Water dripped off shiny wet leaves and the humidity made her night gown cling to her skin. The jungle was steaming and the heat fettered, creatures buzzed and birds cried out above as she walked quietly along the path. She hurried, heart racing as fast as a rabbit's and looked up. It was night, true night. She could see stars through gaps in the canopy and her pace slowed and she breathed easier. There were no stars visible in Neverland.
This is a dream. I'm not really back.
Wendy stood still, hands on her hips in contemplation. She had dreamed of Neverland before, of course, though they were more like nightmares but they had never seemed so real. She had never felt so lucid or utterly aware of her reality yet there was a gnawing fear that if she stayed too long she would be trapped, forced to stay while she wasted away in the real world.
Wendy squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to wake up when she heard voices. She stared up the path that lead to a large outcropping of stone covered in vines. She had never seen it before and curious despite herself she walked forward until she came to a gap in the foliage and peeked through.
"We'll come for you at once. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get through to you," a soft voice said and she knew it.
"Time passes slower in Neverland, it's been over a week for me but much longer for you. Hold off for now Felix, I'm working on something that needs time and my full attention. So I don't need you lot rushing in just yet. It's under control."
"I had no doubt. What about Wendy?"
"Oh leave her to me," he said with breathy relish and Wendy frowned. Peter made her sound as if she was something on a list to be ticked off.
"I went to Skull Rock, to check. It was pouring fast but it seems to have stopped now."
"Stopped?" Peter asked in surprise.
"Completely. I can't make sense of it," Felix said and Wendy narrowed her eyes. She could see shadows flickering on a wall, cast by a fire or a torch.
"Interesting..." Peter's back came into view and she crouched down but then wondered why. It was only a dream after all. She stayed hidden but rose slightly when Peter started talking again. "Tell the boys not to worry, I'm dealing with the situation and in time I'll be back."
"They're growing...restless without you here," Felix explained in his dry voice but there was an edge of unease to it.
"The influence of the pipes is wearing off. Still got to find those bloody things, Wendy had them last..."
"She's caused a lot of trouble," Felix said in annoyance and Peter chuckled.
"I know, I'm quite proud of her really," he said with unmistakable fondness and Wendy had to battle down a flush of pride. When Peter spoke again he was serious. "Use the dream caves on the ones that start to remember or get homesick."
"I'm not as skilled at using this place as you," Felix admitted.
"I know, it took me years to master it but then I didn't exactly have much else to occupy my time with...all right, get back to me with an update every week your time or if it's something urgent."
"What are you doing now?" Felix asked, clearly curious.
"Right now I'm guest of honour at the Darling household. I tried to get into Wendy's room to find the pipes but there's a bloody dog guarding her door. Doesn't like me," he said sniffily and Wendy felt a huge swell of love for Nana. Wendy blinked, thinking about what she had just heard and suddenly straightened, mind whirling in alarm. This is not a dream! She spun on her heels as Peter looked straight at her and she made to run but was suddenly frozen with shock. Two people were stood in front of her.
"Wendy? Where are we?" Michael asked as John looked up in confusion, his glasses fogging up with the humidity.
Wendy woke with a gasp, bolting upright in bed. It was dark and she reached over to turn up the gas lamp by her bedside. Room bathed with a warm glow she threw the covers off, eyes swivelling to every shadow and dashed for the leather satchel that was lying on her window seat.
"Idiot, idiot," she muttered, falling to her knees and opened the bag. The pipes where still in there and she slumped to the ground, sitting back. How she had just left them there, thinking they were useless, was beyond her. She had seen Peter use them in her world to lead her school to a cliff edge. Like the portal beans the pipes were also magically self contained and still worked in a magic-less world. She would need to hide them and so she spent the next half an hour looking around her room for the safest spot.
