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, anyone you recognize from Peter Pan belongs to JM Barrie.


Chapter Eight: Catching Up

"So, everything, the suits and the stuffy playtime, all of that – that's all David?" Allison's wide eyes gleamed in the light that spilled from the kitchen into the alcove where she was nestled with Hannah and a fresh tea tray. Almeda and the boys were taking their tea, quietly, in the dining room, so Hannah had agreed to satiate Allison's curiosity by taking tea with her.

Allison had many questions, having been completely taken aback by the news that David was responsible for the strict rules his sons followed, which was all a pleasant surprise for Hannah. She was thrilled by the attention Allison's questions afforded her, not to mention her position of relative power. Of course, there was also the appeal of a companion. Almeda was not exactly what Hannah would consider amiable, and she certainly was not one to indulge in gossip, at least not with Hannah. The nanny occasionally found some camaraderie with the cooks, Neville and Elaine, but the two spent so much time with each other that they had formed an understandable, yet exclusionary, bond that usually made Hannah feel awkward or unwanted. So it was with great excitement that Hannah set her biscuit down on her saucer and leaned forward, just slightly, over her lap, reveling in the air of conspiracy that filled the small alcove.

"You see, Mr. Rochester really is a wonderful man to work for," Hannah said fervently, for the eighth time during her conversation with Allison in the alcove. Allison nodded, making an impatient gesture for Hannah to continue. "He's just so very particular about the boys. I remember when the agency sent me here the first time, I was so nervous! Bayswater isn't exactly quaint and cozy. But Mr. Rochester made me feel so at ease. He was so warm and friendly and polite, and the boys were so prim and proper – just adorable! But then he sent the boys off with Almeda and he sat me down and started listing all his rules." Hannah frowned, gazing down into her teacup. "They were to always be well-groomed and well-dressed, always, they weren't to roughhouse, they weren't to play rowdily, they weren't to be noisy. Oh, it was such a long list at the time, and I wanted to ask him why, but…"

"Why didn't you?" Allison asked, leaning forward on her knees, hanging on Hannah's every word.

"Oh, he just – something about his voice, his tone, you know – he just didn't want to be asked. I don't know that he would have stood for it."

"So many rules…" Allison mused to herself, thoughtfully lowering her eyes to the tea tray between them.

Hannah nodded, sipping at her tea. When she lowered the cup, she continued. "And he has so many more. There are rules about what they eat, what they wear, where they play… He even has rules," here Hannah paused for an incredulous chuckle. "He even has rules about what bedtime stories I may tell them."

Allison's eyes shot up quickly, shedding their wide, dreamy appearance in favor of a narrowed and determined focus. Hannah flinched, just a little, when that gaze hit her. Nervously, she set the tea cup and saucer down on the tray and tried to maintain eye contact with Allison.

Allison paid no mind to Hannah's sudden discomfort. "What rules? What rules does David have about stories?"

"Oh, well, I suppose they are hardly unusual, you know, I'm sure many parents want to be certain that their children are not hearing something inappropriate, or violent, or what have you," Hannah rambled nervously.

"Yes, but what are David's rules?"

"You see, there's really only one rule about the stories, and it's really a rather small rule, nothing compared to the other ones…" If only Allison would lower those eyes, or soften their piercing gleam…

"Hannah. What is David's rule about stories?"

"It's really nothing, just… well, no stories about Peter Pan."

-----------------------

It explained so much, Allison thought as she paced the length of the guest room that night. David had not returned in time for dinner, as he had said; he had not even made it back in time for the boys' bedtime. Allison's throat was itching with questions for David, but his absence left her with only the option of returning to her room and musing, puzzling, wondering.

So, she mused: it explained so much! What would Peter Pan ever want with such strange boys? Not to mention boys who didn't even know his stories! It was a bizarre and desperate plot, clearly the product of a troubled mind, but Allison couldn't help feeling just a little bit of admiration…and jealousy.

