Chapter 78: Magnetism
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Peter glanced at the door. He could just make out the golden knob, coated in ice. It glinted in the light of the Wishing Star. The toggle shook with every boom as the pirates and villains tried to break in.
Peter lay his head against the wall. Frost nibbled the back of his skull as he surveyed Headmaster Mickey's office.
It was pretty dismal.
Elsa's magical winter had cast the room in glittering frost. Light blue snowflakes drifted slowly through the icy air.
Peter grunted. He watched his breath freeze. For all he knew, the castle was a big snow cone. He wondered if Elsa's magic had buried the rest of Fantasia under a deep, deep, deep winter.
Someone coughed. Peter looked up. Across the room, Tigerlily snuggled against John. Her nose was red. Her eyes were puffy. Neither spoke. But both shivered.
A movement caught Peter's eye. Rapunzel was inching shyly towards Flynn. Flynn smiled. Warmly, he opened an arm. For a moment they were silent as Flynn stroked Rapunzel's head. Then, ever so gently, Flynn drew Rapunzel's golden hair over her shoulder like a blanket.
Peter shook his head. Flynn. Boy was loosing his maxi. Next thing you knew, he'd be confessing to Rapunzel all his deepest, darkest secrets. Peter grinned. Yeah. Like that would ever happen.
A second bout of gunfire made Peter turn.
In separate corners, Merida and Robin moved as one. Jerking upright, they drew bows and arrows in identical, fluid motions. As though rehearsed, they aimed at the door, and cautiously receded as the gunfire died.
Robin looked at Merida. Merida looked at Robin. As one, they smiled. Then together they returned to sentry, vigilant of each other's feelings.
Mulan gazed wistfully at the archers. Worry crossed her face and Peter would have bet a million dollars she was thinking about Shang. Bending over and pretending to tie a shoe lace, Mulan shouldered a tear from the corner of her eye. Nearby, Mushu puckered a bottom lip. Forcing a smile, he zipped to Mulan and cuddled against her knee.
Sadly, Mulan smiled. Still, she patted Mushu, grateful for his concern. So grateful, she extended the kindness to Meg, joining the somber girl at the window.
Meg did not smile, but accepted the hand Mulan offered. Together, both girls gazed outside the frosty window. Waiting. Just waiting for Jim's plan.
Jim's plan.
Wait. Just wait. Oh and THEN(best part)…run for dear life to a "magical" oven. Suuuuuuuure. Brilliant Rat Tail. Brilliant.
Inwardly, Peter scoffed. His black eyes flicked to the center of the room.
Jim sat quietly, staring at the door. His sullen, deep set eyes reflected the pink glow of the enchanted rose turning methodically between his fingers. He was still as a wolf, waiting for it's prey.
Wart sat beside Jim; forehead on his knees, skinny arms wrapped around his legs. His cheeks were blue, and turning purple. Frost twinkled over his blonde hair like a crown.
Poor kid. Peter thought as Wart's stomach growled. Cognizant of his own hunger, Peter settled back against the wall. Must be starving.
Suddenly, Peter blinked.
Ariel, had passed. And the vibrancy of her red hair screamed silently in the icy, white room. The brightness had actually surprised him.
Contemplatively, Peter watched and marveled at Ariel's energy. Unlike Jim, she was unable to sit still. She was a rouge, boundless tidal wave that couldn't be tied down.
And as she paced, Peter wondered how bouncy, bubbly Ariel Triton could possibly be…dare he say it…in love with someone like Jim Hawkins.
Again, Peter scoffed. This time audibly.
Love. Ha. No such thing. No such…
Peter closed his eyes. He tried to stop. But he could not.
He had to look at her.
Slowly, Peter opened his eyes. Helplessly, he let them sink on Wendy.
Wendy Darling.
Peter stared. Wendy. She was so…so…untouchable. Almost like the Wishing Star.
Peter cocked his ears, surprised by the simile. Actually…she was exactly like the Wishing Star. On the surface very small, very crisp, very clear, very proper. Always very much in the right place, shining with a very lovely light. And…a very pretty little thing. Something very pretty to admire from very far away.
Not to approach. Not to touch.
Only to wish for.
Peter glowered. Wendy Darling had represented everything he could never have. Gentleness. Harmony. Stability. She was nurturing and constant. Pretty and soft.
But…she was …steady….mature…
….untouchable. Distant as the Wishing Star.
Which made Peter hate her. And want her. More than he had wanted anything else in the world. More than any other girl. More than the power to fly. More than…a family.
He just wanted to touch her. To know her. To read her. To understand her.
And for some reason…he wanted her to understand him.
Angrily Peter shook his head. Ha. That was a laugh. If Wendy Darling was a star…then Peter Pan was…nothing. Dirt. Mud. Nothing.
Still…
Peter studied Wendy. Like the Wishing Star, a black hole hid behind the girl's modest temperate. A fierce torrent of anger, resentment, and confusion.
Peter almost smiled. Climbing rigidly to his feet, he crossed the cold, bitter distance between he and Wendy. Her eyes were crystal blue as he approached. Forcing herself not to shiver, Wendy looked into Peter's midnight gaze.
