carefully dusted the boulders surface with a scrap of a handkerchief before sitting herself primly down, her ankles tidily pressed together, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"They are bound to find me sooner or later." She mused to herself. "The boys will tease me forever for getting so muddled."

Refusing to entertain any other emotion other than mild concern, Wendy sat patiently waiting to be found.

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"I'm sure she was here only a moment ago." Mary Darling turned worried eyes to her husband as they searched through the rooms on the ground level, the thunder of feet announcing the arrival of their boys who had been looking through the rooms on the upper levels.

"Sorry Mother, no sign of her...I'm sure we would have seen her if she'd come up to look at the bedrooms."

"Did you look everywhere?" George Darling asked, his wifes' hand clasped tightly in his own. He frowned when all the boys respectfully nodded, glancing between themselves as their parents exchanged a worried look.

"Where could she be George...Wendy wouldn't have wandered off, would she?"

"What about the garden?" Tootles suggested, pointing to a door half open towards the back of the house.

A look of intense relief passed over his Mother's face as she started forward, the rest of the family following her into the back parlor where they saw the French door ajar and the garden beyond.

When they all stood on the paced surface of the courtyard, George started to call, his deep voice soon joined by his wife and children, Wendy's name echoing around the garden. When they paused, they listened but were only answered by the chirp of birds and the drone of bees about their business. Unlike Wendy, their view of the back garden was not one of unbridled overgrowth, but of a lawn that stretched down a gentle slope to a round, stone edged fish pond, the borders only slightly weedy and the grass only a bit longer than desirable. If Wendy was in the garden she could only have been hiding very well or gone beyond its boundaries. A quick search provided the unwelcome conclusion that Wendy was not to be found anywhere in the grounds.

"Oh my dearest girl...where are you?" Mary Darling sobbed on her husbands shoulder as they returned to the house, perplexed and upset at the sudden inexplicable disappearance of their eldest child.

The police were called, a search made again of the house and grounds as well as the neighboring properties but of Wendy, no trace was ever found. After several weeks of unceasing despair, and numerous searches as well as notices in the newspapers, the house was once more shut up and abandoned, the family unable to countenance living within its walls. In a paroxysm of grief, it was announced that they would move into a house provided by the bank, the rent quite affordable even if it was not as big as they would have liked. With heavy hearts and bewildered eyes, the Darling family left the house where their Wendy had been last seen, a bouquet of flowers left to wilt on the front step as the carriages pulled out of the driveway never to return.

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A growl from her stomach reminded Wendy that she had been sitting for some considerable time on that very hard boulder, her bottom quite numb. The light around her was starting to dim and she shifted uneasily. She had heard no sound of anyone calling her, nor any evidence that a search was in progress. Any second she had hoped to see one of the boys burst through the undergrowth and yell surprise, but it never happened. Now it was starting to get dark and her fears were fully roused that she had somehow managed to get herself well and truly lost beyond being found before nightfall.

"This is ridiculous."

Getting stiffly to her feet, she willed herself to be calm and surveyed her surroundings once more, noting with surprise that there appeared to be a path leading off through the trees. Given that she had been sitting in the small glade for some time and never noticed the path did seem exceedingly odd. Not one to dwell, she decided to ignore the usual advice that if one is lost, you should stay where you are and wait to be found, instead she set her booted feet on the faint track and decided to follow it. It stood to reason that if there was a path, it must lead somewhere, and that was better than being nowhere, so she tilted her head and set off through the jungle, the faint track becoming more worn and wider the further she walked. Satisfied that she'd made the right decision, Wendy started to hurry, almost running along the path as it showed obvious signs of recent use. Ignoring the fact that given the passage of time she should have reached some sign of habitation long since, Wendy continued on her way, her lungs heaving as she ran faster and faster, her hat lost somewhere to a whipping branch, her skirts hitched upwards to free her legs as she continued her headlong flight. She hadn't realised how dark it had become until she tripped on a tree root and found herself face down, spitting sand and dirt from her mouth. With her heart racing she shakily rose to her feet and tottered a few steps before coming to a complete halt again, her mouth dropping open as she surveyed the sight that met her eyes.

The path she had been following had ended and she now stood in a break in the dense foliage that had been a feature since she'd left the waterfall. Ahead of her stretched a broad expanse of sand sloping gently down to meet the lapping waves that slapped and sighed as they swept the shore. Above her head stars were starting to appear as the last streaks of sunset left the sky, a few clouds bearing the banners of pink and purple that indicated the end of the day. Stupefied, Wendy could only stare at the ocean that stretched to the far horizon, the smooth expanse of water broken nearer to shore by shoals of rocks, some flat, some peaked that rose blackly from the waves to form a protective sea wall around the lagoon.

"It's not...possible...I must be..I must...no..." Wendy sank down onto the warm sand in shock, her brain simply unable to comprehend how she could have traveled so far to the sea. Her gloved fingers were buried in the soft sand, unconsciously flexing amongst the grains as their owner fought to reconcile what she knew with what she was seeing. Wendy had once been taken to Brighton and walked the esplanade, marveling at the vast ocean, its grey-green waves dragging and rolling the pebbles that lined the seashore. English beaches did not have soft, silky sand, nor were they lined with such tropical lushness as this beach before her. Barely able to comprehend how it had happened, Wendy knew, without a doubt, where she was.

Somehow she was back in Neverland, sitting in a state of shock on a beach that bordered the home of Peter Pan.

"I...it can't be...how...I don't know...how can this be!"

As she stared out to sea, the sky above her turned to black velvet, the stars twinkling as they have always done, uncaring of the small drama below. Behind her the jungle seemed to close its ranks, like a flower shutting its petals, its leaves and branches folding around itself and settling down for the night. Shivering, Wendy wrapped her arms around her shoulders, her teeth starting to chatter in earnest as her brain tried to process her situation. She had no way of knowing where she was on the island, having not spent enough time in Neverland to see everything. Feeling desperately afraid, she huddled where she was against the base of a tree, her knees drawn up and her head tucked down, so that she became just another shadow against the many that painted the ground.

The sound of the waves eventually sent her into an uneasy sleep, her body slumping to the still warm sand, her hands finally unclenching from their tight fists to lay relaxed and open on their backs.

The hours of the night passed uneasily, Wendy roused often by unusual noises that set her pulses racing, her eyes staring wildly around her, trying to find the source of the sound until her heavy lids closed once more and her body found brief peace in sleep again.

With the first hint of dawn, she was once more sitting huddled against the tree, her brain numb with the shock of finding that it was not a strange nightmare, but in fact a terrible reality, that somehow she had returned to the fantasy that had haunted her dreams for so long.

Despite begging him not to forget her, Wendy had known in her heart of hearts that she was never likely to see Peter Pan ever again, her diary filled with her recollections of the brief time spent in Neverland, her thoughts and feelings set down in ink to be read, and re-read whenever she needed reminding of her adventures, and of him. Her thirteenth birthday had been celebrated shortly after their return to London, her installation in the second best bedroom a move welcomed by her as much as by her parents, the nursery more than full of over-rambuncious young men always demanding attention. She now viewed her time spent with Peter, and her adventures with Hook and everything else as a rite of passage, a journey that took her from childhood to the edge of adulthood, a journey that she had needed to take but now was a thing of the past, her face and footsteps firmly set on the course of growing up and accepting her future. That she often felt pangs of regret that she would never see Peter again, was accepted as just part of that growing up, like parting with a treasured toy and passing it on to her younger brother, it was what you did. A constant reminder was, of course, her new collection of "brothers", the Lost Boys now a part of her family, their lives forever changed by a simple decision to return and have a mother again. That the boys had the same doubts and fears as herself, half hoping, half dreading that Peter would return, had prompted Nibs to be the one to keep the nursery window unlatched and Wendy had reassured him that she'd left a letter of redirection if Peter should return and find them gone. Despite this, the boys resolutely stuck by their decision to leave Neverland and grow up, which only served to reinforce Wendy's own resolve to embrace adulthood and all it had to offer. In that spirit she no longer dreaded her weekly visits to her Aunt Millicent for instruction in deportment and etiquette, her willingness to take on the rules and requirements of a young lady bringing a tear to her Aunts eye as that lady started to create a future for her niece that included all her fondest wishes.