Allison threw herself into the window seat and sighed. The moon was clouded over, but Allison saw only the ghostly image of a chain of shadows splashed across the clouds. "If only I'd protected you," she whispered. The image of the four-to-twelves flying away wavered and dissolved, and Allison lowered her gaze to her lap. Maybe, she thought, she should have done what David had. Then the four-to-twelves would never have even registered on Peter's radar. Instead, she had raised a flock of darling mothers that must have called out to Peter's very soul: come for us, take us with you. How could he be expected to resist girls so well-versed in his own history? "Mea culpa," she murmured, drawing her knees up under her chin.

And yet, they were such strange boys! Alden's strict adherence to "proper" behavior was downright disturbing, and Marcus seemed, to Allison, depressingly resigned to the rules. Even Eliezer's playfulness was fleeting, and only sensational in light of the oppressive atmosphere of the house. In any other environment, he could be considered obedient to the point of dullness. Allison found most strange their tendency to control one another, particularly Alden's insistence that his brothers adhere to the rules. She had expected them to show some conspiratory bond to help each other cheat the rules, but they had apparently had these procedures so deeply drilled into them that none of the boys was willing to let the rules go unheeded. Peculiar, Allison mused.

She wondered how fair it was for David to raise such strange, stunted children. Though she could hardly blame him, after what happened to Emily –

Emily, Allison thought, standing suddenly from her seat at the window. What has he told them about Emily.

The great clock in the front hall chimed midnight. Allison listened to its proclamation as if it were an offer being posed, and pushed away her thoughts long enough to decide to go to bed. She would ambush David at breakfast the next morning, she promised herself, before sinking into the soft, cool sheets of the guest bed. Callista really did have exquisite taste, Allison thought, trying to prolong the dreams about Emily as long as she could.

-----------------------

Almeda sighed as the footsteps pounding over her head set the china trembling in its hutch. She gestured to the maid clearing the plates to leave the food dishes and began setting a clean place at the table. The maid hid a smile as the footsteps grew louder, and caused more tinkling and shivering in the hutch, but Almeda's face portrayed what would have been exasperation, were it not so decorated with boredom. The maid, on the other hand, could hardly suppress her giggle when the steps racing down the stairs returned from a sudden pause with a loud thud as the runner landed a jump onto the foyer floor. Almeda rolled her eyes as she heard the scullery boy's laughter carry all the way from the back of the house.

The maid and Almeda finished with the table as the steps came rushing down the hall, and were standing politely by the kitchen door when Allison tore into the dining room. She had been running very quickly, taking small steps because she thought it would reduce the noisiness of her approach (in actuality, it made her sound like a small but efficient stampede), and she was just beginning to lose balance as she reached the dining room. Desperately trying to regain her balance, she had grasped at the molding around the door and swung herself into the room, colliding hard with the doorframe and throwing her loose hair out of her face by snapping her head back. Her wide, wild eyes scanned the room frantically, barely registering the maid red-faced and trying to hold herself upright as she shook with suppressed laughter. Allison did, however, recognize Almeda, and the polite annoyance of her expression.

Allison straightened up with a sigh and smoothed her hair out of the way. "Missed him again, haven't I?"

Almeda straightened her already neatly arranged jacket and answered with her eyes closed primly. "Mr. Rochester has left for the day, Miss Darling. His meetings for the day be –"

"Began very early, as usual," Allison interjected, nodding at the words she had come to expect every morning for the past week. She accepted Almeda's terse invitation to sit down and take breakfast, slouching dejectedly in her seat. As the maid came forward to serve her, Allison smiled politely and waved away the attempt, spooning her own porridge from the tureen on the table and reaching for the slender boat of cream. The maid returned with fresh strawberries, which Allison eagerly accepted. The excellent food was at least some small compensation for David's near invisibility this week.

Allison spooned up her porridge broodingly, examining it absently as if David were hiding in the spoon's basin. "Have you ever had such an unwelcome houseguest, Almeda?" she asked, popping the spoon into her mouth as she raised her twinkling eyes away from her porridge.

Almeda looked at Allison skeptically, trying to decide if this were some annoying joke. Allison nodded to the seat across from her, smiling evenly at Almeda's stony face and unyielding eyes. After a lengthy pause, during which Allison kept the spoon in her mouth, Almeda inclined her head in stiffly polite acceptance and lowered herself into the seat across from Allison's.

