Title: A Pirates Life for Me.
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: One - Wendy
Way Post 2003 movie....way way post....
When her first love re-enters her life in a guise she doesn't recognise and needs her to restore a world she's all but forgotten about, what's a teller of tales supposed to do ?
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Authors Note: Year 1912, Wendy aged 20, two years before WWI, end of the Art Nouveau era, George V on the throne. Okay..well this is another Peter/Wendy all grown up story...I leave the younger versions to those that write it far better than I (read any Kimberley A, she rocks.)so I'm sticking with what tickles my fancy. Adult, bad boy Peter Pan. Very hard now to find an angle that hasn't been already done, but that's the fun of writing. There will quite possibly be chapters rated R for naughty bits....but you know that, I'm such a smut monkey. Something similar to this has been explored in other stories, maybe even my own, but I hope this version remains a teeny bit original. If not, too bad....I'm enjoying the writing of it anyway. I may not be able to update with the rapidity of the first two.....real life is just so damn intrusive....but I'll do my best. So, with grateful thanks to all who so enthusiastically enjoyed my last two efforts in this genre...I hope this delivers the goods.
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It was bad enough that she had to endure another interminable concert, with another excruciating soprano murdering a perfectly nice aria, but she was itching to get back to her story, the one she'd only just started and felt an urgent need to continue.
At the advanced age of twenty, Wendy Moira Angela Darling was considered by many to be almost an antidote, certainly a blue-stocking and worse, as crimes in polite society were measured, too outspoken about the rights of women in the first decades of the twentieth century for the comfort of most people. Despite her many faults, and Wendy hardly regarded those that society pinned such magnitude upon, she was a lovely young woman with a fine figure and a face that many likened to one of the a medieval Madonna for its serenity and calm presentation to the world at large. What most didn't realise, and would have been surprised to discover, was that the calm countenance hid the heart and mind of an frustrated adventurer, as amply evident in the stories she continued to write against all commonsense and voluble advice.
She was certainly too nice in her notions about marriage to appease the wrath of certain doting mothers who had approached the young lady's father with a view to a match. Usually such promotions were instigated by the young man concerned after becoming spellbound and intrigued by Wendy's air of aloofness and unattainability, as well as her physical beauty, and been roundly sent about their ways by the young lady herself, to the abashment of her poor parents and horrified aunt. It would appear to anyone who cared to inquire, that Wendy would have none of marriage or men, and in that she held her to her course, true and unwavering.
For Wendy Moira Angela Darling had already given her heart and for her, once was quite enough to be going on with, thank you.
As the music died away and polite applause replaced the noise of before, Wendy politely pinned a smile on her full lips and collected her reticule in readiness for the general stampede to the refreshment room. As she dipped to gather the train of her perfectly fashionable dress she dropped her programme, having a fan and a posy and her train to manage. As she pursed her lips in annoyance, she saw a nicely manicured hand reach down and pick up her programme, the skin coloured a golden brown of someone who spent a great deal of time in the sun and had little care for the current fashion which abhorred the sun and its lowering ability to colour the skin like a common labourer. As the hand lifted the programme she thought irrelevantly of where the man might have gained his golden tan, maybe at the helm of a mighty sailing ship, or in the tropics or maybe Egypt, in the harsh desert.
She also wondered, quite shockingly, if it also extended to the skin covered by his clothes.
"I believe this is yours?" A deep male voice enquired.
Blinking to dispel her vision of camels and date palms, and other inappropriate images, Wendy raised her head and looked up into the face of the man that held her programme out to her. Her first impression was that the young man was very tall, and carried an impressive set of shoulders that owed nothing to his tailor and everything to a fine physique. His hair was fashionably wind-blown, cut in the latest style and the colour of sun-kissed corn. His face was the colour of his hands, golden and healthy, the texture so tempting that she almost lifted her hand to touch his cheek. But it was his eyes that drew her wondering gaze, their colour not anything she could put a name to. As he continued to hold out her dropped programme, his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners in faint amusement as she stood, gazing with some absorption at him.
"Is there something wrong with my face I should know about?" He asked, his mobile lips curving into a smile that revealed very white teeth against his tan.
Mentally shaking herself, Wendy felt a blush stealing over her face and heating her skin.
