Chapter 3: Flight.
Matt woke suddenly with a violent sneeze and nearly fell out of the hammock in sudden disorientation. It took him a long panicked moment to remember where he was, confronted by a riotous chorus of birds and sun-speckled wood walls instead of the concentrated quiet and generic white of Wammy's House. Looking around, he saw that Mello was hanging halfway out of his hammock with his blond hair sticking to his face, and across the room Brown was dozing peacefully. The other hammocks were empty.
Moving slowly so as not to wake the other boys, Matt got out of the hammock and put his shirt back on. His sunburn hurt a lot less this morning than he thought it would, but there was no reason to go ahead and toast the rest of himself too. He thought maybe his eyes itched less as well but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. With a last glance at Mello, he shimmied down the ladder and dropped the last couple rungs.
This was a sight he didn't mind waking up to, he admitted to himself. Maybe he would have liked playing outside better in the past if the scenery had always been so inviting. Early light filtered through the leaves, dappling everything green and pale gold, and small blue butterflies were bobbing about among the thick clusters of ferns and flowers. Through the trees sunlight glittered on the stream, and over the rustling of the water he could hear low murmurs and an occasional splash. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he strolled in that direction, thinking as he walked that it would be awesome to have a game that involved hopping around through a digital jungle capturing butterflies for ten points apiece.
The sight that greeted him was an odd one. Turtle and Near were standing in a pool of slower-moving water up to their knees, bent over almost double with their hands in the water. Cinder sat on a nearby log with her scrawny legs dangling in the stream, watching and occasionally offering a critical remark. Near had rolled up his pant legs and shirtsleeves, which made them look even baggier and more ill-fitting than ever in comparison to his slender limbs. Standing stock still, he was staring down into the water with an expression of intense concentration.
"Hey guys, whatcha doin'?" Matt greeted them, flopping down on the bank under a shady tree.
"Quiet! You'll scare the fish!" Turtle admonished him shrilly.
"Shhh, I see one," Near murmured, his lips barely moving.
There was a silver flash in the water, and Near jerked his hands out of the water, almost losing his balance and sending sparkling droplets everywhere. "I touched it!"
Cinder rolled her eyes and kicked water at him. "The point's not to poke the fish! You're supposed to grab it when it's in your hands!"
Near swiped the water off his face with one sleeve and resumed his previous posture, unbothered by her commentary.
"You're catching fish with your bare hands?" Matt said, impressed.
"Well they're trying anyway," said Cinder. "I'm a lot better at it."
"Don't see you in the water," Turtle said, fidgeting a little but not looking up.
"No point, you move around so much you always scare the fish away anyway."
Near's hands twitched. "Oh, come on," said Cinder. "That one was nowhere near you!" He continued to ignore her, his gaze so concentrated that Matt was surprised the water wasn't boiling.
"Where's Pan?" he asked, scooting up to the water's edge so he could see the fish.
"Out and about," said Turtle. "Probably spying on the pirates again."
"He does that a lot," Matt commented, poking a stick into the stream and watching the water swirl around it.
Cinder's eyes followed a large fish that was weaving lazily through the pool. "Yeah…Pan loves fighting Captain Kira."
"Why do they fight?"
Cinder looked at him like he was crazy. "Because he's a pirate. Duh."
"Oh!" Near cried, standing bolt upright as though he had been electrified. A fat silver fish slipped his clutching hands and flew into the air, wriggling wildly and landing back in the middle of the stream with a loud splash. With a comic expression of dismay and surprise, the pale boy took an automatic step back, lost his footing, and fell over backward.
He resurfaced, thrashing and spluttering. Turtle whooped with laughter and gave him a hand up. "Oh, now you've scared them all off for sure," said Cinder, peering into the water.
"They'll come back," said Brown lazily, strolling up and sitting down ponderously next to Matt.
"Hey Brown!" chirped Turtle. "You shoulda seen the one Near just almost caught."
Near waded to the shore, his white curls dripping, and sat a little despondently on the bank. Matt found himself feeling both somewhat uplifted and rather sorry for the young prodigy; after being accustomed to being the best at everything he tried, it must be a severe blow to his pride to be not getting anything right on the first try. As third place it was a little gratifying to see that Near could fail, but he didn't seem to handle it very well. "Hey, better luck next time, huh?" he said.
