Summary: The fate of the Darling women proves inescapable, even to those who do not have daughters. The orphans of the Neverland Orphanage are swept away by Peter Pan, despite a Darling's best efforts to prevent just that. This story is based on the book by JM Barrie, not any of the movies. The rating has been cranked up because later chapters will be dealing with violence & other non-K things.

Disclaimer: While the characters of the Neverland Orphanage, the descendants of John & Michael, & the new generation of Neverland inhabitants are of my own creation, Peter, Wendy, John, Michael, Wendy's daughter & Wendy's granddaughter, Smee, Tiger Lily, & anyone you recognize from Peter Pan are all belonging to JM Barrie.


Chapter Six: Positively Piratical

"Wow," Olivia sighed, sinking down onto the floor of the Wendy-house. Sylvia was perched on the windowsill across from her, her shoulders hunched up as if warding off cold. There was hardly a chill in the summery afternoon.

The twins had left Froth in the fruit trees after Hops and Elbow showed up to invite them all on a game of Indian fighting. Normally, they would have gone along – they loved to be caught and tied up, only to escape and bust out their fellows – but they were reeling from Froth's tale and retreated at once to their secret place. Elbow had told them on their first day in the Neverland that no one ever went near the Wendy-house anymore, so the twins found it an ideal secret place. Miss Allison was a strong advocate of secret places, and the twins shared her sentiment. "Everyone needs a place that's just for them," she had said, always showing a touch of leniency when one of the girls was discovered alone in a classroom after hours. The twins had no qualms about sharing a place that was just for the two of them.

Well, the two of them and the badgers.

The badgers paid them little mind; they had quickly grown used to the twins' presence in the Wendy-house and only raised their heads briefly to acknowledge their entrance before returning to their afternoon nap under the Wendy-table. They were too sleepy and badger-like to notice that the twins looked particularly troubled.

"Did you see that?" Sylvia asked for the fourth time, her voice just a bit steadier this time. Olivia nodded wordlessly, again. They had been repeating these actions since they arrived in the Wendy-house, though Olivia had finally stopped pacing and Sylvia had given up on restlessly rolling her sword hilt between her palms. They sank into a thoughtful stupor that Olivia interrupted.

"He got older."

"I know," Sylvia murmured, looking absently at the badgers sleeping under the table.

"He just got older."

"I know."

"How?"

"I don't know."

They sighed together, shifting in their seats.

"It was so strange," Sylvia said.

"I know."

"Just, right in front of us, getting older."

"I know."

"How?"

"I don't know."

For the first time since they had arrived at the Wendy-house, the twins met each other's eyes.

"Well, at least there's a bright side," Sylvia said, shrugging.

"You mean finding out about the Lost Girls?"

"No. Hattie was wrong. Again."

Olivia laughed at Sylvia's wry grin and rose to her feet. "The sun'll set soon," she said, and they flew out through the window so the door would not wake the badgers.

The jungle was red with the sun's drowsy light as the twins flew back to the loft, discussing the Lost Girls and the possibility of them still being on the island.

"Maybe they've gone back to the jungle," Olivia mused.

"You ought to ask the fairies, like Rocky did. They get on with you." Sylvia added this last remark with a touch of distaste. She did not have a good relationship with the fairies.

Drawing near to the loft, they could hear the shouts and chatter of the returning children, as well as the commands of their mothers. Froth's voice wafted dreamily towards Sylvia.

"Oi, has anyone seen Nym about? He's all but disappeared!"

Sylvia paused in mid-air for a moment, and Olivia looked back with a shrug. "Maybe he's still upset from earlier. He'll come 'round once he's cooled off," she assured Sylvia.

"All the same, I ought to go look for him." Olivia gave her a funny look, to which she rolled her eyes. "Come on, Ollie, you know how titchy the mothers get if we're late. If I dash off and find him, we'll both be back in time."

"Alright, but I'm not covering for you if you're late again," Olivia warned.

Grinning, Sylvia shot away toward the fruit trees, calling back to her twin, "Of course you are!"

The light was still red when Sylvia reached the fruit trees, but deepening and darkening every minute. She quickly located the tree they had been in that afternoon, now deserted, and took off in the direction Nym had headed. But that was the easiest her search would get.

