Hi, my dear readers!
Thank you for the feedback. I know, it was an emotional rollercoaster for all main characters, and for Peter it still is, but I'm sure you loved the outcome so far.
Because I already said at the end of the last chapter what to expect in this new one, I release you now to Old-London.
Have fun
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 61 – Preparing for Changes
Night on the Jolly Roger, two crewmembers on watch leaned at the rail talking in hushed voices. But there was one aboard not at peace.
On the broad, fat settee, the boy muttered and jerked, expression shocked. Peter woke with a gasp from nightmares. He had seen Hook shot again while he, Peter, was locked away in a dark room, unable to move. Another time he could barely breathe because of a box over his head, while a stiff switch whipped him all up and down his back, over and over; taunting and cruel voices all about him. Then Ashford was there, laughing maliciously at him, telling him that Hook was dead – dead!
Bathed in sweat and panting, Peter fought back to wakefulness. He wasn't a prisoner, he was aboard the Jolly Roger! The soft breathing from the bed belonged to the only man he ever trusted – the only grownup for whom he had wept while believing him dead, but was now very much alive. Pulling the comforter back up to his chin, the boy stared into the semi-darkness of the captain's quarters, barely illuminated by the light from the windows. He felt the soft rocking movements of the large moored galleon, comforting, familiar. Since Hook and he reconciled, he had occasionally slept a night on the Jolly Roger, or lain down on this settee and napped while the captain brooded over a passage in a book, searching in them for solutions to grownup problems. Not often, mind you, but Peter had slept here enough to feel at home aboard the ship. He even remembered curling up in the crow's nest during calm nights before they'd made pax, and trading jokes with the stars.
As he lay on the cot down in Ashford's dungeons, or later on the stiff bed in the orphanage, he was sure he'd never see the ship again, never feel the gentle rocking when the Jolly Roger moved on the waves, nor hear Hook's snoring. He intended to discard those painful memories as soon as he could.
But ... he, Peter, was to return to Neverland and Hook … would be forced to stay here, at the Mainland.
In earlier times, Peter remembered no difficulty saying goodbye to someone or separating from friends. He had always been able to ignore the melancholia when flying away while others stayed behind. He had learned to dismiss those feelings after he found the window to his own old nursery barred – barred! – and saw his mother sitting at a cradle, singing to another baby. And later, when he met Maimie Mannering, a little girl who had remained in Kensington Gardens to find the mysterious boy stories were told about, he had to let her go, too, because – just like Wendy – she didn't want to give up her mother. He had lost members of his gang, he had lost fairy friends and mermaids – and somehow he had quickly shaken off the sorrow after a few days and become the merry Prince of Neverland again.
This time, he knew, would be different. This time he knew he wouldn't be able forget Hook and go on like nothing happened. As he had discovered in Ashford's prison. The captain had become a constant in his life – someone always there, first an enemy, now as a father figure. They had their ups and downs, for both had a temper, and were stubborn and insensitive. But good and bad times belonged to life, this much Peter knew. It made life much more interesting, but soon everything would change. Peter would have adventures in Neverland and Hook would have his life on the Mainland with Wendy. Unless … unless Peter did the unthinkable and also remained. He had threatened this step as a first reaction, but he was having second thoughts after sleeping on it. James had been right: Sleeping on a problem was helpful, but sleep hadn't presented him with a real solution. Now as before, he was stuck 'between a rock and a hard place.'
'To live would be an awful big adventure,' he once said. And it was true. Peter Pan was a brave boy. He had faced dangers and had confronted enemies beyond the most people's imagination. But the prospect of growing up had always scared the starch out of him – and now it was also his greatest temptation.
Peter loved challenges, so he had never felt the need for safety or the comfort of a family. He had always savored his independence, his freedom. But freedom came with a price –loneliness. Yes, he had friends back in Neverland, the new Lost Boys and the fairies, the mermaids and the Indians, but that wasn't the same as what he experienced since Hook had rescued him from the orphanage and taken him under his protective wing.
For the first time in his very long youth, Peter learned what it meant to be cherished, to find warmth in the fatherly embrace of a grown-up. Never he had talked with someone like he did with Hook when the man had tucked him in and he, Peter, admitted his feelings. Yes, he could talk with Great Big Little Panther and the mermaids listened too, but to speak with the pirate captain had been … different … better. Hook knew him – really knew him – understood him and tried to help him sort things out the utterly strange. The comfort he found in James' parental embrace was new to him, too: The desire for safety, for the belonging you only find in a family.