Near nodded, but he was still watching the water as he shook out his soaked sleeves. Silver glinted as another fish edged into the pool.
"Hey Matt, you wanna try?" Turtle called enthusiastically.
Matt eyed the sunlit water dubiously. He didn't want the Lost Boys to think he was a wimp, and he could definitely try anything that Near tried, but…. "Well…I dunno. I burn kinda easy…"
Cinder looked at him appraisingly. "You do sorta look like death on a stick."
"On a stick that was put to roast over the fire for several hours…."
They laughed, and Matt felt an odd sort of glow. Being around kids with an actual sense of humor was kind of a nice change from the unnaturally serious attitudes of the students at Wammy's.
"We can make some kind of hat or something," Cinder suggested. Hopping down from her log, she splashed to shore. "C'mon."
"What, you're going to leave me to fish by myself?" Turtle complained.
"Keep fidgeting and nobody'll catch any anyway."
Near sat with Brown and watched Turtle continue his fruitless (or fishless) endeavor as Matt and Cinder tromped into the trees to find suitable hat material. His mind wandered. Today Mello would be wanting to go back to Wammy's. Sighing inaudibly, Near wondered what Roger would do about their strange vanishing and reappearing. He felt oddly as though he had been in Neverland both for a long time and as though he had just arrived. On the one hand, the magic of Neverland was entrancing, and the freedom to just sit and absorb the sunlight and not have anything particular to worry about, or to do things than for no other reason than that they might be exciting, was great in an unnerving sort of way. On the other, he was really starting to miss clean dry clothes, and it seemed like despite his efforts to try new things, he couldn't seem to do anything right. And failure was not something that Near took well.
Which brought Near back to what he considered his biggest failure and fear so far—to get back home, they would have to fly. And to fly, they would have to be up in the air. Very high. Above the ground. The very hard and unforgiving ground. The image of gliding through the tropical blue sky was a marvelous one until he reminded himself of that one catch. He felt nauseous just thinking about it, and horribly disappointed in himself. If flying wasn't magical, he didn't know what was. But given his record thus far, and his sudden awareness of the panic that even something as small as climbing a ladder brought over him—what if the magic stopped working for him in midair? He shuddered.
There was a splash as Turtle danced with impatience, the fish moving too slowly for his liking. Multiple silver glints darted out of reach. At least I'm not the only one who is hopeless at fishing, Near thought.
As though reading Near's mind, Brown suddenly commented, "You're not very good at this sort of thing, are you?"
Startled and a little offended, Near looked at him blankly, unsure of how to respond to such a blunt critique.
"Running. Shooting. Fishing," Brown elaborated. "Not very strong or fast."
Near flushed a little and looked back at the water. "It's not something I've ever done," he said a little defensively, then wondered why he felt the need to defend himself against the opinion of this boy. Caring what other people thought of you only hurts you, he thought, Mello popping inexplicably into his mind.
"I wasn't either at first," the older boy remarked placidly, then clambered up off the ground. "Here," he said, offering his hand. "Come on. I know something you might like better."
Nonplussed, the younger boy let Brown pull him to his feet and followed as he shambled upstream a little, plucked a few reeds, and then into the trees to snap some wicked-looking thorns as long as Near's hand off a flowering tree. Pinching off the ends of the reeds, he handed one to Near along with several of the thorns. "Pick a target," he said.
Thinking that he could see where this was going, Near pointed out a tree about ten paces away with a vine twining up its trunk. "That vine there, where it forks."
Brown stuck a thorn in his improvised blowpipe and put it to his mouth. Squinting one eye closed, he aimed, and his round cheeks puffed explosively as he suddenly blew. The thorn shot, sticking briefly in the spot Near had indicated, then dropping to the ground.
"Doesn't need to stick far in your target," Brown said unperturbedly, ambling over and picking his thorn back up. "Dip a bit of poison on there to knock 'em out. Prick 'em and it's done. You need aim and bit of practice breathing right, but strength's not an issue."
Near looked in the reed at his hand, and then up at Brown, unsure of what to say. The larger boy was dropping another dart into his improvised blowpipe. He glanced up at Near. "You want to try?"
