Vicious Images – Part II

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Tootles was murdered.

That was the only that Leah could think about as she climbed aboard the Jolly Roger again later that day. Looking up beyond the masses and sails, she could see that the sky above was steadily growing darker and light drizzle began to fall. The eye of the storm was fast approaching. As she stared around her at the pirates working on rigging, swabbing the deck and other odd jobs, she couldn't help but feel restless. All of them were untrustworthy. They knew what was to become of Peter, what their Captain was to do to him, and none of them had an ounce of conscience to stop him. Their thirst for the final destruction of Peter Pan repulsed her.

The rain began to fall harder upon the deck, forcing her to hasten her pace down the steps into the bowels of the ship in order to stay dry. With her, a lone pirate, easily a head taller and twice her size, carried yards of linen with him, grunting about how there could be better things he could do with his time, as she balanced her two buckets. Upon her entrance in the hallway of the dungeon deck, the two guards shook themselves out of their stupor and unlocked the two locks on the door. Each guard with his own key. They opened the door and let Leah and the pirate enter. He didn't stay long, but hastily and unceremoniously threw the linens on the ground and shut the door behind him squawking to the guards about a new whiskey a ship mate had invented.

She was relieved to be alone and placed the buckets by a far wall, then she took a deep breath before she turned and solemnly gazed through the darkness at the figure in the center of the room. Her heart wrenched and pounded heavier against her ribcage at the sight before her.

Peter hung limply against his chains in an unconscious unrest, his eyelids madly fluttering in a tormented dream. Leah slowly circled him as she lit the torches around the small room, finally able to see the full extent of Hook's wraith upon him. The flames licked across the fiery skin of Peter's chest and back, highlighting the grooves of broken skin and dried blood. She willed herself to breath and focus on the task at hand.

Grabbing half the linens that were brought, Leah busied herself with forming a small cushion on the splintered wood next to Peter. Then she stood and removed from around her neck the chain that held the key Hook had given her. She studied the silver in the palm of her hand, running a finger down its length. Quickly she shook herself out of her muse and unlocked the chains around Peter's wrist. By doing so, all support was lost from him and he collapsed foreword onto her, his head lolling against her shoulder. Warm puffs of his shallow breaths prickling against the skin of her neck. Slowly she kneeled and cradled him to her, caring for him as a mother would a child. Leah tentatively ran a hand up back, lightly caressing the raised wounds she passed. When she reached the nape of his neck she paused, letting her fingertips only barely brush against his hair, still damp from earlier. She clutched him tighter to her, careful not to hurt him any further, in a futile and desperate attempt to steal away some of his pain. I'm so sorry.

Almost unwillingly, Leah released Peter and gently laid him on the linens she had placed on the floor. Then, taking another piece of linen, she ripped it into strips until she had a fairly large pile of them. Next, she brought one of the buckets of water next to her and dipped a strip into it, rung it out and began the meticulous process of cleansing his wounds.

Slowly and carefully, she washed away the dry blood and remnants of sea water from his skin, until all there was were the flaming gashes on his chest. Discarding the soiled rag, she reached to her side for a small jar, given to her by Smee earlier that day, which contained a specially concocted salve that healed wounds quickly, but in turn stung like the dickens. Somehow, though considering the crowd that Smee was associated with, Leah found herself trusting the man. By the subtle ways he cringed at and second guessed, some of the Captain's actions, she knew that he was a kind hearted man who had just made wrong decisions in his life.

When she opened the jar a pungent smell rose from it, making her eyes water slightly. Blinking rapidly, she composed herself and with two fingers, scooped enough of the thick goop to cover her fingers. Then as gently as she could, she began to apply it to Peter's wounds, starting at the fiercest one that curled over his collar bone. As she cautiously smoothed the salve over the laceration, she felt the skin beneath her fingertips spasm in senseless spasms of pain. Leah's heart contracted painfully in her chest when she looked into his face. His eyebrows were furrowed and sweat began to bead on his temples and upper lip. Through parted lips his breathing became labored and short. Even in his dreams, Peter was unable to escape what happened to him during his waking hours. But when he awoke again, he would have to face even more horrendous pain, this time emotionally.

Leah paused applying the ointment, and with her free hand, dampened a clean linen strip. She lightly brushed the cloth over his face, wiping away the sweat from his forehead and dried tear tracks on his cheeks. She was about to wipe the dried blood from the corner of his mouth when a hand tightly clamped down on her wrist, halting her motion. Hesitantly she raised her eyes to meet the depths of Peter's green ones, glazed with pain.

"What are you doing here?" He rasped, tightening his grip on her wrist.

"I'm cleaning your wounds." She responded gently.

"Why? I thought you were with Hook. Who seems to enjoy," His voice suddenly hitched, pausing his speech. "Enjoy, causing me pain."

"I'm not with Hook." She returned. "I'm just, here." Peter stared at her for what seemed to be ages, before he slackened his grip on her wrists, finally allowing her to continue to heal him.