He was nowhere to be found in the elephant's oasis, though she looked hard among the lush vegetation and along the banks of the clear, cool lake. Neither did she see him in the valley of bees and bears, where he was fond of pilfering honey from both creatures. Sylvia checked the Echo Canyon, regrettably having no time to engage one of the lonely voices in conversation, and the Garden of Eatin', where she was sorely tempted by the wily witch herself to sample the edible forest, but she could not find Nym.

The centaurs, coming out into their meadow as the light turned purple to prepare for their nightly stargazing, had not seen him. They offered to read his fortune once the sun had set, but Sylvia did not have that time. He was not at the railway station for the train that ran through the Neverland, but the conductor claimed to have seen him flying overhead toward the city of apes earlier that afternoon. As Sylvia rocketed off, the conductor called out after her, "You ought to be gettin' home, miss! It's almost dark!"

It was still almost dark when the blur that was Sylvia in flight shot into the city of apes, startling the gorilla guard on duty from his post.

"I'mherelookingforNymtheLostBoysorrytobotheryouIwon'tbelong!" Sylvia shouted as she passed him.

"He's with the chimp children," the gorilla roared after her (in gorilla, of course, but it was all the same in the Neverland, really), shaking his head as he settled back down.

The sun seemed to be lingering on the verge of going to sleep, as if it were wondering how tired it really was and if it could indeed stay awake a bit longer. Sylvia had no complaints for its languorous pace as she made a beeline for the nursery, a cluster of thick trees where the young apes were housed.

The city of apes was itself a cluster of trees, comprised of smaller clusters of trees that formed a circle. The trees were all within swinging range, but rope roads had been strung in between the clusters to help those too young or too old to swing. The apes, in fact, only allowed the Lost Boys into the city because Elbow had taught them to tie knots and work with rope, which allowed them to expand the city to include trees farther away from the close-grown section of the city. Most of these were where the ape families made their homes, while the closer clusters served as public buildings – town hall, hospital, banana store. The nursery was a large cluster, containing small pockets in which the apes were grouped by age, rather like the orphanage. Recently, a large group of ape sisters had all given birth to their first children, and the youngest section of the nursery was overflowing with chimp babies. All of the Lost Boys and four-to-twelves had been by to see the babies, who loved the attention.

And Nym was indeed there, with chattering baby chimps crawling all over him. He was tossing them and tickling them and even giggling with them as they swung from his arms and gnawed toothlessly at his ears. Sylvia smiled at the sight but cleared her throat, trying to catch his attention. They needed to leave quickly if they were to make it back.

He started when he saw her, quickly wiping the grin off his face and detaching one of the babies from his ear. He dropped as many as he could into their cribs, trying to look casual and surly at the same time and failing miserably at both. He looked, instead, embarrassed and sad, but also a little relieved when Sylvia came forward to help him. As they removed the chimps clinging to his back and hiding in his pockets, Sylvia urged him on.

"Quickly, yeah? If we hurry, we can make it back before dark and we won't get in trouble."

Nym only grunted and deposited the last chimp baby in its crib.

"Goodnight," Sylvia cooed at them, soaring out through a space in the trees. Nym only grunted again and followed after her.

They flew quickly out of the city, again disturbing the gorilla guard, but once they had passed the centaur's meadow, Nym slowed down. Sylvia turned around to find him sulking as he trailed along behind her.

"What's with the sourpuss?" she called out to him, hovering as she waited for his snail's pace to catch him up to her. Nym looked taken aback by her directness and discarded his carefully planned reply of "Nothing."

"I oughtn't be worried about getting in trouble with the mothers," he growled. "Because you lot are only going to leave, anyway." He had drawn abreast of her by now, so she turned and they flew on. She did not try to speed him along by going any faster, but looked thoughtfully ahead as they drifted toward the loft. They could hear Echo Canyon in the distance, one voice calling out "Good night!" and another voice answering "Good night!" and so on.

"Well," she said, as the echoes faded behind them. "I suppose one day we will have to leave." Nym was again surprised by how straightforward she was. "But not anytime soon," she reassured him, turning to face him with a smile that he did not return. He only watched her, neither sad nor angry nor attempting to be tough, just blank. "And," she continued, still smiling, still looking at him. "We will say goodbye before we go."

A small smile hooked the corner of Nym's mouth. "You will?"

