A/N: Thanks so much for the favorites/follows! But no reviews of the last chapter? I'm disappointed in you guys. ;) Tell you what, here's the plan. I'm sneaking in a Doctor Who reference. If you catch it, leave a review. Also leave a review if you want Violet to keep calling Felix her honey muffin!
After I storm back to camp, I walk into a random tree house, not really caring whose it is. Secretly, though, I hope it's Felix's tree house. I snicker just imagining the expression on his face if he walked in to find me in his tree house.
And anyway, there's no distinguishing features on this tree house. It's nothing special at all, so it probably doesn't belong to Pan or Felix. Pan's tree house would at the very least be cluttered with empty cans of hairspray and lots of mirrors, while Felix would probably have a fluffy pink diary in which he confides his innermost thoughts and feelings. This place has no fanciness at all. Just one room, with three walls. The last side of the tree house has no wall, and I notice the opening points directly towards the east. Towards where the sun would rise.
The only furniture here is a small table with a wooden cup and a sheathed hunting knife on it, and a narrow cot that serves as a bed. Welcome to Peter Pan's freaking military boot camp. I sigh heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching the night sky through the opening where the fourth wall should be.
The stars wink tauntingly at me, but they already look faint. Dawn must be close. I grimace at the memory of the injured Lost Boy. I had told Pan that he would heal him or I would never speak to him again, but I know Pan too well. I know he won't just go along with what I say and do the right thing. I just hope he doesn't let that poor kid die. Apparently, Pan kills people if they try to leave Neverland. The thought is so repulsive, so monstrous that I can't do anything but sit here, my hands clenched into tight fists as I stare out at the fading stars.
I must sit there for hours, because after a long time the sky changes to gray. A gentle breeze lifts the air gently, weaving the a breeze through camp like a silver thread. Dawn is here, without any word of that poor kid. Nothing from Pan or my honey muffin, Felix, since I had my little tantrum and demanded that Pan heal the injured boy. It was foolish of me, I realize. Pan's probability doubting my loyalty, which can't happen if I'm going to fulfill my mission and gain his trust. Besides, I already knew he was a bloodthirsty, heartless murderer, and know I have even more proof. I've got to be a lot more careful. I shudder to think what would happen to me if Pan ever finds out that I'm lying to him about everything.
"Ahem."
I turn slowly, "What?"
"Hello, sweetie," Pan says in his creepy British accent, lounging against the wall by the door to the tree house. Before I can reply, he grabs my arm, pulling me uncomfortably close to him.
I sigh and look up at him, "What do you want?"
His mouth twitches. With amusement? I can't tell. "I need to talk to you, but not here. There's a place I want to show you," Pan says intently.
"Fine," I groan, rolling my eyes. He leads me out of the tree house, striding through the Lost Boys' camp with his usual over-confident swagger. We walk through the jungle for a mile or so, until we reach a clearing with an enormous pine tree in it. Pan grins back at me, raising an eyebrow.
"This is my thinking tree," he explains. "Where I go when I want to-"
"Think? Yeah, I kind of got that," I interrupt, staring up at the tree. It seems to glow faintly, pulsing with pale green magic. Entranced, I take a step forward, my hand outstretched. When I touch the trunk gently, a shiver of warmth runs through me, almost as if the tree itself is accepting my presence. I sigh in contentment, and Pan eyes me contemplatively.
"You can feel it, then," he says, a satisfied smile playing at the edges of his lips. I look at him over my shoulder, keeping my palm flat again the tree.
"Yeah," I say softly, smiling back. Then I frown. There I go again, forgetting what a terrible person Pan really is. Forgetting that he really is a monster.
"Interesting that you can feel it," Pan remarks, steeping forward as he too touches the tree. The faint green aura of his thinking tree sparks at his touch, glowing a little brighter. "Only a few people can."
"What kind of people?" I ask.
"People who belong in Neverland," Pan replies. "This tree is imbued with Neverland's deepest magic, and only those who are born with Neverland in their blood and pixie dust in their heart can feel the presence of the tree." I shut my eyes briefly, ignoring Pan's words. I know that I don't belong in Neverland, even if Pan himself doesn't know.
To take my mind off of it, I blurt out, "It needs a name."
"You want to name my tree?" Pan asks, a crooked grin on his face as he struggles to hold back laughter.
"Totally," I tell him enthusiastically. "Her name should be-"
"My thinking tree is a girl?" Pan asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
I shoot him an incredulous look, "Well, duh. Anyway, her name should be something epic, like The Black Death."
"You want to name my tree, which is apparently a girl, The Black Death?" Pan snickers, cocking his head to the side.
"Well, what do you suggest?" I demand. Pan trails his fingers over the bark of the tree, slowly moving closer to me.
"Now that you mention it, I have a few ideas," Pan answers in a whisper, raising an eyebrow suggestively. I just give him a dirty look, pulling my hand back from the tree and crossing my arms.
"I meant, an idea about naming the tree," I hiss in frustration.
"How about Gwen?" Pan suggests, staring up at the tree once more.
I wave a hand dismissively, "Nah, too boring. It needs to be something fan-freaking-tastic, like Gwenifer Kay."