This time, Peter smiled. Slowly dropping to the icy floor, he sat beside her. He did not advance. He did not touch. He did not pry.
He just…wanted to be near her. Because Wendy Darling, for all her gentleness and calm, had a resiliency that made Peter feel strong. A resiliency that forced him to hope, and believe, that everything was going to be okay.
Together they sat.
A snowflake twinkled onto Wendy's nose. She swallowed a shiver. Peter felt it.
Guiltily he glanced at her bare shoulders. Her camisole, the same light blue color as her ripped hoodie, was stiff with the cold.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Carefully, Peter cocked his head. He wasn't sure how to start. So, he whispered under the gunfire. "Um…er…um…"
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Peter's heart was beating. "…Wendy?"
She looked up. Peter caught his breath. Her eyes were staggering. The electric blue shocked him every time.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Peter's voice shook. "I…I have to touch…because…" With impulsive resolution, he took Wendy into his arms. He hugged her with all his might. "… I don't want you cold."
Wendy lay still. Then, Peter felt her smile against his chest.
"You are…a strange, wonderful boy…Peter Pan."
Peter grinned. Heart boiling warm as hot chocolate, he hovered several inches from the floor.
"Who told?" he joked softly, rubbing her shoulder. Again, his chest twinged as his fingers brushed Wendy's bruises. "Little shadow worker."
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Wendy's smile faded with the onslaught of gunfire. Cheek pressed against Peter, she watched Jim rise to inspect the door.
"Peter…"she began as Jim stalked along the barricade. "…I'm sorry…about your shadow."
Peter grimaced. "Meh…"he lied, accidentally squeezing Wendy's arm too hard "…no big deal. I mean…it's only a shadow, right? Part of my soul. No big deal. Hurt like Hell when Facilier's went all exorcists on me but nothing I can't hand – "
"—I can sew it back."
Peter stopped. The barricade rattled. The gunfire intensified.
"What?"
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Wendy lifted slightly.
"Your shadow. I can stick it back on."
Peter's eyes flicked down as she gestured to her needle and thread.
"I can stick it back on…"she continued. "…with sewing. That's the proper way to do it."
Peter raised a dubious eyebrow. Still, his heart beat hopefully at the earnest look in Wendy's face. "You sure?"
Wendy nodded. "I never would have thought of it…but Headmaster Mickey promised it would work. And it has to work! It simply must! Because…because…"
Wendy looked directly into Peter's eyes. They held the gaze. Then slowly, very slowly they leaned towards each other.
Peter was helpless against her magnetism. His heart raced so hard he thought it would explode into the air. Wendy closed her eyes. Peter tasted her breath.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Wendy blinked. Turning away, she drew back. She looked struck. And…scared.
"…it just…has to work." she finally breathed. Quietly, she turned over her knees. "…I don't want you hurt. Not anymore. Not if I can save you."
Peter caught her wrist.
"Save me?" he smiled, black eyes twinkling. "You?"
Wendy cocked her head. She gazed seriously into Peter's lighthearted face.
And when she spoke, Peter's heart broke.
"Don't you think it's high time someone came to your rescue…Peter Pan?"
Peter could have flown around the Moon, to the Sun, through the Wishing Star and all the way back again.
He'd never been happier.
All he wanted was to take Wendy in his arms and play hero for her. Forever. And ever.
And he would have told her so, had Jim Hawkins not raised a hand.
"Everyone. Shhh! Shut up. Shut –"
"JIMBO! JIMBO!"
Silver. The room froze as Long John Silver's voice rumbled through the key hole.
"Jimbo! Down here lad! I'm wavin' the white flag! I'd like a short word with ya!"
"Jim." Ariel's red hair swung across her eyes. Violently bright against the white room, she took Jim's hand. "Don't. It's a trick. He's come to bargain for the map."
"No tricks!" Silver continued, as if reading Ariel's mind. "Just a little palaver!"
Jim's eyes glinted. "Then that means…that he thinks we still have it."
sultal's note: I had many requests for more romance-y stuff. This was actually kinda fun to write! AND CAN I JUST SAY that I am in love with the word "palaver." It is my goal to use that word tomorrow in class. I must. Moral imperative. Challenge accepted.
HeartOfGold: Hi again! I love your enthusiasm. And don't worry about changing your story - the awesome part about Fanfiction is that it is YOUR STORY! You can basically do anything you want. For most of my stories I have a "system" where I try to keep some integrity or "return to original plot line" (it's VERY complicated and would take me a little longer to explain), but that is just my style. I am writing a Harry Potter story that is not as close to the original series...so I guess my point is that YOU are the captain of your stories. Take them where ever you desire dude!
And yes, figuring out Fanfiction can be a bear sometimes. The first thing I would do is make yourself an account. Right now, you are commenting as "guest." That means you (1) can't post stories. That also means (2) I have to answer your questions at the end of my chapters instead of a "PM." A PM (aka Private Message) is an email that is specific to the fanfiction sight. I have a few other authors that I converse/brainstorm with via PMs. Some people just prefer those. So, if you make an account, I do not mind PMing you to help with postings or any other questions that you have!
And thank you for your kind words. I am honored at your compliment :)
Okay everyone...!
keep writing.