He'd considered staying in London before – five years ago, after bringing Wendy and the boys back to the Mainland the first time. Watching them being so sweetly hugged, seeing them in the arms of parents who also welcomed the boys who were strangers had almost physically hurt, because, for the first time ever, he missed these things. Now he had experienced them – with that man, the one who crossed boundaries and frontiers to come to the rescue. The same man who had given up the safety of Neverland for him (and Wendy). The same man who would have to stay here while he, Peter, could return to Neverland.
Peter chewed his lower lip, pondering the temptation of facing real life. Once he had tossed this opportunity away – after he visited his mother in secret – and had forfeited that normal life as he returned again too late. The second time had been after he brought Wendy back to London. Admittingly, he had gotten two chances, after all Wendy and the boys had come back to Neverland a few months later and had returned home again. Both times Peter had refused to stay on the Mainland and returned to Neverland. Now another chance was offered to him – maybe the very last one he would ever have to remain with the people who were most dear to him.
People he loved.
Love … the concept had been foreign to him. He hadn't known what love was, or so he thought. Yet Wendy had been right when she told him after their little dance in the moonlight that he knew what love was – that he had already felt it. He had loved before, but it always ended in pain and so he decided to ignore all these sweet feelings. But he had loved. He had loved his mother, he had loved Maimie, who left him but sent him a goat on which to ride through Kensington Gardens. He loved Tink, he loved his friends – his former gang members were like brothers to him, his new friends were dear to him, too. He loved Wendy, he always had, but his feelings for her were different now. He looked up to her – she, who had always been a kind of mother for him as well as a playmate. And he loved Hook. He had neither the strength nor the will to deny those feelings any longer.
Remaining in London and in Hook's care could mean many, many years together with those he loved, if all went well. He would lose Tink, because the fairy would return to her own kin. But he would grow up together with Michael and the Twins, because they were about the same age now. Curley, Nibbs, Tootles, Slightly were something like older brothers looking out for him. Staying here could be the biggest adventure of all. An adventure in growing up … and facing reality.
Peter closed his eyes. Both possibilities set his young heart aflutter – return to Neverland and lose the people he loved in exchange for eternal childhood, or remain in London and to live a life in the bosom of a family until he made his own; experiencing then what Hook was about to have now.
The boy lay on his back, arms crossed, thinking. A few days ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to give a quick answer to this dilemma: Neverland! But so many things had changed – he had changed. He had grown inside. Suddenly he had developed the courage to face what moved him the most: The feelings for his friends, and most of all, for Wendy and James. He couldn't pretend otherwise. Those two were most important to him. And they offered him a life together with them.
If everything turned out well, they might even live in the manor with woods all around, Little People in the fields, the mystery of ruins nearby and the portal close by. Maybe Tink could stay there, too, after all she wouldn't be alone; there were other Good Neighbors there. It sounded too good to be true, but there was still a voice in him that prompted him to make no decision in haste. '… You can give up your childhood only once …', Hook had said, and the captain was right. If Peter took this one step, he would grow up, no matter what. There was no going back.
The usually fearless Pan now felt torn between what was and what could be. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his face. When had everything become so complicated? If only Niam wouldn't have banished Hook and his men from Neverland, then everything would be just dandy. Then he, Peter, wouldn't be forced into a decision he had successfully avoided for so long.
He had to persuade Niam to take her words back. And as a last but possibly strongest argument he would give her an ultimatum that he would only return to Neverland if Hook was allowed to do so, too. He would send Tink or Aurora to her to bring her his message. Yes, he knew that a new Pan could be chosen, but Niam loathed these changes. Maybe his threat to stay here would convince her to reverse her decision. Hopefully!
Lifting his head again, he looked towards the window, chewing at his lip. Feeling the sudden urge to look at his home star, he slipped out of bed and tiptoed through the cabin. He passed the bed where Hook was still snoring and moved to the window. Pushing it softly open he shivered as the chill night air flowed in, but the familiar scent of water mixed with the new smells of the town were calming and exciting in one. Looking up, he saw there were only a few clouds, while the moon shone down on the black waves of the basin and the shapes of the large houses surrounding. Here everything was so strange, so new.
There was an inner warning – that he was distancing himself from Neverland, because he was distracted by all these strange things promising adventures of their own. And he knew what happened when he got distracted. It had once cost him his mother.
Taking a deep breath he searched for Neverland. A loud gasp escaped him as his eyes went to the right of the moon, then the first star and then … a star, its light weakened, blinking fitfully.
The second star to the right was fading!
*** PP ***
Despite the emotional whirl Hook had gone through this day, he had fallen asleep as his head hit the pillow – only to awaken in an instant and in stillness with the certain knowledge that someone was near his bed. Trained for years to awareness of danger, he carefully looked beneath his eyelashes, while his hand wrapped around the dagger he always kept under his pillow. Then he relaxed as he recognized the silhouette.
"What is it, boy?" he asked grumpily, voice gruff from sleep. Alas, he was tired! Might he not have one complete night of rest anytime soon? It seemed not!
His question was one Peter couldn't answer without making himself a fool. So he stayed silent.
Hook sighed, rolled over to prop himself on his left elbow and look at the youth. He could see the haunted eyes and trembling lips. Finally the boy whispered, "I … I just found the second star to the right, but … it's hardly there at all." He pointed toward the windows, and he sounded so lost, it touched the man's heart.
"I am certain Neverland is well. There could be too many clouds to see it clearly," he answered, watching the boy carefully.
Peter slowly shook his head. "No … the other stars are strong and clear, but …" he swallowed, "Neverland is fading … like my … my childhood. I feel it, James. Everything is pulling me down – what happened, what might be coming, what to do. I… I want to go home, but I also want to stay here – with you and Wendy." He swallowed. "It's … it's like I'm losing myself in my head."
Hook smiled in sympathy and nodded. "I know that feeling – like you're trying to sit on two chairs at once, looking for a solution, because both options sound right but also wrong." He frowned thoughtfully before he continued, "My father once gave me a strategy for such cases: Sleep on it one night, then make two lists. On the first, you write the advantages of the decision, on the second one you write down the disadvantages. Then ponder the most important arguments. And those you feel most strongly about show you the best decision to make."
Peter had listened carefully. "Sounds like good advice. But I can't write," he murmured.
"Ah yes. If you would entrust me with your thoughts on pro and contra, I could write them down for you. Most times, one side is longer than the other, and Rob's your uncle, there's the answer."
The boy felt a smile at his mouth. "You would do this for me?"
"Aye," James replied. "I won't try to influence you, but maybe I can help you sort out what's important."
There was it again – a kind of help only a father could offer. He always had laughed it off when someone mentioned the 'wisdom of grownups,' but he had been wrong. Grown people did have good ideas, from time to time. His conscience prickled as he remembered that he'd learned to listen to Panther ages ago. Now he listened to Hook. Sometimes even 'the best boy that ever was' needed advice.
"Thanks, Hook," he said quietly. "I … I can do that." Then he sighed while rubbing his eyes. He was obviously exhausted, and Hook decided that they both really needed to sleep.
"Better now?" he asked softly, and as he saw the boy nodding, he added, "Then off to bed with you. I'm tired, you're tired – and if we want to show Ashford what an ass he's been any time soon, we must be in our best form."
Peter looked over at the settee and shivered. He knew that as upset as he was, he wouldn't sleep. Other times – whenever he had been upset – he had lain down among his friends instead of his own bed, calling it 'pretending to be wolf cubs,' but his friends weren't here. Wrapping his arms around himself, he blurted, "The dreams … I … I don't want them anymore."
Hook didn't need to ask what dreams. How strong he could be affected by nightmares had been demonstrated during their encounter with the dark warlock. "That bad?" James asked quietly.
Peter nodded. "I … I see you fall and then the witch with her blade. Or I'm back in a little room without light. Or … Or they put a box on my head and tie me to a wall. Or I stand in front of a portal but it doesn't open." He gulped. "And then these thoughts of … of what to do since Niam banished you." The boy shivered again. "I am cold," he admitted.
The pirate in Hook was about to point out that he would get warm when going back under the blankets, but James' more compassionate nature was besting the pirate. He met the pleading eyes of the youth. Peter looked exactly like what he called his gang: A lost boy. Peter still needed what every child needed, especially in a situation like this. Very well Hook remembered a time he had been in the same position, even when he was years older than Peter looked. He had been a full-grown man when he had been forced to flee from England and found himself on a ship that was later attacked by pirates. He never admitted to anyone, but it had kept him in frightened wakefulness many nights, Navy training or not. And Peter had faced similar distress for four days now, but was a child!
