Hi, my dear readers!
I apologize for the two-week pause between the updates, but as you maybe guessed, it was a problem of time. Not only that I've to write the chapters, but also my dear beta-reader has to go through them and – believe me – without her incredible work you wouldn't like to read the updates.
Thank you so very much for the many reviews. I know, at the moment the story is rather sad and dark, but – how is the saying? – there is light at the end of the tunnel (even if we're still in the 'middle of the mountain').
But given the current situation with Hook and the former Lost Boys leaving Neverland, there are a few good-byes to say (after all, especially for the pirates a chapter of life comes to an end). Au contraire, the Darlings hope to utter a 'welcome' at least to their daughter, but Ashford and Lunette prepared everything that this re-union between parents and daughter isn't a real re-union. And, without knowing it, Wendy is about to get a new alley.
Enjoy the new chapter,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 37 – Good-Byes
Wendy felt drowsy and somewhat wobbly as she followed Brynna Lunette to the nearest guest bathroom. Lifting the skirt of the long yellow dress she still wore, she entered a bathroom that was almost twice the size of her own bedroom at home. The clawfoot enameled bathtub had its own water heater, equipped with a large sink made of marble and even a private 'water closet'. A shower stall had been added against the far wall. Showers were first installed in sporting and swimming areas, later in boarding schools and now even in many orphanages and the new hospitals, but not in many homes. Yet the showers were one of the few things Wendy really loved at Roedean. But the steaming tub told her there would be no shower today.
Olivia Simpson entered the bathroom carrying a nightgown that Wendy recognized as Victoria's. "You may be more comfortable in the nightdress," the maid said softly, avoiding Lunette's piercing gaze.
"Thank you," Wendy said quietly to the girl, her voice hoarse from all the crying, her eyes feeling gritty, refusing to look in the large mirror over the sink, for she knew that she looked awful. But she didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. There, where once the adventurous, cheerful and lovestruck Edwardian lady/pirate girl had stood, only a shell full of grief remained. She felt dissipated, as if a large part of her had died along with James.
With stiff fingers she began to undo the yellow dress, then she became aware of the two other women in the room. "Might I undress and bathe alone?" she asked sharply.
Lunette lifted both brows. "Of course, my dear," she said and turned to the door. "Take your time. There is a breakfast tray in your room. I suspect you would rather not meet the other guests in your current condition."
Lifting her head, Wendy scowled at her. "Your 'guests' and the viscount are the ones responsible for my 'current condition!' If they hadn't abducted me and James was still alive, I wouldn't be in this 'current condition'!" Rarely had she ever felt the hostility toward someone as she did now. She met Olivia's alarmed gaze and added to her, "Please help me with the dress. Clothes of the founders' period are rather complicated."
"Of course, Miss Darling."
Brynna watched the two girls with a frown, but left the bathroom. It was better not to risk her tentative control of the Darling-girl.
Helping Wendy out of the yellow dress, Simpson couldn't help but notice that she wore no lingerie nor camisole. She was relieved that the older lady hadn't seen this, because it was scandalous when a young lady was not properly clad. Corset and undies were most important to make the street clothes fit correctly, but none were worn by Miss Darling.
Additionally, Olivia tried not to stare at the marks on Wendy's body that told her so much. The maid had absolutely no idea where or what 'Neverland' was, but one thing was sure: Miss Darling wasn't in the manor of her own free will. She had been 'abducted' by the viscount from wherever she had been. And 'James' was obviously dead. He was probably the one who gave her the bruises of lovemaking she could see on the girl's shoulders and breasts. These would remain a secret. Despite her youth, Olivia was not blind to the custom that a girl who had been with a man before marriage was regarded as unworthy and impure. Perhaps Miss Darling and this 'James' did want to marry and simply decided not to wait for a vicar to give his blessing. And now this James was dead; the reason for the girl's swollen eyes and all the weeping Olivia had heard. Miss Darling was in deep mourning, and the little maid's tender heart grieved with her.
Helping the young lady step out of the dress, she gathered the voluminous yellow material in her arms to take it away, but Wendy held her back. "Return it into my room, Olivia," she said quietly.
"But Miss, it's dirty and doesn't really fit you -"
"No matter. James gave me this dress, because my own was … filthy and wet after we were chased through a forest and onto a longboat. This dress … holds … dear memories," she whispered, swallowing more tears.
Miss Darling and her lover had been chased? By whom? The viscount? Obviously! Olivia gulped and nodded slowly. "All right, I'll clean it and bring it back to you," she promised softly, and left.
Outside, Lunette had waited for Simpson and saw the yellow dress the maid carried. "Take it away and burn it," she ordered.
Olivia's eyes widened. "Madame, Miss Darling wants to keep it. She said, it's a gift from a man called…"
"I ordered you to burn it, so no back talk!" Brynna said with a sharp voice. "The sooner she forgets this man's unfortunate death, the better." She paused and forced herself to use a gentler tone. "You want to help her, do you?" As the girl nodded, Lunette added, "In order to truly help Miss Darling to get over her grief, we must not constantly remind her of what she lost. So, take this dress away and burn it. I'll think of an excuse for is disappearance." She waved Olivia off, who hastened away.
