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"I am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we're bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
"Run, run, lost boy, " they say to me
Away from all of reality
Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free
Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free"
–"Lost Boy", Ruth B.
(:)(A)(:)
Neverland
Chapter #3
(:)(A)(:)
Waking up to find her that her dream was very much real had both thrilled and terrified her (particularly when she remembers that she had nearly been blasted by a pirate's cannon). It takes her several days - wonderful, adventure filled days - before she begins to go to sleep with the expectation that Neverland will greet her when she wakes.
She has traded in soft fragile soles for callused feet, and her groomed hands for chipped nails and dirty palms. Neverland has hardened her in ways her home city never could. London hardened her heart with loneliness, her bitterness leaving a frosted edge to everything she touched. There, Lucy was nothing more than a soft, pretty body wrapped around an iced heart. Here, in Neverland, it is all so different. In Neverland she is hard but she is oh so warm. Here she is hard like wet sand just after the tide has kissed it. She is firm. Her stride is more confident, her shoulders held proud. Neverland has made her happy, and in doing so it has made her strong.
It's only when she sees the leaves beginning to fall from the trees that she begins to realize how long she has been away. London feels like a far away memory - the bitter taste after a bad dream. She would be happy to leave it alone altogether, but a part of her - the part that always strived to be a good daughter - can't shake it away.
Surely her father must have noticed her absence by now?
There is no logical reason for her to want to leave, but Neverland has never been about logistics. Meals are made with imagination instead of food - believe it is there, wish for it, and it will be. Cuts don't bleed, bones don't break. Things that should hurt, don't. For all the pranks and skirmishes they get into with the pirates and the Amazonians, no one ever really gets injured. Even when Juvia (a mermaid who is convinced she is trying to steal Gray away) pulls her into the water she does not drown. Having never learned to swim, Lucy sank to the bottom, sand forming clouds at her feet and fish dancing around her limbs until Natsu finally pulled her up minutes later. Neverland is a place of wishes, and as the lost boys jump from tree limbs into mountains of leaves, the beginnings of a wish is born.
She wishes to see her father.
For days she tries to shove it aside, to smother it until it ceases to exist, but death does not exist in Neverland and, like everything else here, her wish only grows stronger with time. It is not long before Natsu notices her quiet, sullen expression (a rare sight to behold since Neverland has gifted her with smiles and little else). He hovers, upside down, and cocks his head when she doesn't immediately answer his easy grin with one of her own.
"Why aren't you smiling?" he asks.
She shrugs, avoiding her eyes and hugging her knees to her chest. She still wears the nightgown she arrived in, but now a fur vest drapes over it. There are feathers and beads braided into her hair - gifts from Erza in exchange for a night of stories told around the fire. "Just... thinking."
He wrinkles is nose, as if just the sound of such a word brings a phantom taste of bitter berries to his tongue. "Well, don't," he chirps, walking his feet in the air until he is right side up before plopping beside her. "It's making you weird."
She has long since grown accustomed to his unique ability to fly, even without the use of pixie dust. Sometimes she thinks that he must be as full of magic as Neverland itself. She knows him well enough now that she no longer takes offense to his teasing. In fact she suspects that he does so with endearment. There is a mirrored fondness in the smiles he gives her; it matches her own when she scolds him for being childish. Maybe it is because he is the one that rescued her from her old life, or perhaps it is his special magic, but of all the Lost Boys Natsu is who she feels closest to. He is her favorite person, and she feels comfortable sharing all of her secrets with him. All of her wishes.
"I want to see my father."
His easy grin slips, his gaze faltering. "What? Why?" His brow creases, hurt with an edge of betrayal sharpening his irises. "Aren't you happy here?"
"I have never been happier," she says truthfully, holding her knees a little tighter.
His confusion is evident. "Then why would you want to go back?"
She picks at the laced hem of her nightgown. It is stained brown from Neverland's rich earth, and frayed by the bark from its branches. "I don't know," she admits softly.
He shakes his head, and Lucy doesn't think she's ever seen him look so lost. It doesn't suit him. He isn't, and never shall be a Lost Boy. He is more than that. He is the one that makes them found. "I don't understand."
"I don't either." All she knows is that she feels that she must. There is a burning where her heart should be, an urgent need to know if she has been missed. A guilty part of her desperately hopes that she has.
She expects Natsu to offer to take her home – he is always catering to her whims, making adventures out of her wishes – but no such offer comes. He sits, heels digging into the forest floor and looking far too grounded for a boy that flies. Eventually he stands, and Lucy can't help the way her heart mourns over the disappointment she can see weighing down on his shoulders. "The others are probably looking for us."