"I'm so sorry.....its rude of me to stare...I just.."
The stranger returned her bemused stare with a raised eyebrow that lifted mockingly above his thickly lashed eyes.
"Oh dear...I'm doing it again.....I must apologise. Thank you for picking up my programme, its very awkward to bend down....um....in this dress." Not thinking it possible, Wendy blushed even harder, her lips pressing together to stop her saying anything else more henwitted. The stranger continued to regard her flushed face with that faint trace of amusement, his eyes dancing as she tried to look anywhere but at him.
"It was a pleasure.....Miss ?"
"Oh...of course....its..." Her stammered introduction was cut off in mid course by a strident female voice.
"Ahhhh there you are my dear....don't lets keep the carriage waiting, we have another engagement, and I don't want to be late."
Wendy's aunt bustled up, startling her into a little gasp and pulling her eyes away from the hypnotic regard of the man in front of her.
"Oh....Aunt.....this gentleman was kind enough to pick up my...ur...programme when I dropped it."
Millicent Harding raised her quizzing glass and regarded the young man, noting his unexceptional expression and expensively cut evening clothes. She also noted that he was still holding Wendy's programme.
"How kind of your to aid my niece....take your programme from the helpful young man Wendy. So kind of your sir, I'm sure we'll see you again during the season?"
"It will be my pleasure...your programme?"
In a daze, Wendy took the proffered piece of paper, her eyes quite unable to stop their regard as the young man executed a small bow to both ladies and turned to leave. Wendy felt an almost overpowering urge to run after him and ask his name but her aunt was already launching into a sotto voce review of the singer they had come to see as Wendy watched the blond head and broad shoulders leave the room without looking back.
"Come along dear....we will be late."
Gathering her scattered wits about her, Wendy blinked several times and dragged in a breath to her starving lungs. Dutifully she followed the purple and jet-beaded figure of Millicent Harding to the entrance hall of the house where they bid farewell to the hostess and collected their outer garments in readiness to leave the musical evening. As she fastened her pretty blue pelisse around her shoulders, Wendy couldn't resist looking back into the room they had left in the faint hope of glimpsing the blond head and tanned features again. A tug on her arm pulled her back to pay attention to her aunt so that she didn't see the man in question approach the doorway of the foyer and stand at the side, watching the two ladies scamper down the steps and enter the waiting carriage.
With a mocking smile the stranger turned back and walked into the room, the lights from the chandelier turning his blond curls to gold.
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When she returned home that evening, after dismissing the maid who helped her undress, she pulled out her sketchpad and a pencil and began to draw, attempting to capture, from her memory, the man that had so disturbed her that evening. As her pencil flew over the sheet of paper his features started to appear, first the compelling eyes that she still couldn't swear what colour they were, then the straight nose and sculptured lips with their slight twist of mockery that so intrigued her. Finally the firm chin and angular jaw. As she hunched over the drawing, the man's face started to take shape, appearing as real to her as if he was standing in front of her. When at last she stopped, her neck felt stiff and her eyes burned from the poor light shed by her candle. Still in her dressing gown, her fingertips grey with charcoal dust, Wendy lay sideways on her bed, the sketch pad beside her. She only meant to rest a minute before attempting to commit the evenings observations to her journal, but the long day took its toll and before many minutes had passed, she was sound asleep, stretched out on the covers of her bed.
She awoke as the clock in the hall chimed four times, the sound echoing in the silent house. Yawning, she rose from her bed, the candle long since burned to a stub in its holder. Stretching her arms above her head she walked to the window and threw the curtains wide to let the moonlight shine in. Leaning her head against the cold glass, she stared out at the roof tops of London, her expression pensive.