Wendy never doubted that she would marry someday, and that she would have her own family, her own husband. It was what one expected of someone who was growing up. It was not so far in the future that she hadn't started already to envisage what she would expect of her future spouse, and what he would expect of her. It was all part and parcel of Wendy's life now. Neverland was no more than a half remembered dream.

Now that dream had once more taken on a disturbing reality, and she was hard pressed to not scream in vexation at its intrusion on her well mapped out plans for her life as an adult. She had barely started on that well trodden path and now it was scattered to the four winds with a simple walk in an overgrown garden.

Her jumbled thoughts left her more confused than ever, her feelings swinging from abject and reasonless fear to a towering rage that something, or someone should so interfere in her life.

Unable to bear her own company any longer, Wendy rose to her feet and dusted herself down half-heartedly. Her dress was crumpled and soiled beyond recovery, unnoticed by the wearer to also be several inches shorter than it had been that morning, her shining half-boots now scratched and dull. Reaching up a hand, she moaned to discover her previously carefully coiffed hair now hung down her back in disarray, her pins long gone and lost.

Pushing it back over her shoulder and tucking it behind her ears, Wendy stood and contemplated her options. She was still very hungry, her last meal being the previous days breakfast, and now thirst was also making itself known. Not wanting to have to traverse the jungle again in search of the waterfall, Wendy decided to turn left and try to follow the beach in the hopes of finding the run-off creek which surely emptied somewhere along that stretch of coast. The sun was now well up in the sky and its warmth was going a long way to dispell the night terrors that lingered. Setting off resolutely, Wendy followed the curve of the beach, her boots sinking into the sand with each step and pinching horribly. Finding it difficult going, she edged her way down towards the firmer sand near the waves, the sun quickly heating the top of her head. Finding her clothes starting to stick to her skin with perspiration, Wendy shed her gloves then loosened the top two buttons of her inexplicably snug bodice and fanned herself with a broad leaf she found laying on the sand. After only an hour she found the stream, the clear, cold water like nectar to her parched throat as she knelt on the shallow bank to drink her fill. Her thirst satisfied, she splashed the cold water on her hot face, letting the water drip down her open blouse and cool her hot skin. Her feet were clamoring for attention, encased as they were in too-tight calf-skin boots. After removing them and rolling down her stockings, she gratefully sank them into the water, her eyes closing in bliss as her poor feet almost steamed in the fresh water. Ruefully she contemplated putting the boots back on, but only took a second to discard the idea, her toes wriggling delightedly in the silt at the bottom of the creek. Her thirst taken care of, her feet once more comfortable, Wendy decided to continue her trek along the beach. Using an elephant ear leaf for an umbrella Wendy held her boots in the other hand, her shortened skirts tucked into her waistband to free her legs for movement. As she rounded the headland she stared with dismay at the empty expanse of beach still to be traversed. At the rate she was walking, it would be dark before she managed to reach anywhere she recognised. To add insult to injury, her poor empty stomach chose that moment to remind her just how long it had been since she ate last.

"Well...as I appear to have been transported to the opposite side of the Island, I guess I'd better find something to eat before I continue on."

Still holding her boots, she turned to go inland only to stop suddenly, one hand dropping the boots and lifting to place itself over her heart to still its sudden pounding. In the shadow of a palm tree stood someone watching her.

"Who are you?" She called, her voice sharp with fear.

"Who are you?" Echoed the someone, identifying himself as male but otherwise keeping to the shadow.

"Wendy Darling...I'm lost...can you tell me where I am?"

"You don't know where you are?"

Gritting her teeth with annoyance, Wendy choked down her irritation and tried again.

"I know I'm in Neverland, but none of this is familiar...can you tell me how far I have to go to get to Mermaid lagoon, or the Black Castle?"

"You really are lost," the voice agreed, the figure moving as he folded his arms over his chest. Wendy took a step closer, trying to pierce the shadow and discern the young man's face. As his features became more distinct Wendy felt a bolt of something jolt her heart and set it thumping again.

"P-p-eter?"

She saw the figure jerk and take a step forward into the sunlight.

"How do you know my name?"

Wendy stared at the young man stalking towards her, one hand now holding a wickedly sharp dagger, the other balled into a fist.

"It hasn't been that long Peter...of course I remember you...but... but...you've changed."

"Stop saying my name...I don't know you...who are you?"

As he came within a few feet, Wendy took a step back, fearful of his scowling expression, her eyes flicking between the knife and his altered features. For altered he surely was, from the young boy that she had bid a bitter sweet farewell only a few short months before, to a well muscled stripling who looked at least to be several years older than her now, his long, sun-bleached hair tied back from his face in a pony-tail, a shaggy fringe almost hiding his eyes, his broad shoulders and long, well muscled legs showing the promise of the man to come.

He continued his advance until he stood almost toe to toe with Wendy, his sea-green eyes, thickly lashed, sweeping over her from the top of her head to her sandy toes and back up again, his expression still grim and unyielding.

"Nope, never seen you here before...don't get girls here...you'd better take yourself off again. Don't wantcha here neither."

"Well really...Peter this is silly, of course you know me...and what happened to you?"

"What do you mean, 'what happened'? Nothing's happened," he looked down at himself, his scowl deepening.

"Well it certainly has, when you left six months ago you looked to be the same age as me...now you look..." She gestured vaguely at him, "you look...older."

"You don't know what your talking about, stupid girl!" Peter snarled, still scowling, his eyes flashing as he started to circle Wendy, insolently twirling his knife between his long brown fingers, his bare feet kicking up little puffs of sand. Wendy refused to play his game and stood still, staring ahead and ignoring his rudeness, her chest rising and falling rapidly in her agitation. She was still trying to fathom why Peter should appear to much older than her, if she had to hazard his age, she would have put it nearer seventeen, possibly older given his height. She remembered that Peter quite often had an appalling memory for trivial things like her brothers and others, so it wasn't quite such a shock that he had forgotten her after such a short time, but it still hurt a little.

"I do know, Peter...I am Wendy, I was here just six months ago, we fought Hook together..." She halted her remembrances when Peter pressed the sharp blade of his knife against her throat in a blur of motion that took her breath away.

"You lie." He hissed from behind her, his other hand coming around to grab hers and yank it back, Wendy crying out at his rough treatment. Within seconds both hands were secured behind her back and Peter stood in front of her, his legs apart, head arrogantly tilted upwards, his fists balled on his hips.

"What are you doing? Let me go at once!"

"You are obviously a spy sent by pirates to find me. I kill spies!"

Ignoring Wendy's shocked gasp, Peter fashioned a tether from a length of vine and wrapped it around Wendy's slender waist, knotted it at the front and stepped back again. Giving the rope a tug he turned and started forward only to halt when Wendy refused to move.

"Move girl...or I'll mark that white skin of yours with my knife!"

"You don't frighten me, Peter Pan...undo my hands and take this ridiculous vine thing off me."