"Oh, yes. We'll say goodbye and have a party and even hug and kiss you all, though you'll hate it."

The smile tugged at his lips.

"We'll do it anyway."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

It pulled hard, and his mouth gave, allowing the smile to stretch out across his face. Sylvia smiled wider in return, then punched his side playfully.

"Tag! You're It!" She rocketed off towards the loft and he followed, close on her heels, and they raced the darkness home.

Of course, they didn't get in trouble, but they did get very stern looks from the mothers and from everyone else, as they were all seated at the table and waiting for their dinner, which was waiting for the two stragglers. But by the time they were all settled in their giant (but still crowded) bed, ready for their bedtime story, all was forgiven and forgotten.

The tree-dwelling life was fun and all, but as time went on, Sylvia found it harder and harder to resist the other side of the island. Each night, after the mothers had told them their story and tucked the whole lot of them under their leafy quilt, Sylvia lay awake. Beside her, Olivia dozed fitfully, her slow, deep breaths mingling with the gentle snores that filled the cozy loft. The soft rhythm of sleepy breathing soothed Sylvia into a state of quiet alertness, and she lay gazing out across the island to where the lights of the pirate town pierced night's shroud, the small corner of the Neverland glowing like an ember in a drowsy fire.

That spark entranced Sylvia, particularly on the nights that it glittered like the fairies frolicking in the evening air above the loft, twinkling and tinkling and scattering the Lost with dust so that, unwittingly and giggly, they rose just a bit into the air. Or, Sylvia would think, it glinted like light on a chest of dubloons, like the flash and sparkle of two swords clashing together, like the setting sun gilding the waves on a clear evening in the middle of the sea.

The ocean was the other main attraction for Sylvia. She flew out as far as she could, each day venturing just a bit further, racing seagulls and dolphins when the rest of her companions had long turned back to shore. The water and its inhabitants were accustomed to her – even the mermaids treated her almost nicely when she came alone to linger in the lagoon or skip like a stone across its surface. It was as if they recognized something in her as of their own, and she herself felt the insistent pull from within every time she watched the waves roll back into the ocean. At night, the sleepy sounds of the children whispered like those waves around her as she lay awake longing for a pirate's life.

Sylvia's hesitancy to approach the other side of the Neverland surprised her, mostly because it was so largely motivated by Peter. On the rare occasions that Peter's obliviousness and self-concern did not cloud his vision, his eyes followed Sylvia's every movement. Paranoid that he could somehow sense her pirate dreams, she walked on eggshells and never strayed from the Lost Boys' side of the island if there were a chance that Peter was watching. And there was always a chance – Peter's unpredictability was legendary. One moment, he couldn't tell Sylvia from Scotch, and the next he was breathing down her neck, or she was turning to meet his unexpected and critical gaze, or he was startling her off her seat on the lagoon's surface with an invitation of swordplay.

The others found Peter's spontaneity delightful, an endearing aspect of his charm. Penny adored it like a proper doting mother, Melissa did her best to imitate it, and Olivia was completely impervious to it, in keeping with her tendency to show Peter up (however inadvertently). But Sylvia was wary of it. As with all things Peter, it had a duality: adorable and frightening, alluring and dangerous. Always apprehensive, Sylvia was torn between wanting to be far out of Peter's presence, where she could be temporarily safe until the fear that he would blindside her arose, and wanting to keep him close and in her sights, even if she had to endure his intent observations.

Usually she chose the former, tearing out across the ocean's surface, scanning the horizon for the sharp silhouettes of passing ships and resisting the desire to chase after them. One afternoon, she pulled up short and stared out at the grandest, most majestic vessel that had ever crossed her path. She hovered over the water, her toes dipping in every now and then, and gazed longingly at the sunlight gleaming the clean lines of the ship, the gilded sail, the wings of water flanking the bow as it cut a path through the ocean. Nearly swooning with desire, Sylvia barely understood the rush of air behind her before she was tumbling along the surface of the water, end over end, and somehow in the confusion drawing her nicked but still sturdy wooden blade. She spun away from her attacker and turned to face whatever had surprised her, sword ready to hack to bits Peter's grinning face.