"So," Allison said, after Almeda declined the strawberries. "Honestly. Has David ever so diligently avoided a guest in his home before? Have any of Callista's charming socialites ever sent David running out of the house before dawn every morning?" Allison paused to chuckle, and would have continued, if Almeda had not interrupted her.

"No," she said, simply. Her sober face did not relax as she looked across the table at Allison, but something in her eyes became just a little softer. Allison was smiling wryly, one corner of her mouth turned up, but there was worry and desperation about her furrowed brow and shining eyes. Almeda sighed gently.

"No. Not one guest during my years in this house has ever created quite the stir you have. I've never seen Mr. Rochester so eager to get out of this house. Twice he's nodded off and nearly taken a grapefruit facial, he's been waking up so early and staying away so late. I don't know what it is you've done, Miss Darling –" Almeda paused as the frowning around Allison's eyes dipped dangerously lower toward her fixed smile. Steeling herself, gathering up all of her resolve, Almeda suppressed a sigh and continued. "But I don't think that you are even remotely unwanted."

Despite the skeptically cocked eyebrow, Allison's smile spread slowly to the other side of her mouth. But before she could ask Almeda what made her think that way, they were interrupted by the doorbell.

Almeda looked away from Allison and in the direction of the door, then looked back at Allison quizzically. "It is five-thirty in the morning, is it not?"

Allison nodded slowly, and the two both turned their heads in the direction of the door again. They rose together, after a moment of staring, and walked into the hallway. The maid was looking bewilderedly into the hallway from the kitchen door, staring at the front door as if it might leap across the foyer and devour her.

That sight seemed to bring Almeda around. She shook her head and scoffed, though it came out as more of a snort, before tugging her jacket primly into place and striding across the foyer. Allison followed hesitantly at a distance, situating herself by the staircase with a clear view of the door. She felt as if she should be holding something intimidating or sharp, and was surprised to find herself still clutching her porridge spoon. She lowered her hand quickly, glancing around to make sure no one saw her as she hid the spoon behind her back.

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Rochester!"

Allison started hopefully, stepping forward to cut off David before he could escape to his study.

"Almeda, please, 'Mr. Rochester' is my father…and my brother." The man at the door chuckled. "Just call me Jude. I promise I won't tell anyone."

Almeda only nodded politely and invited the man inside, but Allison was astonished to see the slightly embarrassed smile and flushed face Almeda ducked her head to hide. Allison's attention was soon turned to the man walking in the door.

"Jude!" she exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace her youngest cousin. He swept her up with a laugh, gathering her close with one arm. As Allison found her chin hooked over Jude's shoulder, she wondered, as she always did, when he had gone from her small, scrawny baby cousin to the six-foot-plus, broad-shouldered man taking up most of the doorway.

"Alli," he cried cheerfully as she hopped down out of his embrace and ushered him inside. He closed the door behind him and Allison stood at arm's length, beaming up at him.

"Look how long your hair's gotten," she said, fondly brushing a lock of the shoulder-length reddish brown mop out of Jude's eyes. Jude was the only other member of the family, in Allison's generation, whose hair showed even a shade of redness. Allison found sharing her gingery hair with someone in the family extremely comforting.

"Look at yours!" he laughed, gesturing to Allison's loose hair, which had grown past the bold chin-cupping cut she had worn when Jude and Allison had last seen each other to a near elbow-length curtain. "Alli, what on earth are you doing here? David didn't tell me you'd be here!"

"Oh!" Allison laughed nervously, shrugging in a way that she hoped was casual and would not indicate her surprise.

"Mr. Rochester –"

"Almeda," Jude drawled, turning to face her with exaggerated exasperation.

"I'm sorry, sir. Jude, would you like to have some breakfast while we prepare a room for you? Miss Darling was just sitting down to breakfast herself."