She felt a urge to do more than just look, like a bird in a cage she wanted to fly and see what the world had to offer outside the conformity of her narrow world. She wanted to travel to see what she had only read about in the innumerable books that cluttered her bookshelf, the countries and people that sounded so exciting when she visited the circulating library or toured the museums many exhibitions of exotic cultures as often as she could, or atleast as often as her aunt allowed. She glanced back at her writing desk, the surface littered with sheets of paper covered with notes for her current story. If she was lucky, she'd get this published as well. Her submission to the Strand Magazine, under a pseudonym of course, had been well received, the editor sending her an encouraging letter and asking if she had any further stories of romantic adventures to submit. Wendy chuckled to herself, if only the editor knew. Wendy had a box that contained any number of stories, the outpourings of a stifled young woman wishing to have an adventure of her own. Most were not fit to be published either because they were written before she had a wider understanding of the world and the way it worked, or because they were simply her own dreams and longings put to paper and not for anyone's eyes but her own. The editor had also been impressed with the illustrations she had sent to accompany the story and he had complimented her on her talent. Her aunt knew nothing of Wendy's aspirations for publication, but accepted the explanation that the letters were from an old school friend, which seemed to satisfy her. Sighing, Wendy balled a fist and beat it against the glass, her breath fogging the window as she stared out, her forehead feeling numb where it contacted the cold, smooth surface.
Feeling unbearable confined, Wendy lifted the latch on her window and pushed it open. The narrow French doors led to a tiny balcony that looked out over the street three storeys below. Frigid air wafted into the room and brought with it the smells of smoke and night air, Wendy pulling her wrapper more firmly around her body to keep in her warmth. As she stepped forward, her hands closed around the metal railing that rose to waist height to prevent any falls, and there she stood, her face tilted up to the moon, her hair falling in soft waves down her back. Breathing in the cold air, she lifted her arms and stretched them out on either side of her, her back arching, her head falling back on her neck, her eyes closed. As she raised herself on tip-toes she could almost believe that if she just jumped a little she would start to float and then maybe fly upwards towards the moon and among the stars, her mind already picturing herself weightless and free.
The sound of a match being struck brought her crashing back to an earthly reality. Lowering her arms, she placed her hands on the cold metal of the balcony and peered over the edge to look down on the street below. Almost directly outside her house a man was walking slowly down the footpath, the bright flare of a cheroot the reason for the match, his face invisible from her vantage point, the only clues to his identity being his clothes and his uncovered head which revealed only that he was a gentleman of some means and that his hair was light coloured. Puzzled as to why anyone would be walking the quiet street at such a late hour, Wendy watched the man for several minutes as he paced slowly along the footpath, his steps unhurried as he puffed on his cheroot. As she considered going inside, her limbs beginning to tremble with the cold seeping through her nightclothes, the man flicked the stub of his cigarette to the path and stubbed it out, his shoulders hunching inside his wool coat, his gloved hands digging deep within his pockets. It was then that he looked upwards, directly towards the balcony rail that Wendy was still leaning on. As his face tilted upwards she gasped and pushed herself back against her window frame, her heart suddenly racing as she pressed a hand to her breast.
There had been no mistake, he had been looking up at her window, at her room, at her.
Gripped with a sudden, unreasoning fear, Wendy darted into her room and slammed the French doors closed, her shaking fingers latching them tightly before she stepped back, her eyes on the glass panels as if expecting the man to appear on her balcony. Reaching out, she grabbed at the curtains, pulling them closed before running blindly to her bed in the now darkened room and diving under her covers where she lay for several minutes trying to still the frantic panic that made her heart beat madly and her lungs strain for air. As her body stilled she started to laugh, giggling at her absurd behaviour and reaction to what was afterall only a strange coincidence. Even if the man had been looking at her house, and at her balcony, which was highly unlikely, he would not have seen her there, a dark shape against a dark house. Still smiling at her absurdity, Wendy snuggled down in her covers, tucking herself into a ball to warm her cold feet.
On the footpath outside the darkened house, the man still stood, his head tilted to the moonlight, his eyes on the small balcony that jutted out like all the others in the terrace, as indistinguishable as one star from another. Grinning, his teeth gleaming in the pale light, he finally gave up his vigil and walked slowly down the narrow path, his dark figure turning the corner and disappearing into the night.
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Wendy awoke to Sarah pushing the curtains back and letting in the bright morning sun, the sudden light making Wendy pull her covers over her head in protest.
"Mornin' Miss......I've your hot water here, and a message from Missus 'Arding."
Pushing the covers back, Wendy regarded the prim maid as she stood by the bed, her chin tilted slightly in the air, a suspicion of a sniff apparent in the pert nose.
"And what would that message be, Sarah?"
The sniff became a reality, the maids chin inching up a notch.
"I's to tell you that Missus 'Arding won't be rising early th's mornin'. She says to tell you to get your rest for tonight's ball at the 'ookhams."