Before going back to bed she peeked out of her door to find Nana asleep at the threshold, snoring softly. Peter would not be able to come in, not if he wanted to get bitten. Smiling, she carefully stepped over the dog and she woke, eyeing Wendy sleepily and gave a soft woof.
"Sleep Nana, it's all right," she said and tip toed along until she reached the nursery. Inside John and Michael were sleeping peacefully. They seemed safe and Wendy closed the door softly and went back to her own bed, giving Peter's door a mistrustful glance on the way.
Even asleep he could cause mischief. He was the most exhausting person she had ever met.
The next morning, yawning and groggy, Wendy dressed and went down for breakfast to find Peter already there. He had been given one of Bae's old shirts which was a little small for him. Again she was shocked by how bizarre she found him in such ordinary clothes. He seemed to find it equally uncomfortable as he pulled on his shirt collar. For all his discomfort he gave her a bright smile.
"Good morning. I hope you slept well?" he asked politely and Wendy narrowed her eyes at him as her brothers entered the room, Nana at their heels. They paused for a moment before John marched in.
"Quite well, thank you," Wendy responded, distracted as Nana growled quietly, coming to her side. Peter's eyes flicked to the large dog and then to her brothers, who he smiled at.
"We haven't really been introduced yet, I'm -"
"We know who you are," John said, glaring at him through his spectacles. Peter stared at the younger boy across the table and slowly began to smirk.
"If you did I think you'd be a bit more civil," he said as if talking to a child of three. John practically inflated with indignation.
"Civil?! After what you've done? You should be in prison, not eating from our table!" he said through his teeth, careful not to be overheard. "You kidnapped our sister and now we have to pretend that she's in love with you?"
"I don't think there's much pretending on that front, is there Darling?" he directed at her with a cruel smile and then had to duck out of the way as John threw a teaspoon at him.
"John!" Wendy cried in warning and grabbed her brother, while her other hand was wrapped around the collar of their straining and growling dog. "Stop this instant. Have you forgotten what I asked? You promised me," she stressed, giving him a little shake and John looked down. He had no idea who he was dealing with and Wendy had no clue how much Peter would take before retaliating. She stared at him and saw with some relief that he didn't look angry. On the contrary he looked thoughtful.
"How old are you?" Peter asked, curious and John told him grudgingly.
"I'm almost twelve. Why?"
"You'd fit right in Neverland," Peter said approvingly and John paled. Wendy patted Nana, calming her and then quickly picked up the teaspoon as her parents entered the room.
"Good morning my loves..." Mary said brightly and sat at the table with her husband. They seemed oblivious to the hostile tension that hovered as they all took their seats. Nana had to be taken outside as they ate and Wendy could see Peter visibly relax as he reached for a pot of jam. Mary cleared her throat gently and clasped her hands together to give thanks. Wendy and Peter were the last to follow suit, as if they had forgotten what to do with their fingers. Wendy closed her eyes, trying to remember what to say and opened an eye to find everyone else at the table doing the same. Mary laughed, saying grace and everyone relaxed before helping themselves to toast and tea.
"How are you feeling Peter?" Mary asked, pouring tea into her cup.
"Much better thank you," he said graciously and bit into his toast. He had lathered jam on it and Wendy was amused despite herself at the naked bliss on his face when he took a bite. There wasn't much call for tea and jam in Neverland.
Her brothers were sat either side of her, like guards. John was openly glaring at Peter while Michael stared at him like he was some dangerous creature at the zoo: cautious but impressed. Wendy kicked John under the table and he took a gulp of tea but still glared at Peter over the rim of the cup. Peter happily smiled at the both of them.
"Wendy's told me so much about you, about all of you. It's like I know you already," he said cheerily and Mr Darling folded a page down of his paper.
"Wish we could say the same thing about you," he said, though not as unkindly as he could. Peter inclined his head.
"It's true but I hope to rectify that, if possible. I've never had a family so the things that Wendy told me were enlightening," he said and smiled across at her. Wendy tried to return it but it felt tight and forced.
