Title: To Have and To Hold
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: Five - Getting Acquainted.
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Mr.Arnold Bennett Senior knocked smartly at the door of number 23, his hat jammed onto his head to prevent it flying away with the force of the gale whipping along the street. The door opened a crack and he perceived the wan face of a maid.
"So sorry to intrude, but I wonder if I may speak to the lady of the house?"
"Missus is not accepting visitors at this time, Sir." Amy told him, sniffing.
"Then could I speak to Miss Wendy Darling?"
At the mention of that name the maid burst in to noise sobs and threw her apron over her face. Pushing the door wide, Mr.Bennett stepped past Amy and across the threshold, into the front entrance. Doffing his hat and coat upon the elaborately carved stand placed in the hallway for that purpose, he surveyed the choice of doors available for a moment before marching purposefully through the one on his right.
On opening the door he paused on the threshold and beheld Wendy's Aunt sitting beside a desultory fire, a scrap of lace held to her face to stem the constant flow of tears.
"Dear lady, I am here to assist in any way I can."
Hearing his voice, Millicent jumped and twisted around in her chair.
"Oh Mister Bennett...I'm so sorry, Amy should have announced you..." She waved her hands in a vague motion. "We're all at sixes and sevens today, it's so upsetting."
Sitting himself down opposite the distraught figure, Arnold Bennett waited for Wendy's Aunt to gain control of herself. Judging the lady to be more calm, Arnold spoke again.
"Am I to understand something has happened to the dear girl?"
"I fear something dreadful...oh my heart."
"Let me ring for tea, then you can fill me in on all the details."
Rising to his feet, the spry gentleman pulled the bell cord and waited for Amy to appear. After ordering tea, he once more sat beside the fire.
"A reviving cup of tea will set you up...just the ticket."
When the trolley arrived he poured and watched Millicent drink half her cup before continuing.
It was a measure of how distraught Millicent was that she didn't question how Mr.Bennett appeared unsurprised by Wendy's disappearance. She was only glad that he was there to lend support and sympathy.
"Now tell me what you know, dear lady."
Thus coaxed, Millicent told him what she knew. Added to the girls disappearance was evidence that someone had broken in, Wendy's bedroom quite ransacked although Millicent had not been able to determine if anything had been taken, other than the girl herself. When consulted, the maid confirmed that, apart from a night gown, all Wendy's clothes and belonging seemed to be exactly where they should be, albeit cast about by the intruder.
Arnold listened to the tale and sipped his tea, a speculative look in his eye as he made his own conclusions from the evidence.
"...and the police are looking for her now, but they don't seem to hold out much hope. They think she might have run away, but I explained there was no reason for her to do so...and only in her nightgown? Whoever heard of such a thing!"
"Rest assured, dear lady, that I think it very remote that Wendy has run away, as the police suppose."
"Oh I do agree...but what has happened to her, and who broke into her room?...Oh I fear something terrible has become of my dearest niece."
"Have her parents been apprised of the situation?"
"I've sent a letter to Brighton. They're visiting relatives there, and the police needed to contact them as well, in case Wendy gets in touch with them somehow."
"I see that you have done all that can be done...here. I will leave you now and call back in a few days to see if there is any news."
"Oh dear...my poor Wendy...what awful things must she be going through?" Millicent buried her face once more in her scrap of lace.
Saying his goodbyes, Mr.Bennett gathered up his hat and coat and quickly left the house, the wind snatching at his hat as he ran down the steps and into the street.
For a relatively elderly man, Arnold Bennett moved with the grace and speed of a much younger person, reaching his bookshop in record time. After entering the shop and locking the door behind him, he moved towards the back of the shop, shedding his overcoat and hat quite carelessly as he went. At the rear of the room it was quite dark, no light from the street penetrating the gloom. With unerring accuracy his fingers found a section of the wall and pushed, a panel sliding aside to reveal a wall safe. Deftly turning the combination lock and twisting a key, he opened the safe and pulled out a number of articles hidden within. Still in the dark, he carried the items to a map table before searching out a lamp and lighting it. The glow shone on a strange assortment of articles including a sword, spyglass and a gold chain.