Simpson quickly walked down the hallway to the stairs, and was already approaching the large kitchen stove when she hesitated. An instinct told her that it would be a mistake to burn the dress. Whatever the relationship between Miss Darling and this man James had been, it had been deep. The girl was mourning just as deeply, and now to deny the dress she had gotten from this man sounded absurd to the soft-hearted little maid. Knowing the trouble she would be in if caught, but following her heart, she turned and crept up the stairs to her own little chamber. She would clean the dress and hide it until Miss Darling was packing to leave. Then she would smuggle the dress into the other girl's luggage so that the sweet visitor would have something from the man she had certainly loved.
In the meantime, Wendy sank into the deliciously warm water in the bathtub. A sigh escaped her as her sore muscles responded to the heat. Behind her closed eyes, she saw herself swimming in the Never Sea, James with her, both laughing as she steadied herself on his bare shoulders and he tread water; his face so close; those eyes blue as forget-me-nots devouring her with uncharacteristic tenderness …
Splashing water onto her face, Wendy tried to block out the memory, but for naught. The images and James' voice played around in her mind until she thought she would go mad. Muffling a scream behind her fist, she swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to get away from here as soon as possible, back to Bloomsbury. Then she would call to the stars and perhaps Peter would hear her like he did before. She felt her heart begin to warm, to beat again with purpose – there was surely a way for her to return to Neverland, or better yet, to take her revenge! She would not accept James' death! She would avenge him and also herself for being deprived of the life she and her beloved could have had together.
*** PP ***
Again Bumblyn had to wait inside the guest room; he remained awake by reciting his ancestors back to the invasion of the Romans. Finally Wendy returned, wearing a different sort of loose dress. But she wasn't alone. That old woman was with her again, keeping a close watch from across the room while Wendy sat down at the table near the window and forced down a few bites. The Hobgoblin's heart went out to his friend, noting her pallor and her red eyes; he felt the pain pouring off her. Of course she was mourning the death of the captain, the only man who'd ever captured her heart, but seeing her like this brought tears to the little fellow's eyes.
Then he saw the old woman rise and remove the cozy from the teapot. "It's freshly brewed," she said. "I'll pour you a cup." Ignoring Wendy's quiet objection, she stood in front of the nightstand and then Bumblyn's jaw fell as he saw her secretly pouring something into the tea pot. "Fennel will calm your upset stomach, Miss Darling. You'll see, it will help," she continued gently, with falsely sweet tones. Handing the cup to her, the woman insisted that Wendy drink at least half, then helped her to lie down. "Just sleep, my dear. It will help to lessen your grief," she cooed, yet Bumblyn sensed the witch's disdain.
To the hobgoblin's dismay, the old woman remained until Wendy had fallen asleep again, only then taking the tray and leaving, and locking the door. Bumblyn twisted his tail in frustration. Whatever she poured into the tea smelled the same as the previous cup of tea. He knew this smell: broom flowers! And it dawned on him what was going on here. 'Sleeping drops! Asleep the witch and the viscount are keeping Wendy!' He was more determined than ever to speak to his human friend; but, for now, he couldn't help except to climb onto the bed, slip beneath the comforter and snuggle close to Wendy's shoulder. 'Feel me she will; a friend she will know …'
*** PP *** PP ***
Nibs and Tootles had reached Peter's underground home around midday and were glad to get out of the winter weather, their Indian escorts building a small fire under one of the evergreens nearby. In earlier times, it didn't matter if the island sank into sleep when Peter was at the Mainland. They and the other boys simply remained in the hideout and waited for his return. But the childish tendency to forget all unpleasantness had grown out of them. Now the weather bothered them. And they hadn't enough happy thoughts to fly from the Black Castle to the Nevertree, so they had to follow two Indian warriors through the snow-covered woods – just in case certain creatures might consider them a warm lunch.
This time, they'd scoured the hideout beneath the Nevertree to retrieve all their precious belongings. Their small bundles waited beside the root stair, leaving necessities and personal items for the new Lost Boys. "Did you find anything?" Tootles asked when Nibs returned from Wendy's alcove for one last look.
"Yes, look at this," he said, lifting the thin golden chain with the acorn Wendy usually wore. "She must have taken it off before she went to the river where she met the unicorn."
Tootles carefully touched the acorn, a sad look on his friendly rounded face. "She wanted to wash our clothes," he murmured and sighed. "I'm glad you found it because I'm sure she wants it. Anything else?" he nodded towards the alcove.
"Her nightgown, already in one of the bundles. The books are all on the Jolly Roger." He smiled sadly as well. "I'm sure she meant from the beginning to give them to Hook."
Tootles nodded. "Right, she always had a weakness for the codfish."