"So what exactly happened to your family?" John asked suddenly and Wendy froze, everyone did. Peter eyed him thoughtfully before smiling.
"They died, when I was very young. I was looked after by a friend of the family."
"School?" Michael asked and Peter's eyes flicked to him.
"Eton. I was going to Cambridge this year but I wasn't well enough and, of course, I had another reason not to go," he said softly and gave her a quick smile.
"So you've spent the last couple of months with Wendy in some mansion?" John persisted. "Doing what exactly?"
"John..." Wendy warned quietly and Mary gave him a quick, sharp look and he said no more. But Mr Darling was looking between Wendy and Peter and she knew it was the burning question in his, and likely her mother's, mind. What had happened through all those months? What could she possibly say that didn't end with her looking like a liar? Either way she appeared...spoiled.
"Please don't think too unfavourably on Wendy," Peter said suddenly and Wendy looked at him in surprise as he came to her rescue. "She missed you all terribly but the truth of the matter is she was in no fit state to talk to anyone. She was so upset about Baelfire and when we met she was very...despondent," he explained gently to the now introspective table.
"We knew you were upset, upset enough to run away like you had done previously," Mary agreed softly, no doubt thinking of the weeks where Wendy had been obsessed with finding Baelfire and sneaking out of the house at night until one time she did not come back.
"They thought you were raving," Michael said flatly and Wendy couldn't help laughing. She had looked mad and while she did not want her parents to think that she had spent the last few months in an attic it was a plausible explanation.
"So you were...recouping?" her father asked delicately and Wendy had to nod.
"I couldn't handle school and then I met Peter...He looked after me when he didn't have to. He – he did everything he could for me and asked for nothing in return. Though," Wendy said and smiled coyly at him, "I think you were just lonely," she said, mixing lies with truth and surprised herself yet again at how easy it was to lie and how convincing she was.
"At first, yes but then that changed..." he said and gazed at her intensely and the table shifted a little at the open look of adoration and Wendy felt herself blush. John rolled his eyes and sat back with a bored sigh.
Mary looked around the table at the awkward faces and just withheld hostility and smiled widely. "I've had a marvellous idea! It's Wendy's seventeenth birthday next week and we simply must celebrate it!"
Half the table were for it, half against. Wendy shook her head while Mr Darling laid his paper down completely, looking startled.
"Mother, you don't have to do that."
"The expense Mary."
"What are expenses compared to having your daughter back safe and well?" Mary countered with little seen heat and Mr Darling looked abashed.
"Well, of course I wasn't -"
"Mother, please," Wendy interrupted, leaning forward earnestly. "I'm grateful but father is right. You've spent far too much on me already, with the school fees," Wendy said and Mr Darling went slightly pale at being reminded. It was still a searing guilt for Wendy that her father had worked so hard to send her to such a good school and now she probably would never go back.
"Not even a small one dear? Just here, maybe in the garden if it's nice. You could invite some friends from school," Mary said encouragingly and Wendy blinked.
"Friends?" Wendy tried to recall her class mates from Roedean and felt a horrible scrabbling anxiety when she could not. She did have friends there, not many but now all she could recall were faceless figures that she shared a dormitory with. She could not even remember their names. There was nothing. She thought the pipes had made a small impact on her, compared to the other boys on the island, but it was only now she realised that over time the edges of her life, those places and people that did not have a real significance, had been slowly warn away.
"Are you feeling well?" Peter asked in concern and she nodded, swallowing with difficulty.
"Y – yes, I just hadn't really thought about contacting them, to be honest."
"You should write because I know they were terribly upset about your disappearance. You could let them now you're well," Mary said and Wendy could hear a bitter edge to her mother's words. She would not say anything yet but Wendy knew the time would come when her mother would need to know why Wendy had not written to her. Mad in an attic or not she still should have thought of her parent's worry. With a horrible pit of shame burning in her stomach Wendy smiled at her mother weakly.