He has never cared about the others before, has always encouraged her to hide in the treetops with him when they came looking so they could quietly giggle at how clever they are. When he offers his hand to help her up it feels like an apology, and Lucy quickly realizes that she has wished for perhaps the only thing he will not give her. For the first time since arriving in Neverland she feels tears stinging her eyes.
She doesn't take his hand.
The rest of the day she can feel his careful gaze following her, but she doesn't speak to him. She doesn't speak much to anyone. She is too distracted by the jumble of half formed plans cluttering her mind to pay much attention to anything else. When night falls and everyone retires to their respective hammock, her bare feet creep across the dirt floor until she finds herself in Natsu's personal room. She is grateful to find that he is no where in sight, and blesses her luck when she finds his extra stash of pixie dust is still in the chest he showed her. She thinks of only taking some from the leather satchel, but she doesn't know how much she will need. So, murmuring an apology under her breath, she takes it all.
She runs. Twigs break and snap beneath her feet, leaves whip past her face, and vines tangle in her legs. She knows this trail by heart, has followed it on even the darkest of nights without fail, but now she finds herself stumbling on raised roots that shouldn't be there. For a wild moment it is as if the island itself is against her, but it is too late for her to turn back. The bag of pixie dust is heavy in her hand. She knows that after tonight she will not get a second chance.
Tripping, she throws her hands in front of her – hissing when the landing skins the heels of her hands. There is a tearing sound that tells her she has ripped her nightgown, but she no longer cares. Above her is open sky, in front of her is a sheer drop and the sound of waves crashing along the rocky cliff. She has made it. Urgently, she stands, the stars winking down on her in encouragement as she sprinkles the golden dust over her head and shoulders. Back in London, in her molded prison in the shape of a bedroom, she had no happy memories to lift her, but she has no such struggle now. She thinks of how warm the sand feels on her bare feet, the joy of jumping and kicking through piles of leaves that are taller than her, and the kiss of salt on her lips after splashing in the ocean. She thinks of the Lost Boys and how, without hesitation, they accepted her until the loneliness she had felt seeped from her bones.
She remembers her first flight with Natsu; remembers the feeling of clouds sifting through her fingers and of freedom weaving through her hair. She remembers how he made the lost girl she was feel like she'd finally been found.
When she dares to open her eyes the ground is more than twenty feet below and growing farther. There are dozens of things she should be afraid of – falling, the echoing shot of a pirate's cannon, becoming lost. But Neverland – Natsu – has taught her that the only thing worth fearing is the adventure never taken.
When she is just about to reach the clouds she hesitates. Beneath her she can see the moon reflecting off the water and the warm light from Captain Makarov's ship glows in the distance. She whispers a goodbye under her breath, and promises to return.
London should be hard to find, but it isn't. Lucy thinks that there must be more magic in the pixie dust tangled in her hair than she ever thought. It is as if it knows where she wants to go, and suddenly she is looking down at her childhood home. It is still dark, the moon reflecting off the wet cobbled streets. Here, in her old neighborhood, all is quiet; but she can hear the distant shouting of men working on the docks at the East End and knows that (despite the moonlight) she has arrived in the early hours of the morning.
Her bedroom window is closed, but there is a light on at the other side of the house – peaking behind an iron balcony. Her father's study. Her teeth sink into her lip, anxiety and fear striking her with such force that for a moment she nearly plummets to the ground under its weight. She catches herself, screwing her eyes shut and pushing the thought of her father aside. Behind her lids she sees Natsu's grin, feels the phantom warmth of his hand in hers, and feels herself slow to a stop. When she reopens her eyes she is level with the second story and peering straight past the open French doors leading from the small balcony to her Father's study.
He is sitting at his desk, the way she always remembered him. The light from his lamp casts long shadows across his face as his pen runs across the page. There is a large stack of paper to his left, and a smaller to his right – resting under his writing hand. She is familiar enough with his work to know that he must have been up all night reading over what is (most likely) legal documents and contracts. The slight breeze from the open window teases the edge of the paper, but isn't enough to give it flight. Lucy hesitates in the doorway, toes touching down on the wooden floors as the magic leaves her, and waits.
He doesn't look up.
She is as invisible as the night she left. Emotions - so long suppressed - swell and rise until the intensity almost chokes her. She is tired of being ignored by him; sick of begging for scraps of his attention. She marches towards him, bare feet slapping against the floor and hands fisting at her sides. Soon she is hovering over his desk – over him. "Did you even notice I was gone?" she hisses. "Do you even care?!"
Her father remains silent. He doesn't flinch, doesn't turn his head. He gives no sign of having heard her, but Lucy knows that he must have. Like her anger, her voice has risen in volume. She is not the meek voiced little girl that lived here only months ago. The sound of his pen scratching against the paper continues, and she feels every last shred of patience leave her.
She is done being ignored. She won't allow it. Not any more. She deserves better.
