A/N: Thank you for all the reviews/favorites/follows! It means a lot. Also, there is a link to a picture of Violet's bracelet on my profile. My friend Iris would like me to tell you that she thinks Pan is the hottest boy on the planet. That is all.
Later that night, nothing happens.
And I mean literally nothing.
The Lost Boys are hanging out around the giant bonfire, laughing and talking among themselves as they sharpen arrow heads and throw knives at each other. Good times. As usual, I sit by myself on a fallen log, staring into the flickering fire as I fidget absentmindedly with the bracelet Arida gave me.
It's not that I mind being alone- I don't. Especially not in Neverland, where there is no such thing as good company. But the total lack of any change whatsoever is driving me insane, and yes, that is possible. There has been no word from Arida, or from any of the Operation Fudge Cookie agents for that matter. I have no idea what my next move is supposed to be. If I haven't already gained Pan's trust, I'm pretty darn close, close enough that I'm ready to fulfill the rest of my mission sometime soon.
But that's the thing. I have no idea what my mission is. Without my telepathy, I feel cut off from the world. Maybe it's because I've learned to depend too much on my telepathy, but maybe not... either way, I feel useless without it. Trapped.
Sighing deeply, I glance around the clearing. Same old, same old. Boring Lost Boys being idiots. I know Pan has a thing for Lost Boys and all... but seriously, I have literally no one to talk to. Except for Pan himself, and he is too infuriating to speak with except on an absolutely necessary basis, and even that's torture. Not to mention his disgusting obsession with kissing me... I shudder at the thought, gagging. There's one good thing, though. Pan isn't at camp now. After we got to back to camp and ate breakfast, he went sort of pale and sprinted off into the woods like the crazy person he is.
I didn't say anything though. I was just like "what a weirdo", and then I walked away. So yeah... I've been at camp the entire freaking day, dying of boredom, waiting for a message from OFC. Not to mention that I haven't slept at all in the last thirty-six hours.
Maybe being so exhausted is completely slaughtering my common sense, but I am sick and tired of waiting, so I decide to contact Arida with telepathy. It's a huge risk, I know, because Pan has telepathy and can hear any conversation between us. But Pan isn't anywhere nearby... at least I hope so. Looking around furtively, I see that the one and only Peter Pan is still off in the jungle somewhere doing who-knows-what, thankfully without me. I shift forward on the log, bracing my legs firmly against the ground as I pretend to be entranced by the Lost Boys' stupid crackling bonfire.
Arida, I think. You there?
Violet! her response comes almost immediately. What the heck happened to you? You just stopped talking in the middle of the conversation. I thought Pan killed you or something...
I grin to myself. Aw, were you worried?
No, she replies dryly. I was hopeful.
Nice, I think sarcastically. There is a long pause before Arida speaks again, and I relax my tense muscles, leaning back against the trunk of a tree.
So why did you just... stop talking? she asks. Did he, um, you know?
No! I was getting tired of listening to you ramble on, I reply with a snort of laughter. From across the clearing, a Lost Boy shoots me a weird look, and I realize that I had laughed out loud. Oopsies. Better tone it down a little.
Or maybe you were too busy to talk to me because you were doing other things with Pan, Arida shoots back. and I can practically see her raising her eyebrows and giving me her best Pan-face. I scowl, wishing she could be here so I could slap her in the face.
Gee, thanks for that lovely mental image, I growl. Actually, it turns out Pan has telepathy too. He can overhear any conversation we have.
After a brief pause, Arida thinks back to me, So right now you can talk to me because...?
Thankfully, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is frolicking in the woods somewhere, I explain.
Voldemort? Arida guesses.
No, you geek. Peter Pan, duh, I roll my eyes. So what's the brilliant plan?
Just as Arida is about to reply, I hear the faint tromping of footsteps coming towards the camp. Someone is coming.
Later, sister, gotta go, I say quickly. Someone's coming.
Uh-huh, Arida thinks. Give Panny boy a nice slap in the face from me.
Gotcha, I say, biting my lip to keep from laughing. It's too much just imagining the look on Pan's face if I slapped him, his cheek bright red. I can feel my jaw tighten with nervousness as the footsteps scuff the dirt, only a few feet away now... and then the footsteps are passing right by me. Pan brushes the bushes aside easily, strolling into the clearing without giving me so much as a sideways glance.