Nibs tucked the chain with the acorn into the pocket of his tweed waistcoat and buttoned it securely. They glanced around. "It's peculiar to leave this all behind forever. I mean, the last time we were here, I didn't expect to return again, but now I'm sure that this is our last visit."
Tootles nodded slowly. "We had a grand time, didn't we? Even a lot of dangerous situations. Peter somehow draws danger like a moth to the light, but mostly it was fun."
"Mm-hm," Nibs agreed, "especially after the danger, when we all sat together and laughed about all the risks we took, and how Peter got us through them all. I remember some were quite serious, but as a child you see it with other eyes." He glanced around. "Look at our hideout. What do you think, Father or Aunt Millicent would call it?"
Tootles smirked and cleared his throat. "How dirty!" he imitated his fussy aunt. "No real floor, everywhere moss and … oh no, you call these beds? And the table! I'm sure it hasn't been scrubbed in years! And those stairs – roots! Do you know how easily you can slip and break your neck?" His falsetto did sound something like Millicent's.
Nibs was laughing now. "You really do sound like her! And Father would say: This is no place for a child to live! No order, no safe access – and no schools! How do you expect to find a decent job with no discipline or education?" He had George's accent down to a T.
They heard Tinker Bell who had been busy in the little knot hole that served her as a living and sleeping area. She giggled, hearing the boys' interpretation of the grownups, then she added that they had no time to waste. Deep in her little fairy heart she felt that her beloved Peter was in desperate need of help, and the sooner they left, the better.
"Right you are, Tink," Nibs nodded. "A good-bye is much less troublesome if you make it short." He glanced around, memorizing every nook and cranny, feeling a sad tugging at his heart. This was not only a farewell to the hideout but also to his childhood. And as he looked at Tootles, he saw the other boy had the same expression of melancholy on his face.
"It was a beautiful time," he whispered. "Thank you for everything, but now we have to move on."
Both boys took a last deep breath full of scents from the rich mossy earth and wood so familiar to them – in the old hideout and now the new one, too. Then they put out the few candles they had lit, following Tink's light with the three bundles, and left the Nevertree and their childhood behind.
*** PP ***
In the early afternoon, John met Tiger-Lily in a room near the halls where her people were settling. It was ideal for a bit of privacy.
They stood hand-in-hand in silence for a moment, looking out a window toward the sea and cliffs, the Jolly Roger barely visible.
"When will John go?" she finally asked, her voice quiet.
"Captain Hook and Mr. Smee are about to bid your father, Great Big Little Panther and the others good-bye. The rest of us will then leave for the ship," he answered softly, his voice thickened with unshed tears. His heart definitely hurt in his chest as he saw her lower her head. "I had hoped to stay much longer, but we must act quickly."
"Yes," she whispered. "Tiger-Lily knows that Little White Eagle cannot be away from Neverland for long. So you and the others must free him. And Brave Feather … Tiger-Lily saw Iron Hand's face. He is deeply concerned. He is … cut off from her and that grieves his heart." She smiled sadly. "Tiger-Lily knows how he feels. She feels the same grief."
Rising to his full height, John wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I'm unhappy, too. I like you, Lily. I like you very much." A familiar blush crept into his cheeks at those words, and he gazed into her dark almond eyes.
"Then stay – or return," she murmured.
"I cannot," he said softly, voice breaking, and shook his head. "It was Peter's power that brought me through Neverland's borders. I'm already too … too old to simply fly back to Neverland without him. And even if he agrees to bring me back with him and Neverland would allow me back, what then?" He turned to take both of her hands into his. "You and I talked about this. Neverland is a beautiful island that only a child's dream could produce, with amazing people and creatures, a place where children don't grow up, where adventures are around every corner, every day." He sighed heavily, dropping his eyes. "But this is not my world. Not anymore."
The girl blinked. "John told Tiger-Lily about his world – about the many large houses and paths made of stone; about school, about work and what is expected of a girl or a woman; that the white man doesn't hear the wind's song, nor understand the voices of the trees, or that plants, animals and even stones have a soul and are our brothers and sisters. He said that Tiger-Lily would be very unhappy in his world, and, yes, John Darling, she believes him. My people did not leave the Mainland for naught. Yes, white men attacked us and we had to flee, but Tiger-Lily understands that we were attacked because the white men see the world so differently." She took a deep breath and lowered her head. "Yet Tiger-Lily wishes from her heels that she and John would not be separated. Is it truly the world John would choose to live in?"
Pulling her into his arms, he felt his eyes begin to burn. Yet he knew that he had to stay the course – as she would expect him to. An Indian brave would never shed tears in front of others, and as Dark Owl's blood brother, he had become a member of the tribe. He could respect that, but he doubted that his friends at home would respect Tiger-Lily's traditions. "I deeply wish to stay," he whispered. "But it cannot be. You have your world, and I have mine. Our paths crossed too briefly, and we became good friends, but we knew from the beginning that this wouldn't last. And we both have our duty to our parents, our families and our tribes. If one of us would leave our own world, that one would yearn for home. You and I have said all the words, and talked of this before, and now, it must be. So … you will remain here and I will go home. Nothing could be simpler, dear Lily. Nothing could be harder."