"Er—yes." Carefully he inserted a sharp thorn into the hollow reed. He already preferred this to archery—the delicate blowpipe felt much more comfortable in his hand than the bulky bow, almost like a piece from one of his model kits. Pointing it tentatively at the same spot on the vine, he took a deep breath, pursed his lips around the reed, and let out his breath in a sharp puff.
To his delight, the dart zipped out of the pipe with a soft fwit. He didn't hit the vine, but it definitely hit the tree's trunk, bouncing off the tough bark and disappearing into the ferns. A smile traced its way onto his face. Maybe he wasn't hopeless after all. Some of the excitement that had pulled at him all through yesterday came bubbling back.
"That's really good for a first try," Brown said, regarding the tree lazily. "Thought you might prefer that."
Near's small hand clasped around the dark thorns. He tried to remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to be considerate to him for no obvious reason and came up utterly blank. "Thank you," he said shyly.
"Hey, no problem," the older boy said easily. "Here, come on. If you put some little feathers on them they're easier to find and you can use them a couple times before they break."
Midmorning washed golden over a peaceful tableau by the little stream. Matt, now decked out in a wide-brimmed sort of conical hat woven of palm leaves, and Cinder, who had decided that Matt's hat had turned out pretty cool and made one for herself as well, got bored with fishing after less than five minutes and were now engaged in an enthusiastic water fight in the stream. Turtle, now sitting with his feet kicking in the water and weaving his own hat, egged them on. Not far away Near and Brown lounged in focused but amiable silence, meticulously wrapping tiny fluffy feathers dropped by tropical birds onto their little darts with brightly colored thread.
This peace was abruptly broken by a muffled thump and a yelp, followed by a loud barrage of cursing.
Everyone looked up, Near and Matt with trepidation, Brown with mild interest, and Turtle and Cinder breaking into giggles. Cinder recovered quickly and took advantage of Matt's distraction to knock him over into the water.
"Hey!" he yelled, clinging to his hat with one hand, and grabbed her ankle so that she fell too, shrieking with laughter.
It was not long before Mello stomped up to the stream, his hair tousled, rubbing irritably at his shoulder. Apparently he had fallen out of the hammock again. He took one look at Matt in his new hat, grinning and dripping in the middle of the stream, and looked infuriated; then he looked down and noticed Near sitting in his rolled-up pants and damp, wrinkled shirt, holding a dart in one hand and staring up at him with one brow raised. The combination of looking like he had been living in the jungle overnight and acting as though he were in the Wammy's playroom was just too much for Mello.
"You are just too damn weird," he snarled finally, seemingly unable to articulate his thoughts any more coherently than to throw uncreative insults at his rival.
"Good morning," Near responded stiffly, looking back down and choosing another feather.
Mello ignored him and scowled at Matt, who had gotten to his feet and was offering a hand to Cinder (warily, in case she decided to pull him over). "What the hell is that ridiculous thing on your head?" he demanded.
"A hat? You could use one too, you're looking a bit pink," Matt said cheerfully, splashing back to shore.
"Whatever. Where the hell is Pan?"
The smile melted off Matt's face as he remembered that Pan would be helping them return to Wammy's today.
"I've been taking a look around," said the person in question, swooping in unexpectedly with Cherry flitting behind him. He landed in an easy crouch on a low limb in the tree Near and Brown were sitting under, then dropped to the ground. Bending down, he examined the row of feathered darts. "These look really good," he commented, then picked a bright blue feather out of their little pile and stuck it in his tufty hair without explanation. He straightened back up and grinned. "Pirates are out and about. Poor Kira's missing his map."
Cinder punched her fist in the air. "We gonna get to play with them today?" she asked eagerly.
"Maybe," Pan said as Mello interrupted, "Wait a sec, you gonna go running off again like yesterday or you gonna teach us to fly like you said you would?"
A flash of irritation crossed Pan's painted features and then was swallowed in his strange grin. "Sure I will," he said lazily. "We can start right now if you want."
"Yes, I do," said Mello shortly. Near and Matt exchanged a glance.
"Come on then," said Pan, "it's good to have some space to fall just in case, let's go back to the clearing."
