Chapter 12 – The Crystal Marble
---
A warm breeze filtered through the window, making the simple curtain billow and dance. Slowly Peter's eyes fluttered open, and he could see that outside the sun was trying to push its way through the dense cloud cover, creating a single ray of light shining on the wooden floor under the window. For a moment, he didn't know where he was or what had happened to him over the past few weeks. It seemed like he had been in a deep sleep for a very long time, and it all was just a dream.
Cautiously, he pushed the furs aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Even though he no longer felt light headed and nauseous, he was still extremely sore, and every time he moved too suddenly, the cloth of his clothes would scrap over his healing wounds. With as much strength as he could muster, he hoisted himself off the bed and began to carefully tread over to the window.
Pushing the curtain away, he sighed. The view had always been Wendy and Jane's favorite part of the tree house. Not only did it over look the river, gently flowing below, but the horizon and ocean of Neverland that seemed to stretch on forever. The sea was calm today; only a few waves that he could see were crashing against the shore. He and the Lost Boys were going to sail that ocean one day, and discover where it ended.
Peter dropped the curtain closed. Guess they would never get that chance.
Turning away from the window, he scanned the room; he hadn't been up here in a while. Everything was still that same way Jane had left it last time she came to visit him. But quickly he realized that there was something different, something wasn't the same. Then he heard it.
The soft sound of someone sleeping.
Taking a few steps towards the bed he noticed her. Her chestnut hair still in its plait, her face turned towards him, soft and relaxed in the depths of her dream. She sighed, her lips gently parting, and turned on her side, now fully facing him. Peter stood, rooted to his spot at the edge of the bed; intently watching her as her chest gently rose and fell with each breath.
Leah.
She had done so much for him, and they barely even knew each other. She even risked her own life to save his; he could never do enough to repay her for that. The longer he stood watching her, the tighter and tighter his chest became, and he couldn't understand why. All he knew was that this girl was affecting him in a way that no other girl had before, and it frightened him.
He continued to gaze at her as she began to shift again, stretching an arm out to the empty spot in the bed that he had previously occupied. Upon noticing that the space next to her was empty, she suddenly bolted upright, catching Peter off guard.
"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I didn't," She paused, and stared at him, taking in that he was out of bed and standing on his own. "How are you feeling?" She asked while climbing out of the bed and unsuccessfully smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt.
"Better." It was at that moment that he realized that the warmth and comfort he felt last night was her. She again had become selfless and spent the night next to him, giving him the warmth that he needed to get well. And the more he thought about it, the warmer his face became.
Turning away from her, he noticed the exposed opening in the alcove and his heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. Slowly he made his way over and peered down into the darkness, placing a hand on the wall to keep himself from falling over. Wave after wave of hopelessness and anguish hit him the longer he stood there, thinking about what was at the bottom, and what memories that place carried for him. His legs became weak with the onslaught of emotion, and he gradually slid to the floor.
The next thing he knew, she was there next to him, helping him stand and walk over to the bed and sit down, and where he should have felt grateful for her help and care for him, the closer she was, the more he wanted to push her away. He could never repay her, and that feeling helplessness was not who he was.
He wanted his life back. He wanted to fly over the trees of Neverland with Tinkerbell by his side, and the Lost Boys below them running through the forest trying to keep up. He wanted to hear their laughter again, and play games with them.
But most of all, he wanted to kill Hook.
He had never felt more hatred towards someone, in his entire life, and he wanted Hook to be gone, but before he went, go through the pain that he was going through.
"Peter, please. You're hurting me." Her voice was soft, but it was enough to snap him out of his thoughts and realize that he was gripping her arm in anger, getting tighter and tighter the more malicious his thoughts towards Hook became. Quickly he let go of her arm as if it burned him, and quietly apologized. "It's alright." She said with a small smile.
Minutes passed between them with no words being spoken, Peter just stared at the covered window from his seat on the bed, and Leah quietly glanced around the room.
"Can you, um," She started suddenly. Peter looked over at her and noticed that instead of focusing on him, she was staring at her feet, her face wearing the color of a deep blush. "Can you take off your shirt?" Peter was almost physically thrown off the bed by her request, color also beginning to creep into his face. Looking up, Leah noticed the confused look and the blush on his face and quickly tried to explain herself without adding any more embarrassment or awkwardness to the situation. "I need to check your wounds." It took his mind a few moments to fully comprehend what she said, but when he did he gave her a small nod of acknowledgement.
