Wendy carefully lies the map she and Tinkerbell drew upon the table in the nursery. It was the only map of Neverland she had ever seen. It was nothing like it looked from the air. Then, they hadn't the time for so much detail.
"Here," Tinkerbell lands on a patch of words nestled in a cove near the east side of the island. "Skull Rock. That's where Captain Hook will be anchored."
"For how long will he be at Skull Rock?" Wendy wonders aloud, processing alternative outcomes in her head while relaying the information to the other ears listening.
"Most prisoners are killed after just two days missing," John informs, being the first of the two brothers present to break the silence after their meeting had begun. Wendy's cheeks are visibly whiter. "Well so that's good, he'll be taking Peter some place new to hide him every few weeks to avoid being found." Nobody says anything so John continues, obviously teaching them information they didn't previously know. "Irrelevant, though, as you seem to already know where he is. So you have the element of surprise as Hook doesn't know you're coming for Peter," he holds up one finger in count, "you have two to three weeks maximum before Hook relocates," up goes the next finger, "and you have a vaguely creepy message about doves that somehow means something important." Three very excellent points.
All eyes trail to Tinkerbell unknowingly.
"I only know he's at Skull Rock because that's where he was when I escaped, I suppose he may have moved once he realized I'd gone," Tinkerbell admits, realizing her mistake.
Michael and John glance at Wendy curiously, not knowing how to make sense of the pure little rattles and whistles. Fae is a very complicated language to learn, but Wendy had only the best instructor, and Tink to speak for example.
"She says she escaped from Skull Rock. Once he realizes she's gotten away he'll have anchored elsewhere," Wendy tells the boys dejectedly. They only have two valid points now, and that's not enough information to safely facilitate a rescue mission. She doesn't have to say it aloud for the rest of them to know this, too.
So they stare at the map, thinking, working out possibilities in their minds as to his whereabouts. It wasn't so much as they wanted to know where he was so they could rescue Peter from him; it was that they wanted to make sure they weren't going to be captured by his men like he was the moment they arrive. But where to look, where to look...?
Tink suddenly groans and dips her head, pouting and stomping over to the Indians Camp, otherwise named Calman Seal. Looking at the words, she wonders why a native people to Neverland would name their village in Gaelic language. When she met Tigerlily the girl only spoke English and the indigenous island tongue, which most certainly sounded nothing like the Scots who neighbored her on her own island.
"What does that mean? It's Gaelic isn't it?" Wendy points to the script below the tiny woman's feet. Tinkerbell nods. "I think I know what that means, but we have to check to make sure," Wendy says calmly, as to not get anyone too excited should she be wrong. It was more of hunch she had, to be completely honest.
"I have a translation manual," John notes proudly, "Remember we were encouraged to learn different languages for our summer studies?"
"Yes of course, I speak french fluently," Wendy says, "but I don't recall you learning a lick, in fact the first time I heard you try to pronounce a word you tossed the book and called it "old highlander rubbish"."
John narrows his eyes and returns to the table. "It doesn't matter. My choice is coming in handy, so thank me," he raises his eyebrows, holding the book away from her mockingly while he waits.
Michael snatches it from him with an overly exaggerated mischievous laugh.
"When will knowing Mandarin come in handy?" he wonders as he opens the book. Wendy chuckles- it was true, the young boy could take part in conversation with the Chinese. But when shall the need arise? Will he go into trade, war...? Wendy's thoughts are cast adrift into darkness once again, so she shakes her head and focuses her attention on the moment.
The book had an admirable thickness to it, giving way to hope that they'd find what they need in there. How hard could it be to find two words?
/
Apparently it was very hard. Hours passed, it was near noon and they had not yet found what they were looking for.
"Why can't we just ask the Indians what it means?" Michael questions tiredly.
"We can't just show up, Hook could capture us," she sighs impatiently, nudging the boys elbows off the table, as it's improper to lean on them so heavily.