Near blanched and then his face went blank. "Maybe we can make more of these later," he said quietly to Brown. The older boy gave him an encouraging look. "Sure we will," he replied in his slow, cheerful way.
Mello frowned at Near, who pointedly ignored the blonde as he clambered to his feet and shuffled after Pan. Matt waved back to the Lost Boys (Turtle's hat was finished, and he was now itching to take up Matt's place in the water fight), calling, "See you guys in a bit!"
"Matt!" Mello hissed as Matt fell into step beside him. "What are you talking about? Don't you want to go home?"
Matt shrugged a little uneasily. "Aw, I…I dunno, Mel…it's kinda nice to take a break from studying…. It can't hurt to stay a couple days, can it? Flying sure sounds like fun though."
"The whole point of learning how to fly is to get out of here!"
The redhead sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. Too bad he couldn't get a hold of some chocolate for Mello. He bet that was half his friend's problem with Neverland—living on fruit. He didn't dare say so, though.
"Ok," said Pan once they were all gathered around, taking a large bite out of a banana he had somehow acquired during the short walk. "You've already got the fairy dust," he told them in a somewhat muffled voice. "Once you got some you don't need more. To keep up by yourself, all you need to do is concentrate on a happy thought," he spread his arms wide, "and fly! You gotta mean to, of course." He swallowed. "If you don't want to fly you're not gonna just go falling off the ground every time you're happy about something."
"A happy thought?" Mello said skeptically. "Like what?"
Pan gave him an odd look. "You know. A thought that makes you happy? A memory, maybe, or an idea, that just lifts you off the ground."
"Sounds simple enough," Matt commented. Near's expression indicated he thought it was anything but.
"So, go ahead and try it," said Pan, taking another bite of his snack and sitting against a tree to watch.
Feeling like this was the most idiotic thing he had ever done, other than trying to sleep in a hammock, Mello cast about for a happy thought. Going back to Wammy's, he thought finally. Beating Near and succeeding L. Scrunching his eyes closed so he didn't have to see Pan watching him, he concentrated on the thought as hard as he could, imagining standing invisible behind that computerized voice and knowing that he had real power and influence. He opened one eye. His feet were still planted firmly on the ground.
"It didn't work," he told Pan accusingly.
"Well you sure didn't look happy, you looked pissed off," Pan pointed out. "Your thought must not have been happy enough."
Matt had trouble at first choosing a happy memory. Beating his first computer game! was his first thought. Hacking into the Wammy server had been a pretty gleeful moment as well….
His mind latched on a very secret memory, the type that they were never allowed to talk about at Wammy's, and that many forgot from simple misuse. He had been six years old when he came to the orphanage, old enough to remember his big sister. Sometimes he wondered what had happened to her, but was never worried. She had been sweet and full of laughter; Matt was determinedly sure a young couple with a nice house must have adopted her. He remembered a long time ago, a plan she had to make cookies to surprise their parents, pushing a chair up to the counter so he could climb up and help. Too late she had discovered that they didn't have eggs, and so they had sat there on the kitchen counter eating the half-finished cookie dough instead until their mother came home and found them and the floury mess they had made of the kitchen.
"Whoa!" Matt heard Mello cry, and realized he was hovering a good couple feet off the ground.
"Wow!" he echoed gleefully. Moving his arms and legs experimentally, he found that it was actually a lot simpler than it looked. "This is great!" Matt cried, swooping up and turning in midair. "Come on, guys!"
Near watched Matt anxiously, trying to dredge his memory for one that made him happy and drawing a complete blank. He thought of his favorite toys, of card towers he had been especially proud of, but none of these thoughts was able to dispel the mental image of a helpless fall and a sudden, shattering landing. He felt torn—he wanted to fly, he did. But he was afraid to try.
"It might help if you jump off of something first," Pan commented, taking another bite of the banana.
Reluctant to take advice from Pan, Mello nevertheless stomped over to a large fallen log. If he could hurry up and get this down he wouldn't have to listen to anything the boy said anymore, after all. He scrambled on top of it and poised to jump, pausing to try to find a happy thought that was more effective—although what could be happier than winning, Mello wasn't sure. This was all so stupid. Man, he needed chocolate.