Ignoring her, Peter tugged hard on the vine, almost toppling Wendy forward. "Nope...start walking spy...I intend to return you to your master, but there nothing that says I have to return you in one piece."

Almost squealing in anger, Wendy resisted one more tug before submitting and following his brown back into the jungle. She didn't understand a word he was saying, but common sense told her that if she wanted to eat then Peter would be the one to stick with. For the time being.

He had collected her boots where they'd fallen in the sand, his movements graceful as he strutted ahead, Wendy stumbling along behind him.

After maintaining a mutinous silence for the first few minutes, Wendy tried again.

"Peter...please let me go, this isn't necessary, I promise not to run away."

"Don't try your wheedling ways on me girl...spies don't get special privileges so shut up and walk."

"Goodness but you are rude...you were never like this when I knew you before...what's happened to you? What's happened here, in Neverland?"

"No idea what your talking about...never met you before just now."

"Oh you stupid boy...of course you have. Don't you remember the Lost Boys..Nibs, Tootles...Slightly?"

"Nope...funny names..what sort of boys have names like that?" He scoffed, tugging the vine with a jerk.

"But surely you remember...we were captured and taken aboard the pirate ship, the Jolly Roger. You fought Hook and he beat you...for a little while..." Wendy hadn't been paying attention and cannoned into Peter's back.

Abruptly he swung about, one long finger coming up to jab her on her shoulder, the force almost knocking her down.

"If you don't shut up I'll gag you...you're talking rubbish...there's never been anyone called Hook...and certainly no ship has ever anchored off these shores called such a silly name as the Jolly Roger..."

"But Peter..."

"Right...I warned you..." With a kick, Peter knocked Wendy's legs out from under her and she fell awkwardly. As she tried to catch her breath she felt her skirts being pushed upwards and she lashed out with her foot, catching him a on the thigh. He grunted and landed her a back handed blow across her cheek that half stunned her with shock and pain. She heard her petticoat rip and a second later a length of white linen was forced between her bruised lips and tied at the back of her head. Unable to help herself, she lay there, eyes squeezed shut as tears of pain and fear leaked out and slid down her cheek. With a final jerk, Peter finished gagging her and then hooked his hand under her upper arm, hauling her back to her feet. Wendy slowly opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the last of her tears, only to find herself so close to Peter that she could count the freckles that dotted his nose.

For a long moment Peter just stared at her, his eyes roaming over her face, mapping its features. As if snapping himself out of a trance, Peter's eyebrow's furrowed in a scowl and he hauled her forward, the rope vine forgotten as he marched her alongside him, not allowing her faltering gait to slow him down, the grip on her arm sure to leave bruises.

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Peter stared at his captive where she sat on the opposite side of the fire to him. It was past midday when he finally stopped. He'd collected his pack after they'd gone only a little way into the jungle, the familiar weight on his bare back a welcome distraction. The girl had offered no resistance after he'd gagged her, following him meekly after he released her arm and took up the vine once more. It was only after the third time she fell that he sighed in annoyance and decided to make camp early and cook the fish he'd caught that morning. The girl had gratefully slumped to the ground and not moved while Peter organized the fire and gutted the fish, spitting them on sticks to roast over the flames. They were in a small glade, sheltered from the hot sun, the ground covered with a soft, spongy plant that smelled tangy and sweet when crushed. The fire pit was already there when they arrived, the spot one of his regular stops on his route around his domain. Peter checked on the fish, the flesh just crisping at the edges as he turned them to avoid burning. The girl still lay where she'd dropped, her amazing eyes hidden from him behind their long lashes. He was sure she must be uncomfortable with her hands still tied behind her back, so he rose and drew his blade. Before he had taken two steps he found himself pinned in place by those eyes as his captive stared balefully at him, her look of fear quickly replaced by one laced with contempt. Pausing he wondered why her gaze disturbed him so much before he continued over to where she lay, his blade flicking out to sever her bonds.

"Don't even think of running away, I'd catch you easily."

He watched as she brought her hands to the front, rubbing her wrists alternatively to restore circulation. Just as quickly she yanked the gag from between her lips, licking them to ease their dryness. Peter watched that pink tongue for a second before jerking his attention back to the fire. He had been probably as shocked as the girl to find her standing on the beach, her long hair lifting in the slight breeze as she turned to approach where he stood in the shade of the palm. It had been so long since he'd seen anyone up close that he was stupefied for a moment, drinking in her appearance, noting her strange clothes, the boots hanging from one slender hand, the leaf held over her head. Then she had dropped the boots and held her hand to her chest, drawing his attention to her feminine curves, her lips forming his name and snapping him out of his trance.

Her words confused him, left him feeling unsure and uneasy. She appeared to think she knew him from sometime in the past, but he was sure he'd have remembered her if he'd ever met her. There had been a moment when he'd felt something spark between them, but it had quickly passed and he'd felt angry that she'd persisted in using his name, forcing him to gag her.

He couldn't explain how she knew his name, that was the most perplexing thing. Was is pure coincidence or dumb luck that she picked his name? Whatever it was, he was going to find out. He knew she was frightened, her eyes were like windows, her emotions easy to read, but she also had courage, something he admired.

Most of what she said made no sense to him at all. He could only assume that she was a survivor from a ship wreck the same as himself, her gibberish the product of her ordeal. Maybe he looked like someone she knew called Peter and that was how the confusion came about. Satisfied that he'd found an easy solution to his own questions, Peter grinned and pulled one of the fish from the fire, pulling at the flesh to see if it was cooked through.

Licking his fingers, he removed the other fish on its stick and tossed it to the girl. It landed on the ground in front of her and he laughed when she snatched it up, pulling the hot flesh from the bones with desperate fingers before blowing on it and stuffing it into her mouth.

Wendy ignored his derisive hoot of laughter, too intent on her empty stomach to bother with delicacy but as soon as her immediate needs were satisfied she picked more slowly at the second fish carcass her captor tossed her way.

Amused at her attempts to civilise her behavior, Peter ate his fish with relish, noisily sucking his fingers and belching, pleased to see the girl scowl at him before lowering her eyes and ignoring his bad manners. After wiping his fingers on his legs and leaving long, greasy streaks on his ragged trousers, Peter rummaged in his pack and brought out a water bottle fashioned from the skin of a goat. Lifting it to his lips he gulped the sweet water, the liquid cascading past his mouth to dribble down his neck and chest. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he held the bladder our for the girl to drink from. She hesitated for a second before taking it from his hand and lifting it to her own lips. He watched her throat work as she swallowed, his own suddenly dry as his sea-green gaze met her sky-blue, then he blinked and the connection was broken, the girl dropping her gaze to the fire, her arm outstretched to return the water bottle to him.

He took it and stuffed it back in his pack before tossing the last of the wood on the fire and watching the flames leap and spark.

When he looked up several minutes later the girl was curled up on her side facing away from him, the curve of her back almost hidden by her long hair. As he watched he saw her suddenly jerk before her body relaxed and she slipped into sleep. Feeling pleasantly full, Peter lay on his back and stared up at the branches that swayed above their heads, the sun dappling through the leaves until the random sparkles caused his eyes to close and he drifted off to sleep as well.

The sun was well down in the sky when he next awoke, the embers of the fire barely glowing, sending a small spiral of smoke into the air. Stretching his limbs, Peter scratched his belly before turning on his side and peer across the glade. Instantly he jumped to his feet, his knife in his hands, his eyes darting everywhere at once as he searched the immediate area around the fire. She was gone, only a faint outline in the tender ground cover to show she'd been there at all. Snatching up his pack and kicking dirt over the remains of the fire, Peter searched the ground and easily spotted the small imprint of her feet heading out of the glade. Grinning ferally he secured the straps of his pack and sheathed his knife before setting off at a run, disappearing into the depth of the jungle after his quarry.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wendy stopped and clapped a hand to her side, the stitch burning as she tried to draw breath. It was starting to get gloomy under the thick trees, her eyes drawn to the canopy far above her head, noting how low in the sky the sun had dipped.