"Gwenifer?" Pan chuckles. I laugh half-heartedly, telling myself over and over again that Pan is evil. He is evil. Even if he seems okay, never forget that he is evil. As I look away, staring off into the distance, Pan takes advantage of my distraction, grabbing my shoulders possessively and shoving me back against the tree. My head slams into the trunk of the tree, and I wince slightly. Just as I take a step forward, away from the tree, Pan presses himself against me. His hand wraps around the back of my neck, and Pan grabs a fistful of my hair as his lips dance lightly, almost teasingly, across mine. Inhaling sharply, I submit to the kiss, but allow myself a small grimace. Sensing my displeasure, Pan pulls back slightly, untangling his fingers from my hair.
"What is it, Violet?" he breathes, still too close to my face for comfort. I bite my lip, and Pan gives me a worried look. A look that I remind myself is fake. Pan is evil. "Is this about that boy?" Pan asks, studying me carefully. I nod slowly, shuddering at the memory of that poor boy, caked in blood, long stripes of crimson clawed across his chest.
"Y-yes," I reply shakily.
"He isn't dead," Pan smiles. My eyes widen.
"You- you healed him?" I stammer. Pan nods, tilting his head sideways and brushing his lips against my neck tauntingly. I suppress a shiver, trying to shove away the sudden urge I have to kick his sorry ass into next Tuesday.
"But I don't understand why you saved him, Vi," Pan murmurs, lingering far too long in my personal bubble before pulling back way too slowly. Vi? Vi? Pan is calling me by nicknames now? Oh, God, I need Arida here so we can have a mutual freak-out moment.
"Peter," I shake my head, pushing him away from me slightly, "I rule Lost Girls differently. When a Lost Girl defies me, I don't kill them. Instead of death, I humiliate them. That humiliation casts them into disgrace with the other Lost Girls, and being disgraced is so awful that when they die, they view death as taking them to a "better place". I don't know why, but I can't stand killing people. There's something about it. It just feels wrong. Plus, it's like I'm the top tier of a pyramid. Powerful, but every time I kill someone it chips away at the base of the pyramid." Of course, I won't kill just because it is a horrible thing to do, but I need to put it into terms Pan's psychopathic brain can understand. And the only thing he understands is the hunger for power. And of course, I don't exactly have Lost Girls, I have Operation Fudge Cookie. But I humiliate them all the time, so I'm not exactly lying. And that is how Arida and I deal with people who don't follow orders.
I shut my eyes, breathing in deeply, "You're strong and clever, Peter, but you can't keep chipping away at your pyramid. One day, it will all come crashing down." Then I open my eyes and look up at Pan, whose eyes are wide and thoughtful, a somewhat innocent expression I never thought I would see on Peter Pan's face. He smiles at me admiringly.
"Vi, you aren't just clever. You're awfully wise too."
I smirk, "Thanks, Pancake." Then, reminding myself that I need to make sure he trusts me fully, I lean in for the kill. Pan notices my hesitant movement and, with a sly smile, eagerly presses himself against me, once again pushing me straight into the tree. Our lips press together insistently, and Pan sighs in satisfaction. His hands clutch my shoulders with brutal force, and Pan leans his full weight against me, pressing himself even more firmly against me, as if that is even possible. After a moment that seems to last forever, Pan runs his hands down my bare arms, trailing his fingers teasingly across my forearms before letting them rest on my belt. I twitch at the gesture, but Pan merely takes that as an invitation to deepen the kiss, tilting his head sideways as he hooks his fingers around my belt loops. I pull back instantly, pushing Pan away from me abruptly.
"Little too fast for me, Pan," I say, catching my breath. Pan just smirks knowingly at me as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I slap his hand away gently, leaning back against Gwenifer. He stares off into the distance, suddenly grabbing my hand.
"Look," he murmurs, pointing towards the horizon. I stare out at the gold and orange and reddish light blossoming in the sky, the fiery light glinting off Neverland's lush jungle. It's like the dancing, dangerous magnificence of a bonfire on a warm summer's night, the unique flash of glowing color that most people are only lucky enough to see a few times in their life. I gasp out loud at the beauty of it, and I can feel my mouth hanging open in awe.
"It's- it's- it's..." I stutter, completely entranced.
"It's beautiful," Pan whispers in my ear, deviously wrapping an arm around me. "Just like you." Shaking him off, I turn back to face him, flicking my hair over my shoulders haughtily.
"Oh, I know. But thanks anyway for the compliment," I say, all sassy and don't-mess-with-me. He grins back at me.
"C'mon, let's go have some breakfast," Pan says. He rises into the air, giving me a playful grin before turning in midair and shooting off towards camp. I follow him after a moment, though my flying is considerably less graceful. I console myself by remembering that Pan has had centuries to practice flying. My head spins as I breathe in the fresh morning air, enjoying the sensation of the chilly breeze on my cheeks. But why? Why didn't Pan kill the kid? Pan didn't kill the kid, and he actually noticed the beauty of the sunrise. What the freaking fudge happened to the Evil Pan?
A/N: So yeah... hope you guys liked it. Remember... review about the Doctor Who reference, honey muffin, and also about Pan's new nickname. PANCAKE!