…Perfect.
Mello imagined a new silver-wrapped bar of it, mentally ripping off the foil and snapping a large corner off. His mouth started watering as he held the smooth sweet taste of the candy in his mind, melting and sticky and heavenly. Then he jumped.
He could practically taste the chocolate. Mello didn't need to open his eyes to know he was flying, but he did anyway, laughing at Near's startled expression. Suddenly he felt almost relaxed—he was light as a feather, soaring through the air like a bird! Holy shit! This is insane! But great! And he had succeeded at it before Near. Mello flipped over in midair to Matt's cheering, feeling more alive than he ever remembered feeling before. The only thing that could make this better was an actual chocolate bar. Too bad he didn't actually have any—
Abruptly he felt himself falling. Near cried out, and Mello was almost too distracted to cling back to the memory of chocolate. He stopped, the thick grass inches from his nose. With a nervous laugh he carefully stuck out his hands, settling easily back to the ground.
Looking up, he saw that Pan was grinning lazily, Matt was clapping, and Near was staring at him with an expression of mingled alarm and what might actually have been jealousy.
Mello jumped to his feet and brushed himself off, smiling for the first time in two days. Now if Near could just hurry up and get a grip on himself, they could be home before lunchtime—back to somewhere where people took life seriously. Unfortunately, Near was now watching Matt swoop around the clearing, wincing every time he dove and showing no indication that anything running through his head at the moment remotely resembled a happy thought.
Maybe he needed some positive encouragement.
"Hey, come on, Near," Mello taunted, stepping lightly into the air again, buoyed up by his elation in the now plainly envious look his rival was giving him. "What's wrong? Not scared, are you?"
Near frowned, but seemed unable to do much more.
"Try jumping like Mello did," Pan suggested from under his tree.
Darting a nervous glance back at Pan, Near moved as though walking through water, shuffling to the log and hoisting himself atop it. Then he just stood again, staring at the ground as though it would bite him.
"Well go on," Mello said impatiently. He almost wished the pale boy would fall just because it was Near, but his desire to get this over with and go home was stronger.
Near looked up at him, and for a split second Mello felt a tiny stab of pity for the little boy, who was obviously petrified but trying to hide it. The feeling was promptly quashed when Mello reminded himself of the last few years of putting up with Near's hidden smirks, smug superiority, and cool indifference to Mello's anger and wounded pride. Let Near have the tables turned on him for once. It was lovely to see that the boy had weaknesses that actually bothered him, Mello reflected. Still. Seriously. Get on with it, Near.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" he demanded, when Near showed no sign of moving.
"I…" Near wished desperately that he could just disappear—all three boys were watching him now, and Mello's tone of disgust made him feel pathetically low. "I don't think jumping is necessary…I think I'll just keep trying from the ground…."
Mello dropped to the grass, crossing his arms and scowling. "Well hurry the hell up," he complained. "Freaking pansy."
"Hey Mello! Come look at this!" Pan called.
Turning away from Near, Mello strode over to the wild boy, who was just finishing his banana. Matt was leaning against the tree, watching Near with a quizzical expression. "Look at what?" Mello snapped.
"Nothing," Pan said quietly, his black eyes suddenly piercing. "Don't you think you could go easy on the kid?"
"I'm just trying to help!" Mello said defensively. What could be more encouraging than a direct challenge?
"You're not helping. You're making it harder."
Mello looked back at Near, his white clothes stained but still bright in against the varied colors of the jungle, gazing up at the sky. "I doubt that," he said, failing utterly at hiding his bitterness. "He never gives a damn what I think or say anyway."
"I dunno, Mel," Matt said, uncharacteristically serious. "A few days ago I would've agreed with you…but Cinder and Turtle have been ragging on him almost constantly, and he just takes it. You say something and he gets upset or closes up."
"Tighter'n a clam," Pan agreed.
"I—that's ridiculous," Mello said automatically, but thought about it, frowning.
"Why are you waiting for him anyway?" Pan pressed. "You can fly just fine. I can tell you how to get back and you'll be there in no time."
"Are you kidding? There's no way Near could get back by himself. He can't fly as it is. Even if he catches on soon, if he had to go it alone he'd probably fall and skewer himself on the front gate," Mello said incredulously.