She had only slept for a short while by the fire, her dreams too confused to allow her to rest for long. When she awoke she lay for a long time staring across the glowing embers of the fire to the boy laying on the other side. His face was relaxed in sleep, his dark lashes laying softly on his cheeks, hiding his sea-green eyes from her. She was still shocked to note the changes in his face and body, the boy of her memory replaced by a strong and handsome young man on the verge of manhood, his arms and legs well defined and deeply tanned. Drawing in a deep breath Wendy felt her breasts press hard against the wall of her light corset, the contraption feeling much tighter and more constricting than before. Moving infinitely slowly, she sat up, Peter not stirring from his slumber as she carefully rose to her feet, her body tense and poised for flight if he should move. He remained deeply asleep, his lips curved in a faint smile as if he dreamed of something pleasant. Unwilling to risk waking him, Wendy didn't bother to collect his pack or the water skin, but carefully stepped away from the fire and headed towards the trees, her intent to put as much distance between them as possible. She wouldn't have hesitated to stay with the old Peter, but this new stranger, so hostile and seemingly without any memory of her, was too much for her to cope with on top of everything else. Once among the trees she turned tail and ran, hoisting her skirts to allow her legs to leap over fallen branches, her loose hair swirling wildly behind her.

Too quickly her breath labored in her chest, a stitch making its presence felt in her side, her steps slowing until she could only manage a fast walk, her head twisting often to check for any signs of pursuit behind her.

She was just as hopelessly lost as before, but at least there was no sign of Peter either. The path she was following had vanished an hour before, her feet now leading her through the least tangled area's of the forest, the sun hidden too well by the canopy to provide any sense of direction. As she walked she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, the feeling that something, or someone was watching her only serving to make her pick up her pace, her eyes darting back and forth but seeing nothing. A bird suddenly burst out of a bush and Wendy almost screamed, only the fear of alerting any pursuer holding the sound inside her throat, her hand clamped firmly over her lips to seal them. Her heart hammered and she panted to try and calm herself down before continuing on, the stitch starting to lessen as she walked briskly towards a stand of trees, their trunks almost luminous in the growing dimness of late afternoon. As she slipped between them she cast a glance behind her and gasped. She was sure she'd seen something move behind her but when she looked it was gone, only the sigh of the breeze to ruffle the leaves. Biting her lip she pressed on, her ears straining to hear anything to indicate that another living thing was tracking her. Climbing over a fallen, moss covered trunk, she quickly turned her head to the side and caught the flash of something a few feet away, the figure quickly hiding itself before she could discern who, or what it was.

With a fear born of desperation she looked around for a weapon, her hand finding a long stick, its weight a comfort as she hefted it, testing its balance.

"Whatever, or whoever you are I suggest you stay away..I won't hesitate to use this if you come too close!"

Holding the bludgeon with two hands, Wendy slowly turned a full circle, her eyes straining to pierce the dense bushes to see her stalker. Only silence met her call, the jungle as empty as before. Still tense, Wendy paced forward, turning frequently to try and catch her pursuer, but she never did. As she felt the pressure of the unseen eyes leave her back she relaxed, the branch lowering in her grip. As it did, she heard a growl and only had time to make a half turn, the branch lifting in her hand before something struck her and forced her to the ground, the blow knocking her breath out of her and causing stars to colour her vision. She lashed out and felt the branch connect with something, her attacker grunting and growling, sharp teeth wrenching the stick from her hand. Wendy cowered, her arms coming up to protect her head as the weight on her back shifted, sharp claws pulling at her dress, rips and tears quickly drowned out by her screams as she felt sharp teeth bite into her shoulder and neck. The animal reared back, spitting out her long hair from its jaws and Wendy screamed again. She heard another roar and the animal on her body was suddenly knocked to the side, rolling over and over among the leaf litter, her rescuer grappling with the creature, both grunting and growling as they fought for supremacy. Wendy huddled closer to the ground, curling herself into a ball, her head buried in her arms, the sounds of the combat seemingly almost on top of her. A sudden yelp and a grunt announced the end of the fight, only the harsh breathing of the victor now evident in the forest.

Wendy screamed again when a hand landed on her injured shoulder, the fingers curling around her upper arm and yanking her around so that she found herself on her back staring up into the face of her rescuer.

Peter stared down at her, his chest heaving as he fought to regain his breath. Blood dripped from a bite on his forearm but it was ignored while he did a quick visual inventory of the girl sprawled below him. Her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated so that they appeared dark and haunted, her lips visibly trembling as she fought back a sob of sheer terror.

"Are you alright girl? Are you hurt?" Peter barked at her, wincing when she flinched away from him, shaking her head mutely. Sitting back on his heels he realised that he still held his knife in his fist, the blood of the wolf dripping over his fingers in a gory mess. Wendy's eyes were darting between the knife and his face, fear of his next move evident in every tense line of her body. Sighing to himself, Peter sheathed the weapon and wiped his bloody fingers on his skin, spreading the gore and adding to his generally disheveled and savage looking state. Wendy remained frozen on the ground, her heart still hammering, black spots starting to narrow her vision until she seemed to be watching the whole scene from a long way away. With a small moan her eyes closed and she fainted dead away, falling back to the leaf litter with a small thump.

Alarmed Peter grasped her arms and lifted her up, her head lolling back on her long neck, her hair brushing the dirt. Realising that his captive was no longer conscious, Peter lowered her back down and rolled her over, lifting her hair to see the wound on her back and shoulder. For a second he rubbed a few of the strands between his fingers, marveling at how soft it felt, then he lifted the silken mass out of the way and peered at the bloody wound left by the wolf's teeth. It was deep but not bleeding much so he rolled her onto her back and left her lying there. Rising to his feet he paced over to the carcass of the wolf lying only a few feet away. His own heart was still thumping in his chest feeling fit to burst, his lungs dragging in long draughts of air as reaction set in and tremors writhed down his arms and legs. Shaking himself free of them, he drew out his knife and wiped it clean on the animals pelt before slitting the skin from neck to groin. Having skinned the wolf, Peter rolled the fur into a gory bundle and left it beside his comatose captive before digging a shallow grave and rolling the skinned corpse into the earth, covering it thoroughly with dirt and leaves. Satisfied, Peter inspected his own wound, returning to where Wendy lay and stripping off another length of petticoat to bind his arm. That done he collected his pack, sheathed his knife and bent down to pick up the senseless girl in his arms, hefting her to get her weight settled before trekking off at right angles to the direction Wendy had been going.

Within a few minutes he had reached one of his many campsites, a rough bivouac constructed of branches and vines cunningly hidden in a thicket. The fireplace was also cleverly hidden by dint of the rocks being scattered to appear random and only needing a quick collection to form back into a circle around the fire pit. Peter stooped awkwardly with his burden and entered the rude hut, his head brushing the angled roof when he straightened up. He carefully laid his burden down on a fragrant bed of soft pine branches, Wendy's pale face a blur in the gathering darkness, the sun finally sinking below the horizon and plunging the forest into twilight. Knowing that he had little time, Peter quickly collected the rocks, arranging them just so, before collecting an armful of dry tinder. With a practiced hand he struck sparks off a flint into a bundle of grass, the spark catching into a flame that he thrust into the kindling, allowing the tiny flame to lick at the wood and gain strength before he added bigger pieces until it blazed brightly, sending shadows dancing around the grove.