"A-Allison, please, Almeda," Allison stammered, looking at Almeda with a mix of gratitude and confusion. Almeda nodded her way through Jude's protests at having a room made up and coaxed him steadily towards the dining room.

"Alli," Jude called back over his shoulder, to where Allison followed in a distracted sort of way. "Why are you carrying a spoon?"

-----------------------

The boys were as excited as Allison was to see their Uncle Jude, though only Eliezer chose to jump into his arms as Allison had. Alden was positively giddy, but Allison was only able to tell by the boy's constant slight trembling. This shivering was disguised by Alden's sober exterior as he solemnly shook Jude's hand and welcomed him to his home. "I trust you had a pleasant journey, Uncle Jude. And how are things at work?" Alden said grandly, and everyone pretended not to notice how his voice had shaken on the last word.

With Jude to back her, Allison was finally able to convince both the boys and their caretakers that she should be allowed to take her nephews to the park. Jude's enthusiasm, combined with Allison's, was infectious, and the cousins grinned widely as they watched their nephews tramp upstairs to change, Hannah in tow. Allison was tempted to ask Jude if he found the boys as peculiar, though absolutely delightful, as she did, but she thought better of the questioning when she considered the potential awkwardness of that situation. She did not want to call her nephews strange, especially not to their loving uncle. But when the three boys returned to the foyer wearing three identical outfits of crisply creased brown knickerbockers and brown button-down vests over white collared shirts, Allison faced that she would have to talk to Jude about David and the boys. When her nephews pulled on their matching caps and marched out the door single file behind Jude, leaving Allison to bring up the rear, she wondered if she would be able to wait until they were at the park to talk to Jude.

"Sure, they're a bit…unique," Jude admitted as he and Allison sat on a park bench and watched the boys kicking a football back and forth. Jude, an amateur footballer, had insisted that the boys work on passing and dribbling before they could play a mock game with Allison and Jude. After witnessing that discussion, Allison was not sure if Jude was necessarily the best person to consult about peculiar behavior.

"But David has his reasons, hasn't he? I mean, it's not like we all haven't reacted in some way or another."

"How do you mean?" Allison asked, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. "Brilliant pass, Marcus!" she called out, returning her nephew's exuberant waving from the grass.

"Well done, Marcus!" Jude added, clapping his hands encouragingly. "Well, look. The whole thing – it – well, it hit us all rather hard. And – I mean, I love these boys like mad, you know? And every time I'm – I'm with someone – a lady, I mean – well, she always wants to know, wouldn't I love to have a lad of my own, and aren't I dying to get started on my own family, and – Alli, it just terrifies me."

"Jude," Allison interrupted gently. Jude was staring absently out at the green, watching his nephews without really seeing them. His eyes were narrowed, as if he were looking at something very far away.

"It scares me so much, Al, and I think that makes sense," he forged on. "I mean, what if, you know? What if he just – took them? What if I had a son, or a whole football team, and they just left with him? What would I do, Alli? We should be scared. David's scared, I'm scared, you're scared –"

"I'm scared?"

Jude turned to look at Allison, smiling faintly, sadly. "Unless it was just level-headed rationale that sent you straight from uni to the orphanage."

"What is that su –"

"He can't take what you don't have, right?"

Allison closed her mouth instead of continuing where she had been interrupted and looked at Jude soberly. The sad smile lingered dimly, like a ghost image obscuring his face. "Well, he's taken it anyway," she murmured, dropping her eyes to her lap. She did not raise them, even when Jude's large arms surrounded her and gathered her close, as if he were trying to keep her from being taken, too.


Author's Note: Hello! If I haven't lost my entire readership by now, I'm greatly impressed and greatly honored. I'm still trying to get this story moving. It is time-consuming, though, and time is something I'm very short on right now. But I'm trying! I've got a Sylvia-centered chapter written already, but I don't know if I should stay in London with Allison for a bit longer. Vote! Review & let me know where the next chapter should go. Don't let haste rule your decision; even if you vote for the chapter that's already written, I won't update until I've got at least one more chapter to follow it. Anyway, I hope you liked these & they weren't lame. But if they were: review! & if they weren't: review! xoxo stego