She nodded and stepped back, dark eyes large but no tears. Looking at him, she said, "Tiger-Lily will mourn when John leaves, but he is right. And Tiger-Lily will always remember the white boy with the glasses, who was brave and strong enough as three men to free her from captivity and save our brave from a wild boar. John will be a great warrior one day." She removed a necklace of leather and a single shell. "Tiger-Lily found this shell on the beach the same day she met John – the day we were both captured by Iron Hand. Take this as a remembrance of your Tiger-Lily."
John found himself blinking rapidly and swallowing the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, then loosened the strap with the little totem that showed his Indian name: Three Strengths. "My name was given when I became a member of your tribe. I will be one with them until my last breath, so please keep my totem with you. This part of me will ever be with you and your people."
Tiger-Lily's chin quivered as she knotted the strap with the totem around her neck; John fastened hers around his own throat. Then both embraced and held each other close a long time, knowing they would never see each other again.
*** PP ***
That afternoon, Hook went to great hall where the Indians were sheltering to bid Chief Rain-in-the-Face and Great Big Little Panther good-bye. He had learned to respect those men, 'only' natives in the eyes 'the civilized' races, but who had more honor and nobility than many so-called noblemen.
This farewell lasted for half an hour, because the chief, the wise man and the council of dignitaries insisted on a ceremony. The calumet was smoked for the last time and then Rain-in-the-Face handed his own calumet to Hook. "With this pipe we sealed peace and friendship between our people and the white men of the large canoe. With this pipe Iron Hand and Rain-in-the-Face became friends. With this pipe we sent the news of our truce, our peace, to the Great Spirit. May your heart continue to expand from the enemy we first knew to the man who became friend. May it remind Iron Hand where he began, how far he has indeed come, and that a heart can indeed change if one is determined."
For once Hook was speechless. But he knew what Good Form demanded. He paused, then reached beneath his waistcoat to remove a dagger with its sheath. He looked at it with affection and memory, then offered it to the chief. "This dagger was once given to me by my uncle, my father's brother. It has been with me since I first boarded a ship as a boy, to learn how to sail the seas. At first, I felt … lost at sea, then my mind grew sharp like this blade. May this weapon remind you of our own difficult beginnings after I arrived in Neverland, and how sharp and effective our joined forces became after we set our hostility aside." He smiled ruefully, handing it over to the chief.
Rain-in-the-Face took the dagger and its intricately decorated sheath carefully in his hands. "It is a great honor to receive a gift from Iron Hand that has been with you from boy to warrior," he said, realizing what the one-handed man was really giving him. Hook and the elders bowed towards each other as a group, then John and Dark Owl moved forward. The young brave carried a bundle and wore his finest leather clothing including a thick jacket decorated with colorful beads and fringe.
"Dark Owl will not only visit the strange world, but he also represents our tribe. Bring honor to us by saving Little White Eagle, Brave Feather and the young firebreath," Rain-in-the-Face said with a warm, encouraging voice. Then he turned to John, who still blinked more than usual, wearing Tiger-Lily's necklace. The chief knew that the two had said farewell and he felt compassion for his daughter and the young warrior standing before him whom he had come to like. "Three Strengths has changed from a callow boy into an honorable brave. He brought joy and fresh ideas into my tepee. Rain-in-the-Face will have much to think about for many moons to come. With sadness he sees Three Strengths returning to his own world, because he loses someone he would have welcomed as his son."
John bowed. "I deeply regret that I cannot stay," he said quietly. "But I must go for my parents' sake and my sister's – and Peter's." He lowered his head. "Tiger-Lily … I spoke with her. She wanted to come with me …"
"A wish born from a young girl's heart, but her place is with her tribe," the chief said softly.
"I know," the eldest brother answered, eyes still downcast. "We exchanged remembrances and said good-bye."
The chief laid a hand on John's shoulder. "Fret not, Three Strengths, Gentle Deer will go to her to comfort her as only a mother can. Tiger-Lily is strong; she will remember Three Strengths with much fondness, and will grow to walk one day the paths the Great Spirit has laid out for her." He squeezed John's shoulder. "May the Great Spirit watch your path, and may your heart be strong and find peace and joy and new love in the Outer World."
John raised his head with a sad smile, eyes now definitely damp. He had begun to look on the elder as something of a benevolent father. Then, he said good-bye to the chief and Panther before Dark Owl did the same. Afterwards the two blood brothers departed. Dark Owl walked beside him, head up, shoulders back, brow bright with determination. But it was clear that the young brave didn't feel so 'brave' just then, not knowing if he really would ever return to this island and his people.
Hook was waiting for them impatiently, but bit off the typical sneering comment when he saw how downcast John was and how uncertain the young seer looked. Well, they were still boys, were they not! "Every good-bye is also the beginning of a new adventure," he heard himself mumbling, not intending to comfort the boys. But after all, he would need their help, so a few kind words wouldn't hurt, said the pirate in him. Together with the two boys, Smee and three members of his crew who had remained, he climbed down the long, worn stairs and arrived in the half-flooded dungeons. To his right the shadow of the dragon statue loomed. It seemed those who constructed the castle were familiar with the creatures that now slept in Dragon Valley.