Looking at his still gory hands, Peter left the fire and headed off around the back of the bivouac, his feet knowing the way without needing a light. The pool was a natural spring, the water warm when it bubbled out of the earth, a faint mist of steam seen to rise off the surface on colder nights. Peter sank with relief under the ripples, sluicing himself off and washing the wolf's blood from his hands and arms. He didn't bother to strip off his trousers as they were in dire need of a wash anyway and Peter was ever practical. After a good scrubbing he floated on his back for a few minutes before hauling himself out and shaking vigorously, like a dog, his hair flying in all directions, free of the thong that usually bound it. With a final shake he padded back to the campsite, the fire still burning merrily, only needing a few more sticks to maintain its heat and light. As he had done at midday, Peter unwrapped two silvery fish and spitted them over the flames, careful to judge the distance so that they cooked but not burned. His trousers were already starting to dry on him from the heat of the fire, his hair glinting in the light like burnished gold as it hung around his face and well below his ears. Feeling it tickle, he rummaged in his pack and found another thong, tying his hair back at the nape of his neck before deciding to check on his captive.

The light from the fire barely penetrated the angled tent, Peter not able to make out more than Wendy's face in the darkness. Hearing her slightly labored breathing, Peter rested his hand lightly on her chest, below her breasts. Under the soft cloth of her blouse he could feel something rigid, hardly giving to the slight pressure of his fingertips. For a long moment he sat on his heels, wondering what she could be wearing to so constrict her breathing as to make her wheeze even in unconsciousness. He dragged his pack into the shelter and fumbled inside it for a few seconds before producing the stub of a candle which he wedged on a conveniently placed rock. Ducking out of the tent he snagged a burning splinter and lit the wick, light flooding into the small space. Now with a light source, Peter once more touched Wendy's middle, feeling the hard something under the clothes that extended from below her breasts to just above her hips. Further exploration revealed it extended all around her body, his fingers finding what appeared to be some sort of lacing down the back. Another hitched breath from Wendy made up his mind for him. With careful manoeuvering he rolled the girl onto her front and brushed her hair to one side. Seeing the row of buttons, he quickly started to undo them, his fingers fumbling slightly with the small button holes. With the garment now open to the waist, he could see the strange contraption that encased Wendy's mid-drift, the lacings pulled tight, barely giving room for a shallow breath. At first he tried to undo the laces but that proved too time consuming, in frustration he pulled out his knife and ran the blade down the whole seam, the lacings parting like tallow in the sun. As if released from a prison, Wendy's lungs suddenly drew in a deep breath, the edges of the corset springing apart to reveal the fine cotton camisole beneath and an expanse of smooth skin. Still puzzling why anyone would feel the need to wear such a strange and tortuous device, Peter rolled the girl and pulled the corset from around her body, tossing it to the side before once more doing up the myriad buttons up the back of her dress. When he lay her once more on her back, Wendy seemed to be breathing more easily, her lips parted with no wheezing apparent and a faint tinge of colour coming back to her face.
Satisfied that she appeared as comfortable as possible, Peter blew out the candle and left the shelter to its sole occupant, returning to the fire and the cooking fish, their oil dripping down into the flames and sending up sparks to dance in the air.

Hunkering down, Peter moved the cooked fish away from the fire and prepared to consume the flesh, his fingers quickly stripping away the skin, picking the succulent white meat off the bones with evident enjoyment.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wendy drifted up from the depth of blackness to find herself laying on a rough bed of heavily scented pine needles. Blinking she stared up at the slanted roof not far above her head, the flicker of firelight dancing through the bower but shedding very little light. She lay still and tried to remember how she'd come to be lying there, her memory returning with a rush so that she suddenly sat up, instantly regretting the sudden move as her shoulder and neck shot hot pain down her back and arm. She moaned, drawing in a breath in harsh pants until the initial rush faded to a dull ache. With the pain eased she noticed that she was able to take a deep breath, the air rushing into her lungs without an restriction, her chest rising without the familiar feel of her corset limiting the movement. Cautiously she prodded her middle, noting immediately the absence of a piece of her intimate clothing. It also drew her attention to the apparent development of her body from childish immaturity to something approximating her mothers adult curves. Shocked, Wendy carefully cataloged other changes in her physical appearance by touch alone. Her hair was longer, her waist more nipped in, her hips more evident and her bosom positively lush. Unable to comprehend how such a change could have come about in such a short time, Wendy cried out in fright and shock, her face buried in her hands as she sat on the pine-scented bed, her shoulders shaking.

Peter had leapt up at the first sound of Wendy stirring, but remained outside, suddenly and inexplicably shy of the girl. At her cry he abandoned his caution and rushed into the shelter, finding her hunched over her knees, her face hidden, sobs shaking her slender frame.

"What's the matter...why are you crying?"

Startled, Wendy dropped her hands and scuttled backwards, one hand held out to ward him off. Peter, equally alarmed, sat back on his haunches, his face in shadow, the fire behind him silhouetting his body.

"Keep away...don't touch me!"

"I'm not touching you..why did you cry out?"

"What happened? Why am I here?"

"You were attacked...by a wolf...I killed it."

"A wolf? I didn't know...how long have there been wolves in Neverland?"

"How should I know...they've always been here, and this is their territory."

"What? It bit me..."

"Yes...it did. Here...let me take a look..." Peter stretched out his hand, but Wendy shrank further back and Peter hesitated.

"It'll have to be dressed, otherwise it'll get infected...but of course, if you don't want me too..." Peter tailed off, turning as if to go.

"No...wait...infected?"

"Yeah...all oozing and raw and painful...or...you could let me wash it and put some of my salve on it."

Wendy chewed on her lip, a twinge from her shoulder deciding the matter.

"Please..."

"You'll have to come and sit by the fire, I can't see anything in here." Snagging his pack, Peter left the shelter, giving Wendy plenty of room.

Feeling sore and confused, Wendy rose and, bent over, made to leave the lean-to. Near the entrance her feet became entangled with something lying on the ground. Reaching down she felt the folds of her corset, the strings dangling when she lifted it up. Shocked she dropped the garment, wondering how he'd managed to get it off without removing her clothes. A blush suddenly suffused her face as she realised he couldn't have, her arms coming up to cover her chest as her blush heated her skin to scorching.

"Are you coming out or not?" Peter's voice called.

Willing her fiery blush to subside, Wendy stepped clear of the shelter and slowly made her way to the fireside. Peter indicated a half log for her to sit on and Wendy sank slowly down, her arms still crossed over her chest.

Swallowing hard Wendy cleared her throat before speaking.

"Why did you...why did you take off my...corset?"

"Is that what that is? Why do you wear it? You couldn't breath properly so I cut it off."

"Oh...Oh...did you...er...did you have to...um...oh dear."

Wendy turned her head away, too embarrassed to continue. Peter was pulling out a small jar from the bottom of his pack and seemed not to notice her discomfort.

"You still haven't explained why anyone in their right mind would want to strap something like that around their chest."

"Its not something...oh I can't talk about that...you're a boy, for heaven's sake."

Peter just shrugged, pulling out a clean looking cloth and gathering up the water skin.

"Seems like a damn silly thing to be wearing, if you ask me."

Getting to his feet he padded over to her and positioned himself behind her.

"Turn away from the fire so the light is on you back, here." Peter instructed, his fingers pointing the direction he wanted her to face. Shifting, Wendy complied, bundling up her hair and pulling it out of the way over her uninjured shoulder. Immediately Peter reached to undo the buttons of her dress and Wendy flinched away, Peter pausing and meeting her frightened eyes.