Matt looked oddly at him. "I think what Pan means is that Near might not want to go back any time soon."
Mello gaped at them. "Wha…but…we can't just leave him here!" He turned to Matt, who refused to meet his eyes, toying with the brim of his hat. "Matt, you can't seriously be meaning to abandon Near in this…place!"
His friend looked uncomfortable for a moment, then said softly, "I didn't say anything about leaving anyone behind."
"You mean—you mean you want to stay here?!" Matt stared stolidly past Mello and said nothing, much as he often did when people stopped his games in what inevitably turned out to be unsuccessful attempts to get his attention. "Look, this might be some weird impulse you're having, but I know you better than that," Mello said angrily. "You're more responsible than that. This whole fairy tale thing isn't real life. There's no room in the world for just playing—while you're screwing around the other guy is out there getting ahead of you! And whatever crazy phase Near is going through, I don't think he'll be wanting to stay here either!"
"Since when do you care what Near wants?" Matt retorted.
"Be honest, Matt, do you really think Near could survive out here? He's a freaking china doll! A few days in the woods without his stupid puzzles and he'll be tearing his hair out! And besides, what the hell do you think Roger would do if we showed up without him?"
"You seem awfully concerned about him, given how much you claim to hate him," Pan said slyly.
"I do hate him!" Mello said explosively, "But that's completely beside—"
"I'm not deaf, you know," said Near, who Mello realized with a shock was standing right beside him. His expression was unreadable through his thick bangs.
The blonde floundered for a moment, thrown off. "I—well—it's true!" he sputtered finally. "I don't think you could last here a week without getting yourself killed!"
"Pan brings up a good point though," Near said, his eyes narrowing. "Why should you care? Go back to Wammy's if you want. Be number one. Isn't that what you want?"
Mello couldn't believe his ears. "Near, how can you giving up so easily on L? Don't you see how ridiculous this all is?"
Near frowned. "I never said I was giving up on L. But we're young. Is it really so important? L's not looking to drop dead any second last I heard. What's the big hurry?"
"Why are you being such a kid about this?" Mello demanded.
"We are kids, Mello!" Near snapped back, startling both Mello and Matt. Pan just watched them through half-lidded eyes. "Is there anything so wrong with wanting to be able to just be a kid for once in our lives? What other chance are we ever going to have?"
"He might be right, Mel," Matt said.
Mello stared from one to the other. "I can't believe this," he said disbelievingly. "I can't believe you can just throw away what we've been competing for for years. I can't believe you're being so—so immature!"
"Mel," Matt started, stepping forward beseechingly. "Come on—"
"No!" snarled Mello, backing away. "No," he repeated. "I don't want any part of this!" Turning abruptly, he strode out of the clearing in the opposite direction from their camp, branches whipping as he shoved them violently out of his way.
"Would talking to him do any good?" Pan asked, biting his thumb and watching Mello disappear into the trees.
Matt's shoulders were slumped. "No," he said unhappily. "He needs to cool down a bit…otherwise he might kill someone."
Pan nodded. "Cherry," he said, "Go keep an eye on him. Don't let him stay lost after dark." The fairy zoomed off after the angry blonde.
Matt felt like a jerk. Of course Mello would be upset about him taking Near's side. But he actually agreed with Near in this instance—and Mello would come around…he hoped. He glanced at the younger boy, who was staring after the place where Mello had stomped off. "You ok?" Matt asked awkwardly, not sure if he needed or wanted sympathy. It was always hard to tell…but the stricken look that had flashed across his face for an instant before he interrupted Mello's tirade had been telling.
"Fine," Near muttered, not looking up. "I'm going to go make some more darts." He shuffled off without another word.
.oOo.
Mello crashed blindly through the vines and underbrush, fuming. How was it that he was the only reasonable person on this whole damn island? A thin branch whipped him across the cheek and stung madly on his sunburn, and as he reached up to it automatically his sleeve caught on another low-hanging, thorny branch. With a frustrated snarl he wrenched at it, ripping his sleeve and nearly stumbling.