He laughed loudly when he saw her drawn blade, quickly sweeping out his own and engaging her with a friendly parry that could have easily wounded her if she had not dodged. Skipping along the surface of the water, they traded blows, Peter laughing and Sylvia frowning with something between anger and confusion. He went for a downward thrust, coming in toward her, and she blocked high. They drew together, Peter's grinning face beaming into Sylvia's glower, before she ducked out of the struggle and slipped away. Peter blinked in amazement after she vanished, not visible before or on either side of him, and whirled around to narrowly miss impaling himself by the nose on the point of Sylvia's sword. His eyes followed the roughly hewn edge of the blade to Sylvia's satisfied smirk waiting at the hilt.

The shock on Peter's face was quickly replaced with his own smile as he moved backward, conceding defeat. Sylvia lowered her sword and returned it to its sling at her side, but no sooner had her hand left the hilt did Peter seize her round the wrist and zoom off. Caught off guard, she trailed behind him like a spray of seafoam kicked up under his flying heels.

"Where are we going?" she bellowed, hoping the rushing air battering against their ears would keep Peter from hearing the quaver in her voice.

"You'll see," he called back, holding fast to her wrist. His grip was far from painful, but tight enough that Sylvia could have had trouble slipping out of it if she wanted. She was soon distracted from her worries about Peter's grip, however.

Peter had flown them right up beside the beautiful ship that she had seen earlier. It appeared so suddenly at their sides that Sylvia was actually surprised by its presence. But there it was, gleaming and looming and glorious. She stared at it with longing and wonder, forgetting to breathe as she took in its marvelous stature and form, and the Jolly Roger overhead, snapping boastingly in the wind. Peter watched her excitedly, his face glowing with the hopefulness and pride of a child wishing his gift to be a success. He took Sylvia's stupid grin to be just that.

"Shall we board her?" he asked, and Sylvia felt like her heart and her head would simultaneously explode. She could only nod weakly and allow Peter to pull her up toward the railing of the ship.

As they drew close to the railing, Sylvia began to regain some of her senses, as well as her ability to think. "Wait, Peter," she whispered, bringing her other hand to pull on his arm. He turned to her almost irritably. "Instead of boarding, let's look in on them in secret."

Peter made a face. "You'd rather sneak and snoop than jump right up on the deck and slay the whole lot of them? Faugh!"

"No, no, but if we watch them, we can learn where they're going! They'll lead us to a whole mess of pirates! All those pirates in one place..." Sylvia cajoled, hoping she could win him over. He was looking thoughtful now, enticed by the mental image of himself, glorified above a heap of defeated pirates.

"Oh, the cleverness of me!" he cried, and Sylvia raised an eyebrow. i So, he really does say that /i , she noted. "We will look in on them instead of boarding her, so we can learn where they go," he said, triumphantly, and Sylvia rolled her eyes. She was willing to let him give himself credit for that if it meant she could see the pirate ship.

The clear day and fair weather apparently had the pirates off guard, and Sylvia could feel Peter twitch anxiously beside her as they peered up onto the deck from a well-concealed corner. The crewmembers lounged about the deck, leaning on the opposite railing and watching as two men played instruments. One tooted a simple but pleasant melody on a wooden flute while the other thumped rhythmically on a large wooden barrel. On every fourth drumbeat, the other men would all stamp a foot on the deck. Just after one of the foot stomps, one of the men began to sing.

I'm a pirate! That I be!

I sail me ship upon the sea!
I stay up late - till half past three!
And that's a peg below me knee!

The rest of the men joined in, stomping at the last word and then drowning out the man's papery, warm voice.

A pirate I was meant to be!

Trim the sails and roam the sea!

They stomped again and let the man resume his solo.

Yo ho, my friends I have a tale
of treasure, plunder, sea and sail!
My story's bigger than a whale!
It gets so deep, ye'll have to bail!

When the men all stamped, Sylvia nearly clapped with them. The song delighted her, but Peter was snarling at her side, ready to leap over the railing and attack them all single-handed. His fist was already closed around the handle of his small blade, when a different banging noise interrupted the crew's song.

The noise had not been a stomp, but the opening of a door on the other side of the deck. The singing men fell silent and straightened up, and Sylvia and Peter soon saw the reason as the captain strode into view.