I blink in surprise and relief. Thank the gods he didn't hear me talking to Arida. And for once, Pan actually looks... well, somewhat innocent, if that's even possible. He has a huge childish grin on his face as he walks to the center of the clearing, jumping onto a large gray rock next to the fire.
"Come on, boys!" he calls, spinning slowly to take in his not so little band of followers. They gather around him with eager grins, speculating in whispers about what Pan has planned for tonight.
"Hey!" I wave a hand in the air, not budging from my lounging position. Hey, what can I say? I'm comfy here. It's a nice log, really. "It's not just boys here. Sexist much?"
"And of course our very own Lost Girl," he says, the corners of his mouth lifting in a teasing grin as he mock bows to me. I roll my eyes.
"That's Madam Lost Girl to all of you," I say lazily.
"Well, I'm not the most well-behaved boy on the island," Pan raises an eyebrow suggestively. "I must admit my manners are a bit rusty," then Pan turns back to the Lost Boys, addressing the crowd once more, "but tonight we won't need manners. Right, boys?" he pauses, "And my dear Madam Lost Girl."
The Lost Boys roar in approval, shaking their weapons in the air. I just sigh heavily. Whatever Pan is planning, it will no doubt be either potentially fatal or really stupid, probably a combination of both.
"Tonight, we celebrate," Pan rallies the crowd with ease. He's a good public speaker, I'll give him that much. The Lost Boys are hanging on his every word with shining eyes. They're like enthusiastic zombies, and I smile at the thought. Pan might just lead the zombie apocalypse. "Tonight," Pan says, his voice rising in volume, "We celebrate our first ever Lost Girl!"
"Madam Lost Girl," I shout before the Lost Boys can start cheering. Pan grins at me playfully, and a few of them laugh, but Felix just shoots me an epic death stare.
I don't ask what Pan means by a celebration, because I know I'm going to find out anyway by watching what's going on. I watch with detached amusement as the boys begin to spread apart, moving in a strange, slow circular motion. As the majority of the boys flow smoothly into this pattern, two of them slip off to the side, dragging out something huge from behind a tree. Drums. They're dragging drums. But why?
I get my answer as soon as the two boys begin to pound out a fast rhythm on the drums. The rest of the Lost Boys speed up their strange circular movement to match the pace of the drums, adding in random leaps and spins as they move.
Wait a second... is this Pan's lame version of a dance party? I begin to snicker, which turns into a laugh, which turns into guffaws. Suddenly, I'm rolling on the ground with laughter, my sides aching an my face turning red.
"I... can't... breathe," I gasp between giggles, lying on my back and staring up at the treetops. Grinning, I prop myself up on one elbow, only to fall back with gales of laughter as I catch sight of the Lost Boys. They're just so... so ridiculous.It's hilarious.
I don't know how long I sit there, watching this crazy dance or tribal ritual- I'm not really sure which- but it is quality entertainment. The Lost Boys go on for hours, dancing and laughing and chattering wildly. Every so often, one of the boys ducks out of the magical dancing circle. Then they walk over to Pan, he hands them something, and they walk away with a smile. I'm at a bad angle, so I can't see what he's handing them. Frowning, I clamber to my feet, walking a little ways towards Pan so I can see what the heck he is giving the boys that makes them so slap happy.
As I walk towards the bonfire, the noise of the Lost Boys becomes so loud that I have to resist the urge to cover my ears with my hands. Scowling, I stop a few feet from Pan, crossing my arms as I lean back against a tree. Another boy, this one with dark brown hair and gray eyes, walks up to Pan. Unfortunately, I am close enough that I can also overhear their conversation. Believe me, the last thing I want to hear is Pan's voice. Doesn't that boy ever shut up?
"Pan," the boy nods respectfully, his gray eyes shining with glee.
"Rufio," Pan responds, giving him a twisted smirk. "No hard feelings about earlier, I hope?" Wow. That is such an un-Peter-Pan-like thing to say that my jaw actually drops. Pan sounds as cruel as always, but his voice is warmer, less focused, and his words seem less carefully considered. Slightly slurred, and almost careless. Unbelievable! Is Peter Pan losing his touch?