When he had finally stomped the edge off his anger, a cold feeling washed over him as he realized he had no idea where he was or how to get back. Mello let out a sharp, aggravated sigh and flung himself to the ground at the foot of a large tree, burying his face in his arms.
Mello hated Neverland. Hated it passionately. It was a fairy tale brought to life, and he hated fairy tales because they were lies. Lies that adults told children to trick them into thinking life was nice and pretty and happy before they turned around and beat the opposite lesson into them. At Wammy's things were clear. No one tried to pretend that anything like a fairy tale was ever going to happen to any of them. There was just competition and hard facts. Anything that seemed too good to be true always was, and he didn't want to be around to find out what the dark side of this place was.
Why couldn't Matt and Near see that?
He looked up suddenly when he heard the soft jingling of Cherry's wings, then sighed as she alighted on his knee. She sat down, patting his knee sympathetically and getting sugardust all over his pantleg. Half the fire drained out of him. It was just too hard to be angry at a tiny fairy who made tasty cake for people.
"I'll have to go back eventually," he told her miserably. "I can fly, but I don't know how to get back to Wammy's…I don't even remember how we got here."
Mello leaned his head back against the tree, staring up through the shifting leaves. His first instinct had been to feel betrayed by Matt, but the gamer half lived in a fantasy world anyway. Perhaps it was not so strange that he was so easily enchanted by Neverland. And Near—
"He's a jerk," he told Cherry. "He's condescending and cold and…" So why was it that he felt like the mean one? She just looked at him a little sadly, and he wondered how much of what he was saying she understood. Mello sighed again, not sure if he were angrier with Near or himself for actually feeling a little guilty about what he had said to the younger boy.
He can handle it, Mello told himself brusquely.
If only he had some chocolate, this situation might at least be bearable. "I don't suppose you have any chocolate hidden away," he said dispiritedly.
To his astonishment, the tiny girl sprang to her feet, pointing eagerly.
"What—you do have chocolate around here somewhere?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it.
Cherry nodded brightly and lifted into the air, waving for him to follow her. Mello scrambled after the bobbing fairy. Why the hell hadn't he said something sooner?
But his excitement died abruptly as the cake fairy stopped at another tree, flitting about it and chattering in her high, twittering voice. Mello stared at it. "Chocolate doesn't grow on trees," he snapped at her, waving his hand at the offending plant. "I mean like the candy! Sweet and brown? Comes wrapped in foil?"
She made a face at him and gestured emphatically into the tree's branches, where several golden brown pods were hanging. Buzzing up the trunk she kicked at one of them. It swung, but didn't fall.
Mello eyed it quizzically. In actuality the boy didn't know where chocolate came from beyond the candy shop, but now that he thought about it he supposed it had to come from somewhere before they shaped and wrapped it. Maybe it did grow on trees. More immediate to his priorities, maybe it was growing on this tree.
Only one way to find out.
"You better not be dragging me on," he told Cherry. Then, focusing on the possibly imminent rich sweetness of chocolate melting in his mouth, he leapt into the air, flying up and seizing a fat pod and yanking it off its stem. He dropped back down to the ground with his prize and examined it. It was encased in a tough rind that didn't seem to be anything remotely related to chocolate. Mello pried at it with his fingernails to no avail. The idea that his favorite candy could very well be waiting inside for him, just beyond his reach, was driving him crazy.
Smashing it against the trunk a few times was no good either. "How do I open it?" he asked the fairy with an edge of desperation.
Cherry flitted several feet away, where a small outcropping of rock pushed up half-hidden in the ferns. Hurrying over to it, Mello knelt and slammed the pod down on a pointy bit of rock—once, twice. On the third hit a chunk broke off. Eagerly Mello flipped it over to see what he had uncovered.
To his dismay, there was nothing inside but little white beans the size of almonds. "What is this?" he demanded, but the fairy was unfazed. Fluttering down and perching on the edge of the pod, she pried out a bean and held it up triumphantly.
"Are—are you sure? It doesn't look like chocolate," Mello said uncertainly. Cherry nodded, tucking the bean under one arm and beginning to dig out another.
Mello picked a bean out of the pod and eyed it suspiciously. Then (not noticing the fairy's sudden expression of dismay and gesturing to stop) he took an experimental bite.