"Thank you mother, I think a small party would be wonderful. What...what exactly do they believe happened?"
"Well," George started, eyes rolling upwards as he recalled the past. "The authorities suspected that you had drowned, because of that funny business."
"What funny business?"
"Well we thought it was tosh at first, girls following some Pied Piper's tune to the cliff edge," he said scathingly and Peter almost choked on his tea before recovering quickly.
"How extraordinary!" he exclaimed, shaking his head in amazement. Wendy gave him a heavy lidded stare.
"That's what I said! But then the headmistress agreed with their story. Apparently the night Wendy...vacated the premises," George struggled with the wording, "they all lined up and stared out to sea before heading back to bed!"
"They suspect it was something in the water," Mary offered and Peter nodded, fascinated.
"Or a case of mass hysteria," George grunted, looking down at his paper. "All those females in one place, bound to happen." Mary tapped a teaspoon against her cup loudly, mouth pursed and glared at her husband who looked abashed again. "Sorry dearest."
Peter, who looked like he wanted to shot himself, turned to Wendy and smiled sincerely. "So it seems you were unaffected."
"So it seems..." Wendy bit viciously into her toast and Peter smirked into his teacup. She looked at her father. "So does everyone think I'm missing or dead?"
"Well, the ones at the school do but here..." he trailed off and Wendy remembered what Peter had told her: her neighbours think she had run off with Baelfire. She could imagine their confusion when they hear about her return with Peter and felt a stab of annoyance at her nosy curtain twitching neighbours.
"I see..."
"However it was kept out of the papers," George said, as if to soften the blow. "The school managed to keep it hush hush, what with the war going on. They thought it would impact morale."
Wendy nodded, feeling another flare of guilt that she had completely forgotten that Britain was at war. She felt a little better to see that Peter looked just as surprised, though he hid it well. George squinted at Peter.
"I take it that's why you haven't been enlisted? Your heart?"
Peter nodded, looking shamed. "I'd be in France now if it wasn't a problem," he said, as though imagining it. Wendy tried to picture him in the trenches and could not; again it was too bizarre, too real. Peter gazed at her, cocking an eyebrow as the table quietly finished their breakfast.
"So, seventeen? Seems like I'll have to give you a gift."
Wendy smiled, trying not to make it into a wince, as she imagined what kind of thing he would consider a gift.
At the mention of presents Mary thought it would be a marvellous idea to go shopping. Wendy would need a dress and Peter would need new clothes but both were forbidden to venture to the West of London. As if the excitement of picking out cuff links and sashes would finish them both off. With her brothers at school and her father at work Wendy and Peter mostly had the house to themselves. However neither of them had any intention of staying indoors and so Wendy had convinced her mother to let her and Peter walk around the gardens across the street from their house.
"Are you sure you're strong enough?" Mary asked for the fifth time and Peter nodded, his patience growing thin. Her mother's concern was not lost on Wendy either and she had to finally be a little sharp and ask her to stop. Mary fell back as they headed for the door, mouth thin and said nothing more. She was their chaperone and Wendy knew Peter found it ridiculous, as if her presence would be enough to stop them from doing something indecent in the middle of a public garden. Not even the King of England could stop him doing that, if he wanted.
As soon as they stepped out of number 14 Wendy eyed Peter carefully, wondering how he would fair in busy London. He seemed to take everything in his stride but sometimes she caught him glaring or looking a little overwhelmed. She had seen something similar in country folk when they came to the city. Though she suspected that Peter's unnerve was more the fact that for the first time in years he was surrounded by an environment and people he had no control over. As they stopped at the entrance to the square Peter's gaze became unfocused and he stared around as if in a dream, looking up at the buildings and trees.
"It's so different."
"You've been here before?" she asked, curious despite herself. They walked towards a bench and Wendy kept an eye out for any familiar faces but then wondered if she would even remember any.