"I can't see it through the material...I'll have to lower your dress...its pretty chewed up as it is."

Her face flaming again, Wendy nodded, turning her head way and presenting her back to him, his fingers quickly undoing the buttons, Peter grinning wryly to himself as he noticed his rather haphazard attempt previously with several buttons misaligned. With the dress opened at the back to the waist, Peter eased the material down, careful not to touch the bite wound. Wendy hissed in pain as he pulled the fabric away, dried blood making it stick. With her back and upper arm exposed, Peter peered at the wound before wetting the cloth and starting to clean. Wendy bit her lip so as not to cry out but her body would shudder every now and then as Peter cleaned the blood and dirt from her skin. He was as gentle as possible, all his former aggression apparently forgotten as he smeared a fragrant salve over the puncture marks, his finger tips soothing across her smooth skin in a circular motion, Wendy's muscles relaxing under his ministrations.

"I had to tear some more off your underskirt to make these bandages." Peter told her matter of fact, Wendy stiffening up again as he secured a pad made of her petticoat over her injury before lifting her dress back up to cover it, his practiced fingers making short work of the buttons to secure the edges of the blouse back together.

"Thank you." Wendy whispered, acutely aware of his close proximity, the warmth of his body evident even through the thickness of her clothes.

As if realising that he was staring, Peter suddenly moved, clearing his throat and gathering up his supplies, stuffing them into the pack before moving back to the other side of the fire. As Wendy shifted to once more face the flames, she noticed the white linen wrapped around his forearm.

"You were injured?"

Peter glanced down at his arm and lifted a shoulder. "It's just a scratch...I've had worse."

The fire crackled and spat, filling the silence between them. Peter shifted, his body still tingling and uncomfortably tight. It had almost seemed as if a lightning bolt had hit him when his fingers first smoothed the ointment over her pale skin, its texture like silk and so warm to touch. His body's reaction had shocked him, the blood starting to pound through his veins as he smoothed the unguent into her wound, his nose inhaling the sweet scent of her hair while his guts wound themselves into a knot. He found himself staring at her profile, at the sweep of her lashes, the swell of her lips the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she held the dress from falling further down her arms. It all combined to leave him in an unbearably aroused state, his fingers almost trembling as he secured the lid on the jar and jammed it back in the pack. Glad to leave her disturbing presence, Peter glanced at her across the fire, his skin blushing so hotly that he scowled ferociously at the fire to curb his embarrassment.

Wendy saw the scowl and sighed inwardly. It appeared their short peace was at an end. Her head was nodding when Peter suddenly moved, startling her.

"I just wanted...I forgot...I cooked a fish...do you want it?"

Peter had seen her flinch and winced inwardly, busying himself wrapping the now cooled fish in a leaf before holding out towards her. After a second, Wendy reached over and took it, careful not to touch him. Casting about for any excuse to remove himself from her vicinity, Peter grabbed the water skin and held it high.

"I'm just going to...er...fill this. Won't be gone long."

Not waiting for a reply, he darted from the campsite and was quickly swallowed up by the dark jungle. Relieved beyond measure, he jogged to the pond and dived in, still holding the goatskin. The water felt heavenly against his hot body, cooling and soothing and abating the confused feeling coursing through his blood. Gazing up he stared at the stars so high above his head, the water lapping under his chin as he floated.

"She's a spy...must remember...she's a spy...she's a spy..." He repeated the mantra as he filled the water skin and climbed out of the pool. Feeling much calmer and in control, Peter walked back to the fire, dropping the skin by Wendy as he sauntered past. She eyed him warily before lifting the skin to her mouth and drinking deeply.

Peter studiously avoided watching her drink, finding himself a stick to poke at the embers until he heard her speak.

"Thank you..."

Still unwilling to submit to the lure of looking at her, Peter only grunted and continued his fire-poking.

The silence stretched until he felt almost ready to scream with the anticipation. Feeling his muscles jump with the tension he was about to leap to his feet when she spoke again.

"What are you going to do with me Peter?"

"Wha...?"

"I mean...I don't know how I came here...or even why I am here. I think something important has happened but I don't know how, or why and I want to know?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Why? Because I left a family back in London who must be frantic about me...we were visiting our new home...I don't know how I've been transported from there...to here...its all so perplexing. On top of that there are the changes."

"Changes?"

"In you...you look so much older...almost grown up...a man." She paused, expecting him to protest that he wasn't a man and would never be one, but he didn't, which further confused her.

She carried on. "And there are changes in me..." She gestured down at herself. "My skirts are too short, my bodice too tight..." Her face took on a rosy hue, Wendy ducking her head to avoid eye contact. "I think I'm older too..but that's impossible...its only been six months since I saw you, and I'm only supposed to be thirteen and a half...but all this..." She gestured to herself again, acutely self-conscious. "suggests that I'm closer to possibly sixteen...maybe even seventeen. I don't know how that's possible..."

"Maybe you lost your memory...like...like I did."

Wendy stared at him. "You lost your memory?"

"Yeah..." He poked at the fire, sending sparks into the air that highlighted the frown between his eyes. "I just woke up one day and found myself stretched out on the beach. I don't know how I came to be there or why, I just...was."

"Oh Peter...then you really don't remember me, or the Boys or Hook..."

"Nope...no idea."

"How long is it since you...woke up?"

"How should I know...days, weeks...months...maybe years..."

Wendy stared thoughtfully into the fire. Drawing her knees up she rested her chin on her folded arms. "I can't believe this is happening."

This time the silence stretched out for a long time, Peter intent on the fire, stirring occasionally to add more fuel, his eyes flicking up to look at his companion before returning to contemplate the flames again. Wendy was similarly occupied, her thoughts chasing each other around in her head like rats, her eyes staring blankly at the fire, unheeding of the silent boy across from her.

Eventually the shock of the day and her ordeal caught up with her and she yawned expansively, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"Oh goodness...pardon me."

Taking that as his cue, Peter rose lithely to his feet and stretched, the muscle and sinews of his arms corded in the firelight.

"I'm for bed, I'll bank the fire so that it burns most of the night. It'll keep any nosy animals away while we sleep."

Wendy wrapped her arms around her knees and turned her head to stare at the small shelter behind them. Peter busied himself collecting more firewood and banking the fire so that it burned brightly, forcing Wendy to scramble to her feet to avoid getting singed.

She stood there for a moment, looking around the glade before she fixed her bright eyes on Peter.

"You said you filled the water skin. Is there a stream nearby? I'd really like to...er...freshen up."

"Oh...um...sure...its a pond, just beyond the tree line."

Wendy stared in the direction he'd pointed and eyed the dark shadows with ill disguised dread. Peter correctly interpreted her look and walked around the fire. After hesitating a moment, he wiped his palm on his now dry trousers and held out a hand to her.

"I'll show you where it is, and stay with you until you've finished..you'll be quite safe."

Surprised at his sudden consideration, Wendy hesitated for a long moment before making her decision and slipping her hand into his. Immediately he folded his warm fingers over hers, tugging her forward.

"Its not far...come on."

The night was not cold, but still Wendy shivered, as much in trepidation than a chill, her hand tinglingly aware of being clasped in his much bigger palm, her eyes straining to pierce the gloom of the trees as Peter led the way to the pond. Suddenly the trees thinned and she could make out the glimmer of moonlight on water. The surface was like a mirror and she could see the stars reflected in it.

"I'll just be...er...over here." Peter explained, letting go of her hand and holding his own up as if to ward her off. "I promise not to peek." So saying he turned his back and melted into the shadows, leaving Wendy to stare after him for a second before dropping to her knees and dipping her hands into the cool water.