"Gah!" he cried, spitting it out immediately and staggering to his feet. The horrible pod of bitter beans tumbled to the ground, and Cherry rose in the air, shaking a tiny finger at him.
"What the hell was that?" Mello yelled, spitting again. "What kind of evil trick—"
The blonde stopped in mid-rant at the sound of voices and crashing in the undergrowth. Suddenly looking afraid, Cherry landed on his shoulder and put a finger to her mouth, her eyes wide. Mello backed up toward the nonchocolate tree, crouching low and peering in the direction the sounds were coming from.
"It came from this way," came a woman's voice.
"Yes, I heard it too…" a man responded. "It's got to be one of Pan's brats…."
Mello stiffened in anger. Pan's brat? Like hell he was! He stood abruptly. "Who's there?" he shouted, ignoring the pain as Cherry pinched his ear, hard. Then she darted into his gold hair as someone slashed their way into the clearing.
The blonde fought a desire to laugh—if Pan seemed like something from a fairy tale, these two had certainly walked out of a paperback adventure novel. The tall, lean man wore a striped bandana over his shoulder-length dreadlocks and the woman had a thick gold hoop in one ear. Both were decked out in weather-worn but brightly colored costumes and boots, and carried their wickedly curved scimitars on their belts with familiar ease.
"Well, what have we got here, Teru?" the woman purred, eyeing Mello much as a lioness might eye a particularly plump gazelle.
"A little Lost Boy all alone in the jungle? Maybe he's looking for his little playmates…perhaps he'd like to play with us instead." They both laughed, and Teru's sword hand twitched.
Mello was sick of games and in no mood to be toyed with. "I'm not lost," he snapped. "And games are a waste of time."
"Oho, is that so?" said the woman, arching a brow, and Teru chuckled. "Not going to run away? A Lost Boy who's all grown up?"
"Ah, but he claims he's not, Taki," Teru said with mocking seriousness.
Mello considered the situation warily. Generally he would say adults could never be trusted—but these two were so obviously dishonest that if he were careful, he might be able to make use of them. "Are you with Captain Kira?" he asked boldly.
Teru looked amused. "Not a very smart little grownup, is he? Captain Kira's the only ruler on this island."
Mello crossed his arms belligerently, hoping he looked fearlessly confident. "I want you to take me to him," he demanded.
Taki laughed disbelievingly, but Teru narrowed his eyes. "Awfully cocky for a little jungle brat, aren't you?"
"I might be willing to make a deal with him," the blonde pressed. If Captain Kira was so well established in Neverland, he must know another way to get back to the normal world without Pan's help. If Matt and Near kept up with their idiocy…perhaps a little coercion would help. It was for their own good, after all.
"Oh?" said Teru, lifting a brow. "And what makes you think he would want to parley with you?" His hand was shifting uncomfortably close to the handle of his scimitar.
Mello examined his nails coolly. "Oh, I don't know…If, say, he were missing something…such as a map, for instance?" Taki's brows jumped and Teru glanced sidelong at her for a split second. "I might be able to be of help…."
The pirates looked at each other meaningfully, then turned back to Mello with twin smirks. "Well seeing as how you're so eager to help…" Taki said smoothly, "perhaps he'll be willing to hear you out. Come with us…we'll take you right to him."
He felt Cherry brush against the back of his neck and then disappear as she slipped behind his back out of the pirates' view and into the thick cover of the ferns. Mello didn't turn to give her away to the pirates, but he wasn't sorry she was going either. Tricky little bean-picking fiend. If she wanted to go back to Pan, fine. Let her.
His heart froze for a moment as the pirates drew their swords, then relaxed marginally as Taki sauntered back the way they had come, hacking through the vines randomly with her scimitar. With an unpleasant smile (he had two gold teeth, Mello noticed) Teru gestured with his blade for the boy to follow her. He strode forward brashly, ignoring the faint misgivings he felt as he caught the cruelly amused look the two exchanged.
.oOo.
AN: And again longer than I meant…I'm thinking I might chop the next one in two parts. In case you didn't get the whole white bean tree business, chocolate is made from fermented cacao beans.
Hope you enjoyed...next might be a while, got a test and a research paper proposal coming up D: