Hi, my dear readers,

Like always, I want to thank you for the reviews and for sharing your thoughts with me. I know that the last chapter would be something to your liking, because – admittingly – we all hoped that Millicent would be brought down an inch or two on the famous 'carpet'. She really overdoes it from time to time. She means well, but you know the saying: Well-meaning is not done well.

So, Mary has learned a lot about Neverland and is, rightfully, worried for her romantically daughter because of a certain pirate-captain – a 'danger' that will become very real from now on. Yes, you guess correctly: The big reunion is NOW. I'm sure, not only 'romantically Wendy' will get a pounding heart.

Have fun

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight

Chapter 8 – Reunions

"John!"

Peter, Wendy (carrying a bundle with washing utensils and her nightgown) and the boys had barely reached the boundary of the Indian village when they were greeted with a joyful shout. The next moment, a slender figure appeared between the tepees, shoving past three others, and raced towards the group of children. She threw herself at a thunderstruck John Napoleon Darling.

"Tiger-Lily has missed you so!"

The words were muffled as she had buried her face at his throat, nearly strangling him her joy.

"Uh… oh… hello Tiger-Lily," John managed to mumble, while he rather awkwardly returned the embrace; his face again showing color. There were giggles from the children, and Peter grinned widely. "It's… it's good to see you again."

The Indian girl then looked at him with adoring eyes. John gulped. She had grown even prettier. Her face was slimmer, displaying high cheekbones and smooth mocha skin. Her hair was longer, gathered in two long braids, decorated with a leather band and a few feathers. And when she finally released him and stepped back, he saw that she wore a white leather dress embroidered with beads and fringes. A knife belt was slung around her slender waist and thin boots were laced around her calves. This was no longer the dress of a little girl, but the fine leather frock for the Indian princess she was. And as she edged towards him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, his whole countenance seemed to glow like a ripe tomato.

"John… is about to become a warrior," she whispered. "Great Big Little Panther told us that he gave you a warrior-name. They will use it this evening for the first time among my people."

The oldest boy gulped again. "I… what?"

She gave him another affectional smile and slipped a hand into his.

While Tinker Bell rolled her eyes (again,) Peter chuckled and glanced at Wendy, who was enjoying the spectacle. For a moment he was nearly mesmerized by those dove-blue orbs, feeling the heat rising in his own cheeks. She really looked … extraordinary. Her hair fell in loose waves with a lock pinned at her left temple, adorned with flowers and the feather she once got from Tiger-Lily (which gave her the name of Brave Feather.) In his mind, he saw her hair as a waterfall of hazel brown highlighted with gold, as if caught in the sunrise. She wore the Elven dress with a belt made of flowers, the neckline seemed lower, ornamented by the thin gold chain with the acorn.

Peter couldn't put a finger on it (never one for self-examination,) but the sight of her made him nervous. Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes from her, and beckoned the others to follow him to the council hogan in the center of the village. Manners demanded that he first pay a visit to Chief Rain-in-the-Face and the other tribal leaders before he and his friends could celebrate.

They met Gentle Deer, Tiger-Lily's mother, on their way. She greeted the children warmly, giving John got an extra hug, what made him blush all over yet again. Then they reached the center of the village where the council hogan was placed – a long house made of wood and grasses, gathered from along the lakes. The chief and the eldest natives waited there, together with the shaman and Medicine Woman. Bowing deeply, Peter thanked them for the invitation, provided the names of his friends, and was invited to smoke the calumet, the "pipe of peace" – despite Wendy's protest that this was not appropriate for children.

'Girls!' Peter thought wryly, while he and the older boy sat down cross-legged with the chief and the others. Nibs, Slightly, Tootles and Bluffer already knew of the effect the kini-kini had (the Indian equivalent of tobacco, harvested from certain tree barks), and so they just took the smoke into their mouths and blew it out, but John attempted to inhale, and then coughed convulsively, to the amusement of the others.

The three braves who had passed their first test as warriors watched him with some mockery in their dark eyes, but John ignored them. They had a few days spent fasting in the mountains, listening to an inner voice. He had saved the chief's daughter – and, by the way, also Neverland (okay, together with the others, still…)!

After smoking the calumet (most Natives speak of 'drinking the calumet'), Tiger-Lily showed Peter and his friends the tepee they could use for the night. Usually Indian celebrations lasted hours, and returning at night to the Nevertree could be risky. There were wild beasts in the forests, after all, and they mostly hunted at night. Wendy unpacked her bundle with her nightgown, a brush and the items they all would need the next morning (even though Peter saw it as unnecessary), then they all assembled in front of the council hogan. The Indians usually liked to camp near the sea where they caught fishes and the air was cleaner. However, the presence of the dragons up in the mountains had made them shift camp to the forest that grew near the shore. They felt safer there.