She screams, voice filling the small room, "Look at me!" Still, her father doesn't so much as spare her a glance, and in her fury she finds her hand raising – desperate to be noticed – before coming down upon his face.
Her hand passes through his cheek, and her heart freezes in her chest.
On the paper the pen keeps scratching.
"Daddy?" She whispers. Suddenly she feels so small, so weak. All the strength she thought she had found in Neverland is suddenly nowhere to be found. Her father doesn't answer, but Natsu does.
"He can't hear you," he says softly, body framed by the open doors behind her. "He hasn't been able to for a while now."
She clutches her hand to her chest, feeling a trickle of fear beginning to poison her veins. "What have you done?"
Natsu hesitates, his expression full of pity. "I didn't."
He looks and sounds sincere, but she isn't ready to believe him. "Then why can't he see me?!" she exclaims. She is shaking, and she feels as if her skin is rattling around her bones. There is a truth cowering in the corner of her heart, a dark place she dares not shine a light on. "Why can't he hear me?!"
"Because we aren't real," he answers soothingly, he gestures listlessly to the walls around them. "Not here." There is pain in his expression – regret – and somehow Lucy knows he means more than just this room; this house. His eyes flick to her father. "Not to him."
It can't be. She doesn't believe him. She refuses. In her chest she can feel her pulse racing so quickly she swears she can feel her heart knocking on the inside of her ribs. Natsu reaches out to her, and even though she knows he is trying to offer her comfort she turns and she runs. She runs away from the him, away from her father, away from the house she grew up in.
Streetlights pass above her - one, then two, then three, until she loses count. People, are starting to filter into the streets. She is a mess of tears, with her nightgown shredded and her feet bare, and she should draw every one of their attention but she does not. The look past her, around her, as if she is invincible. She falters, standing numbly as Natsu's words echo through her. Not real. Not real. Not real.
But he's wrong. Everything feels real. Again, she runs but this time she has a destination in mind. Beneath her feet she feels the stinging slap against grime covered cobblestone; she feels the bite of cold iron as she throws open the ornately decorated gate and the frosted grass between her toes. Soon she is standing in front of her mother's grave, panting.
Beside her mother's name is her own. Lucy Heartfilia. Beloved daughter.
Her knees, weak and trembling, give out, and the cold ground draws away any lingering warmth she felt. The warmth of Neverland has never felt so far, but she can sense Natsu behind her – hovering at a respectable distance. Through her tears she realizes that it is fitting. She is lost now more than ever; who else should find her if not him? The finder of Lost Boys.
For a long time she can't say anything. Tears roll down her face, streaking her cheeks and hiding in the corners of her mouth until all she can taste is salt. "The other children," she whispers, "are they -?" She can't finish – can't say that word until she can convince herself to believe it – but Natsu understands anyway.
"Yeah," he answers softly, sadly. "Everyone at Neverland is."
She nods, more tears slipping from her eyes. She wipes them away quickly with the back of her hand. "I don't understand," she breathes, feeling her voice catch. She looks at him over her shoulder, not surprised to find him sitting on one of the headstones. She hopes the deceased won't take offense. "Are you an angel?"
Natsu shifts uncomfortably. "No - at least I don't think so? I don't talk to God or anything like that." He shrugs. "I just, I find the lost children and guide them home."
She shakes her head. "But Neverland... the pirates..."
"They were children at heart," he explains, as if it all so very simple. When she still looks confused he sighs. "It's all just a game, Lucy. Neverland isn't-" he seems to grapple for the right words, "It's a place where kids, even the adult kind, can have the adventures they always wanted but could never have. It's a place where an orphan can be a mermaid, or a starved farmer can be a pirate."
She thinks of how Neverland grants even the smallest of wishes, of how imaginary food is filling, and how happy thoughts are the main ingredient for flying, and feels like she may understand. "And they all just, stay there? Forever?"
He comes to sit beside her, on the ground for once instead of floating inches above the ground like he is prone to do. Seeing the pensive look on his face, Lucy wonders if it's because of her. If her tears have robbed him of his usual grin, and carefree way of flying. "For as long as they want," he says carefully. "Some grow up and move on, but only if they want to. Neverland is about freedom, not... it's not a cage." The look he gives her is imploring. "Do you understand?"
Chin quivering, she nods shakily before sniffing and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. High society London would be aghast by the action but, well, she doesn't belong there anyway. Not anymore. "Can I at least say goodbye?" she asks, heart aching.
He doesn't even hesitate. "Of course, Luce." Standing, he offers her his hand.
This time, she takes it. His palm is warm, and so very real beneath her own. Her grip tightens, anchoring herself to him, as her toes leave the hollowed ground beneath her.