After bathing her face and arms, Wendy sat on the bank and dangled her feet in the water. She was horribly confused, one minute Peter was treating her like an enemy, binding her hands and gagging her, the next he was soothing her hurts and holding her hand. It was all too confusing. None of what she'd learnt from him gave a hint as to what had happened to either of them. His story was as garbled as her own. There appeared to be little of the Peter she had known in the young man he had become, apart from his self confidence and bravado. She sighed, kicking up a wave with her toes, the moonlight rippling across the pond until it was smooth again. Again she found herself overtaken by a yawn, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. Her shoulder ached but whatever Peter had put on it had certainly soothed the worst of the pain. Remembering his touch made her cheeks start to heat again and she scooped up some water, patting her skin to cool the hectic flush. A rustle behind her alerted her to his return.

"We should be getting back." He announced. Wendy sighed to herself and rose to her feet, brushing down her skirts before turning to him.

"I'm ready."

"Take my hand..I wouldn't want you to get lost in the dark."

Almost eagerly she slipped her fingers into his, a tingle sensation shooting up her arm at the contact. Silently they padded back to the campsite, the light from the flames flickering through the trees like a welcoming beacon.

"You take the shelter, I'll sleep by the fire..." Peter started to say only to have Wendy interrupt him.

"Oh no...you must sleep in the shelter..I couldn't..."

"You can't sleep outside!" Peter's voice was starting to rise, irritated that she chose to argue with him over such a trivial matter. "You sleep in there...that's the end of it."

"Well really...how rude. I was only..."

She found herself cut off with a chopping motion of his hand. Fuming she pressed her lips together and swung around on her heel, her hair swinging out and swiping Peter across the face before he could lean back out of the way.

He stood, legs apart, fists balled on his hips, watching her as she flounced away, only ducking slightly to enter the lean to, never once looking back. Scowling he flopped to the ground and poked savagely at the fire.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was two hours later that the first drops of rain woke him, their cool droplets rousing him, the fire hissing as it turned the intruders into steam. Gazing with dismay up at the sky, Peter watched the heavy clouds scudding across the moon, totally obscuring it. Cursing under his breath he quickly gathered up the leaf wrapped remains of the fish and his back-pack before heading for the pine hut. At the entrance he hesitated, hearing the even breathing coming from within. A particularly large raindrop splattered across his shoulders and propelled him inwards. Dropping the pack to the floor he stealthily approached the sleeper, barely able to see in the rapidly darkening gloom. Undisturbed by her late night visitor Wendy slumbered on, her back to Peter. Satisfied that she wasn't about to wake up anytime soon, Peter settles himself on the other side of the small shelter, his back tickled by the pine fronds so that he had to inch clear of them to have any peace. This brought him closer to Wendy and he lay tensely listening to her breathing, ready to take flight if she stirred. She didn't, her back remaining turned towards him, her breathing even.

Relaxing, Peter listened to the hiss and spit of the fire as it battled the steady assault of the rain, the patter of drops on the roof above his head soothing him into a doze despite the hard surface of the ground.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wendy shifted on her scented mattress, a stick poking into her leg prompting her to open her eyes and stare at the foliage just inches from her nose. Daylight was starting to filter through the branches, barely penetrating the shelter but casting a pale light into the lean-to. She felt pleasantly relaxed and warm, her shoulder barely twinging when she shifted, the scent of pine enveloping her. Something warm was pressed up against her back and she frowned as she tried to place the sound now intruding on her slowly awakening senses. As realisation set in she went rigid with shock. Someone was laying behind her, breathing deeply and evenly against the back of her neck, the occasional muttered word issuing from the sleeper, unintelligible to Wendy. She tried to draw away from him but was shocked anew to find the weight of his arm pinning her down at the waist, his hand curled against her belly in a shockingly intimate position. Feeling panic start to curl in her throat, Wendy forced herself to breath evenly, fearful of waking the young man behind her. As he neither moved or awakened, Wendy found herself relaxing slightly, her body slumping as she reasoned that he'd tried nothing in the night and was unlikely to try anything now she was awake. As the tension flowed out of her the arm lying so lax about her middle suddenly tightened and she tensed up again, sure that Peter had stirred, but again he did nothing more than murmur in his sleep and remain unaware.

Very slowly she lowered her own hand and tried to lift the arm away from her body but this only provoked its tightening about her again and a grunted protest from the sleeper. Frustrated Wendy could only lay there and bite her lip, mortified to find herself in such a compromising situation. Young as she was, she was not unaware of the complete impropriety of her situation. One just did not allow a young man such liberties, but she was honest enough to allow that very few young women of her limited acquaintance would have had to contend with the situation she found herself in that morning.

Realising that her only choices were to lay back and doze off or rouse the sleeper and risk the awful embarrassment, Wendy chose the former, ignoring the arm and its owner and closing her eyes. Surprisingly she slept and when she awoke again she was alone with no evidence that she'd ever shared her accommodation with anything more than a few spiders. Brushing off her sadly crumpled clothes, Wendy rolled to her feet and bent to leave the hut, her eyes darting to the smouldering fire and wet ground still glistening with moisture from the rain during the night. Of Peter there was no sign, even his pack gone, the goat skin with it.

Thoroughly alarmed Wendy took a step and opened her mouth to call but just as suddenly she bit down hard on her lip and cut off her cry. If he had left her did she really want him to come back? Absently she reached up a hand to smooth her hair, encountering various bits of twiggery stuck in her locks.

"Good grief I must be a sight."

Taking the path they had traversed the previous night, Wendy made her way to the pond, its serene surface soothing her jangled nerves. Leaning down she peered at her reflection, trying to see what changes on her face were visible to complement the obvious ones on her body. Seeing her own face reflected back at her caused her no small comfort but the condition of her normally smooth hair made her sit up hurriedly. Glancing around to make sure she was alone, Wendy darted behind a bush to take care of her personal needs before settling herself on the bank and combing her disheveled crowning glory with her fingers to bring it into some sort of order.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter heard the sound of someone humming a tune and paused before leaving the shadows of the tree. Obviously Wendy had finally woken up and was sitting on the bank of the pond. Why she should be humming so contentedly he couldn't fathom, but he liked the sound and was content to listen. Waking up that morning had been both a shock and a profound pleasure, his nose pressed firmly against the nape of the girls neck, her scent and warmth prompting him to snake out the tip of his tongue and taste her skin, shocking himself at his boldness. Somehow he'd moved from his position across the tent to cuddle up behind her, his arm looped over her waist and curled against her stomach. It both alarmed and excited him, his usual morning reaction made more evident pressed up against the warm body in his arms. He almost made a move to draw her further into his embrace, enjoying the feel of her curves against his own when she murmured in her sleep, Peter instantly freezing. That small sound acted like a douse of cold water, Peter extracting himself with due care and scooting out of the lean to before he accidentally awoke her. Outside the morning was just starting, the sky still showing a few stars but quickly lightening as he stretched the kinks from his arms and back. Scratching idly at his belly, he smacked his lips and wondered what he should do about breakfast. It was too far to go back to the sea and fish, so he'd have to make do with whatever he could rustle up in the immediate area. He'd set a couple of snare traps during one of his trips to get firewood so he decided to check those first after he got the fire going again. The wood was damp and it took all his efforts to coax the flames once more but his skill won out and it was soon burning merrily.

That done he snagged his pack from the shelter, checked his weapons and set out for the snare. Luck was with him and it held a plump rabbit, only recently caught, its body still limp and warm. Well pleased he tucked it into his belt before setting off for the next trap. This was also sprung and he added another rabbit to his collection. Breakfast decided, he hunted briefly and was able to add nuts and fruit to the menu before he headed back to the camp, collecting some firewood on the way.

Entering the small clearing his eyes were drawn to the lean-to, quickly ascertaining that it was empty. Panic lanced through him but he quickly shrugged it off, if the silly girl had run he was damned if he'd miss out on breakfast to chase after her. He'd catch her soon enough and the smell of the rabbits was sure to lure her back if she was just hiding from him.

Smugly self assured he whistled softly as he prepared the conies, building up the fire to cook them. The morning was warming up and he worked quickly, cracking the nuts and nibbling on them as he waited for the rabbits to cook. Feeling restless and wanting to wash both the rabbit and wolf skins, he bundled them up together and tucked them under one arm, setting off for the pond.

As he approached he heard the humming, the tune joining the morning chorus of bird call, rising and falling in a musical cadence that delighted his ears and brought a smile to his face. He listened a little longer, easily picking up the repeating tune, wishing that he had his pipes with him so that he could play it himself. Peering through the branches he could see the girl sitting in a shaft of sunlight, her crumpled skirts settled around her like the petals of a flower, her hands busy combing out her long hair, occasionally finding, and plucking out bits of twig as she worked. Unable to help himself, Peter stared at the domestic scene, Wendy's humming turning into singing as she added words to the tune, softly at first, but soon gaining confidence, her voice sweet and clear.

All too soon Wendy appeared satisfied that she'd disentangled enough of her hair, her hands dropping until she leant forward to dabble them in the pond, her song trailing away.

Peter stepped forward, his mouth open to announce himself when his foot found a dead branch and snapped it loudly. Cursing his clumsiness, Peter saw Wendy twist around her expression frightened.

"Peter? Is that you?" Her voice carried a slight tremor and Peter cursed the branch for breaking the sweet spell.

Out of humor with himself more than her roughened his voice as he answered her curtly. "Who the hell were you expecting?"

Striding into the clearing by the pond he dropped the gory pelts to the grass, perversely pleased to see Wendy blanch as they unrolled, the blood glistening in the sunlight. Rising to her feet to distance herself from the bloody mess, she watched as Peter used his knife to scrape the remaining flesh from the skins, careful not to cut them.

"I didn't hear you.." She noted a flush painting the skin of his neck and a suspicion crept into her thoughts. "Were you watching me?"

Angry at being caught out, Peter kept his eyes on his work. "Why would I bother to do that...you're just a girl. I bet you can't even gut a rabbit or scale a fish...what use are you?"

Hurt by his angry words, Wendy could only gasp her outrage. "Well really, its not necessary to be quite so rude...I only thought...oh blast it, you are quite horrid...and...and...I never want to speak to you again."

Horrified at her undignified outburst, Wendy fled the pond, running all the way back to the camp and throwing herself into the lean-to, her face buried in her arms as she raged at his unkind remarks.

Peter remained at the pond and doggedly continued his task, his lips moving as he worked, muttering to himself about the vagaries of females and why he had to be the one to find her. That he was ashamed at his churlish words he refused to admit but his cheeks burned for some time before he felt composed enough to roll up the pelts and return to the camp.

There he checked on the rabbits, sniffing appreciatively as their flesh cooked, the fat dripping into the flames and making them spit. He could see that Wendy was lying face down in the shelter and he felt a frission of shame for being so unkind to her. Wherever she came from and whatever she could or could not do, she was here now and he felt it his responsibility to care for her. How she had transformed from being his enemy to being his responsibility he didn't care to ponder, but somehow the reasoning had become irrelevant. She was here now and he had a duty to protect and care for her.

Collecting together some of the fruit and nuts and folding them into a leaf, he carried it to the hut and stood outside.

"Wendy?"

"Go away." Her muffled voice carried to him outside and he grimaced.

"I have some breakfast for you...its not much, but the rabbits will be cooked soon...won't you come out and eat with me."

"No...you're...you're a beast."

Sighing gustily, Peter bent down and laid his offering at the opening, pivoting on his heel and leaving it there.

Keeping his back to the shelter he resolutely ignored the sounds of Wendy rising from the bed, or the rustle of her unfolding the leaf package, a faint crunch alerting him to the fact that she was eating the nuts he'd gathered. Smiling to himself, he poked one of the rabbits with his knife and found it done. Careful to make sure that he remained turned away from her, Peter carried the cooked carcass to a flat rock and removed the spit before using his knife to joint it. Using leaves again he placed the pieces on them and carefully placed a portion by the log that Wendy had sat on the previous night. That done he settled himself down and proceeded to consume his breakfast, ignoring any evidence that Wendy was moving to take her seat by the fire and pick up the meat he placed there for her.

Careful to keep an unbearably smug smile off of his face, Peter licked his fingers after tossing the bone away and reached for the goat-skin. Tipping his head back he drank deeply before wiping his mouth, corking the skin and handing it to Wendy. Only then did he allow his eyes to meet hers. It was as if he was drowning, diving into the blue of her eyes until he felt his chest start to hurt because he'd forgotten how to breath.

"W-w-ater...?"

Wendy seemed similarly struck, her fingers still holding the joint of rabbit but her gaze intent of Peter's.

"Pardon?"

"Water...would you like...er...a drink?"

Blinking, Wendy broke the spell and reached out for the skin, their fingers brushing. Peter suddenly remembered to breath and sucked in a lungful of morning air, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Glancing down at his crossed legs he wondered what the hell was the matter with him that a pair of eyes could so entrance him as to forget how to breath.

Wendy was also berating herself internally, in her case for being such a ninny as to make calf-eyes at a boy who was rude, uncouth and a scoundrel to boot.

The rest of the breakfast, such as it was, passed in silence, neither party wanting to make a fool of themselves nor knowing what to talk about.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Wendy broached the question that had remained unanswered the night before.

"What are you going to do with me?"

Peter had been repacking his stuff and paused, glancing up to meet her eyes briefly.

"I don't know yet...are you a spy?"

"No!" Wendy replied hotly.

"Then you're not my prisoner..."

"Oh..."

Peter thrust the last of his belonging into the pack and fastened the catch.

"I guess I'll just have to take you home to where I live and we can decide then what to do with you."

"Your home?" Wendy echoed faintly, her hands clenching in her skirt.

"Well I don't live here, do I." Peter retorted, kicking dirt onto the fire to quench it. Wendy rose to her feet and stood back as he continued to cover the fire pit, scattering the stones to mask their use. She could see that he'd secured her now useless boots to one of the straps of his pack where they swung jauntily as he hoisted it onto his back.

"Um...how long will it take us to get to your...home?"

"A day or two, I guess...depends on the weather and how much you hold us back."

As expected Wendy instantly bristled at his comment, her chin lifting as she prepared to deliver a blistering retort. Well aware of her reaction Peter hooked the bundle of skins in one hand and tossed them to her, making her stagger and fumble the furs and completely distracting her from what she'd been about to say.

"If we make good time, we'll be halfway home by tonight...come on."

Not waiting for her to protest or comment, Peter strode out of the clearing, taking the path to the pond. Wendy cast a last glance around the small campsite and trotted smartly after him. She was not going to be the one to falter and hold him back if she had to crawl to keep up.

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TBC...

(so, watcha think? keep going? interesting? same old, same old? who wrote this rubbish?...you, the viewing public get your say...loud buzzer noise Nagh, sorry...actually you don't, cos' I'll carry on anyway LOL...can't help myself...chants must write, must write...thumps away at keyboard while stuffing mouth with Easter chocolate...hope you enjoyed this Easter Trifle...more to follow...)