The meeting place was decorated and a heap of dry wood was piled in the center. Blankets were rolled into cushions, covered by other blankets and furs to serve as seats for everyone. Because the sun was setting, the first fires were started, then bowls with meat and potatoes were offered, sweetened with maple syrup and spiced with herbs. Some corn and carrots in a second bowl completed the dinner, and the children helped themselves to the delicious food.

After dinner, the celebration began, as the three young braves were introduced to the tribe as warriors in training, and each of them described the vision the Great Spirit had sent him. Nibs and Peter, who both spoke the language, translated in hushed voices. Great Big Little Panther gave each his own calumet and a small totem on a leather string that the braves would wear around their necks. Their new warrior-names were shouted into the wind in all four directions. They would be full warriors after the hunt the next day when they showed their bravery in hunting the buffalo.

Finally John was called to the elders, and Chief Rain-In-The-Face gave him a headband with three white feathers and a talisman that showed an icon with three arms – the three capacities of a man John had called on as he fought for Tiger-Lily in the dungeons of the Black Castle. "From now on you wear the name Three Powers, and you always will have a place among our tribe if you wish it," Chief Rain-In-The-Face said solemnly, while John tried very hard to look confident, yet he couldn't prevent a new blush. Wendy hid a smile. She knew that her brother reflected this shyness from their father. George Darling didn't blush anymore, but he was always uncomfortable when being the center of attention.

Thanking the chief and the shaman, John returned to his friends, sitting by Tiger-Lily. Watching her, he was unaware of the irritated glances of the other young men, watching the chief's daughter closely. The ones still unbound had all toyed with the idea of marrying Tiger-Lily as soon as she was released to wed by her father. The fact that a pale-face – not even one from Neverland – had earned her affection made them jealous. Yet no-one dared to say anything, fearing the chief.

But it wasn't just John who was the focus of the young braves. Many of them openly looked at Wendy admiringly. She was so different from the other girls in the village, and looked so beautiful with her winter-pale creamy skin, the golden brown hair, and her blue-grey eyes. How much she had changed since she last visited the village. Only Peter Pan seemed to notice nothing of it. Yet they didn't dare to challenge the Little White Eagle who clearly held her heart.

Then the feast began. Drums, voices and flutes echoed through the air, Peter joined first this song, then that with his pipes. Then, as the daylight faded in Neverland and the first stars winked at them in the darkening skies, new music approached: Fiddles and trumpets, flutes and whistles, banjos and accordions, but not as loud as the Mainland children were used to. And then it became clear why.

Two Indian guards accompanied the marching band: Pixies, gnomes and bogeys, even a leprechaun acting as leader of the fiddlers, his own violin playing the purest sounds. Fairies appeared, too; their golden dust seemed to brighten the branches of the trees around the camp. Wendy clapped her hands; for a blessed moment, once again the little girl from a few years ago. "Oh, how sweet!" she called, feeling completely at home.

As the members of the Good People reached the fire, they ended their song, paid homage, and one of the older gnomes greeted Chief Rain-In-The-Face and then Great Big Little Panther, who was deeply respected among the mystical creatures.

One pixie, carrying a flute, waved like mad into the direction of Peter and his friends, and Wendy's eyes widened as she recognized him. "Kailen!" she whispered happily, waving back. The pixie had been a loyal fighter at everyone's side during the battle against S'Hadh, and he had won the heart of the rose-fairy Aurora. He broke ranks and headed straight towards Peter and the others, greeted Tink and then pressed a kiss on Wendy's cheek; telling how glad he was to see his 'mortal friend' again.

In the meantime the band of pixies, bogeys and gnomes – and one leprechaun – had arrayed on one of the 'seats' a few Indian children vacated for them. Then they began to play again. Merry songs echoed through the camp, and they reminded the children of the Scottish reel, then of Celtic songs, then they were completely strange yet quite cheerful.

The native boys and girls began to dance along with all of the Lost Boys, and a few young women as well. It might sound strange that the Indians danced to the foreign music, but, you see, fairy-music has its own power. Most people can't resist dancing to the sweet and cheerful songs bogeys play with their instruments.

Peter often joined with his pipe, smiling at Wendy beside him, whose feet tapped in the rhythm of the music. Finally, Tiger-Lily and two other girls pulled Wendy to her feet to dance with them around the fire. The music, the enchanted surroundings, their golden lights, the warm air, the soft grass beneath her feet, the cracking of the fire, the happy faces around her – Wendy felt truly herself for the first time in years. Lifting her arms to the skies she riotously moved together with the other girls and young women; laughing and singing without even knowing the lyrics. She simply sang what came to her mind; her heart soaring in the new-found latitude.

And then she felt it – an indefinable shift in the air, like a puff of wind on the hair of your arm.

Someone was watching her.

She didn't know how she came to this conclusion. It was an instinct – as if something or someone had reached with invisible hands for her. Looking into the shadows between the tepees, she saw nothing; but as she spun around the fire the next time, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There, on the other side of the fire, lit by the flickering flames, was the tall shape of a man, who looked at her with burning eyes– eyes as blue as forget-me-nots…

*** PP ***

The way from the Black Castle down to the shore to the waiting longboat had taken more than two hours. The pirates carried two baskets with food they wanted to eat before they arrived at the boat. But before they reached the vessel, a soft snoring was heard from one of the baskets.

Mason and Akeele exchanged a surprised look, checking at the basket the gunner was carrying. And as Smee looked at them over his shoulder, Mason lifted the cloth that lay over the food. "Y' won't believe t'his!" he exclaimed.

Hook heard the outburst, and stopped, turning around. "Report, Mr. Mason?" he called.

The other pirates surrounded Mason and began to laugh, which brought Hook back to the line. Fire-red hair beneath a pointed hat raised itself sleepily toward the pirates, then squeaked. "Uh-oh!"

"Oh no," Hook groaned as he saw the 'stowaway'. Bumblyn gulped and waved at the tall man. "If you have eaten everything, I swear…" the captain began threateningly, but the Hobgoblin quickly shook his head.

"Not one bite Bumblyn took. Big bogey-promise!"

Akeele yanked the Hobgoblin out of the basket. "An' what're ye doin' here?" he demanded.

"The Wendy-lady I want to see again, but my legs are so short. And yours are so long. So…"

"So you thought it a good idea to let us carry you all the way to the village," Hook finished, sneering.

The Hobgoblin shrugged. "Bumblyn is tiny and weighs little. No problems for the strong man here had to carry me, right?" He smiled at Mason winningly, if that face could look winning.

"What am I, your cart horse?" the gunner groused.

"No, but food we made you, you carry me to my friend. Only fair," the Hobgoblin answered; looking expectantly back at Hook.

The captain gave him a stern glare. "Do you know what we do with stowaways? No? Usually we throw them into the sea."

Bumblyn squeaked and stared towards the waves rolling ashore. "No swimming I can do," he said.

"I know. After all my Klabautermann already pulled you out of the sea once already," the captain sneered. Then he pointed at the sand. "Out with you. If you want to come with us, then walk!"

Promptly the Hobgoblin crossed his little arms in front of his chest. "Saving you once I did. Hurting did my poor butt for days after riding on the unicorn's back with Wendy. And now you repay me with…"

Smee pulled off his hat and offered it upside-down to Bumblyn. "Climb into it, I'll carry y' – before Mason breaks down in exhaustion or t'e missy has a fit t'at someone didn't treat her friend well." He cut off his captain's protest with a simple, "Ya know how she is, Sir – and ye want t' make a good impression when meetin' her again, aye?" With those words he clapped the brim of his hat together like a bag, barely had the Hobgoblin hopped into the red felt. So Smee continued his way.

Hook stared after him with open mouth. "What… Smee, for crying out loud, this is not…" He stopped as realized that his bo'sun had obviously grown deaf. Shoving his fist into his hip, he hissed, "Do I really look like someone who cares what a wench is thinking?"

The men glanced at him and thought it best not to answer that question. But, unfortunately, their expressions told him exactly what they were thinking. Groaning again, this time aloud, Hook shook his head and followed Smee. By the mermaids' tails, his reputation!

It wasn't long before they reached the longboat, readied it and rowed south, where they went ashore again just as the sun was setting. The smoke from the tepees, obvious in the evening sky, told them the way. As it became darker in the woods, four of the buccaneers lit the lanterns they were carrying. Bumblyn had found a place on Smee's right shoulder by now and remained quiet the whole time, certainly a healthy choice, considering the Captain's occasional glare.

Following the golden dust of dozens of fairies which were flying into one direction, they finally heard music – the merry tunes of many folk. Smee grinned as he recognized a reel and began to hum along with it; allured by the magic of the bogeys – after all, he was Irish. And he didn't quit even when his commander gave him another heated gaze. 'Why stop? The Indians aren't our enemies anymore, and it's always better to walk with music.' The other pirates guffawed. They looked forward to reaching the Natives' camp, because the food was good, the women were pretty and their captain would be in a far better mood as soon as he found the storyteller again.

Firelight lit the last part of the way, when four Indian warriors seemed to appear out of thin smoke from two sides and from behind. Hook halted, lifting his hand to halt his men from brandishing weapons simply from reflex.

"I greet the brave warriors of Neverland," he said and tilting his head. "The pixies and gnomes informed us about your celebration. I and all my men wish to congratulate your people that you may count three young braves as warriors now." (Okay. That wasn't the real reason why he was here, but it sounded far better – and more fitting to his identity as a fierce pirate – to come for introduction of warriors who could one day be allies, than to see a girl again.)

"Wild Buffalo greets Iron-Hand and his warriors of the sea. And also the little helper," one of the guards replied. "The Good Neighbors spoke well. Three young braves received their visions of the Great Spirit and were introduced to our tribe as soon-to-be-warriors. If Iron-Hand desires to show his respect to them, he is welcome."

Hook sighed inwardly, but kept his expression courteous. Alright, he was 'paying respect.' Compared to their way of speaking English in earlier times, these words might be considered Oxford-standard – if you weren't too pedantic.

"Thank you, Wild Buffalo," he replied, again tilting his head slightly, and followed the four along the path to the camp.

Smee realized that Bumblyn had grown impatient as they were nearing the settlement and knew that the Hobgoblin would jump down and race to the girl as soon as he saw her – possibly ruining the important reunion with the captain. Taking the hat from his head again, he turned it around and plucked the bogey from his shoulder. Bumblyn didn't know what was happening when he was pushed into the hat and the brims were once again clapped together above him; effectively trapping him.

"What're y' doin'?" he protested.

"Hinderin' y' from ruinin' the capt'n's evenin'," Smee answered calmly.

"Let Bumblyn out, or…" He stopped as the boatswain growled,

"One word from you, one peep and I'll t'row ye into the next river, hat an' all!" Bryan hissed. He saw that Hook was looking back at him over his shoulder and smiled sheepishly. "Just savin' yer entrance, Capt'n," he reported, saluting with his free hand.

Hook spotted the movements in the hat and knew who was thrashing around in there. He chuckled quietly. 'Sometimes Smee earns his pay.'

Ahead, the tepees threw dark shadows where they blocked the firelight. The air smelled of spicy food, leather and the typical smoke of a bonfire. A dog passed the warriors' and pirates' way, sniffled, wagged its tail and continued on its way. Voices talked and laughed – those of males, females and children. The music was clearly not rooted in the Indian culture. They played another cheerful song, and Hook recognized Pan's pipe among them; the raucous tunes were unmistakable.

Leaving the last rows of tepees behind, Hook and his men moved into the clearing, where most of the tribe were gathered. His gaze found the unusual band of pixies, bogeys and other mystical creatures, then his attention was swept to the Indian girls and boys – older and younger ones – who danced around the fire.

And then he saw her – Wendy Moira Angela Darling. His own Red-Handed Jill.

Red and orange sparks threatened the long hazelnut hair; the locks waved around her slender body like the veil of an Oriental dancer, together with a few flowers and a feather. The Elvish dress – the blue silk now dark like a summer morning sky – did nothing to hide her new curves. The long sleeves had fallen back as her arms seemed to reach for the sky – the bracelet, with the two dolphins, shimmered around her right arm like melted gold in the bonfire's flames. Arms lifted, head thrown back, full lips opened to sing along with the others, eyes shining, Wendy Darling reminded him again of a sprite of the forests – just like she had done during Kailen's and Aurora's marriage. Except, all those weeks, months – years? – ago a little girl had swayed to the music. Now a young woman was moving together with the others to the tunes with perfect grace – and abandon …

There were no words, no sunlight, no campfire needed to set the carefully controlled heat in his mind, heart and blood aflame. Breath caught in his throat, Hook watched the delicate creature whirling around herself; the familiar features, now slender in their femininity, were even softer in the fire- and fairy light.

Then, suddenly, her movements slowed; caution on her face. Did she feel him watching? She had extraordinary sensory instincts, this he'd learned during the war. She stood still now, ignoring the other dancers, and looked around – searching, bemused, expecting.

Then their eyes met – right through the flickering flames their gazes locked. And Hook felt a warm stabbing sensation deep in him; something that had become utterly unfamiliar for him since he had lost everything back in England. He saw her recognition, waited for the first signs of anxiety, but instead of a reaction he was used to when dealing with people who knew who he was, her eyes grew wide, shining, and a dazzling smile – one he had never been able to forget – brightened her sweet face. It was a smile that could bring light into the deepest darkness.

He wasn't aware that his mouth curled too, now, while the warmth in his belly spread through his whole being like the strongest alcohol. And as she gathered the skirt of the dress and dashed around the fire, something his subconscious acknowledged as pure joy, filled him…

*** PP ***

For a long moment Wendy was unable to move as she saw those intense blue eyes glistening beneath the wide brimmed hat; eyes she had caught in her drawings and which had followed her even in dreams. But now they were real, just like the rest of the man. The firelight bathed his even face in light and gave his long black curls a reddish glow – just like the polished mahogany in his quarters.

And the strange, warm clenching she had felt as she saw the Jolly Roger that morning – the same odd feeling that arose in her whenever he appeared in dreams or when she thought of him – pooled in her belly and poured through her body. Her heart skipped a beat, as she realized that her James Hook was indeed standing only a few meters away.

All classes about proper behavior were utterly forgotten. The shining smile she gave came from the depths of her soul. She cared nothing for the instructions that a young woman never shows affection towards a strange man. And when she saw that he even smiled back – just a little bit – she abandoned all of Roedean's polite protocols. Gathering her skirt, she pushed through the dancers and hastened around the fire, happiness radiating from her.

She stopped before him, beaming at him. He looked just as she pictured he would, clad in the gorgeous clothes of the baroque era, high boots, breeches, ruffled shirt, jacquard waistcoat and captain's coat – this time in dark colors, which definitely suited him. His hair hung wild around his broad shoulders and down his back, emphasizing exactly what he was – a pirate – and not any pirate but the captain of a powerful galleon.

But at this moment, he was more the gentleman whose glimpses she had seen at several points earlier. He took off his hat with his metal claw, reached with his left hand for her fingers and lifted them to his lips. "Miss Darling, it's a pleasure to see you again," he said with perfect manners, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. This told more about his training than anything else. His deep voice seemed to purr like an oversized cat and sent a shiver down her spine.

"Captain, the pleasure is mine," Wendy replied and curtsied; ignoring the spreading goosebumps as she felt his lips momentarily on the back of her hand; his moustache tickled her ever so softly. Fire seemed to lick her hand and arm, and she gulped.

For a moment both stood there as if at an official event of London's Season and not on a tropical island in an Indian camp. Then Wendy abandoned manners, and freeing her fingers from his deliciously warm hand, she closed the gap between them and threw both arms around him. "I missed you, Captain," she said quietly; her voice muffled from the velvet of his frock coat.

She felt the gems of his weapon-sash and the tickling of his long curls beneath her cheek; and the wooden cuff on her back under his sleeve, the dreadful harness that held the iron hook replacing his right hand. There was no fear in her of the device made of leather and wood he was forced to wear every day. It was a part of him, just like his arrogance, his intelligence, his insights, his black humor and his frequent harshness. But even more, it mirrored his hurting soul beneath all those other attributes which were nothing more than a protective wall he had built so carefully around himself.

But these were only the first things she recognized. There was so much more she became aware of, remembering more and more details.

There was the strength in his arms, the steady beat of his heart and the even breathing that sang a song of confidence. And there was his scent – the familiar tobacco, his after-shave (how had he managed to still have some of it aboard?), the smell of salt wind and sea, and of… him. Something she hadn't found since she left Neverland the last time. Something everyone else lacked. Something her mind couldn't remember or conjure, but yet yearned for.

Breathing deeply in, she felt … safe, as if she came home after a very long journey.

And if she had been just a little bit older, she would have known what was happening to her – what had started more than five years ago.

But for now, she simply enjoyed the nearness of her favorite villain, now no threat to her anymore. Yet he represented danger that excited her more than anything else.

And she hadn't a hint of was she was doing to him – to him, feared and loathed, the Scourge of the Seven Seas…

Wide-eyed, nearly transported, James Hook (the man who had terrified half the Caribbean, the Carolinas and even Virginia) stood as if cast in stone because a young girl sincerely and enthusiastically embraced him. Never had anybody greeted him like that – not since the first time he left home to travel the seas and his mother wept tears of joy at his homecoming. Not since he had set foot again in his old room and a little creature – hairy and brown – had jumped into his way and…

The memories slipped away from his mind – Neverland's magic once again threw its web and caught memories and voices from the past of its inhabitants.

Instead of the few pictures which had lingered at the edge of his mind, he became aware of the presence here and now – and of the girl who embraced him. The hat slipped from his hook to the ground, while he wrapped both arms around Wendy's petite form. Yes, she had grown a couple of inches, but she still was smaller than he. The top of her head now reached his nose, her waist was still slender, yet he felt what the dress was also unable to hide: The gentle and very female curves of a young woman. Her scent – rose soap combined with something that was purely Wendy – reached his senses, while he felt her arms tighten around him in innocent joy. Even the grim mood in him was silent for once. He returned the gesture; smiling to himself and to the rest of the world.

He wasn't aware Smee and the six other pirates and their reactions – or the puzzled glances of the Indians. He also didn't hear the steps approaching him from behind as the chief and the shaman stopped there. He didn't hear the giggling from the former Lost Boys, the ones he had come to know better than he wanted during the battle with the dark warlock. The only thing that brought him back to the present was a voice he once hated with passion.

"What are you doing here, Hooky?"

Lifting his head – when had he laid it against her hair? – he found Peter Pan standing near him; arms akimbo, a deep frown on his pretty young face.

And all of sudden he grew conscious of where he was. He glanced around. The dancing had stopped, the music had faded, most of the natives seemed to be highly amused, a few young faces he recognized were smirking – the one with round spectacles on the nose looked rather shocked – and his men … were all chuckling. Releasing the girl and stepping back, he felt a strong hand on his back that paused his movement.

"Careful, Iron-Hand. I need my toes." Chief Rain-in-the-Face was watching him closely.

Realizing what was going on (what he did!) Hook knew he had forgotten to greet his host first, had even ignored that host's approach! He had forgotten the first lesson every new pirate had to take to heart or wouldn't live long – never turn your back to the unknown!

There it was, Wendy's giggle. Ooooohhh, how embarrassing! And this all because of this… this sweet wildcat.

And – no! – he hadn't thought the last part again!

Yes, he had.

'Someone, kill me now, please.'

And Pan? Glancing at the eternal boy, he thought the youth would gladly oblige his last thought. Peter's eyes were blazing toward him, then Wendy, and back again. "What was that about?" he asked sharply, pointing at the pair of them.

"This, my boy, is a greeting between two friends," Hook retorted wryly. 'The green-eyed monster is tickling him,' he thought. 'Well, he is clad in green, so it fits.'

"Friends?" Peter looked at Wendy. "Did he just say 'friends'?"

Straightening, she turned and nodded. "Yes, friends. And here I thought you both had overcome your hostility after you fought so bravely together against the wizard." She gave him a glare that her aunt would have been proud of.

"Yeah, well, I did – but he threatened me with his sword only a few days ago," Peter grumbled, flipping a thumb lazily at Hook.

"A pitcher of water in the face can bring out the worst in a person," Wendy teased, which set the Indians chuckling.

Peter shrugged and gave Hook a sheepish glance, who frowned at him. Then, clearing his throat, the captain bowed his head towards the young lady, who …

… who stood there barefoot, in a delicious dress, hair free and tossed about her shoulders and … and still watched him with a smile that would soothe the fiercest lion.

No, she was no debutante, despite her childlike innocence. She was a strong-willed, fiery wildcat when necessary and an empathic, soft kitten when needed, just as when they parted. There was no doubt about it. In spite of her aunt, her parents and that ominous school for girls attempting to change her into a proper lady – they had failed. Thank the Lord for His continuing miracles! Yet two things he would ask her about later. She was very pale and there was a sadness in her sparkling eyes. Something wasn't right, and he would find out what it was. But not now. Even on a mystical island in the village of the Natives, some rules of manner had to be obeyed.

He turned to her, "Excuse me please, Miss Darling," and was about to turn around towards the chief, but Wendy's teasing comment held him back.

"Only if you stop calling me that!"

Momentarily at a loss for words, he stared at her, saw the mischief in her dove-blue eyes but also the tilt of her head, and chuckled again. "Noted," he answered, and added for good measure a wry, "Miss Crabby."

Wendy snickered. "That's better – but not good enough."

"A work in progress," he commented, before picked up his hat and was – finally – able to greet Chief Rain-in-the-Face and Great Big Little Panther. Both head dignitaries of the tribe were visibly amused, which showed in their laughing eyes only. The men had barely exchanged pleasantries when the disturbance began.

Wendy was greeting Smee and the other six pirates – which made the old Irishman blush – when she noticed that the hat in Smee's hand was moving. Peter noticed it as well, and cocked his head. What was the matter with that ugly red thing?

Suddenly a little tail with a red tuff of hair shoved itself free from Bryan's grip, then slapped his hand forcefully. The bo'sun yelped, more startled than from pain, dropped the hat. The next moment a tiny ball rolled out of it, unfolded, straightening to a cubit-tall creature and whirled around towards the Irishman, little hands balled in fists.

"Halmjoerömlklöwbnhneklnpjäjnnoheadmlomoolegalnanead!"

The indiscernible rush of words (or was it a single word?) echoed through the camp like a rusty old alarm clock. "Stupid, daft, dump, moronic, dimwitted, silly, fat, old man! How dare you to lock poor Bumblyn up in that ridiculous smelly hat!" The outburst was certainly plainly heard throughout the camp, and brought the almost resumed celebration back to silence. Until …

"BUMBLYN!" Wendy shouted joyfully, rushing past the pirates. Kneeling down, she pulled the Hobgoblin into a happy embrace.

Like someone had flipped one of those new light switches, the tiny bogey – just a second ago a bundle of fury – grinned and clung to the girl with a happy "Wendy-lady!"

She pressed a kiss on the fire-red mop of hair; his pointy hat forgotten on the ground. "How goes it with you, little friend?" she asked, and cuddled the giggling Hobgoblin like a puppy.

"Better now," Bumblyn replied, shot Smee a dark glare over his shoulder, and snuggled closer to the girl his little bogey-heart was beating for.

Peter knelt down next to her, grinning broadly. "Hello Bumblyn, long time no see. Any new mischief?" he asked, a tad jealous about this creature embracing his Wendy, the Codfish forgotten.

Bumblyn chirped, "Always."

"Mischief is our responsibility, Kailen thinks," another voice peeped.

Laughing, Wendy recognized Kailen, the pixie, who flew between Peter and her in the air, while Tinker Bell sat down on Peter's shoulder and looked skeptical. The greenish skin, the dark almond eyes over the snub-nose, the long pointed ears – Kailen was a perfect example of these pranksters most humans avoided.

Not Wendy. Kailen was – like the rose-fairy Aurora – her friend, and raising her arm, she offered him a place to sit, which he promptly did, flute in hand. All of the lost boys had joined her and Peter, including her two brothers.

Smee pushed back his read beanie and picked his hat up. "Brutes, let us be making some distance. Here is a whole satchel of jokers gathered."

This brought a laugh to all the adults, while Hook rolled his eyes, not even realizing that he was smiling again, as all was right in his world for … he didn't know how long.

*** PP *** PP ***

The world in the house at Number 14 in Bloomsbury was everything but all right. Mary Darling had read through Wendy's entire 'diary', learning more about Neverland and its habitants than she ever imagined. And she was now even more worried than before. Just as she finished, she got her next shock as the maid arrived.

Liza Morris was a petite girl of 23, with dark hair and brown eyes, who served at the Darling house for seven years now. As was common at the time, the servants were the next step above the working class. They could advance from simple housemaid to housekeeper, but when they were the personal maid of the eldest daughter, they often accompanied their mistress to her new home when she married. If a maid was excellent at her job, she could become a housekeeper, which meant better pay, and the highest rank of the female domestics.

Liza was housemaid, cook and scullery maid in one. The reason Mr. Darling referred to her as 'the servants' was because she had three jobs for which she got a sum of 30 pounds per anno – a relatively high sum compared to the wages of other domestics in that neighborhood. It had also to do with Liza moving to her own small flat five years ago. Usually servants lived under the same roof as their employees, but with the arrival of the lost boys, space was at a premium in the Darling house, so Liza got her own two rooms for a bit of privacy.

She was hardworking and capable, yet not as aware of what was happening in the house as she used to be in earlier times. After seven years in the Darling household, she was considered part of the family, even if Mr. Darling kept a greater emotional distance to her than his wife did. After all, the two women saw each other every day from morning until evening with only short breaks. Mr. Darling met Liza in the morning and an hour or so in the evening.

Yet Mary gasped when her clumsy explanation for the children's absence (a trip to the countryside for a few days) elicited her comment, "They flew off again, didn't they?"

"Beg pardon?" the lady of the house had asked, aghast, and the maid had shrugged.

"I know about that island they were off to before."

"You… know? How?"

"During the spring cleaning the first year Wendy went to Roedean, I caught her at the winter midterms writing down a story and drawing pictures for it," Liza replied. "She told me that this was the second book of the three she wants to write, telling about her adventures in Neverland. She showed me the pictures of the fairies, the boys, the pirates, and she read a few paragraphs to me." She had smiled. "She's got a great talent for drawing and writing, don't you think?"

Mary swallowed. "Yes, she has. And you … you believed what she told you?"

"O' course," Liza admitted, quite matter-of-factly. "I'm from the countryside in Dorset, as you know, I've grown up with stories about fairies, pixies and other Little People. Most of us still believe 'em. All that Wendy told me about them sounds exactly like the legends I heard at home. She met 'em in person, I don't doubt it. And even when I first hesitated to believe what she wrote, after seeing those clothes, I knew she told the truth. Elven material differs from everything human hands can weave, so she really has been in a fairy-realm." She took a deep breath, and added, "Any chance that I can get the afternoon off?"