Sighing again, Hook knew what to do, and before the grim pirate in him could protest, he shifted backwards on the bed, lifted the blanket with his mutilated arm and nodded toward the warm empty spot beside him. "Come on," he murmured. Relieved, Peter slipped in and snuggled close to him as only a child could. Grimacing, James closed the warm covers over himself and the lithe, cold body, and allowed the boy to find a comfortable position at his side. He remembered another time his Peter had slept beside him – all those months (years) ago first in the Black Castle and later on his ship after Aurora's and Kailen's engagement party.
"Better?" he asked again and felt the youth nodding. "Fine. Go to sleep."
"G'night," Peter mumbled, shifting again toward Hook's warmth as he wrapped one arm around the man's middle. The buccaneer rolled his eyes. The man in him felt another wave of fatherly warmth. The boy was much too needy right now, but he knew that Peter needed time to recover. So, banishing the sneering pirate away once again, he started soon joined Peter in deep slumber.
*** PP ***
Tink, Aurora and Kailen returned to the Jolly Roger at the special time, when the night begins to turn to morning, and flew through one of the windows that hung ajar. Looking around they found Peter and Hook beneath the blankets; both fully asleep. Shaking her head – Peter's attachment to Hook was certainly uncanny! – Tink gestured to Kailen to pull the blanket away slowly. Afterward, she and Aurora treated the boy with the ointment that the Kensington Fairies – thank the Great Oberon! – had stocked in the Royal Fairy Herbs Dispensary. It was called Solomon's Seal Juice, because the old crow that took the infant Peter in first had given the fairies this very old recipe he had learned of while living with an herb master.
Kailen was amazed by how quickly the ointment worked. In minutes the sore redness paled and the purple ones faded to ochre. By morning, most would be gone.
Covering the boy again with blanket and comforter, the three tiny beings tried to roll Peter over so that Tink could attend to his face, but he was too heavy. There was no way on earth to treat the other side of his face.
Sighing, Tink gave up and looked more closely at the captain. She could see that the left side of his chin was bruised. A blow? Obviously. She grinned, wondering who might have a death wish; together they also treated Hook.
When that was finished, they decided that they had to treat the other side of Peter's face in the morning. They left the little pot with the ointment on the table and helped themselves to the berry wine still in Hook's glass beside the closed book. Only then they retreated to the shelves, using a napkin as blanket. They found sleep in minutes, but the night would not be long enough for any of them …
*** PP ***PP ***
Since they'd retired so late, morning came much too quickly. Mr. Darling overslept and had to hurry, taking a quick breakfast while Mrs. Darling bundled a few clothes from Michael and the Twins for Peter, including shoes. The boys awoke as their mother rummaged in their wardrobes, and begged to accompany their father to visit Peter, but Mr. Darling was firm. He had absolutely no time to wait for them to wash up and dress, already late for his appointment with Captain Hook at nine o'clock (only a few minutes away – impossible to make that deadline). Even with light traffic, he would be at least a half an hour late. Then the investigation into the viscount's dodgy dealings. After that, meet man and boy for a sightseeing trip through London's West End, before a drive to the Darlings' home for dinner. He sighed, thinking of the day ahead.
He apologized for taking the motorcar, which left the women to take the tube to go shopping for dinner. George Darling dashed from the house with the clothing bundle for Peter. And he'd also heard Millicent stirring, and he had no desire to tell his sister about all he'd learned. Not this morning. He was sure that his wife would have appropriate words for the ever-inquisitive and judgmental sister.
Millicent appeared for breakfast in her dressing gown and sleep cap, as outside the Adler started. "Is George already gone?" she asked, buttoning the top of her wrapper. "Really, at least he could have tea with us," she said, scolding more out of habit than ire. The grandfather clock chimed nine o'clock.
"He'd eaten already and was in a hurry," Mary said, yawning behind her hand.
"Is father away already?" Wendy asked entering, wearing only her nightgown and a wide shawl, looking just as sleepy.
Millicent looked between mother and daughter. "What is it with you two? You are ordinarily so chipper in the morning."
"I waited for George to return," Mary sighed, "we had a long talk."
Millicent sighed. "And it couldn't wait for morning?"
"No, it couldn't," Mary murmured.
"I hope James's chin feels alright this morning. And father's hand, too," Wendy said, swallowing a yawn.
Her aunt stared at her. "The captain's chin?" She blinked, making the connection, and gasped, "George … punched the captain? When?"
Mary briefly closed her eyes, pondering how to answer. "Late yesterday evening, George learned that Captain Hook and Wendy kissed in public." She saw Millicent looking at her niece, disbelieving, and added wryly, "And before you get the vapors because Wendy and Captain Hook kissed in public, let me inform you that they are engaged."
The boys heard all this and exploded, thundering down the stairs with questions: "What?" "Wendy and Hook are engaged?" "When did this happen?" "Did he go on his knee in front of you?" "When will you marry?" "Now she all her wishes have come true!" "They were meant to be together." "Aren't you too young to have these thoughts?" "Shut up!" Their chattering comments sounded like geese arguing.
Millicent could only stare at her niece. "He … he proposed to you?" she finally gasped during a brief pause in the boys' deluge.
Straightening and lifting her chin, Wendy smiled with pride and happiness at her. "Indeed he did." She pulled the golden necklace with the ring from beneath her nightgown. "And I accepted."
Like someone had fired the starting pistol, the boys surrounded their sister and cousin. "Let me see!" "That's the one he always wore!" "He gave you his own ring?" "Wow, that's a big stone." "I can't believe it. The scourge of the Seven Seas …" "… gave you his own ring!" "That's too big for you." "They can make it smaller, you know." "They're engaged. We have to throw a party!" "Oh yes, at the latest in May, then the weather is warmer and we can have the party in the garden." The chattering continued afresh, and Wendy didn't even try to answer their questions but waited for the boys to calm down.
Millicent rubbed her forehead and glanced at her sister-in-law. "Already engaged. Did you know about this?"
Mary shook her head. "No. It happened yesterday when Robert and I drove to your home. I only learned of it last night."
Watching her beaming niece finally attempting to answer the boys' questions, Millicent murmured, "I always had hoped that a husband might tame her temper and put a stop to her fantasies, but that hope is dashed."
"He loves her for it," Mary reminded her. "And, truthfully, I'm quite pleased that my daughter doesn't have to give up who she is to satisfy someone else's expectations."
Millicent gave Mary a withering look. "Have you also considered that your daughter and her husband will be a world away?"
"No, they won't. Captain Hook and his men will remain here, in England," Mary replied, then returned to the kitchen help with breakfast for the rest of the family. "And you should know: Captain Hook is coming to dinner today," she called over her shoulder, "along with Peter." This was the cue for another explosion from the boys.
"What?" Millicent gasped over the kerfuffle. "And with that wild child?"
"He is a child, Millie, so don't expect grownup manners," Mary said from the kitchen door. "And one thing more. Wendy, could you girls accompany Liza and me to the market –"
"I'll be ready in two shakes of a lamb's tail!" Wendy called, gathering her nightgown and running up the stairs.
"The pirate and the Pan come to dinner," Tootles smirked. "This will be an event."
"They complete each other, don't you agree?" Michael put it, straight-faced.
The boys laughed, sneaking glances at their aunt's shocked expression. They soon followed their sister upstairs, still pestering her for details of Hook's proposal. Vicky leaned against the door to Wendy's room and grinned. She simply loved being in a family with so many children. She hoped that she and Wendy would have many children of their own one day. She had trouble biting her tongue, for she'd woken up earlier than her friend with some new ideas; ideas she had to discuss with Wendy, but later – in private.
*** PP *** PP ***
The man woke up from a very deep slumber, one filled with a sweet voice singing impossible songs, the sound of rushing waves, floating weightless in a variety of shades of blue. Now the light was too bright, his limbs felt heavy and everything was much too quiet.
Carefully he lifted his head and looked around. He didn't recognize where he was. A room he once would have called it, but now the walls seemed too close, the ceiling too solid. Odd! Why did he feel like this?
Raising his hand, he rubbed his face, but there was something between his fingers. He looked at his hand and frowned, seeing his skin had a silver sheen, and there was webbing between his fingers. And his nails were … longer, sharper than he remembered?
With growing unease Edgar Russell sat up, throwing away the blankets. Looking down on himself he realized that he was clad in a simple sleeping gown for men that went to his knees. Frowning he realized that his legs had lost all hair. Had someone shaved him? Touching one of his legs carefully he could now see the silvery color his skin had taken – just like the skin of his hands and arms. Moistening his lips, he felt sharp teeth. An itching made him scratch the sides of his neck, where he felt … what, skin folds? And they were very, very sensitive.
What the deuce…
He heard someone walking in the hall, and it seemed much too loud; even that person's breathing before the door was opened. A middle-aged woman entered. She had black hair that showed the first strands of silver and a crow's feet around her pale eyes. She looked familiar but he couldn't place her.
"Awake at last," she said and closed the door behind her. "How do you feel, Mr. Russell?"
"O-o-o-odd," he answered and stiffened as he heard his own voice. The word was elongated. The voice was almost shrill.
The woman sighed, pulled up a chair (the scraping made Russell wince) and sat down. Those pale eyes looked at him analytically. "I know you're confused by your condition and who I am. You know me, I'm Brynna Lunette." She watched how the now pitch-black eyes widened, and explained, "I brewed a potion from the boy's blood and drank it. Regrettably, it didn't last as long as I thought it would, but the viscount will bring the boy back from London, so just wait 'til you see me really young again." Russell stiffened. He didn't care a fig who this old biddy was, but said no more, not trusting his voice, and waited. She crossed her legs and sat back. "My condition can be changed, yours … well, I'm not sure." She took a thoughtful breath. "Do you remember what happened to you?" As the sleek silver man on the bed only shook his head (revealing nascent gills at his throat), she said quietly, "I want you to remain calm, do you understand?" The man in the bed only grew more alarmed. "I know, this will be a shock for you, but I'm researching antidotes to reverse the changes, so – please! – remain calm." She lowered her voice. "You were infected by a mermaid – and you are changing into a merman."
His large now-black eyes grew larger. "Whhuuuaaaddd?"
Brynna sighed. "I did some research after you … uh … fell … ill. It thought mermaids feed on men, but it seems they also change them into males of their own kind – possibly when they like them or think that a particular man will be a good partner. In your case, I am assuming, it was an accident. The mermaid scratched you during the chase and the wounds were infected with her poison. And now you're becoming a merman." She saw how his breath quickened, and added casually, "Have no fear, Mr. Russell, we'll find a way to help you. And if not, we will think of something else."
She rose. "Are you hungry?" As the changeling shook his head, she nodded. "All right, I'll look in on you around midday. I encourage you to rest." She moved toward the door, but paused. "One thing more, Mr. Russell. Please avoid any contact with water. I'm not entirely sure if it is only a legend, but I've heard that the transformation will be completed when your skin is wet." With this 'advice,' she turned and swept from the room.
Russell could only stare after her. A merman? Because of his wounding by that … that nasty, evil … beautiful, irresistible mermaid on his hand? He sighed as if from a distance he heard that voice again – that alluring, captivating voice that sang to him.
With a groan, Edgar sank back onto his pillow and closed his eyes; hoping for normalcy when he woke again.
*** PP *** PP ***
The waking for Peter was no less troublesome. Tinker Bell treated the rest of his face with the ointment, while the boy tried to talk her into flying back to Neverland to speak with Niam. Tink shook her head. She understood Peter's dismay at the prospect of losing Hook to the Mainland. She knew he wouldn't like the idea, would demand that she fly back to Neverland to convince her queen to reverse her decision.
Peter – still weary but determined – didn't give up. He asked, he demanded, he even pleaded with her, but in this case Tink remained adamant. He had to speak with Niam in person, end of story. Finally Peter threw his hands up. "I don't know if you're just being stubborn or if you really think Niam wouldn't listen to you! You're my fairy and you can speak for me! But if you keep saying that I have to ask her in person, so be it. After all, Niam isn't the only fairy queen around. I'm sure she'll at least listen to her own daughter!" He threw the covers aside and snapped, "I'll go to Kensington Gardens and speak with Mab. I still have to thank her for her help, and then I'll ask her to contact her mother about my wishes." Again Tink jingled, but Peter waved her off. "Enough. Either Niam accepts Hook and the others back, or she can search for a new Pan. Her choice!"
He rose and grimaced. His injuries were nearly healed, but his whole body was tired, and he would have loved to sleep again, yet …
"Good morning, Pan," Hook's calm baritone came from the side room where the captain just appeared. He wore dark breeches, a simple shirt and a dark waistcoat, his hair was tied back at the neck. Smee accompanied him. "How are you, boy?" James asked evenly.
Peter shot a glare at Tinker Bell, then sighed. "Better. Tink and the others used the ointment on me last night."
"Glad to hear it," Hook replied, touching his jaw. "Their ointment made the difference on my chin, as well." He glanced at the three sprites; two smiled at him, Tinker ignored him. "I thank you all," James ignored the indignant fairy, then sat down to have breakfast.
Peter went to the table, too, and sat down less gingerly than before. While Smee served the tea, the boy asked bluntly, "What happens today?"
Hook speared an egg. "I will accompany Mr. Kempton this morning in search of some modern clothes." He took two slices of bread. "You stay here and rest. This afternoon Mr. Darling will show us a nicer side of London, then take us to dinner at his home." He frowned. "Which reminds me, wasn't he to be here by nine o'clock?"
"Overslept," Smee suggested and poured a cup of tea for himself. He'd heard about the late-night visitor.
"You think so? It seems lack of sleep is a common theme these days." He looked at Peter who chewed his bread with jam without real appetite; eyes narrowed, face flushed. His eyes moved to Tinker Bell again, who sat on the table candelabra and sulked. "What's the matter with you two?" James asked bluntly.
"Tink refuses to return to Neverland to speak with Niam about taking you back," Peter blurted, glaring at her. She said something saucy (for so she looked) and those tiny bells sounded angry.
James peered at the boy. "Let me get this straight: You, Peter, demand that she, Tinker Bell, fly all the way back to Neverland – alone – to consult Niam about my banishment and you, Tinker Bell, demand that Pan visits your queen in person?" Both nodded. He shook his head.
"If I go back, Niam will distract me. She's done it before," Peter growled. "The fairies have tricks up their sleeves to bend someone's will – even me." Tink jingled resentfully and Peter sighed. "C'mon, Tink, I don't mean you. I know you're looking after me, but this is just too important." He lowered his head. "At least it is for me."
Tink sighed again, and responded, then turned her back on him and sat down in a huff with a piece of fruit.
Peter made a face. "I know you don't make the rules! I know that you don't want to let me down, but I simply can't right now return to Neverland at the moment and -"
"What do you mean you 'can't right now'?" Hook interrupted him.
The eternal boy, who was considering doing the unthinkable (like staying at the Mainland,) grimaced. "I … I can't fly … just now."
This was something James had noticed. It wasn't dark magic that clipped the boy's wings, because those wings were made of joy, and carefree happiness. If this was taken from him, his ability to fly left him. And after the last few days, it was no wonder that he was grounded – even with the fairy dust.
"I thought so," Hook answered almost gently and bent forwards. "Held captive, starved beaten, essentially poisoned ... It's no wonder you can't fly. But that won't last, Peter. You will forget, and the horror will fade in the distance. You'll be able to fly again." He rose. "And I think I have something to help you find your happy thoughts." He went to his desk drawer, took two things out, put one in the pocket of his waistcoat and returned to the table where he offered the second item to Peter. "Here."
His eyes lit up like candles when he saw "My pipe!" Peter shouted, taking the flute in his hand. "How … I thought it lost at the orphanange!"
Hook chuckled, quite pleased with the result of the gift. "Your new friends had it with them when they came to me for help. And that place is called an 'or-phan-age'," he clarified.
Peter only beamed at him and pressed the pipe to his chest. "This is the best gift ever!" he said happily. "Thank you so much, James. The fairies gave me this after … after I became the Pan."
James nodded. "I thought as much – it tingles with magic." He reached into the pocket of his long waistcoat. "And I saved something else for you." He offered the boy the knife. "Here. I'm sure you will need it again sometime soon."
Taking the weapon in his free hand, Peter looked awestruck at his two most precious possessions. And then, suddenly, he launched himself at Hook, throwing his arms around the man who barely had enough time to brace himself for the impact. Not that long ago, he would not have tolerated the boy that close with a knife at his back. But this time, he only laughed and returned the enthusiastic embrace of the child who murmured, "Thank you thank you thank you thank you …!"
"You're welcome," Hook smiled, ruffling his curls. "Maybe now things will look a bit brighter." Carefully he loosened the youth's arms from around his waist. "So, eat your breakfast and go lie down again. You can have the whole bed to yourself until this afternoon." He sat down to finish his breakfast. "Dark Owl will keep you company."
Peter, whose eyes were fixed on the pipe and the knife he had placed beside his plate, glanced up. "He doesn't have to, I -"
"He does have to," James interrupted. "He saw eyes in my quarters last night. Mr. Smee told me so this morning. Eyes belonging to the witch."
Peter looked up and gulped. "That Lunette lady … she's spying on us?"