"A long time ago," he said vaguely and tore his eyes away to stare at her. "Are you going to mention the dream or not?"
Wendy had been thinking about nothing else but after her brothers had denied having the same dream she had been unsure. "So it did happen?"
"Obviously. You and your brothers weren't meant to be in it. Felix pulled you in by accident. It takes years to pin point a certain mind and exclude others close by." He stopped and gazed down at her slyly. "Where are the pipes?"
"What pipes?" she asked innocently and his mouth thinned into a smile, bemused at her subterfuge. She would not tell him a thing but she was curious about the dream.
"That cave, that's how you brought sleeping children to Neverland?"
He nodded. "Before the Lost Boys, yes."
Wendy narrowed her eyes, mistrustful. "Why would you warn them off from coming here?"
"You know why," he said and sat on a bench. Wendy gazed down at him, not knowing what to believe. His interest in her seemed real, he was out of his element and quietly suffering and she thought she knew him well enough that he would not endure that for nothing. Why she could not say or what was at the root of it. It was not love, not the love she wanted anyway. She looked away and saw her mother far down the path, distracted by a baby and Wendy smiled.
"She's a child at heart, my mother. She always says what's the point in being a grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
"How depressing," he said and Wendy glared at him before he pulled her down to sit next to him. "I mean that there are so many people who wish that they could reclaim their youth but never really can. People like your mother would have visited Neverland once, in their dreams, and it never faded away. It clings to their eyes." He finished, lost in thought and Wendy shifted uncomfortably. How strange it was, sitting with him as if it were normal. Just two young people taking the air. It was so everyday and banal that it struck her as deeply perverse. He gazed at her, eyeing her face and gently brushed a curl away from her cheek, making her lean back.
"What are you thinking?"
"How mad this is. You do realise that the longer you spend here the higher the chance you'll turn into one of those sad people with childish eyes?"
"I don't plan to stay that long Wendy-bird," he said confidently. "I'll never grow up."
"Then why carry on with this pretence? I think I can say with some assurance that neither of us wants to marry the other," she said quickly and ignored him when he placed a hand against his chest, offended. He dropped it as his smile faded and he looked troubled.
"Of course I don't but I admit the thought of you ending up with someone else makes me want to stab that dog to death," he said flatly, eyeing a little terrier and Wendy gasped, thinking of Nana.
"Don't say such a wicked thing!"
"My apologies!" he said, but didn't look sorry at all. "My worry is unheeded because we both know you'll end up a lonely old spinster if you stay here," he said, as if to cheer himself up. At her angry face he turned to her and sighed. "I was joking, mostly. I don't want you to stay here because you could have so much more."
Wendy scoffed. "Yes, an eternity of blood thirsty boys and boredom."
"Boredom?" he said, insulted. Wendy turned to him, cocking her head.
"Come on, you must get bored. All you do is sit around and plot! At first it was...entertaining," she admitted, thinking of days swimming and throwing treasure into the sea, and he looked a little appeased. "But if you're as old as I think you must have gone mad with nothing to do, even with your followers there. Which explains a lot actually," she added.
"Only boring people are bored."
"Good god," she muttered, turning away as he laughed.
"All right, yes, I get bored. I'm over three hundred, of course I get tired of it."
"Three hundred?" Wendy asked, mouth open. She knew he was old but not that old and the knowledge did something to him, lending a weight that was not there previously.
"I know, I don't look a day over seventy do I?" he joked but quickly grew sombre. "I occupied my time, recruited and searched for the believer but there was this space, this void. I never thought it was you."
Wendy gazed into his eyes, knowing that she could give in so easily, just soak up what he was telling her and take it for the truth. But always there was a small but persistent voice that called him liar every time he opened his mouth. She could never trust him.