"So why do we have to learn what their name means?" The youngest rolls his eyes, setting his volume on the table in defeat.
"I just want to make sure I'm right, because if I am then we know for sure that's a safe place for us to go," Wendy explains, still in the process of figuring out what information she was ready to give them. If she was wrong it could mean hours of lost time and work. She couldn't bear to let them down, much less herself, and Peter.
"Calman Seal?" John is taken slightly aback by this. "What makes you think they'd give us refuge?"
"I think it has something to do with the message Hook sent for Peter, "white doves fly in the morning". Wendy admits, trying to think of the right way to word this.
"What makes you think that, you studied french?!" Michael questions defensively. She pinches his arm to calm him.
"We studied in school until last year when it was cut from the program," Wendy explains. "I know three languages."
Michael rolls his eyes.
"You should keep trying, it's not impossible," she pushes the next volume towards him. He didn't know if she was referring to the search or his language studies. She meant both.
"White," John says, holding the book up, pointing to a page. "Calman- it means white."
Satisfied, Wendy closes her book with a rush, dust swirling up from beneath his long unopened pages.
"White dove, that's the name of the village," she announces as she stands to her feet, immediately turning to the baskets near the corners of the room, inconspicuously holding lethal weapons among the children's' toys- the swords they'd brought back from Neverland years ago. "Peter must've trusted what that meant, an obviously native saying, which means if there is any safe place with answers it's with them. That's the best place to start," she encourages, all the while racing around the room and rummaging through drawers.
"The bloody indians then." Tinkerbell begins to prepare the map for transportation.
"Mother and Father," Michael says suddenly. "W-we can't just leave them here, again," he stutters, nervous now that it was all so real.
"Michael," Wendy soothes, kneeling next to her brother who hadn't yet left his seat. "I won't leave without telling them," she finally says, after a few silent moments of thought. "Do you think you can manage to look after them? Make sure they don't forget John and I," she gestures to John as he nods, "while we're gone?" He has no choice but to reluctantly agree. "Right, then we ought to get to it," she looks at her companion, now her height and far smarter than he was last in Neverland. John was a boy of fifteen, a strong jawline and straight nose, freckled cheeks and shiny black hair.
The siblings disperse, Michael to put away his books and the other two to prepare for their journey back to the island. John leans in to Wendy and murmurs quietly, "They will never let us go. I'll leave a note." He looks to her for assurance and she nods, swallowing the lump that crowned her throat at the thought of once again leaving her parents. Leaving her mother after such tragedy...after the loss of her baby...
It was only Peter tearing her from her mother now. She swallows her sadness along with the images that sprung up into her imagination like fleas on a housecat.
Peter, hungry and exhausted, in chains at the hand of a merciless pirate. A crocodile killer, no less. She knew their attempted murder had failed when Peter returned first. He regaled her with the tale of how Captain Hook had slain the massive beast from the inside out, only it's stomach acid had singed his hair and his clothes. So he came stumbling back to the Jolly Roger a naked and hairless codfish, straight from the belly of death.
"What about Michael?" Wendy whispers back, avoiding the guilt she faces at having had to lie to her littlest brother.
"I'll handle that too. You get changed into pants, I'll not fly beneath you in a nightgown again." He feigns an exasperated cringe.
He turns and reconvenes with the two at the table while Wendy ventures to her room for what might be the last time, though she'd never dare tell anyone that.
Taking the time to gaze upon its contents she admires all the memories each holds. It makes her sad to think she'll not return, when it's entirely possible she might, she still hopes she doesn't. She hopes she stays with Peter, forever. But if only her mother could simply come with her this time!
She gathers everything she needs- proper clothing, hiking packs, food, and a tiny acorn attached to a string, of which she wraps around her neck and tucks safely under her jacket near her heart. When she returns to the nursery John and Tinkerbell are waiting for her by the window in the silence, unable to communicate entirely with each other. The sight of the open window makes it all so real, but still a strange sight as this would be the first time she's ever attempted to fly away from her world in broad daylight.