Grabbing the hem of his shirt with both hands, Peter slowly pulled the garment over his head, grimacing as the skin of his torso stretched uncomfortably. Once it was off, he tossed the shirt aside, stared up at her, and waited. For a few moments she just stood and studied him, then took the salve that Smee had given her out of her bag, and settled herself behind him. His wounds were still bad, but they looked as if they were beginning to heal nicely. Opening the jar, the pungent smell wafted up her nose, and she paused for a few seconds to get used to the stench before dipping two fingers into the goop.
Gently, she began to smooth the cream over the gashes in his skin, careful not to put too much pressure. As she continued, Leah heard low hissing and looked down to see that Peter's hands were fisted into the furs on the bed, his knuckles beginning to turn white. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and blew a steady stream of cool air onto the burning wound. For a moment, the muscles in his back tensed, then slowly she watched he hand uncurl from its death grip on the fur. Silently she continued, going back and forth from applying the ointment, then a cool stream of air, finishing the treatment on his back in only a few minutes.
Clasping the jar in her clean hand, Leah shifted around to sit in front of him so she could begin on his front. She applied the ointment to the long cut that curled across his collarbone, causing Peter to tense in pain again. With a deep breath, she leaned forward and blew cool air on the wound, ignoring the intimacy that it created between them. When she pulled away, Leah felt the cool air of the room sweep across her heated cheeks and averted her eyes from meeting his. Dipping her fingers in the jar, she applied the medicine to a deep wound on the center of his chest, and when he hissed she took a deep breath to sooth him.
"Don't." Peter had only whispered, but his voice was loud in the silence of the room. The air that she had been holding, slowly released from her lungs as she looked up at him. His head was turned away from her, eyes intently staring at the window, and she noticed that the deep blush he bore had spread all the way to the tips of his ears.
"Alright." She answered in a whisper. The rest of the treatment continued in silence.
---
Days passed, and slowly Peter began to regain some the strength he had lost, his wounds began to also heal, but only physically. One night, after having some success in being able to hover a few inches off the ground, Peter climbed out and soundlessly padded across the room to the opening that led to underground hideout. Taking a deep breath, he removed the carpet and carefully descended into the darkness.
Peter landed with a soft thud, the floor exhaling some dirt underneath his feet. The hideout was the same way that they had left it that early morning he and the lost boys had gone to confront Hook. He took another step into the room, stepping over discarded clothes and blankets, and stood in front of the long wooden table, melted down candles stuck to the surface, their flames long extinguished. Running his hand over the wood, he paused and picked up a single forgotten crystal marble, memories instantly flooding back to him.
"Peter!" Tootles cried the moment Peter entered the room. "Cubby took my marbles!" The little boy pulled on Peter's shirt, tugging him towards the table where Cubby sat, trying to look innocent.
"I didn't do nothin'." The round boy said.
"Cubby." Peter warned, giving the boy a stern look. It was at times like these that Peter felt like he was acting more like the boy's father than their leader and friend.
"Little snitch." Cubby muttered under his breath, throwing the bag of marbles on the table as he got up on walked over to where the twins were huddled talking in hushed whispers.
"Here you go Tootles." Peter said, handing the bag to the small boy.
"Thanks Peter! You wanna play with me? You can be the crystal one." Tootles asked sweetly while rummaging in the bag for the marble.
"But that's your favorite one. Why do you want me to play with it?" Peter questioned. Tootles paused his searching and just looked up at Peter and smiled. That smile could melt even the coldest of hearts. "You know what," He said, kneeling down to the boy's level. "How about later?"
"You promise?" Tootles asked hopefully.
"I promise."
"Peter?" Her voice snapped him back to the present, where he was standing in a dark, empty underground hideout. Slowly he turned towards her to see her standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around herself and hair tousled from sleep.
"I promised him that we would play." Peter said softly, looking down at the marble. "But we never got around to it." Ashamed of the feeling of weakness that suddenly washed over him, Peter quickly walked past her, pausing to place the marble in her hand before ascending back up the ladder. Leah stood staring at the small marble in her open hand, and hated Hook more than ever.
---
Wow, that took us far longer then expected. We were going to post on thanksgiving, but computers hate us right now. Thank you so much for hanging in there with us! And just as a side note, next chapter will be happier and will mark the halfway point in the story! Happy reading!
-Star and Glade
11-28-05