Sylvia knew he was the captain at once, not only for the richness of his clothing – his long red coat with its elaborate embroidery, his ruffled shirt looking impossibly clean and white, his tatterless black breeches and the polished sea boots into which they were tucked – or for the respect the crew gave him, but for the air that surrounded him as he walked, smoothly on the rocking ship, that said: This is mine. He seemed to own the very waves that touched his ship, and so knew which way they would tip the vessel. The wind that filled the sails, the light that gleamed on the deck, it all belonged to him. If it weren't for Peter at her side, Sylvia felt she would have rushed up to stand attentively in line with the rest of his crew and belong to him and his ship as well.

"Men," the captain addressed the crew, speaking in a smooth, deep, full voice. But before she could hear anymore, Sylvia became aware of Peter rising slowly in the air. He was nearly at the top of the railing now, teeth and blade bared, moving stealthily upward. Sylvia grabbed his ankle and, catching him off guard, managed to pull him down and away before he could cross over the railing. She rocketed away even more quickly than Peter had flown to get them to the ship and didn't release him until they reached the shore.

"Why did you stop me?" Peter demanded in what was nearly a whine, flushed and pouting.

"You agreed to wait!"

"But I could have fought them all right there!"

"Well, of course you could have! But –"

Just then, Froth came dancing through the air toward them and tapped Peter on the shoulder. "Tag! You're It now, Peter!" He took off laughing, along with Hops, Scotch, and a few of the four-to-twelves. Woes forgotten, Peter zipped off in pursuit, leaving Sylvia to stare after him and sigh in relief.

"Here you are, Sly!" Olivia cried, landing in the sand beside her twin. "Out on the water again?"

"Oh, Ollie, Peter and I saw the most fantastic ship! She was so beautiful and we snuck up and saw the crew, and oh, the captain! The captain was just –"

"Wonderful, I'm sure. Listen, about the Lost Girls! I asked the fairies, like you said, and they told me they had looked and looked, but they never found them again. And Cinder, she came with me and we looked all over for them – we even flew into Echo Canyon –"

"Without me!"

"Well, you were off chasing ships and admiring captains. Anyway, we flew down all the way, and it's just voices, after all –"

"Pity."

"Anyway, we didn't find them anywhere. So, I guess Hattie was right all along. No Lost Girls."

"Oh, no, don't say that! There were Lost Girls, Ollie, that much we know. And," Sylvia paused, thoughtfully. "Maybe we're the Lost Girls, now, yeah?"

"Aren't we here to be mothers?"

"Well, maybe that was the original idea, but it's changed a bit, innit? I mean, I don't know about you, but I haven't done much mothering since I been here."

"No, I haven't either, have I?"

"Ha! You? You're practically another Peter Pan himself!"

Olivia pursed her lips in thought. "It's horrid to think of Hattie as right, innit?" she said at last, laughing when Sylvia did. "Anyway, I suppose that's right, we are rather like Lost Girls."

"So there's Lost Boys and Lost Girls...well, we're all just Lost, then!"

The name stuck, once the twins tried it out on the children. First Nym arrived at the beach with a honeycomb to share, and though he seemed dubious about accepting new Lost Girls and a new title all at once, he came round on it once the braves and Tiger Buds showed up and expressed their enthusiasm. Then the game of tag wound its way back to the beach and the players (minus Peter, who had been detained over at the mermaid lagoon) got behind it all as well. As it was time for lunch, the whole group went back to the loft to tell the mothers, who thought the idea was just splendid, and when Peter arrived, they all let Penny tell him about it. He looked for a moment in silence at the boys and girls seated at the table, watching him anxiously, and the mothers standing behind them, wringing their hands, and then he smiled and sprang into the air, crowing. "We're all Lost!" he cried, and the Lost cheered and clapped and crowed until the mothers threatened to take away their lunches.

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­­& now a word from our author: well, hi! the only thing i really need to mention is the pirate song. it's actually a mash-up of two songs found on "A Pirate I was Meant to Be," from the game series Monkey Island, & "A Children's Pirate Shanty" by Mark "Cap'n Slappy" Summers. i wanted something light & fluffy that you wouldn't need to be three sheets in the wind & feeling raunchy to want to sing (i.e. friggin' in the riggin'). anyway, i'm going to try to keep these coming as quickly as i can, but i'm beat right now. i hope these were up to par! review 'em if you read 'em!