Rufio waves a hand dismissively, "Nah, nah. I was stupid, thinking I could leave Neverland," he grins drowsily, "Or that I would ever want to." Is that...? Is Rufio the boy who tried to leave Neverland? The boy who defied Pan? And now he's forgiving Pan as soon as Pan deigns to make conversation with him? All humor gone, I clamp a hand over my mouth, feeling sick to my stomach. This is beyond wrong. This... unconditional, blind loyalty is just so sickening, especially since it's loyalty to Pan, of all people. Heck, any Lost Boy here is more deserving of loyalty than Pan is. Even my honeymuffin, Felix, who has more than a few issues of his own.
"Right you are, mate," Pan claps Rufio approvingly on the shoulder, handing him a wooden cup that has appeared out of nowhere with the other hand. Wait. Did Pan just call Rufio mate? This is unbelievable. Totally insane. And that's coming from me, the freaking expert on crazy.
Stumbling slightly as Pan pats him on the back, Rufio accepts the cup with a lopsided, clumsy smile. As he staggers to the side, dark brown liquid from the wooden cup sloshes over him, cascading down the front of his tunic. Rather than even try to brush it off, Rufio laughs uproariously, and the other Lost Boys soon join him.
I stare at them uncomprehendingly, then at the drink in Rufio's hand. That's when I finally connect the dots. Oh, God... he's getting them drunk. Pan's getting them drunk.
Noticing my gaze, Pan sends me a cheery wave, grinning like an idiot.
"Hey there, love!" he calls. I roll my eyes.
"What do you want, Pan?" I ask wearily. He laughs, his eyes glowing. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy, and it's actually kinda creepy.
"Why... I want to fly among the stars!" Pan exclaims, spreading his arms out wide like they are wings. He uses his magic to levitate himself a few inches off the ground, chuckling.
"Suddenly, I'm getting Disney vibes," I mutter, turning away. As I begin to trudge back to my log- home sweet home- Pan runs after me, stopping me in my tracks with a firm hand on my shoulder.
"Oh, don't be such a killjoy, love," Pan grins happily. I try not to smile, but his cheer is contagious, and I feel a smirk spreading across my face.
"I'm not drinking with you and your idiotic friends," I tell him off, slapping his hand off of my shoulder.
Pan snickers," You're cute when you're annoyed, love. Maybe I should do this more often."
"Only if you want to have several broken ribs and a black eyes," I reply cheerfully.
"Don't be that way, love," Pan complains, folding his arms over his chest like a stubborn little kid. "Just.. lighten up a bit. Come fly with me, love!" He holds out his hand in a clear invitation.
Sneering in disgust, I slide away from the crowd of drunk Lost Boys, sulking back to my solitary fallen log. With a sigh, I plop down on the log, patting it sympathetically with one hand, resting my chin on the other.
"Did I ever tell you that you're my best friend in Neverland? Every actual living person here is a total jerk," I murmur to the log. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't reply. I'm so busy ignoring the Lost Boys that I barely even notice that one of them is approaching me until I see a pair of boots appear in the corner of my vision. With a sigh, I turn to the Lost Boy, smiling sweetly when I see that it's Felix.
"Oh, hello there, honey muffin," I say brightly. Felix just scowls at me.
"Don't call me that," he growls, his slurred words betraying just how drunk he really is. I just snicker, smirking at him devilishly.
"But it's adorable! Just like you..." I trail off, raising both eyebrows and giving him my best Pan-smirk. Felix's eyes turn dark with rage, and first the first time since meeting him I actually feel slightly afraid. Not very afraid, mind you, but enough that I feel a slight pang of nervousness.
"You think you can just waltz in here and do whatever you want to anyone," Felix snarls, stepping closer menacingly, almost like Pan. "You've made me a laughing stock. The other boys- they won't accept me anymore. Not when I've been bested by a girl." I simply look at him, twiddling my thumbs nonchalantly.
"Whoa there, Sunny boy," I soothe, holding up both hands in a gesture of peace. "How exactly have I bested you?"
"You made a fool of me," Felix steps closer still. "No one does that and gets away with it."
"You have serious anger management issues," I muse after a thoughtful pause. That is the last straw. Felix's pride can't take anymore of my abuse. Hooking his fingers around the collar of my shirt, he lifts me off the ground with inhuman strength, slamming me against a tree. I cry out as his finger tighten around my neck, choking the air out of my lungs. Kicking wildly, I try to concentrate, to focus my magic, my heart pounding frantically, but my magic isn't working. I'm too panicked, my emotions are too scattered. There will be no magical help now.