Lifting the chain in his fingers Arnold held the medallion towards the lamp to inspect the coin twirling on the end.
It was the same as the one on the cover of the book.
Slipping it over his head he then buckled on the sword belt over his navy blue second best suit. A leather pouch was the next item to be tucked away upon his person, its contents not inspected but secreted into an inner pocket for safe keeping. The spyglass disappeared into another pocket before he considered himself ready, then he shut the safe and locked it again before carrying the lamp towards the front of the shop where he found some paper and wrote a note to his brother. That done he left it in plain view on the counter and then found another piece of paper to fix to the glass on the front door as explanation for why the shop was to be shut for a number of days.
His tasks completed he picked up the lamp and returned to the back of the shop, picking up his discarded outer garments and approaching a large wardrobe situated at the end of a bookshelf. There he hung up his much abused coat and hat and took out two other garments, also a hat and coat, but of a quite different tailoring to the first two.
The coat was elaborately embroidered and fashioned from a time long gone, the hat the same colour as the coat with a richly edged brim and flowing ostrich feather bobbing jauntily from the crown. Shrugging himself into the coat, he then placed the hat almost reverently on his grey head. Peering into a small mirror set in the door of the wardrobe, he winked at his image.
"Captain Aramis of the Nymph, at your service sir."
Adjusting the tricorn at a jaunty angle, Captain Aramis, previously known as Arnold Bennett, book shop proprietor and collector, pulled the gold medallion from around his neck and held in his hand. With the other he reached inside his coat and into the leather pouch, withdrawing a finger full of powder.
"Should only take a snippet of the stuff...now what was that incantation again?...Ah yes, I remember."
Cradling the medallion in his hand he sprinkled the glittering powder over the surface, his lips moving as he recited the fairy spell under his breath.
The medallion started to glow, the light eclipsing the feeble flame of the lamp which Arnold, now Captain Aramis hastily doused before the medallion whisked him away. The light grew quickly then winked, just as suddenly, out of existence taking the man with it and leaving the shop once more cloaked in shadows and the unmistakable smell of books.
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The smell of something delicious greeted Peter when he opened his eyes. He'd been lying for some time playing possum, his side aching abominably after Harry's less than gentle ministrations. Thankfully he'd remained oblivious while the Doctor plied his needle after removing the lead shot in his side, only waking when Harry pulled him about to wrap linen bandages about his middle.
Now he lay blinking slowly up at the vision sitting beside his bed, a bowl of something tasty sending up curls of steam from its place on the tray in her hands.
"I've brought you something to eat...if you're feeling up to it?"
Shutting his eyes again he made to move himself further up the bed and had to stifle a groan as his side protested loudly. He heard her put the tray down beside the bed, then felt her small hands try to lift him, her touch on his bare skin sending prickles of sensation skittering over his flesh. Opening his eyes he found himself very close to the object of his dreams, her eyes meeting his as she leant over the bed to assist him.
"I'm sorry did I hurt you?" Her lips parted to form the words and he was sure he'd heard them, but all he really wanted to do was reach up and taste them, to find out if her lips were as sweet as they looked.
For a long moment they did nothing but stare at each other, Peter finding out that there were tiny flecks of gold in her eyes and a smattering of pale freckles across her nose. Suddenly warm colour started to stain her pale skin and she pulled away, lowering her lashes to hide her reaction to him.
"I'm afraid I can't seem to move you."
Licking his lips, Peter swallowed hard, tamping down his bodies reaction to her closeness.
"Er...I wouldn't say that," he muttered as he struggled to lift himself higher on the pillows, his face twisting with pain from the effort.
The sheets and blanket that had covered him from the chest down slipped further and he had to grab at them to avoid being laid bare, Wendy's face coloring further as she made a move to help him but stopped, suddenly unsure of herself around him.