She waited a few moments, trying to establish more trust between them by maintaining eye contact, but the gaze he had sent upon her pushed her to look away. Once again she dipped her fingers back into the jar and gently began to apply the balm to a severe looking gash emblazoned across his chest.

"So why are you here?" He asked after a couple minutes of awkward silence. Leah didn't answer him but instead just shrugged her shoulders, focusing intently on the work at hand. This was a lot easier when he was unconscious. "Okay then." Peter hissed suddenly as her fingers brushed over a deep wound.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"Yeah, you should be." He threw back at her with a harshness the Leah had only heard with Hook. The tone of his voice halted her actions and she looked up at him with a hurt expression. Upon seeing her reaction, he softened a little, he hadn't meant it to come out that way and hurt her. "What I meant was," He began, trying to prevent anything from happening that he might regret later on. "You didn't do anything to stop Hook. The bystander who just watches is just as guilty as the person causing the pain." Peter stopped when he realized that he was repeating the exact same speech Wendy had given him a few years back. Inwardly he laughed at himself. Wendy. It had happened when he had sat back and watched one of Wendy's older grandchildren pick on a younger one. She became so mad at him and he didn't understand why.

"The bystander is just as guilty as the person causing the pain Peter." Wendy scolded.

"How so? I didn't do anything!"

"Exactly, you didn't do anything. You could have easily prevented this but instead you just sat back and watched." Wendy walked away shaking her head. Leaving Peter to wander aimlessly around Neverland for the next few days thinking about she had said.

Peter quickly shook himself back to the present and stared up at the girl sitting next to him, her hands fisted around the cloth of her skirt and eyes downcast.

Leah didn't know how to answer what he had just pushed on her. She knew he was right and that she was guilty of such a crime. She continued to stare at her hands in silence, knowing that he expected her to retort and defend herself. The moments of silence between the hung heavily in the air, but Peter was giving up the struggle between them as his eyelids began to droop shut, casting him into another fitful sleep. Leah sighed in relief, glad to be out from under Peter's accusing stare that she knew he had set upon her. She continued to work swiftly, making sure that she was extra careful when she rolled him onto his stomach so she could mend his back. When she finished, she rolled him onto his back again, and was in the process of cleaning up her materials, when he awoke again.

"Are you still there?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper. Leah paused what she was doing, grabbed her tin water cup and filled it from the clean water bucket. Then she kneeled down next to him.

"I'm still here." He gazed up at her with glazed eyes.

"I thought you would have left by now." She shook her head, and for the faintest second, she thought she had seen him smile, but it swiftly melted away into convulsing coughs. Leah hurriedly placed the cup down on the wooden floor and helped him sit up. Peter cautiously steadied himself by holding onto her shoulders, as the cough continued to rake over his body. Slowly they faded and he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He was startled when he felt cold tin press against his lips. He opened him mouth slightly and sighed as the cool liquid trailed over his parched throat. When the cup was drained, she drew it away. He once again took deep breaths to regain his composure before opening his eyes. As his vision adjusted to the dim light in the wooden hell, he was unprepared for the sight he saw before him.

Leah clutched the tin cup close to her chest, and stared up at Peter. Wisps of her hair that had come undone from its braid fell playfully around her face. But what had surprised Peter the most, were the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Something in the pit of his stomach stirred, and purely instinctively he watched himself raise his hand to her cheek and brush away a tear with his thumb. Immediately he regretted his actions when he saw the fear and shock that leaped into the depths of her green eyes, and knew that she would have pushed away from him had she not know that her presence was what was keeping him stable.

Peter awkwardly broke eye contact with her and stared into a darken corner of the room. He was about to pull his eyes away when an object nailed to the wall caught his attention. As the torch light flickered over it, Peter felt like lead had just dropped into his stomach.

Leah felt his grip on her shoulders suddenly, and followed his gaze to the corner of the room. When she realized what he was staring at, her stomach drop and she felt a lump form in her throat. Please don't ask me. Please don't ask. She internally begged, but when she looked up at Peter's face, she knew by the expression in his eyes when he sharply turned back to her that he would.

"What happened to Tootles?" His green eyes bore into hers, searching, probing for answers.

"I…he…" She stumbled and turned her head away, tightly closing her eyes, trying to prevent the images that came flooding to her. That was the answer Peter need to confirm what he dreaded.

For pinned in the corner of the wooden dungeon, was the suit of a small skunk, the fur matted with blood.

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Ahhh, another chapter finished. Sorry this one took longer than a day or two as we had said before, but Star's internet is being a pain in the behind, and my computer apparently didn't like the disk we save this chapter on. But we got it working, so here we are. We have no idea when the next chapter will be out because we haven't even started writing it yet. So please be patient with us. And please, please review. It helps so much when we are in a funk and can go back and read past reviews. It gives us a ton of encouragement and extra vigor to keep writing! Thanks so much!

-Star and Glade

8-19-04