"Well I don't want to spend centuries being bored when I can be perfectly boring here and die at a respectful ninety," she said dryly before gazing at him hard. "If you think your sweet words to my parents will work on me then you are mistaken. I haven't forgotten what happened and what you're capable of."
"You have no idea what I'm capable of," he said softly. It was something that should have sounded like a threat but was not. It was a promise. "I won't give up."
"Then you'll be waiting for a long time. You think I care about what others think of me?" she said scornfully, eyeing the people that passed them. Peter's mouth curled.
"Those people mean nothing, I agree, but your family is a different matter. You might not care but they do. You know they haven't even got enough money to support all of you? Especially with me there. Married or not you'll need to leave at some point."
Wendy fiddled with her gloves, conflicted. He was right, her parents had never been able to live as comfortably as they wished. For all her father's thriftiness he was only trying to keep his family afloat and if word got back to the bank that his daughter had been left high and dry he may find himself conveniently ignored for that promotion he so wanted. Her mother would be similarly affected, excluded from her circle of old friends who unfortunately did not share her modern mind. Peter watched her intently as she sat in thought, mouth quirked and his eyes flickering as if he could see every dark and troubled thought as they appeared.
Finally Wendy sat back, tired. "I'll get a job, support myself."
"You don't deserve a life of hard graft."
"There's nothing shameful about working hard!" she said passionately and he smiled at her.
"Of course there's not but do you think those people wouldn't jump at the chance of having a lighter life?"
"And that's with you, is it?" she wanted to laugh. He was delusional.
"If you came back with me we wouldn't be stuck on the island indefinitely. I could take you to any world you desired, show you things you never thought possible. Once the heart of the truest believer is mine nothing will be denied from us." His eyes gleamed hungrily at the thought and Wendy shied away from him, horrible thoughts coming into her mind.
"You keep mentioning this heart, what exactly do you plan to do with it?"
He gazed at her heavily, weighing what to say before he spoke. "I won't keep anything from you so I'll tell you the truth."
"That sounds ominous," she said, trying to lighten the tension because she knew nothing good was about to be said.
"I told you magic is dying and it is but you've also seen the state of my heart," he swallowed and she could imagine it feebly trying to pump blood and life through him as he spoke. "I need to trade it to live."
Wendy blinked, imagining some faceless boy offering a glowing, pulsating heart on a plater beside Peter's diseased organ. It was a sickening thought.
"So he'll die?"
"Not straight away, not if he stays in Neverland. Like I said I'm centuries old but it's withstood the years. It could take some more and that boy could live another fifty, sixty years."
Wendy blinked, feeling a flare of unease. "Is that how long you have?"
"No, I have longer then that. I know he's not born yet, that will be ninety odd years from now."
Wendy imagined what the world would be like in a hundred years time and could not. She had seen images of what people believed but she hoped that it would be even more surprising. If I stayed with him I could live to see it, a sly but curious thought drifted across her mind and Wendy batted it away. She hardened her resolve, Peter was talking about murder.
"So you'll take some poor boy's heart just so you can live even longer?"
Peter stared at her dead pan. "One: I'm not taking anything. The heart has to be willingly given otherwise it won't work. Two: yes I will, it's my life, no matter how long it is. Sorry if that's distasteful but I've waited all these years solely for that purpose."
As they then sat in heavy silence, eyeing people passing, Wendy realised that her mother had been watching them curiously from a distant bench. She smiled and moved closer to Peter who took her hand as a small group of soldiers passed. The majority of the boys were Peter's age, by appearance at least, and one of them winked at Wendy. She thought morbidly that in a few months time he might be dead in the mud and he knew it but still walked as if toward some great adventure.
"They're going to their deaths with a wink," she said quietly, gaze unfocused, "while you rage against it."
"They make light because they have to. Never give in without a fight Wendy," he said quietly and stood, offering her a hand up. She cocked her head up at him, smiling strangely.
"I don't plan to."
a.n:
Wendy's birthday party next!