Exhausted even by that small effort, Peter lay back on the pillow and panted, his fingers going to the wad of bandages covering his wound.
"Does it hurt so much?" Wendy asked, seating herself once more beside the bed and reaching for the tray.
"It hurt worse before...Harry is a great Doctor, but a terrible nurse." He grinned, wincing when even that small movement caused a twinge.
"The men are all busy up top," Wendy flicked her eyes up to the ceiling of the cabin, the sound of feet on the planks clearly audible above the creaking of the ship and the slap of water against her hull.
"Are we still being pursued?"
"Yes...it's Hook isn't it."
"Wendy...I..." He started, but Wendy spoke at the same time and his words tailed into silence.
"Why did you hide your face from me? You're not injured, or scarred or lost an eye, like some men. Why did you wear the mask?"
"I didn't know...wasn't sure..." He stammered, finding her intent gaze uncomfortable.
"Didn't know what? Didn't know if I would recognize you? I know it's been six years and we've both grown up a lot since we last met...but surely you didn't think I'd forgotten you...Peter."
Dropping his eyes to the covers, he fidgeted with them, suddenly not at all sure of what to say. Wendy apparently didn't seem to have that problem.
"And why not tell me who you were? Even if you didn't recognize me after all these years...my name would have surely jogged your memory"
She looked down at her hands. "Maybe you had forgotten me...maybe there have been so many that I was just not memorable enough."
"NO!...No...I just...I couldn't assume." He stopped, finding it difficult to articulate with her wide blue eyes fixed on his face. He drew in a breath and started again. "A lot has happened since you were last in Neverland...to me, to the island...to everything." He plucked at the sheet and stared intently at the stitching. "I didn't tell you who I was...I disguised myself because..." He grimaced again.
"Because why?" Wendy coaxed, her hand tentatively reaching for his.
"Because I was afraid." Peter whispered, colour stealing over his face.
He peeped up through his lashes to steal a glance at Wendy's face. She looked a little stunned, as if the possibility of Peter Pan being afraid had simply never crossed her mind. He saw her brows draw together as she puzzled over his answer.
"You were afraid...of me?" She stared blankly at him, trying to understand and failing miserably.
"Not of you exactly...I thought...it had been so long...and I.." He gestured down at himself, at the changes wrought by the six years. "You carried on with your life...as if nothing happened. It was as if you'd never been anywhere, or done anything...or met anyone." He struggled to find the words. Wendy continued to gaze at him with bewilderment.
"You forgot about me!" He finally spat out what had been eating at him.
Wendy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. He saw the split second when her confusion turned to anger.
"I forgot about you? What about you forgetting about me? What happened to coming back for spring cleaning? What happened to coming back and listening to more stories?" Her voice had risen until she was shouting, her eyes darting sparks at him.
"I did!" Peter shouted back, gritting his teeth at the flare of pain that spiked his side. "The book would have told you that!"
"The book? And that's another thing...who said you could drag me away from my life and dump me in the middle of nowhere? That blasted book, I suppose that was your funny idea of having your own way!"
"What's that supposed to mean? I don't control the book...if anything, it controls us...me...Neverland."
"I want to go home...now!"
Peter stared up at Wendy and marveled how her eyes had became brilliant sapphires, her cheeks flushed with colour, her chest heaving in her indignation, a sight to inflame any red-blooded male. As quickly as his anger had flared it died, his scowl lifting with his lips, a twinkle making his own eyes sparkle as he smiled smugly at her enraged expression.
"Anyone ever tell you you're beautiful when you're cross."
Like a pricked balloon, Wendy's face fell in surprise, her anger replaced by bafflement. Peter watched as a range of emotions crossed her face, her fight to prevent her lips from curling into an answering smile apparent as he relaxed against the pillows and put an arm behind his head with nonchalant ease.
Finding herself at a loss as to what to say, Wendy decided to give in to the overwhelming urge to smile, her lashes sweeping down to hide her eyes, still not willing to surrender entirely.
