Disclaimer:

I Aslansphoenix declare that I do not own 'Peter Pan', Neverland or anything that you find familiar. Technically some of the characters did come from my head ... but I think they belong to Neverland just as much as any canon characters.

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Author's Note:

So I didn't put in the word 'ball' to go with 'cannon', but decided to keep it for the amusement.

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"All Children Grow up Except One"

Everyone Knows about Neverland,
About the home of Peter Pan.

Second to the Right, and Straight on till Morning.
To the place between dreaming and awakening.

There are rules in Neverland
Rules that must be obeyed.

Boys forget much easier than Girls.
"No Girl can resist Peter Pan,
When he uses a specific voice."
One more thing, which is True ...
In Neverland, You learn all about You.

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Chapter Ten.

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It probably would have gone on for a lot longer, if the cannon hadn't whooshed passed them, missing Peter's head by that much.

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Not a cannon-ball, but the weapon itself. Peter was lucky to still have his head! George stared in shock at the weapon before being distracted by a roar of yells. Then the clearing descended into chaos as the Pirates attacked.

During this battle, George realised three things.

Apparently, according to the yelling, one of the pirates had messed up how to shoot a cannon; that was the reason why that was what missed hitting Peter.

The Indians were obviously taking it easy on the Lost Boys earlier.

Play fighting against imaginary Pirates, was a lot safer than fighting real ones.

Fair to say, George felt a little panicked. Luckily the Lost Boys didn't. They threw themselves into the fray with eagerness, and Peter flew at his enemies – a wild, feral look in his eyes; one that admittedly did make George feel some nerves. A streaking ball of light showed that Tinkerbelle had joined the fight; flying into the pirates' eyes.

Angela had somehow escaped the confines of the protective circle and was slinging rocks, and George and Mitchell both found themselves standing at her side yelling (in fear mostly). It was all very chaotic and dangerous.

As quickly as it started, was as quick as it all came to a standstill.

There was a twang and the battled ceased. George glanced around and gulped; the Indians were back. With Backup. There were twice as many Indians as there were Pirates, the natives – all pointing very sharp looking arrows at the groups. They were very impressive looking, and George really hoped they were there as allies.

Apparently George's wishes were heard. The pirates began to fall back. Peter was the last to stop fighting, he kicked one of the men into the rest and gnashed his teeth at them. "Oi Smee! Tell Hook, next time he wants to try and attack my Lost Boys – to come and face me himself, the coward!"

An older pirate, who oddly enough, reminded George of a human teddy bear (and that was a description that George had always thought of a just imaginative phrasing, but – it seemed to be the truth), nodded his head. "Aye, I'll tell the Cap'n, alright lads, we better scadoodle."

The pirates tumbled away and Peter crowed triumphantly.

George sank down internally, feeling quite overwhelmed. Margaret started to gently gather up the Lost Boys (and her sister), readying them to leave before any more fighting broke out. Peter however turned to the Indians with a smirk.

"Was that the darkness you were so scared of?"

The Indian that had issued the earlier statement rolled his eyes and shook his head in negative at the arrogant boy. Then along with the rest of his tribe he faded into the foliage. Or made it look like he faded. The rest of the Lost Boys cheered with Peter, and George let out a breath that had been held in, without George realising it.

Margaret looked slightly worried, but as the group swarmed over to her, her face cleared and gave the children their desired praises. After reassuring everyone that 'yes they were all very brave, she glanced up at Peter. "Peter, I think it's time o take the children back to the hideout. They've had enough excitement for one day."

There were groans (of course) but Peter put on an authorative voice "Alright, you heard Mother, about-to, hop, and March!"

There was brief chaos as everyone spun around randomly and started trying to hop and march at the same time. Oddly enough it didn't work. But eventually they got themselves sorted and George ended up in the middle of a spread-out line, heading through the woods in the opposite direction to where the pirates had gone.

Eliza made her way to the front near Peter, and George overheard her striking up a conversation with him. It seemed to be all her boosting his already inflated ego, and him crowing and bragging.

Margaret was at the front of the middle section, with most of the Lost Boys rotating as each boy tried to escort her. X and Angela stuck to her side the most though. It looked as though the tiny Lost Boy was in awe at having a mother figure.

George trudged along in the rear of the middle, vaguely aware of Mitchell following behind. At one point the scruffy, cheeky looking fell back to converse with George."

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"Hey, I'm Scruffy."

"George … or Cub if you prefer."

"Pleasure to meet you Cubby-George. So you're a cousin aye? Never met a cousin before – are you dangerous? Or are you boring?"

"Depends on the circumstances."

"The circle what?"

"… Depends on who's asking, and on who is doing the answering."

"Ah dangerous to some. I like it. Don't see what that has to do with circles though."

George shrugged, not bothered with trying to explain a random word. "I'd be more dangerous if I could fight like you. The way you used your sling was awesome."

"Yeah, you want to learn? I can teach ya, I'm the best slinger on the island. Just wait until we get to the hide-out, I'll show you all kinds of moves. Er – that is, if Mother says it's ok. Don't mothers get worried about learning to fight?"

"Sometimes they do. But if it's done to Maggie's standards of safety, and is done for my own safety, I need to know how to protect myself right? I'm sure we can get her to say yes."

"Awesome. Hey so if you're a cousin, does that mean you're from the Lon-don?"

"London, Yep that's my home."

"Wow – what's it like?"

And with that the two were off – talking, laughing and telling each other of their stories; both vastly exaggerated, but all in good fun. Scruffy was fascinated by things like roads and stone houses. And George was equally interested in the Lost Boy's perceptive of living in Neverland. It was a conversation that began the cementation of their friendship-to-be.

They were brought to a stop when, in a flower-filled clearing, Eliza suddenly exclaimed "Oh what a darling little house!"