Instead, I focus on shoving Felix away from me the non-magical way. I claw at his fingers, trying to loosen his grip, but I've never realized just how strong Felix is. I didn't think so much muscle and power could be in those little noodle arms.
"Oh, poor little girl," he sneers. "You think that just because you're Pan's little princess you can get away with everything. But not this time, girly."
Gasping for breath, I swing a punch at Felix's face, but it doesn't even come close to hitting him. I'm too weak... the world is too loud, too fast, like I'm slowing down... why is everything blurry?
Then suddenly, the terrible choking pressure vanishes. Felix is wrenched backwards, and I tumble to the ground, colliding painfully with the hard-packed dirt. Wheezing for air, I lift my head.
"Step away from the merchandise," Pan snarls, pushing Felix to the ground harshly, straight into the hard-packed dirt.
Felix falls on his hands and knees in the dirt, his face full of shame and fury. Pan stands over him, a look of such icy rage in his eyes that I can't help but shiver in fear.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Pan spits at Felix.
"Nothing," Felix says hastily, avoiding Pan's gaze. I slowly stagger to my feet, gripping the tree for support.
"Hmm. Nothing, you say?" one of Pan's eyebrows flickers up briefly. "How about we ask Violet. Let's see is she thinks it was nothing." Pan stalks over to me, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest. I can feel my cheeks turning red, but I know there's no point in trying to pull away. He'll only hold onto me more tightly.
"It was nothing," I mutter. "Just Felix being his usual sunshiny self." Pan's grip tightens as he leans close to me, his lips brushing my ear.
"It's okay, Vi," Pan murmurs soothingly, his voice slurred. "Just say the word and I'll take care of him."
"What, like you took care of Rufio?" I snap icily. "I said it was nothing, and that means it was nothing."
"Fine, then," Pan sighs. "Go on then, Felix. Leave, before I change my mind and decide to punish you anyway. But I'll warn you now. If you hurt her ever again, if you so much as look at her the wrong way, I will not hesitate to kill you." Shooting me a deadly glare, Felix slowly rises to his feet, stalking off into the woods. Something in his gaze warns me that this isn't over yet. Far from it.
Sighing in exasperation, I say, "You really didn't have to do that, Pan. I had it covered." He laughs gently.
"Yes, that was made perfectly clear to me when I saw you struggling helplessly as Felix choked the life out of you," Pan remarks innocently.
"Oh, don't be so lame, Pan," I complain, trying to push him away. "Let go of me already." Rather than let me go, Pan turns me in his arms. Suddenly only a couple inches of air separate me and Pan, and the iron-tight grip of his arms warns me that he's not letting me free just yet, if ever.
"Come on, Vi," Pan pleads. "Live a little."
I scoff at him in disbelief, "Are you high on pixie dust or something?"
"But I just saved your life," Pan says drowsily. "Don't I get any sort of thanks?" Knowing exactly what sort of thanks he has in mind, I tilt my head away from him slightly, putting as much distance between us as I can. Which is to say, not that much. Pan's breath smells unmistakably of alcohol. His words are unclear, his actions are unusually rough, and the typical sophistication that makes him Peter Pan is gone. If there's one thing worse than Peter Pan kissing me, it's a drunk Peter Pan kissing me, and I'm not about to let that happen.
"Whoa there, Pancake," I say calmly. "You're drunk. Go take a hike or a nap or something until you feel better."
"But Violet..." Pan protests, leaning his forehead against mine. "You're so pretty." I quickly lean away, suddenly anxious to get away,
"We've already established that, Pan," I reply dryly, trying not to let any of my panic show in my voice. "You're not thinking clearly."
"I don't need to be thinking clearly for this," Pan counters. His right hand trails lightly up my back to wrap around the back of my head, fingers tangling painfully in my hair as he forces me towards him.
"Stop," I order sharply, but Pan doesn't seem to hear me. I try to shove him away, but it's like trying to push my way through a brick wall. Utterly useless. Pan moans with pleasure as he smashes his mouth against mine roughly. I recoil at the bitter taste of alcohol that lingers on his lips, but he won't let me escape.
"Violet," he sighs, his eyes flashing darkly. Tilting his head sideways, Pan bites lightly at the edge of my lips, but I refuse to respond to him. I stand stock-still, frozen like a statue, completely horrified. Heck, I'd rather be throttled to death by Felix than this.