"You are impossible...incorrigible...and you still haven't answered any of my questions, not really." She finally muttered, sitting herself back on the stool beside the bed and lifting the tray of broth onto her lap in readiness to feed him.
"I'm sorry you weren't given a choice...if it's any consolation..neither was I, to grow up that is." Peter murmured.
He watched Wendy fiddle with the spoon, stirring the bowl of rapidly cooling food as if her life depended on it.
"I don't mind," she flicked her eyes up to look at him briefly. "I never really forgot about you...or Neverland...not entirely."
"I know...that's why," Peter bit his lip, "that's why the book picked you."
"Picked me?" Wendy looked up at him, the spoon stilled for the moment.
"Yeah...the book chose the person with the strongest connection to Neverland, the one person, in your world, who had the strongest memories of me."
"I don't understand...I was brought here because I remembered you?"
"Kinda," He suddenly found a crease in the bed covers very interesting.
"But that's not the only reason...is it?"
"No."
"Peter?"
He looked up and sucked in a breath, wincing when the movement tweaked his side. "I wanted you here."
Hot colour suddenly flooded his face and he looked away, looked down, anywhere but at the girl sitting beside his bed.
"Peter...why did you want me here?" The tray had been put back on the side table and Wendy was leaning forward, her hand resting on the covers, scant inches from his own hand. He'd only have to move it a fraction to touch her, his fingers already itching to cover her slender digits and enclose her hand within his own.
"I-I...er...I..." He stammered. Wendy was very close and Peter looked up, drowning in her eyes as she closed the distance between them, pulled by the invisible thread that had been forged between them so many years ago and never really broken.
Wendy turned her head so that she had her mouth close to his ear.
"Peter...I think I'd like to give you a...thimble." Wendy's whisper wafted over his cheek and neck sending goose bumps springing up all over his body, his eyes closing briefly as he listened to the thunder of his heart.
Licking his lips, Peter waited for her to pull back slightly, his breathing becoming quite irregular.
"I'd like that." He croaked, watching the pulse just visible at the base of her neck beating rapidly under her white skin.
He saw Wendy's lips tilt at the corner, his own doing the same as they traded shy smiles. Ever so slowly Wendy lowered her head until they were almost nose to nose. The world seemed to shrink down to just that moment, all sound and motion stilled as the distance between them closed to nothing.
"And how is my patient this morning?" The Doctor's hearty voice splintered the moment into pieces, Wendy pulling away and turning her back to the door to hide the flood of colour in her cheeks.
Peter groaned inwardly and lifted a shaking hand to cover his eyes, frustration evident in every line of his taught body.
"Your timing, as always Harry, is...inevitable." Peter said, lowering his hand and grinning ruefully at his friend who stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, eyebrows raised.
"I'll visit later," he heard Wendy whisper before she whisked herself out of the room, muttering a good morning to Harry before disappearing from his sight.
Harry pushed himself off and came to sit on the edge of the bunk, surveying Peter's heightened colour with an amused smirk.
"Pretty piece...taken?"
Peter felt himself tense. "Yes."
"I see...no need to look daggers at me, I just made an observation." Harry wiped the smile from his face and adopted the expression he reserved for recalcitrant patients who didn't follow his instructions. "Did you sleep well?"
"I've slept worse." Peter replied as Harry pulled back the bed covers to inspect the bandages, poking and prodding and watching Peter's face.
"How's it feeling?"
"Fine until you poked it." Peter hissed, turning onto his side when Harry indicated for him to do so. "And you interrupted my breakfast."
"Oh, was that what I was interrupting," Harry prodded around Peter's side to gauge the extent of the bruising, his patient moaning softly when he hit a sore spot. Satisfied, he eased Peter onto his back and inspected the bruise that discolored his forehead, brushing back his Captain hair to prod at the skin.
"If you weren't such a good Doctor I'd have you flogged for walking in on me like that."
"Tsk...you'll have plenty of opportunities to play the wounded hero."