James saw the upturned 'paw' of the dragon. There Peter had lain, after he, James Hook, had captured Tiger-Lily and the brothers, imitating his voice, unaware of the rifle aimed at him from behind. 'Bad Form' Wendy had told him only a few days before, when they were remembering the episode and the fight afterwards. He'd finally pinned Peter down on the rocks below at the water line, even wounded him. Yet, like every time before, whenever he was about to finish the boy off, something foiled his intention; in this case it had been the crocodile. He had been furious and deeply frustrated by the boy's incredible luck that saved him again and again.
And now? Now he was worried about the brat.
Peter Pan was his and his alone – always had been and always would be! There was an unwritten law in Neverland and on the Jolly Roger, one that stood above all other rules, at least in Hook's book: hands off Peter Pan! But the reason for his obsession had changed drastically. Never in all those exiled years had he thought that it would come to this – that he would forgive the youth and struggle to protect him at the risk of his own health – or feel a strange fatherly urge to comfort him when the boy was upset or hurt. Why, even last night, it was not only the vision about Wendy that kept him awake, but also what might be happening to Peter. The boy needed him, maybe more than his sweet storyteller for once, and he wouldn't rest until the youth was safe again. Life certainly took some odd turns.
Turning away from Marooner's Rock, where he saw his sweet wildcat fighting for the first time, he left the dungeons through the open iron gate. Deep down he knew that the sinister dungeons had mirrored his own character back then, and he even felt some relief as he left this part of the Black Castle (and of himself) behind.
Traversing the iced sea was difficult, for the surface was uneven and the waves beneath the ice moved slabs of it up and down, making the trip quite dangerous. Yet Hook had nerves of steel – at least when it came to facing real dangers. It was also clear that his men, John and Dark Owl were brave as he was, keeping their wits about themselves and walking where Hook walked. They arrived at the ship without mishap, and only a few close calls. They were brought aboard, heaved up inside a long boat. The Jacob's ladder was slippery, and there were too many bundles.
The other Lost Boys and Michael greeted John and Dark Owl noisily and Hook with appropriate respect, then led the two blood brothers down the newly constructed companionway; eager to learn of Nibs and Tootles. Aurora and Kailen were already aboard, the latter chattering with Esteban. Michael showed John where he and the others could bunk –where all of them slept the night before, the crew's common room – the same room the boys had already occupied after their victory over the dark wizard. So, the boys and the two members of the Little People made themselves at home for their brief stay on the glorious vessel.
*** PP *** PP ***
The Darlings arrived at the manor promptly at three o'clock, greeted the viscount and his former nanny with 'Happy Easter' and handed over the gift basket. Wickham got Wendy's trunk and placed it beside the guestroom door. They heard the snoring from Archie's room when they reached the level of the guestrooms. The old scholar had had another quarrel with Brynna before the sleeping drops she'd smuggled into his tea took effect. The professor was out cold and would remain so for a few hours. Of course, neither Mary nor George could know this as the viscount led them to their daughter's room.
"The doctor thought it best to give her something to calm her," Dalton explained before they reached her room. "She was very upset after she woke up late this morning."
"Upset?" George asked. "I hope she didn't give you any trouble."
'Trouble? That's hardly the word! She was a fury on the ship, but I can't reveal such news without being forced to explain the reason for it.' Aloud he said, "No, Mr. Darling, it was no trouble. She was upset because …" He hesitated, then continued, "Well, like I said neither the fairies nor the pirates were happy that we brought your daughter back with us. It came to a struggle near the portal and … a ricochet bullet hit the one-handed man in the chest."
Mary paused mid-step. "Oh no, that can't be!" she whispered, eyes large. "Do you know if the man was badly hurt?" The two men stopped, too, and turned toward her.
"I'm rather concerned that there was obviously a shooting," George interjected, shocked. "Milord, I do hope this … attack was one-sided and that your men didn't risk my daughter's life by getting trigger-happy." His blue eyes bore in the cold grey ones.
"No, Mr. Darling, of course we did nothing that would have endangered her or the boys. Quite truthfully, I was … amazed then surprised that men like those pirates indeed acted like the scoundrels we read about in the books we all liked to read as children. They have no discipline, they are unreasonable and answer every question with violence. They opened fire on us as we fled through the portal."
'Captain Hook would NEVER put Wendy in danger by firing in her direction!' Mary thought. 'Something isn't right.' Then she heard it: the man got a bullet to his chest! 'Good heavens, no!' She heard George ask if the boys were all right, but interrupted, "What about Captain Hook?" She moved between the host and her husband to force Ashford to answer her first. Mary knew that her daughter was secretly enamored with the captain for years, even if Wendy maybe didn't realize it at first. And if anything had happened to him, then it was no wonder that Wendy was so very upset.