And indeed it was. Like a large doll's house, with red wall and a mossy green roof. There was a door, windows and even a chimney. It looked aged, with vines growing around it – using the walls as support, it didn't seem the cleanest house, but it did seem well cared-for.

Peter beamed at it "Yes, it's the Wendy house. I built it." Margaret rolled her eyes "With help from the Lost Boys of the time." Peter waved his hand dismissively. "Did they? Well it would have only been a little help."

George interrupted in awe "Is … is that the real house from the stories?"

Margaret nodded with a smile "Yes."

That simple answer seemed to ignite excitement in the group.

"The Wendy Bird house is part of story?"

"What's a Wendy Bird?"

"Mother tell us the story!"

"Ooh yes Mother, tell us a story!"

"I want to hear a story!"

"Me first!"

Margaret held up her arms, with a laugh. "Alright, alright. You can all hear the story, if you're sure." Peter nodded eagerly "go on Mother." The group sat and Margaret told the story of how Wendy Darling, and her brothers, first met Peter Pan – who crowed loudly at his introduction, and how they flew to Neverland and how Wendy was shot down in the forest.

Margaret told the story well, maybe not as well as Granny Wendy thought George, but then Margaret hadn't had years of practice. Still; her audience sat entranced and reacted to what was said. There was something quite … powerful about sitting in front of the actual Wendy house, in Neverland. It made the tale seem more magical.

Margaret got to the part where Wendy was shot by an arrow, and the listeners gasped in worry, and there were cries of "She didn't really die did she?", "Oh Mother tell us it's not so!" "Peter, the Wendy Lady isn't dead is she?"

Peter gave a tense "No." He leaned forward with, what George thought on any other person would be fear. "She's not dead, right."

Margaret smiled warmly "No. She didn't die. Clever Peter noticed that the Wendy Lady was breathing, you see the arrow had pierced – not her chest, but the acorn hanging around her neck."

Peter interrupted with an excited leap "My Kiss! My kiss saved her!" The Lost Boys cheered and Peter crowed as if he had done something incredible. George, swept up in the group emotions cheered with them, though did exchange a smug 'we-already-knew' look with Angela.

Peter then reached into a pocket that was part of his skeleton leaves* and pulled out a tiny object that glinted as it caught the light. He waved it excitedly around.

"And I have her Kiss. See!"

And so it was – grasped in Peter's hand was a silver thimble; what Peter thought was called a 'kiss'. George let out a 'wow' and the rest of the Lost Boys oohed and ahhed to Peter's delight. Even Mitchell, who had been sitting throughout the story trying to look superior leaned forward in interest. It wasn't so much the object that was amazing, but that Peter – especially Peter Pan – still had it. That proof of the story they'd been hearing had been real.

Angela and Margaret both had starlit eyes as they gazed at Peter, story temporarily forgotten. Only Eliza seemed … put off. George noted; as everyone else surrounded Peter, that Eliza crossed her arms and looked anywhere but at Peter. Very odd for the girl that hadn't taken her eyes of the boy throughout the entire flight to Neverland.

Before George could contemplate that confusing action, Peter settled down with an order "Finish the story Mother."

Margaret blinked slightly but composed herself enough for the final sentence. "Wha- oh yes. Well, seeing that the Wendy Lady lived, Peter ordered the Lost Boys to build a house around her, and so – this darling little house came to be."

There were cheers and an over feeling of approval. So much that when Margaret ordered everyone to go get ready for dinner, that they didn't protest – too much.

On the way to the hideout, George had a random thought and murmured to Margaret "Wait, I thought Peter was going to move the house so that it would be on the tree tops, why was it on the ground?"*

"I think they moved it back to the ground after a strong wind."

George nodded, that made sense, George joined the rest of the group. Margaret observed her cousin with a smile, then glanced towards Peter. She remembered the glint of the thimble in his hands, and wondered – had he only said the little house would be moved to the tree tops, to try and convince Wendy to return with him?

They made their way into the Hideout tree … and it was … everything that George expected. Sliding down the gap in the tree and seeing the cosy room; it was slightly awkward but also totally incredible.

Then the underground rooms – they were so cosy and comfortable. George quickly joined in with an impromptu game of tag, finding it easy to just, be part of the group. There was fruit that filled a hungry hole, and somehow Margaret managed to get them ready for bed … George had no idea how, and was reminded of an old half-conceived notion that all maternal figures were somehow magic.

She had offered to her actual family the chance to stay in the darling house with her. Only Eliza took her up on the offer. Mitchell had settled into one of the chairs; separated from the rest of the group, but still in the underground home, Angela had her own hammock just above the Lost Boys' bed – which George thought looked way more fun (and warm) to sleep in.

Eliza though, accepted … and George felt that was oddly suitable; the 'ladies' of the group got their own space. It was only the respectable thing to do.

Margaret tucked them in and started to hum a lullaby.

This was, in George's opinion, where Margaret shone. George was convinced that all other females seemed to have magical abilities– both general and individual. Granny Wendy told stories the best, Aunt Jane was the best at mimicking noises, George's own Mother seemed the best at soothing pain, Angela could draw, and Margaret … she could sing.

Her mellifluous voice soothed and lulled everyone into a drowsiness that was pulling them towards sleep. The last thought that George had before submitting to the siren song of sleep; was 'I bet when I wake up, that this proves to be all just a dream'.

End of Chapter Ten.

Author's Note:

Here this chapter ends.

Thanks to Car0lin31

I thank you all for your patience.

*Having written most of this chapter then re-reading the chapter where the children return home and learning that Peter spoke about moving the Wendy-House to the tree tops, I decided to include a nod to that.

Hopefully this story is not too horrible.

If you have read this, then thank-you.

I will update whenever I update.

Thursday 17th October 2018.