Author's Note: At last I'm back with an update! Having written this chapter I really have no idea how I'm going to end this story… I have changed the rating just to be safe – and who knows what will happen in the future.

I want to thank everyone who has reviewed: rolletti, My Divinest, kasmira36, blondie3862, Zeldy, prieto, and Elf Reader.

Now, on with the story, and don't forget to review!

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Chapter Four: Tortured Souls

Wendy slowly made her way through the jungle, a basket balanced on her hip, filled with clothes she would wash in the stream. She glanced up with a bit of unease at the sky; filled with dark looming clouds, it threatened at least rain, if not a storm. It had been dreary and dark and cool for the last three days. As of now, though, no rain had come. This weather easily lowered the moods of the children.

Things were just as unpleasant at the house under the ground. Wendy was paralyzed by Peter. His mood had not lightened at all since the night he had unceremoniously delivered the Indian necklace to her. Indeed, he had only grown more upset, angry, and wild as the days went on. He no longer pretended nothing was amiss. It seemed all happiness had left him. He never laughed or smiled. Now a constant frown darkened his face, and a fire of emotions – none of them happy, obviously – burned in his hazel eyes. He took delight in nothing. He spent longer periods of time flying aimlessly about the island than usual, as the space of the house under the ground was too small for him. He would sometimes miss the evening meal completely. He at times came in long after all the others had gone to bed. Other times he would rise before the others and was gone when they awakened. The boys were immensely unnerved by their father's new, strange moods. They were quick to obey and please him. Even Tinker Bell wisely stayed out of Peter's way – though he took absolutely no notice of her anymore. He and the boys had paid many visits to the Jolly Roger recently. The boys told their mother that never had they seen Peter fight so long and hard with Hook before. Many a time the battle was only between the pirate and the boy, while all the others simply watched in awe.

"You would not believe the rage in father!" Tootles reported.

"Yet it never seems to be really directed toward Hook," Nibs said. "Father is never satisfied when we leave; he is just as tense and upset as before."

"Maybe there is someone he hates more than Hook!" one of the twins wondered.

Wendy was chilled by the thought. Oh, but it was true. Peter hated her. He hardly spoke to her. When he was around her, he seemed to be in pain almost; sometimes he would gaze at her with loathing or hurt, but he always turned away from her. Wendy learned quickly not to wear her necklace in his presence, nor dare ask how he had gotten it or from whom. The first and only time she had done so, he had gazed at her, his face darkening, and great shudders rocked his body. He had dropped his eyes to the necklace resting round her neck, and she had feared he would explode with bottled-up rage. His hand had missed the hilt of his dagger; Wendy had not known what he would have done if his reach had not missed, but she had been thankful. A small screech had escaped his lips, and then he had bolted out of the house.

Poor Wendy was completely at her wit's end. She had obviously done something very wicked to deserve such treatment from Peter. But she had no clue as to what. She could get nothing out of Peter, who kept his mouth shut as tight as a clam when she tried to question him. She seemed no longer able to please him. Even when she humored him and in turn ignored him, the boy settled in a worse mood. There was no hope of reconciliation as had been the day this all started.

With a long sigh, Wendy cleared her head with a shake and set down her basket by the stream's edge. Rolling up her sleeves, she began her task. Only a few minutes passed when Running Deer found her bent over her work. He remained concealed behind a tree on the other side of the water. He watched her in secret for a long while. He thought she seemed tired. Her hair was unkempt, and her face was slightly pale, her eyes troubled.

Running Deer had seen quite a bit Wendy since their first meeting, and they had quickly become friends. He heard about the troubles regarding Peter and dried the many tears she shed as she wondered what she had done. Running Deer never voiced his own opinions regarding her friend but, instead, comforted her as best he could, reassuring her she could always come to him if she needed a friend. Wendy had thanked him generously.

Now, as he watched the girl, Running Deer could not hold back a pang of anger towards Peter Pan, who caused Wendy such trouble and tears. How could anyone cause that sweet, innocent child grief and suffering? How dare he! She deserved to be merry and full of sunshine, to laugh and dance and smile. Surely this Peter Pan did not deserve to be called a friend of Wendy's.

Finally, the Indian boy came out of hiding. As he drew closer, Wendy lifted her head from her work, and, spotting him, a beautiful smile broke across her face, the tiredness and sadness disappearing momentarily. The boy was amazed by this transformation, and he willed his heart to stop racing as he returned her smile and greeted her.