Maybe it is because she is still numb, or maybe Natsu just travels faster than she does, but she finds herself staring back into her father's study before she can prepare herself. The moment they land on the balcony, she has to fight off a whole new wave of tears. Natsu gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, but waits patiently for her to enter through the open doors.
Her father has changed. In the lamp light she had thought his hair was blonde, but looking closer she can only see gray. There are lines around his eyes, weighing on his brow, that speak more of loss than happiness. When he is not writing, his hand trembles. Lucy wonders how she had never noticed – wonders if it was magic or her own disregard that blinded her.
Natsu's hand slips from her own as she steps toward her father's desk. She hadn't bothered to look before, but now when she looks down at the neatly stacked papers her heart aches. They aren't the documents she assumed, they are memoirs. His memoirs. She sucks in a breath, turning her gaze. It doesn't feel fair to read what isn't meant for her. Besides, she has a feeling it would only make leaving harder. Gently, she presses her lips against his stubbled cheek. She tries to ignore the way his pen stops scratching, whispers a goodbye even though she knows she's the only one that can hear it.
"This doesn't have to be goodbye forever, you know," Natsu murmurs, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as she returns to his side. "I'll take you to come visit if you want."
Lucy looks at her father. He has his hand placed gingerly against his cheek, fingers grazing the spot she left a kiss. Tears, like her own, are running down his cheeks.
"No," she chokes out. Her throat feels raw - like she swallowed glass. "I can't." She is hurting him by being here. The years that she lingered helped form the broken man in front of her. Her staying would only ensure that his wounds stay open - festered and infected. She needs to let him heal. She needs to let him go.
Natsu doesn't respond, but as they step out onto the balcony she thinks she sees approval in his gaze.
Outside the air is beginning to warm. Dawn is breaking over the horizon and light is beginning to paint the streets. Something in her stirs – the heaviness in her limbs ease, and the grief smothering her heart lifts away. Natsu is grinning at her, as if he always knew it would. Then again, she thinks, maybe he did. She remembers how, in front of her open window, she had given up before even trying – how her spirit was too heavy to fly without his help – and suddenly understands.
Before, she had brought her past with her. She hadn't let go.
She hadn't said goodbye.
Warmth fills her, and it is like she is back on Neverland's beaches with her feet buried in the sand and the sun tangled in her hair. She is ready to move forward – ready to fly. She thinks that this feeling, this freedom, is what people mean when they say "rest in peace".
Natsu offers her his hand, feet already hovering inches off the ground with a smile as bright as the approaching sunrise. She takes it. His fingers are callused and rough but oh so warm, and it prompts her to weave her fingers with his. A wish is teasing at her heart; whispering encouragements and hinting at possibilities. Her thumb traces the lines of his palm. "Natsu... when you said that people only leave Neverland when they grow up, what did you mean?"
He shrugs his shoulders, seeming confused that she even cared to ask. "Just, that they move on. They move forward."
She nods, still staring at their joined hands. "So, if I were to do something more grown up... Would I have to leave?"
He gives her a lopsided grin. "Only if you want to." His smile fades, worry (and perhaps even an edge of panic) darken his eyes. "You don't want to - do you?"
She shakes her head. "No. I want to stay with you," she answers, stepping up onto the railing with his help and balancing on the decorative iron. She means it. She wants to stay with him for as long as the fates will let her. He makes her happier than anyone else can. Beneath her breast she can feel her heart fluttering in nervous anticipation. "It's just, I want to give you something, but I was afraid it would make me too grown up."
He pivots until he is floating in front of her and grasping both her hands in his. The smile he gives her is full of boyish excitement. "Don't be weird, Lucy! If you want to stay, then you'll stay."
She smiles, wordlessly sliding her hands from his grip before placing them on either side of his face. The last thing she sees is his baffled look before she closes her eyes and draws him closer. She should feel scared to be making such a bold move, but her time in Neverland has taught her better. Their lips brush, the sweetest of pressure, and Lucy feels his small intake of breath.
When she pulls away, he is looking at her with a kind of awed amazement that makes her whole body warm. "Wow," he breathes. "What was that?"
"A kiss," she answers, her hands still cupping his cheeks. She can feel his flush beneath her palms.
"A kiss," he repeats, as if testing the word. "I think I like it," he declares, hands finding their way to her waist while his gaze drops to her mouth. "Maybe I can give you one? Once we're home?"
Home. She's certain that there has never been a word so sweet. "Yes, Natsu. Let's go home."
AN: *mic drop*
(Seriously, did anyone suspect something along these lines? I'm curious.) Also you have no idea the pain I endured today to get this bloody thing on this freaking website I swear to god.
Now that this is wrapped up, To the Flame is up next for an update.
As always, thanks to all of you who take the time to review! You're literally the only reason these things ever get finished.