Hook took his cup of tea. "Did you expect less? It's not surprising she found you – she IS a witch after all. But here you're safe – with your fairy, Aurora and Kailen, Dark Owl and Esteban. And, if I'm not mistaken, our bottomless stomach should be around this morning and can keep an extra eye and ear open. Little People's sixth sense is beyond any price."
A knock and Akeele stepped in. "G'mornin', Capt'n. Mr. Kempton's 'ere fer ye."
Hook used his napkin and rose. "Ah, Mr. Kempton, good morning!"
The two men greeted each other, then Daniel greeted the others, including the three sprites. Then he winked at the boy. "Hey, you look a lot better," he said, patting his own face in illustration.
"My back is healed, too," the boy grinned. "Fairy medicine – very impressive."
Daniel addressed Peter. "I think I have good news for you. I spoke with my colleague yesterday evening about the orphanage, and he alerted the authorities this morning. I've just come from our editorial department. The reporter is at the orphanage right now, together with a few policemen and the authorities – among them a friend he knows in the health workers. I think the children will be relocated to a better place soon, one where they are treated like children and can grow up in peace."
Peter's eyes lit up. "For sure?" As the young man nodded, the boy began to smile broadly. "That's good," he sighed in relief. "I really felt bad leaving Frank, Anthony and Betty behind."
Daniel glanced warmly at him. "I'm sure they will be well cared for from now on. Tomorrow I can tell you more."
"All right," Hook spoke up. "Time to begin the day. Peter, finish your breakfast and back to bed with you. I want you at your best when we're at the Darlings this evening. Mr. Kempton, I -"
"You're invited to the Darlings' home?" Daniel asked.
Peter snorted. "I think Wendy's father wanted to make up for punching Hook –"
"WHAT? Mr. Darling punched the Captain?" Daniel stared, staggered, first at the boy, then at the captain rolling his eyes. "All right, the whole story, please!"
"Reporters! You and your hunger for a good story!" Hook sighed.
*** PP *** PP ***
Lester Primely thought he was caught in a nightmare – again! He had roused during the night, sitting in the kitchen in the orphanage on a chair, dizzy, exhausted and with a throbbing nose and two black eyes. Looking about, he had seen the mess the kitchen was in while the cook, Mrs. Ellis, was sleeping on another chair. It had been impossible to wake her, and with rising horror he had realized that the ingredients of the cold pancakes on the table had led to exhaustion of most of their meager stock of food. The dining hall was in chaos, the tables were also full of half-eaten pancakes, empty jam and honey-jars and milk-bottles. In the washhouse he found cold water and dirty laundry and also the warder Mildred, also curled up in a corner and sleeping soundly. The same for the other warders, lying about on the floor and snoring. And now the warders were sitting up, seeming to nurse hangovers – they didn't even remember anything about the previous night!
But worst of all, several motorcars arrived and three very official looking men from the government and a reporter demanded entrance. And then a dozen policemen and more swarmed the building. The children were interviewed, the warders were unable to mutter a coherent sentence, the kitchen was a disaster (just like the hallways and the dining hall) and he, Primely, looked like he had just been in a brawl.
"This is the worst run orphanage I've seen in the last twenty years!" one of the officials said indignantly. "It's a shame the children are living such a miserable existence. Paul?" he addressed one of his companions. "Contact the Barnardo Home. Tell them that we've 89 children here – boys and girls – who are in desperate need of proper shelter." His gaze found a girl about ten years with blond hair and large eyes. He smiled at her. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you and the others will soon be in a better place."
Betty smiled back at him, wondering why the orphanage looked like a storm had hit it, why Mr. Primely looked like that and why all those visitors had come. They were here to take her and the others away from this horrible place? Too good to be true! Yet … there was something she couldn't remember.
And for a moment an image rose in her mind, the image of a boy a little taller than she, with sandy locks, crystal blue eyes and fairies soaring around him…
TBC…
Well, there was a lot going on in the new chapter and I hope you liked it so far, with Peter seriously pondering to have the 'awful big adventure' of facing true life, Russell turning into a merman bit by bit, Mr. Darling ready to hunt Ashford down by doing own research on the viscount's fake businesses, and the orphanage of Mr. Primely being closed. And everything from now on is heading straight towards the big showdown. And this begins in the next chapter.
I really hope that this chapter was to your liking and I would be very happy to get some more reviews.
Have a nice rest of the weekend,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