"Not if I don't get any privacy," Peter muttered, ignoring Harry's scornful snort.
"Well it didn't look as if you're going to have any problems in that quarter at least. All you have to worry about now is making sure you can keep her." Harry leant over the bed and picked up the bowl of broth.
Taking the bowl from Harry, Peter started to spoon the now cold meal into his mouth, grimacing at its lack of heat.
"Is Hook still shadowing us?"
"The Jolly Roger has sat off our port beam, just out of cannon range, since yesterday. How are you planning on losing him?"
"I was thinking Cannibal Creek..."
"Ah...the passage through The Sisters and duck over the bar at high tide?"
"Yup."
"With the Nymph so much faster and higher in the water, he'd be a fool to try and follow you over the bar and through the shallows."
"That's what I'm hoping...give Stubbs his orders and bring me the map of that area."
"Aye, aye Captain." Harry performed a sloppy salute and waggled his eyebrows making Peter laugh, which also made him grimace as his side protested at the shaking.
"Ah, wretch...don't make me laugh, it hurts like the devil."
"Then don't put yourself in the way of pistol shots. Want me to send your pretty nurse in to see you again?"
"Her name's Wendy, Harry...and keep your roguish intentions to yourself."
Harry held up his hands and got to his feet. "I know better than to cross swords with you Peter...now get some rest, and don't even think about getting up today."
"We'll see." Peter replied, tipping the bowl up and drinking the dregs.
He waited for Harry to leave, replacing the now empty bowl on the tray, before throwing back the covers off his legs and attempting to get up.
His face was screwed up in a rictus of pain, his teeth bared as his hand clamped against the bandages as if to push the agony back into his body. He managed to get himself partially upright, his bare feet touching the floor boards, before black spots started to swim in his vision and he passed out, slumping slowly to the floor in an ignominious heap.
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Tomas crouched on the broad branch of a tree and stared down at the man standing in the clearing. His black brows drew together in a scowl as he watched the man pat his richly decorated coat and adjust the sword hanging by his side. Apparently satisfied, the grey haired man then cast a brief look about the glade before choosing a direction and setting off at a brisk walk, the ostrich plume in his hat bobbing jauntily, his pace quickly taking him out of sight.
Jumping off the branch, Tomas performed a graceful somersault before landing in a crouch on the soft earth below.
After months of barely seeing a grup, let alone capturing or ransoming one, the woods seemed to be sprouting them all over the place like mushrooms.
Rising to his feet he stared after the intruder, sticking his tongue out and blowing a rude raspberry before turning his back and strutting along the path in the opposite direction.
He'd been cross with Fetter for being late, but had listened as eagerly as the rest when Fetter told of his adventure after following the lady grup into the forest. There hadn't been any pirates in the woods for months and Tomas frequently boasted that it was fear of him that kept the grups on their ships and out of Neverland. The others had nodded and Berry had kissed him and told him he was the best protector and Pan that Neverland had ever seen.
Now in the space of a day they had found the lady grup, had the woods full of pirate grups, then today an older grup had appeared in the glade.
Tossing his dagger into the air and catching it, Tomas decided that maybe it would be a good idea to post lookout's again if the grups were planning on invading his woods.
Satisfied with his decision, Tomas threw his dagger into the air then flew up to catch it, performing a series of acrobatic maneuvers in the air before touching down again and continuing on foot to his tree home.
He wondered what Berry was cooking for their tea.
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Wendy leant on the rail and tilted her head towards the sun, her eyes closed as the warm soaked into her skin. It felt wonderful to be on a ship again, her brief sojourn all those years ago had only whetted her appetite for sailing, her opportunities to indulge her desire, since her first trip to Neverland, nonexistent in her world.