"Pan," I warn, a note of desperation creeping into my voice. "Pan, stop it now." He just smirks in response, biting down hard on my lip. Gasping, I shake my head, trembling when Pan's other hand trails tauntingly up the side of my leg, coming to rest on my belt. He tugs lightly at the belt, leaning forward to softly kiss the skin of my neck.
"Don't call me Pan," he says, his lips brushing my skin with every word. "Call me Peter." Then Pan lets his other hand slide down from my neck, tracing his fingers down my arm. Terror floods me, because suddenly both of his hands are clutching at the waist of my jeans. And I get the terrible feeling Pan isn't finished with me yet.
"Pan, stop right now or I will cut off your toes one by one and feed them to the sharks," I threaten.
"Hmm," Pan sighs against my neck. "I stand by what I said before. You're cute when you're angry." His fingers slide upward, lingering on the hem of my shirt for a moment. Then Pan slides his hands under the shirt, his fingers skating across the bare skin of my stomach. I cringe backwards, trying desperately to backpedal, but Pan isn't having any of that. He plants a light kiss on my jaw before once again crushing his lips against mine in a demonic kiss that seems to suck the life straight out of me. Struggling in his grip, I manage to twist away from him slightly, breaking the kiss, but he drags me straight back to him, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"Oh, yes, fight me," Pan murmurs, his hands gripping my waist under my shirt. I gasp as he lets one of them slide down to the button of my jeans, tracing the small brass circle with his fingers. "I love it when you fight, love." He leans in again, determined to steal another kiss, but at the last second I jerk away and his lips only skim my ear.
"Let go of me," I demand, squirming to get away. "Let go of me right now. Do you hear me, Peter Pan? Let go!" His breathing harsh, Pan finally seems to hear me. He lets his arms drop to his sides, staring at me intently as he steps back.
"This isn't over," he warns, his eyes glazing over. "I will have you... I... love..." Pan trails off in the middle of his sentence as he stumbles backwards , falling against a tree. Still shaking with fear, I turn and sprint off into the woods, determined to get away from him. To get away from Peter Pan.
xxx
I don't know how long I've been running through the woods. All I know is that I can't slow down, I can't stop. Not ever. Not after what Pan did... and what he almost did. Tears sting at my eyes, and I mentally yell at myself for being so weak. Pan shouldn't have the power to make me cry. I shouldn't let him have that power.
But the dark look in his eyes... the smell of alcohol on his breath... his hands sliding down to finger my belt... I can't forget it, and I don't think I ever will be able to forget it. The only way to escape is to keep running and never slow down. Because maybe, just maybe, I can outrun my fears.
I'm so focused on the tumbling thoughts inside my head that I don't even notice the echo of other footsteps nearby until I hear a loud, whooping yell. Oh yeah, then I notice. Their footsteps chase me through the pitch-black forest as my lungs scream for air. All I know is that I can't let them catch me. I need to escape. I need to get away.
But even though I sprint as fast as I possibly can, the Lost Boys are faster. Soon, they catch up to me, springing out of the jungle to form a circle around me. I spin around anxiously, scanning their faces for him. Thankfully, Pan isn't among them. However Felix, my honey muffin, is there, and he steps forward, clearly asserting himself as the leader. I just glare at him coldly.
"You really don't want to mess with me right now," I warn him.
"On the contrary," Felix grins at me, displaying a mouthful of crooked teeth. "I think we should finish our game from earlier."
"Come to kill me, huh?" I bark out a mirthless laugh.
"Only if you lose," Felix replied, his face suddenly serious once again.
"Lose what, exactly?" I snap. Felix draws a silver sword with a leather-bound hilt from his belt, brandishing it towards me.
"Someone give the girl a sword," he calls to the Lost Boys. I don't see which one it is, but one of the cloaked boys tosses a simple blade onto the ground. Raising an eyebrow, I pick up the sword. Normally would be running scared from something like this, but right now I have the intense urge to stab something. Repeatedly. With great force. Though stabbing Pan would be ideal, Felix is second-best.
"So what? Are we Jedi or something?" I say scornfully.
Felix ignores my comment, readying his sword. "Are you ready to duel?" he asks quietly. I bare my teeth at him in a feral imitation of a smile.
"Oh, please. I was born ready," I shoot back. Felix smiles darkly.
"Then let us begin," he replied.