"How will we know where to go without the stars?" Wendy questions as she approaches them, heart racing faster and faster with every step.
"I've made the journey enough times, but stay close." Tink says.
"Hold my hand," she says to John, raising a foot up onto the ledge. She had forgotten what it was like to be sprinkled with pixie dust- as if you're being covered in warm snow, that instead of melting into your skin just radiates off of you in a beautiful golden shimmer. A calm envelops her and she closes her eyes, a face in her mind, a specific boyish grin.
When she opens them again she's floating.
/ EXACTLY ONE NEVERLAND MONTH AFTER TINKERBELL'S ESCAPE /
CLINK!
"Food," the pirate says lowly after pushing a tray through the slot in the cell door.
"Not hungry," Peter mutters back tiredly, not breaking his gaze from the porthole there where he could look at his island from the Jolly Rogers hold. The man sighs and looks behind himself briefly to see the men who brought him here have left. He removes a set of keys from his belt and unlocks Peters door, letting himself in. Peter breaks his gaze at that, but the look of exhaustion and uninterest remained on his face.
"You have to eat," he says calmly, holding a plate up to him. Peters sea green eyes stare right through him, through the food.
"I'll eat if you stop doing this to me," he gives him one of his only responses, one he knows is completely useless, one he already knows the answer to. Or at least on he thinks he knows the answer to, since he's only ever heard in response the same words.
"I want to," the pirate says. This was not the answer Peter had come to know. Every time they do this, every time they run this routine, he always says, "We can't stop." Peter's eyebrows knit together in confusion and he eyes the man suspiciously, his attention caught. Why the change, after so long...?
Though he did wonder why the man was so conscious of him keeping up his strength by food, he considered it had something to do with what Hook wanted from him. Perhaps he'd met a subjectively moral pirate who's really just concerned for Peter's wellbeing. He doubts though that it's the latter of these two options. But, he's unable to ignore how he only does so when they're alone. If Hooks other men stick around this pirate won't say a word to him. He considers trying to ask him a question but he knows that any information will be quickly returned with "no can do".
The man has blonde hair, blue eyes, and is one of the only men aboard with a clean shaven face. He may also be the tallest man he'd ever seen, reaching perhaps six feet two.
Even Peters chin was marked with a bit of scruff. He didn't understand what was happening to his body before and he certainly does not now.
"Why do you care if I eat or not?" He thinks maybe he will get an answer this time, since they're breaking routine. He looks down silently, expression calm and collected. Perhaps maybe he won't answer.
"Who are you? Why has Hook brought aboard another captain?" he tries. Surprisingly he receives an answer right away. Peter thinks it would'e just been easier to answer the first question. But not only was this a push for a change in conversation but he also wanted to confirm what he thought he already knew- that this man was no ordinary pirate. He was in charge of own crew somewhere, for he does not strike Peter as the type of man to obey orders, especially not from the likes of Captain Hook. No man Peter had ever met had more with-held strength than who stands before him now- not even Mr. Darling, Wendy's father.
He could see in it the veins in this forearm, the tension in his brow, and the twitch of his lip.
"Captain Luke." He actually smiles a bit. "But you can call me Captain." He leans in and whispers. "You're under my command now, do you understand?"
While menacing his deep voice is, it's oddly calming. Captain Luke speaks in a steady even tone, as if he knew the things he was going to say an hour before he entered the cell and even had time to rehearse it. Peter simply couldn't help but believe everything he said in it's entirety. His voice is soft, as if he could be speaking to anyone between the ages of four and one hundred three.
"What do you want from me?" Silence. "What the fuck do you want from me?" Peter raises his voice for the first time since he entered his captivity.
"Eat." Captain Luke leaves the cell without another word.
Peter screams until his head pounds and he's forced to pass out on the hard wooden bench he's called his bed for these past weeks. The plate of food untouched like so many others.