Dalton bit off an impatient reply before he quietly answered, "He is dead."
Mary's paled. George adjusted his spectacles and stared horrified at the younger man. "Dead?" he asked hoarsely. Even if he inwardly had cursed the flying boy and that damned buccaneer to hell and back, he never considered that one of them might get killed. They'd seemed to be somehow … eternal, immortal even, but that the captain was killed shocked him.
The viscount nodded. "The ricochet hit him in the middle of the chest. When I looked back I saw him lying on the ground, eyes closed and blood everywhere." He spread his hands and shook his head, displaying the perfect mixture of dismay and compassion. "A real tragedy, if you ask me. According to Wendy and her books, the man was a survivor by nature, seeing that he defeated such a terribly huge saltwater crocodile, dark magical creatures and even the attack of the warlock, but that he would meet his end because of a badly aimed gunshot is really … quite tragic. Wendy was most disturbed after she woke up and I had to tell her that her pirate friend was killed accidentally."
"Disturbed?" Mary asked slowly, now understanding that he was employing understatement. If her daughter and the captain really had been more intimate than decorum allowed, then she had lost not only a good friend, but also the man who introduced her to the magic of physical love. If this were true, his death would leave a far deeper grief than 'only' losing a friend.
"She must have had a schoolgirl crush on him, so, of course, the news of his death shocked her," Dalton replied, voice and face full of sad understanding.
George frowned. "My daughter certainly had no 'crush' on a criminal!"
Mary sighed. Sometimes George was so blind. Wendy had had a crush on the man even as a little girl; Mary could hear it in her stories, in her acting them out with her brothers. Her excited bouncing on the sofa as she talked about him, those large eyes shining with enthusiasm, were clear in Mary's memories. The 'crush' was further revealed to her reading Wendy's diaries. The girl Wendy had been enchanted with the pirate captain. But that had been five years ago. Now Wendy was more mature, and Mrs. Darling was convinced that her daughter had fallen in love with the captain during this last visit. Losing him so quickly was just cruel – in spite of George's completely different perspective on this topic.
Ashford continued to nod. "Oh, I can't blame her," he said gently, still feigning compassion. "Captain Hook was an impressive man – proud, worldly, charming, rather good-looking; the perfect combination of an untamed adventurer and responsible commander. And his appearance would certainly have turned the hearts of the ladies. He was exactly the type that young girls fall for – and your daughter is a young woman with a big heart full of dreams. Additionally, the two had a … a history together. I saw them together briefly. I'm sure that she had romantic feelings toward him, so his death has hit her hard. Our family doctor, Dr. Clark, and I found her in tears when we looked in on her, and he thought it advantageous to give her something to calm her down. It seems the drops had a … strong effect. After breakfast she fell asleep and hasn't woken yet." The Darlings exchanged a looks – Mary's full of sympathy and George's indignant that the viscount thought Wendy could have developed feelings for a man twice her age and an outlaw.
Moving forward, Dalton picked up the trunk aside and opened the door to the guestroom. "Please, come in." He entered first, and addressed the slumbering girl on the bed. "Wendy, your parents are here," he said, as if he expected her to be awake, setting the trunk by the dresser.
Mary and George followed him in and quickly forgot everything else when they saw their daughter. Wendy lay beneath the comforter, dressed in a nightgown. She was pale, her eyes were still swollen and they could see her distress, even in sleep. Mary sat down next to the girl, calling her and gently shaking her, but her eldest child didn't move.
Dalton held his breath, but Wendy didn't react to her mother so he relaxed. The sleeping drops worked. "I leave you alone with her," he murmured. "When you're done here, please join us in the green salon. It's on the ground floor. Brynna and I will wait there for you with tea and sandwiches." He left, relieved that everything worked as planned.
It was a long moment that Mary and George waited by the bed of their unresponsive daughter, then George also tried, but he had no success in waking her. "The sleep of the dead," he murmured.
Mary ran her fingers through the girl's thick hair, now touched by Neverland's summer sun. "My poor baby," she whispered. "I'm so sorry for what you've lost."
Again, George frowned. "You don't believe that nonsense that Wendy had feelings for that-"
Mary raised her hand to stop the foolish tirade, fire in her eyes. "George, I know that men have difficulty understanding young girls, but if you had taken the time to listen and watch and get to know our daughter, then you would have realized her feelings for him years ago."
Mr. Darling snorted. "A little girl's crush-"
"It may have been a crush five years ago, by I know it had grown into something deeper and stronger. Or why, do you think, was she never interested in other men? There were a few nice young gentlemen who were good candidates to court her, but she refused all of them."
"Because she still thought of this flying boy, Peter Pan," George immediately assumed.
"George, Wendy will be eighteen in five months, that boy is perhaps eleven or twelve! There is no way-"
"And how old was this captain? My age?" Mr. Darling argued, then shook his head. "Whatever happened, Wendy is back. Of course I'm shocked that this rescue mission claimed a victim and that she lost a … a friend. But on the other hand, I'm pleased that this unholy chapter of 'Neverland' is finally set to rest! I'll be even happier when the viscount gets our sons back!"
Mary lifted a brow – an unmistakable sign of irritation. "I do hope, George, that you won't utter these words in Wendy's presence any time in the future! She's heartbroken because of the captain's death. And she'll be unhappy that she was forced to leave Neverland. What she needs now is our understanding, not our rebukes!"
"She was forced?" George cocked his head. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Viscount Ashford said that she didn't want to leave Neverland. And she only learned about Captain Hook's death after she woke up here. So, she must have been unconscious when the shooting took place that cost the captain his life. Can you tell me why she was so deeply asleep that she didn't hear a gun battle around her?"
Of course, this did sound rather… odd. "What are you implying?" he asked softly.
Mary shook her head, expression sober. "I'm not sure, but it sounds to me as if Wendy was in the same condition as now: deeply sedated." Again, she stroked her daughter's hair. "Something is not right here, George. I feel it in my bones, as Millicent would say, and-"
"I agree," her husband nodded. "Something is out of place. Our sons and our nephew are still on the cursed island, our daughter is lovesick because of a criminal, and the good man who is madly in love with her risked his life to get her back to our world. And we're deeply indebted to this man who is willing to face all of this danger yet again to convince our boys to come home."
Mary knew that it was better to say no more. George had his opinions concerning the drama and the actions of nobility, and for now, she would not convince him to look closer at what really happened on that far away magical island. But she would do her own research. Her only daughter was desperately unhappy; she could see and feel it. And she would find out what had truly happened while Ashford was in Neverland. Something was wrong here – very wrong!
She rose to unpack the trunk, hanging dresses, skirts and blouses in the wardrobe, two more nightdresses, a dressing gown, slippers and ankle boots. The lingerie went into the dresser and her personal utensils on its top. Mr. Darling said nothing, but watched his wife and his slumbering daughter, while he thought about how much he didn't know. He had phoned his sister shortly after he had talked to the viscount, and Millicent had been relieved that Wendy was safe, but still worried for her adopted son Robert (Slightly) and the other boys. And, of course, she told of the many social events which always took place the week after Easter, and how good it would have been if Wendy were to attend some of them, but George had doused her hope by telling her that his daughter was in no condition to go to balls.
And seeing her lying there like this, he knew her recovery would take some time. He only hoped she wouldn't be so stubborn as to reject Ashford's gentle intentions towards her – or blame him for her pirate friend's death. George really wanted to see his daughter well-married into a place in society as soon as possible, and to put her fanciful ideas in storage behind her once and for all.
So there was silence in the room as they both pursued very different lines of thought. They couldn't know that the three of them were not alone in the room. Beneath the bed, Bumblyn lay curled up, listening to the conversation of the two grownups, parents of his Wendy-friend, retreating there when he heard their voices in the hallway. He felt their concern, but also the confusion and irritation of the man and the pity of the woman. For a moment he was tempted to reveal himself and tell them what really happened in Neverland, but instinct held him back. He knew that the man didn't believe in the good will of the Little People, and the woman was far too upset to give her another shock.
No, first he had to speak with Wendy and then they had to free Peter. And only after that could they try to give the dorcha bhiorach the payback he deserved…
*** PP *** PP ***
Hook inspected his quarters. Truly, his cabin had seen better days, but considering the damage which had been done to this room, it was … uh … acceptable. Except for the smell, yet even this, too, had significantly diminished. The quarters were also quite chilly, and Hook knew that Mullins must have been airing the room until a few minutes ago. It wasn't optimal, but tolerable. And when Mullins appeared, Hook gave one of his rare words of praise because, really, the carpenter had outdone himself.
On the second cannon deck, the situation had not improved as much as his quarters. James groaned at the hole in the deck. Yet (at least) the companionway was usable again. The noises of saws and hammers told him that a few crew members were busy with trimming planks to close the gap. All in all, it could have been worse, but 'good' was something else.
And what was completely 'not good' was the fact that the Jolly Roger was now firmly stuck in the ice. Two men checked if there was still some room between ice and ship's hull, but they seemed to have grown together – as was the case when Peter Pan was away from Neverland.
The imagination Hook displayed creating new curses when realizing this was astonishing – and made even the hardiest pirates look for cover. There was absolutely no chance of moving the ship as long as the island and the sea were covered with ice. Yet the ice would only melt when Pan was back, but to get Pan back the ship had to be moved to fly to London. The cat was biting its own tail, so to speak, and Hook was more than furious.
Walking up and down in his quarters, face flushed with anger, flashing eyes narrowed, he thought about a way out. John, Slightly, Smee and Herbs waited by the door, watching the captain, while Tinker Bell sat on one of the empty candle holders on the table. Aurora was already flying to the fairy-queen together with Kailen to tell her that they were ready to travel to the Outer World and that the other fairies were needed now.