Now she was back and standing on the deck of an elegant pirate ship, the sails above her head straining to their fullest to pull the hull faster through the waves. Turning her head she tried to spot the ship following, her eyes barely able to discern the dark smudge on the horizon that marked its position. They were running before the wind and hugging the coastline, a series of tall pinnacles of rock up ahead apparently their destination. A sailor had told her in passing that the columns of wind sculptured sandstone were called The Sisters, a ship needing a steady hand to wend her way through the deep channels between them. The line of pinnacles stretched far out into the sea, varying in height and thickness and state of erosion. She had been told that it would add hours to try and sail around them, so the Captain had decided to take the route through them in an effort to throw off the Jolly Roger.
Watching the strangely shaped rock come closer, Wendy let her thoughts take her back to her conversation with Peter.
After her initial shock of seeing him without the black mask, she had puzzled over why he thought it necessary to hide his identity from her. Time had certainly wrought a wealth of changes to both of their faces and forms, Peter's changes quite the most dramatic as the boy had grown into a most attractive man. As a girl she had been entranced with not only his appearance, dashing as that had been, but with his sheer spirit of bravado and natural charm, her girlish heart quite lost to the boyish buccaneer. Now to meet him as a woman, she felt as if someone had pulled a very large rug from under her feet, her feelings veering from wanting to pummel him senseless for being such an arrogant idiot, to having an overwhelming urge to brush that persistent curl of hair off his forehead before kissing him until her toes curled.
A shouted order pulled her from her musings, the crew swarming up the rigging to reef the sails, reducing their speed by half as the Sister's dominated the skyline, looming over the waves, some of the columns several hundred feet high with seabird wheeling in huge flocks around the tops.
A sailor seeing her look of apprehension sidled over.
"No need to worry miss, not the first time the Nymph has threaded the needle, so to speak."
"Oh...well that's a comfort."
"Of course, one never knows when one of these beauties will decided to collapse, so there's always the possibility of being buried under a ton of rock."
Wendy paled, the sailor quite aware that his audience was not thrilled with his observations. He carried on regardless.
"Saw one collapse once...spectacular it was...only just missed getting flattened we did," he shuddered for effect, flashing Wendy a gap toothed grin before dropping a sly wink and moving off.
"Oh dear." Feeling her heart start to pound, Wendy stared up at the Sisters and felt faint. Against the massive rock shafts, the Nymph seemed to shrink in size, appearing like a toy beside the cliffs of sandstone, the waves relentlessly pounding the base in an effort to topple the giants.
As the ship prepared to enter the channel, Wendy found another sailor at her elbow.
"Could you come below miss."
"Is something the matter?" She asked, her eyes drawn once more to the towering Sisters.
"It's the Captain..." The sailor started to explain but he was talking to the fresh air, Wendy already hurrying across the deck and through the hatchway.
Pattering along the companionway, Wendy burst through the cabin door in time to see the Doctor attempting to heave Peter back on to his bed, the young man still unconscious.
"What happened?" Wendy asked, pulling back the covers to make it easier.
"Grab his feet, if you will...damn idiot tried to get out of bed, I'm guessing, and after I specifically told him not to."
Moving around the end of the bunk, Wendy bent down and hefted Peter's legs while the Doctor clasped him from behind, between them managing to hoist Peter's relaxed body back onto the mattress.
"Good girl...now roll him onto his side and we'll see what damage he's done to himself...rash fool!"
So focused on following the Doctor's instructions it was a considerable shock when Wendy suddenly realised that she was handling a very naked Peter Pan, her eyes traveling down the long planes of his deeply tanned back and shoulders to the paler swell of his bare buttocks, the Doctor positioning Peter on his uninjured side to inspect the bandages.
"Go around the other side, there's a good girl, and hold him steady." Harry told her, giving her a little shove as she appeared frozen to the floorboards. Wendy moved as instructed but that only placed her with a clear view of the very naked front of Peter Pan, the bandages at his side spotted with red. The sight of the blood shocked her into moving again, Wendy dropping to her knees beside the head of the bed to brace Peter's shoulders as the Doctor started to cut away the wrappings to expose the wound.
Keeping her eyes firmly on Peter's face, Wendy smoothed the hair from his forehead and darted glances at the Doctors expression to judge from his reactions how badly Peter had injured himself with his impulsive behavior.
"Dammit he's pulled out one of my stitches!" Harry exclaimed after pulling away the pad protecting the wound, Wendy sucking in a breath when her eyes encountered the bruising around the area, blood seeping from the hole made by the pistol ball.
"I'll tie the blasted fool to the bed if he won't stay put." Harry muttered, using the bandages to mop up the blood before placing his medical bag on the bed and rummaging inside. Wendy returned her gaze to Peter's face, noting its pallor and the beads of sweat beading his skin.
"Is there anything you want me to do?"
"Just do what you're doing...keep the young fool still while I reset this stitch, if he wakes there'll be the devil to pay, so hold him fast and don't be surprised if he screams."
Swallowing hard, Wendy nodded her understanding and turned her back on what the Doctor was doing. She had never thought of herself as squeamish, but then she had never been around a hospital before or seen anyone operated on. She could see the pulse in Peter's neck beating fast and she thought she saw his eyelids flicker.
"I think he's waking up!"
"Damn...a moment longer...keep him as still as you can."
Wendy stared down at Peter's bloodless face and instinctively cupped her hand against his cheek, smoothing the skin and brushing the hair back over his ear with her thumb. She felt the moment he regained consciousness, the muscles in his neck cording as pain ripped through him.
"Please Peter...don't move...the Doctor is having to stitch you up again...oh why did you try and get out of bed?"
She saw his eyes open, the lashes so thick as they swept up. "W-W-en-dy?"
"I'm here... don't move Peter...it will all be over soon, but don't move."
"Aaaah it hurts..." Peter groaned, his lips peeling back from his teeth as he grimaced in pain, Wendy feeling that pain herself as she tried to ease it, stroking his face and laying her cheek against his.
"Take this as a salutary reminder to follow your physicians orders in future!" Harry's acerbic tone belied his gently touch as he refashioned the bandages around Peter's side.
Peter's hand had come up and was clutching at the sleeve of Wendy's blouse, the knuckles turning white each time Harry jolted him, the other hand lay lax, outstretched beyond the mattress. Wendy threaded her fingers through it and squeezed in sympathy as she glanced over her shoulder to see how the Doctor was progressing.
"Not long now Peter...he's almost finished."
Peter was panting slightly, his eyes open but staring off into the distance as he tried to ride out the discomfort. He squeezed her hand to let her know he appreciated her being there and Wendy smiled down at him.
"Right...all done." Harry announced, snapping his bag closed and twitching the covers back over Peter's exposed body. "I'll leave something to help dull the pain...I'm sure your young lady will prove a most acceptable nurse."
Wendy glanced up and blushed when Harry winked at her before easing himself out of the doorway.
Releasing his death grip on her sleeve, Peter rolled gingerly onto his back, wincing with each tiny movement until he was laid out once more.
Wendy was just lifting the covers up to his chest when the Doctor returned and handed her a small vial of liquid.
"A spoonful in a glass of water no more than three hourly...it will make him sleepy and dull the pain."
Wendy smiled her gratitude and understanding, rising to fetch the jug and cup standing ready on the dresser against one wall. While her back was turned Harry bent over Peter and spoke to him.
"Next time I'll leave you to bleed out on the floor, you fool. Stay in your bed until I say you can leave it...understand?"
Peter nodded and turned away, Harry straightening up and watching Wendy measure out the medicine into the cup and fill it with water before carrying it over to the bed.
"I'll expect you to sit on his chest if he so much as puts a toe out of these covers." Harry growled, crossing his arms over his chest.
Wendy blushed and seated herself on the edge of the bunk. "I'll make sure he stays put Doctor."
"I'll leave you now...we're navigating the Sister's and I'm needed on deck." With a final smile he left the cabin, shutting the door behind him.
"Peter?" Wendy's soft query brought Peter around to face her. She slipped a hand behind his head to raise him and brought the cup to his lips. "Drink this."
She held it for him until he drained it all, his lips twisting with a grimace at its bitter taste. Lowering his head back to the pillows, she placed the cup on the floor and smoothed the covers up to his shoulders. Peter watched her through his lashes, his brain already feeling fuzzy with the opiate the Doctor had prescribed. Struggling to move his sluggish tongue, Peter reached out a hand and snagged her skirt, drawing her attention back to the head of the bed.
"What is it Peter? Is it still agony?"
As she bent over him, he reached up and wrapped his hand around her arm, pulling her down further.
"What can I do to help?" Wendy asked, falling neatly into his simple trap.
"If I am to spend the day dosed with Harry's foul brew at least send me on my way with a gift." He grinned up at her, a wicked light in his eyes as she stared down at him quizzically.
"A gift?" Wendy queried, then her face coloured as she remembered what she'd been about to give him that morning before the Doctor interrupted them. "Oh."
Seeing the smirk painting his face, Wendy raised an eyebrow and almost decided to refuse, but as his wish so closely echoed her own desire, she instead placed a hand on the pillow beside his head and bent down towards him. Peter felt breathless, tilting his chin as Wendy lowered her head, his eyes sliding closed as Wendy's lips hovered over his. At the last moment Wendy turned her head and pressed her lips to his prickly cheek, holding them there for a second before lifting her head to see his reaction.
Peter's eyes had opened as soon as he felt her lips brush against his skin, his brows drawing together in a frown until he saw the smile dimpling her mouth and the sparkle in her eyes.
"I think you missed your mark," he whispered, feeling his heart start to pound as Wendy's smile faded and she stared down at him with an intent look in her eyes. A wisp of hair had worked loose from her tidy chignon and he reached up to smooth it behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek, stroking the downy softness.
That same hand found its way to the nape of her neck and slowly, inexorably, pulled her down until at last he felt her lips against his own, his eyes slid shut as he relished the feel of her, all else forgotten in the wonder of their first real kiss.
At the start it was merely their lips pressing against the other, then they were exchanging small kisses and nibbles, exploring each other's lips, the world reduced to the sensations coursing through them both.
Peter's hand was still buried in her hair and he used it to angle her head before pressing her closer, his tongue caressing her lips and sweeping across their fullness, causing her to part them, giving him entrance to her mouth.
Wendy felt boneless and feverish, her breasts flattened against Peter's chest, her fingers playing with the curls of hair around his ears as her mouth moved over his. His fingers were strong and warm against her head as the kiss went from lighthearted to passionate, Peter's tongue invading her mouth, darting against her own and tempting her to respond in kind. How long it would have persisted was never to be known as the ship suddenly heeled over and Wendy found herself torn from Peter's arms and thrown to the floor.
Shocked, she scrambled back to her feet and was almost thrown over the bed when the ship heeled over to the other side, loose items on the cabin floor sliding across to the outer wall. Peter was gripping the edge of the bunk in an attempt to avoid being thrown about, his teeth gritted against the jolting. At a loss what to do for the best, Wendy hitched up her skirts and sat herself on the edge of the bed, draping herself quickly over Peter's chest, pinning him to the mattress and keeping his torso as still as possible against the rough tossing of the ship.
The Nymph was being buffeted by the waves as she negotiated the narrow passage between two of the sandstone towers, the backwash from the crashing waves causing a maelstrom of swirling water that threatened to dash the ship against the unforgiving rocks. At the helm Stubbs had to pit his considerable strength against the pull of the ships wheel trying to rip out of his hands and steer them all into the cliffs.
Down in the cabin Wendy clung to Peter, her face buried in the crook of his neck, and squeezed her eyes tight shut, praying beneath her breath that the ship wouldn't founder, while Peter, one arm around Wendy's shoulders, the other still gripping the edge of the bunk, buried his nose in her hair and thought himself in heaven, thanking irreverently the pirate who'd thoughtfully plugged a pistol shot in his side.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
tbc...