Neither Running Deer nor Wendy was aware of the pair of eyes spying on them with intent interest. The eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously at observing the girl's reaction to seeing the boy, and then quickly vanished.

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Wendy jumped in surprise when she left her tree and encountered Peter's furious gaze as he stood across the room with his fists positioned on his hips. She swallowed hard, not knowing what to expect. At first she stood where she was, holding the basketful of cleaned laundry, and simply gazed silently back at him. When the unbroken silence had lasted for many long minutes, Wendy finally ventured to set the basket down by her rocker. Calmly, slowly, she put away all the newly-washed clothes. All the while she was aware of Peter's steady burning gaze on her. She was caught off guard when the shirt she was folding was ripped from her grasp. She was unable to hold back a moan as it landed on the dirt floor. When she turned to Peter, she forgot all about the discarded shirt.

Peter stood very, very close to her, his eyes fixed on her neck. Wendy's eyes widened. She realized her mistake too late. Her hands were quicker than Peter's, and in a second had removed the necklace and held it behind her back. She gazed with a bit of fear at Peter. She was met with coldness as he seemed to look right through her, searching, frown deepening at whatever he found.

"Peter," she said in a threadbare whisper.

He jolted as though burned. "Don't," he practically growled through his teeth, ice melted by fire. "Just don't."

An unexpected wave of courage came to Wendy, and she touched his shoulder. He jerked away.

"Don't touch me!"

"Why?" Wendy demanded, taking a step forward. "What have I done?"

Peter only pressed his lips into a firm line and looked away.

"What's wrong, Peter?" Wendy persisted.

The boy only flinched at hearing his name falling from her mouth; he cramped his eyes shut, a strange expression sweeping across his face. He then turned away. Wendy mutely watched the distance widen between them.

"You must really hate me, Peter!" she suddenly burst out in a half-angry, half-sad voice.

Peter halted abruptly, his back straight and stiff. He eyes stared at the wall in shock.

Wendy nearly regretted her words, but what was done was done. "The boys no longer know how to react around you. You are pleased with nothing I do. You hardly speak to me. I have done nothing –"

Peter rounded on her sharply. "Nothing!" he yelled, advancing on her. "Nothing! You have done…something! I am youth, freedom, joy. But ever since you did… Never did I know true hatred before. There are enemies worse than Hook. What are those things which I never knew before? I shouldn't have them. And it's because of you! What have you done to me?!" He glared at her.

Wendy matched his glare with her own. "I am sorry!" she said.

A dead silence fell. Peter's glare turned to confusion.

"I am sorry," Wendy repeated, quieter this time. "I am sorry for whatever I have done that caused you to be so…different, upset, cold, and angry! I promise I won't do it again. You don't have to be upset over these things you dislike. We can be friends again. Everything can be just like it was."

Wendy was unable to hide her unease as she watched Peter take a menacing step toward her. Never had she seen him so angry.

"Everything can be just like it was?" he said in a dangerous voice. "Oh, of course, nothing will be just as it was! You will not go back!" he accused her.

"I do wish you would explain yourself!" she retorted. She wiped her eyes across her sleeve. She would not cry in front of Peter.

"And then you will tell a story and make it all better," he jeered.

Wendy lost her temper. "You expect us to know your every wish and fulfill it. Yet you are never satisfied with us. You don't deserve any of it! I don't know why I've wasted crying and worrying over you. You, you brat! Spoiled little brat! I hate you!"

She had reached her limit and raised her hand to give him a hard slap. But before she could hear the sound of her hand meeting his cheek, Peter grabbed two handfuls of her long hair, and she yelped in pain.

"I hate myself!" he breathed.

Perhaps it was Wendy's cutting words that pushed him over the edge, or the frustration that she had no idea what pain she caused him. Perhaps it was the mixture of anger, hurt, and fierce jealousy overwhelming him, or a new, unfamiliar, overpowering instinct which he obeyed without thought. Or maybe seeing Wendy smile at Running Deer earlier was the last straw. Whatever it was, Peter roughly brought Wendy's head toward him as he moved forward, causing their mouths to meet in a hard kiss.

Wendy was only aware of fire surrounding her. She never knew if she remained frozen to receive Peter's heated kiss, if she fought him, or if she responded. She only knew cold surrounded her when Peter pulled away – was it a second or an eternity later since their lips had come together? When she opened her eyes Peter was gone. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor.

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TBC…