No-one dared say anything while the commander stomped through his quarters. It was better not to draw any attention from the enraged man. Suddenly there was a knock, and Nibs and Tootles entered the room, shivering, snow on hair and shoulders. Even the cool air in Hook's quarters felt heavenly compared to the temperature outside. James only spared them a glare and continued his pacing. Nibs frowned murmured to John. "What's going on?"
"The Jolly Roger is stuck, and we don't know how to set her free," John whispered back.
"Usually the island melts the ice as soon as Peter is back, but-"
Slightly was interrupted, as Nibs murmured, "The sun and the island are not the only things that can melt ice in Neverland."
"And what, Master Nibs, shall we use? Matchsticks?" Hook sneered, his fine hearing catching the murmur.
Peter's strategist looked wryly at the commander, considering his next words. "Matchsticks? No. We have living matchsticks in Neverland presently – nesting in the mountains." He pointed towards the north-west.
Hook stood still, realizing what the boy meant. "The dragons?" he gasped. "You're talking about the dragons?"
Nibs crossed his arms and smirked, "Why not? Nothing is hotter than dragon fire. The ice would melt in a trice."
"Aye, and the same for my ship," Hook growled.
Nibs sighed. "When two or three dragons melt the ice in a circle around the Jolly Roger at a safe distance, then she can fly."
"Yes, and if they get too near, the damage in my quarters and the cannon deck are a breeze compared to the storm we'd have then," he snapped. "Two fires aboard are more than enough!"
"Well, captain, if you have a better idea, use it – but we need to hurry, you know," Nibs shrugged casually.
Hook stared at him. Dammit! When had this boy grown so … so … nonchalant?
"We can use their combined forces – the fairies and the dragons," Slightly said to his fellow Lost Boys (certain Hook was listening.) "The fairies would be in the riggings and on the yardarms after dusting the Jolly Roger and then they could lift her the moment the ice releases. And the dragons could breathe fire on the ice a few yards away, gently, we would hope, circling the ship," he suggested. "That way the ship will be safe from the flames while they burrow slowly through the ice."
Looking him up and down, Hook snorted, "And how do you propose we persuade them to do this? Dragons are as vain as opera divas-"
"Then you're certainly the man for the job," Nibs responded, smiling innocently at a fierce glare from the captain.
Hook straightened, thinking. "They would never listen to you young ones," he admitted.
"And at least you can try," Slightly agreed with Nibs.
Smee and Herbs glanced at each other, and it was the helmsman who said slowly, "Cap'n, ye c'n keelhaul me, but I t'ink th' boys'r right." Instantly the flashing eyes turned to him. "We've no chance t' break th' ship loose, e'en if we set all sails. So th' ice's to be melted. Th' dragons are maybe th' only solution."
"Is that so?" Hook looked at his confidante. "And what do you think, Smee?"
The old Irishman sighed. "Tha' both of ya're right," he answered. "Dragon fire be indeed risky, Aye, but tis maybe th' only way t' get free." He glanced at the boys. "And they're right when they say tha' we've no time t' lose. If ye wanna get yer lass and save Pan, we've t' be quick."
James growled quietly deep in his throat. Yes, time was crucial. None of them knew how time ran now in Neverland and at the Mainland. Years might have passed. His sweet storyteller and Pan had been abducted yesterday morning, but it could be that already days or weeks had passed in good ol' England – and he didn't want to even think about what might have happened since those two were stolen away. And the situation would worsen the longer it took.
They had to leave. Immediately.
So…
"I know I'm going to regret this," the captain sighed. He took a deep breath and turned to Tinker Bell. "Would you request the presence of the oversized Komodos?"
The star-fairy nodded, fetched her leaf poncho and flew to the window, jingling softly. Hook opened the window and ignored the wind. "Haste is needed," he grumbled. To his amazement, Tinker Bell saluted properly then raced away. In seconds, her golden trail disappeared in the twilight.
TBC…
Well, yes, dragon-fire can melt everything, even thick ice. But, really, who wants to have a flame thrower like dragons near the own ship? And especially HOOK, with his trauma concerning serpents? No wonder that the poor man almost gets a heart attack at the given suggestion (snicker).
Wendy's dresses… She really doesn't care much for her clothes, but special pieces have a strong meaning to her, just like the Elven dress, the waistcoat and legging together with Hook's shirt – and now the yellow dress she got from her beloved villain. It's a good thing that Oliva realizes how much this 'old, dirty thing' means to the 'young lady' and makes decisions on her own. And she will get important more and more.
And she isn't the only lady with a very good 'gut-feeling'. Mary Darling simply KNOWS that something is very wrong here, and following the 'second sight' every mother has here and there, she'll be the one with the tip at the scales, so to say.
In the next chapter, the Jolly Roger is on her way to the Mainland – and Hook is going to learn a lot about the changes within the last two hundred years. And you're going to learn more about the circumstances he arrived in Neverland.
I hope, you liked the new chapter and – like always – I would be very happy to get reviews from you, so please press the button below and leave some feedback.
For all of you a nice rest of the weekend,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