Mary, still flabbergasted that the housemaid knew so much, only whispered, "Why?"

"Because I really didn't want to be here when Mr. Darling learns about this," had been her insightful reply. "And I really don't look forward to dealing with your furious sister-in-law today. She really can be quite a fright."

Yes, Millicent Darling could be frightening – especially if she learned that the housemaid seemed to know everything about the other boys' real origins and that the children were now visiting – for the third time – a mysterious island that was certainly part of the faery-realms.

"Scandalous that Wendy shared this all with a servant!" had been Millicent's only comment on it, while glaring at Liza who pretended not to hear it while she went about her work. Mary had spoken to her afterwards in the kitchen, telling her how sorry she was for the rude behavior of her sister-in-law. She gave the maid the afternoon off, but not just because of George. Mary didn't know what concerned her more: The reaction of her husband or what to tell Dalton Ashford.

And she would have to deal with both men– the one sooner, the other one later.

As Dalton Ashford rang the doorbell a few minutes past two o'clock, Mary was nervous, to put it mildly. She had worked out the excuse she first tried on Liza, and hoped to prevent any social scandal. Millicent gave her a firm glance. "Don't mess this up, Mary. The family's honor – and George's status on the bank – are depending on you."

"Any other advice?" the mother answered curtly, went to the door and opened it herself, for Liza had left almost an hour before. "Milord, how good to see you again," she said as she looked up at the young nobleman. Dalton lifted his bowler and bowed, taking her hand to place a kiss on it. If he was surprised that she herself answered the door, he didn't show it.

"Mrs. Darling, it's always a pleasure to see you. You look enchanting this afternoon."

Mary stopped herself curtsying. She was, after all, a full-grown married woman and not a girl anymore – and Ashford was no member of the Royal Family, so a curtsy wasn't needed. "Thank you for the compliment, Milord. Please, come in," she said. She noticed his large motor-car his driver had parked at the pavement as she closed the door, desperately hoping the next few minutes wouldn't be too awkward.

Inside the living room, Ashford greeted Millicent as appealingly as he had done with Mrs. Darling, then he looked around. "Is Wendy still upstairs?" he asked.

Mary took a deep breath. Here we go, she thought, and straightened.

"Yes, Milord, she is. And she will remain there. I regret to tell you that she caught a nasty cold." She met his attentive gaze. "It had already started yesterday morning, and had not improved by the evening. This morning was even worse, and the doctor advised her to stay in bed for a few days." She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry that you came all this way for naught, but I had no way to contact you."

Dalton blinked a few times; he actually feeling some concern. "I'm very sorry to hear this," he said. "She seemed well when we said good-bye on Saturday night."

"I think she caught the cold at the ball. The thin dress, the dancing, the cold vestibule with Lady Victoria…" Mary smiled again. "I hope, your cousin didn't catch a cold, as well."

"Victoria?" Dalton shook his head. "No, as far as I know she is still in good health." He was quiet or a moment, before he asked, "The boys are not here? It's so quiet."

"They are all outside playing – the younger ones. John, Robert and Ethan keep an eye on them," Mary said quickly. Maybe too quickly, because the Viscount lifted a brow.

His gaze wandered over the two women. He could see they were tense, even nervous. Then the absence of any servant – and he was certain that the Darlings had a few. Mr. Darling's social rank and small fortune allowed a few servants, surely. And this silent house ... Even the dog lay quietly at the open fireplace and watched him with large sad eyes – it hadn't even barked as he rang the doorbell.

Something wasn't right here. He had not the fine instincts of his former nanny, but he was able to see when something was wrong – he was determined to find out what it was…

TBC…

Yesssss, finally they see each other again – the usually grim pirate-captain and 'his' storyteller. And to see a part of a desperate wish to come true, is certainly something that will catch even someone like Hook off guard. He had hoped to see Wendy as a grown up young woman, and – voilá – there she is. Still open-minded, cheerful and with a big heart, yet a young woman nonetheless. You can guess what is ought to come (*snicker*).

In the next chapter, Dalton Ashton will make use of the Darlings' worries for their daughter and sons. Furthermore the feast in the Indian camp continues, and it will lead to something certainly no-one – including you, dear readers – could imagine: Hook has fun – and Wendy, too…

I hope the whole reunions were to your liking – after all, there were a few of them, including John and Tiger-Lily, and Bumblyn…

I wish you already now a nice weekend,

Please leave some reviews,

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight