Pan
DISCALIMER: I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either! I would also like to say that I am sorry if I offend any Micronesian people by spelling Wendy with only one 'd' I have been informed that this can be taken as an offensive word.
SUMMARY: After she left, Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him: the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)
Chapter 8.
"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who no longer pauses to wonder and stand in rapt awe, is as good as dead." - Albert Einstein
The tree house was dark as Pan stood in front of its entrance. He entered through a hollow trunk only he knew about, not noticing how the old wood pressed more forcefully against his adult form.
The form he swore he would never take.
The long table was exactly where it always had been, the swords where they had always stood, his chair located in exactly the same space as it had been last time he had sat on it.
He looked at the bunk, now covered in thick dust, where he had lain as another Hook had poisoned his 'medicine.' He walked across the room and a puff of dirt whirled into the air, exposing a worn carpet and Pan experienced a sudden déjà-vu of two identical boys crashing into each other as they slid down tree trunks into their home.
Sitting on the throne, a ghost of small hands fluttered over his arms, high voices echoed in the small room, a room which was smaller than he remembered.
'Peter…'
'Father…'
Shaking himself out of his strange reminiscence, Pan strolled past his memories and the paraphernalia of a distant past he was returning to. Lightly picking up a tall, silk top hat, the stitching worn yet proudly sported; he idly set it at a jaunty angle on his head. 'John's hat.'
Pan felt younger and at once terribly old, seeing the place he thought he would never leave, the prized possessions of those he thought he would always be with, the home which he had felt more proud of than any small boy ever felt. Trailing a finger in the dust Pan saw a reflection of himself in one of the swords, surprisingly still perfect metallic silver. He looked younger, more a jaded adolescent than pirate captain. A ridiculous hat, elaborate clothes, blue eyes and lighter hair meant he seemed like a boy playing dressing up. Acting a part; with no co-stars.
A gleam of sunlight shone through a hole in the roof, illuminating the splendours of the underground hideaway and safe house of Peter Pan.
A shadow grew on the wall, a shadow which had lain still and obedient for so long. Cautiously it waved a hand, then two and finally it threw both arms above its head and soared to the ceiling. Pan yelped in surprise and then glared at his shadow,
"Come here you!"
Pan rushed about the room, knocking thing from shelves, crashing into branches, laughing.
Flying.
When first noticing that no part of his body was any longer attached to the ground Pan was trying to keep a hold of his shadow's rapidly stretching wrist, and rather than fall in surprise he laughed with delight. Soaring upwards until he had his shadow in a tight ball in his fist. Sliding the struggling being into his pocket he carried on flying.
He knew just the person to reattach such a thing.
Pan followed a path seemingly held in the memories of his very bones, gliding seamlessly in a direction he had not followed since a different persona had been constructed around the ruins of his soul.
Finally stopping in front of a small London townhouse, Pan alighted on the roof, walking lightly down until he perched just above the top of the window to the nursery.
Cautiously Peter lowered his head so he could peer into the dark room. He felt surprised that there was no longer 3 beds and that many of the childish toys had been replaced with a table and a large mirror.
Clutching his 'kiss' Pan warily stood on the air before the window and despite his ability to walk into a room at once familiar and changed he awkwardly waited.
A figure shifted on the bed and sat up, her eyes widening to stunned alertness as she saw the figure by the window. Peter hurriedly removed John's hat and smoothed his hair.
"Peter?" The voice was soft, unbelieving, terrified. Pan's heart ached.
"Wendy." Pan whispered.
A pale, thin hand threw the window open and slowly Pan entered until he stood opposite the girl he had tried to forget, the girl he had tried to hate and in that moment he realised the girl he probably loved.
She looked questioningly at him, her face a thing of beauty. "Wendy," he repeated and then held a dark struggling ball out to her, "My shadow escaped again."
A/N: I know, I know. I'm sorry it took me over a month to get this out. But I was on holiday for three weeks and then my mum was ill so...if it makes you feel better I stayed up late last night finishing this. Anyway, only one more chapter to go. (I think!)
Please, you know, REVIEW! (You're running out of time to do so and I have a hit counter now so I KNOW people aren't!)