"Oh....I see....alright Sarah. Thank you for the water and I'll see my aunt later in the morning."
Again Wendy was treated to a rendition of the sniff as the maid cast a glance over the desk and its covering of untidy paper.
"Does Miss want me to tidy her room today?"
"No thank you Sarah......I like it messy."
Smiling at the maids expression of ill-disguised dismay, Wendy swung her legs over the edge of her bed and made to get up.
"As you wish.....'ere, 'oos this?"
Wendy made a grab for the sketch pad as Sarah lifted it off the floor where it had fallen. She wasn't quick enough.
"Did you see 'im last night? Isn't 'e 'andsome."
"No.....I didn't. It isn't anyone in particular...just a character in a story."
The maid made a moue of disappointment before handing the pad back to Wendy who clasped it to her chest.
"Well, if there's nothing else Miss?"
"That's fine Sarah, I'll ring when I'm ready to get dressed."
Bobbing a curtsy, and sniffing again, Sarah made her exit.
Once the door closed, Wendy held the pad away from herself and scrutinised her work of the night before. The man on the page returned her regard, his eyes, even on the flat page, seeming to know more than she what was in her mind, and maybe in her heart.
Flipping the cover over to hide the page, Wendy chided herself for being so easily swayed by a handsome face and sea-coloured eyes. She suddenly stopped, her mind fixing on the description she'd just voiced. Yes, that fitted the colour, neither blue, nor green or anything in-between but a mixture of both with a hint of something else as well. Laughing out loud, Wendy shook her head at her own fancy, shoving the sketch book onto the bottom of a pile of paper beside the desk, as if shoving his memory to the bottom of her mind.
In all probability she would never see him again, and for her peace of mind, that was the best way to deal with it.
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The lights of the chandeliers cast a glittering glow over the crowd already arrived in the assembly rooms on the first floor of Hookham House, the home of their host, a Mister James Hookham. Aunt Millicent had received an invite to this prestigious event with not a little surprise on that good ladies behalf. Little was known of the gentleman, other than his wealth and the exclusivity of his assemblies. Entree to his house was only for a select few and Wendy's aunt had almost fainted when the ornately gilded card had appeared on her morning tray of mail. Wendy had only shown a mild interest in the whole affair, her attention more readily focused on the newspaper that accompanied the mail. Her perusal of the paper was interrupted when her aunt positively squealed in delight after reading the brief missive, getting to her feet and dancing over to her niece to wave it under her nose.
"There," her aunt produced the card triumphantly, "there is proof that despite your best effort, all my hard work on your behalf has finally paid off."
"I wasn't aware that I had put you to so much trouble aunt..I'm sorry if I've been a difficult charge to unload."
"Tiresome girl, you know I don't mean that," her aunt huffed, lifting the card to peer short-sightedly at it again. "But you have to own you haven't made my job any easier. Three seasons since your turned seventeen and not so much as a flicker of interest in the young men paraded for your inspection. You are heading for the life of an old maid, if you continue to be too nice in your notions."
"You are right Aunt......I am far to nice, and I will continue to be so if your continue to parade such a wishy washy collection of simpering men in my direction."
"Oh come....there was nothing wrong with that nice boy, Roger something."
"Nothing at all, if a complete lack of any imagination is one of your requirement."
"And there was that nicely set up young man, Lawrence something...he came highly recommended by one of my oldest friends."
"You mean the young man with the enormous moustache who thought I shouldn't worry my pretty little head about politics and other such lofty male domains?"
"Oh really Wendy......at this rate you'll end up....."
"Yes Aunt ?"
"I won't say any more....you know my thoughts on this matter."
"Oh yes....I do," replied Wendy shortly, once more burying herself in the paper.
"Regardless of your past.....choices, this ball could open doors that even you couldn't imagine. So I would ask that you be on your best behaviour and don't.......ruin this for yourself!"
"Gracious aunt......you make me sound like a spoilt child. I will be everything you've worked so hard to create. I promise not to get into any arguments over politics, I will simper with the best and keep my mouth shut and my eyes wide.....will this do?"
Suiting action to words, Wendy composed her face into the blandest perfection, her blue eyes gazing up at her fond aunt with only a hint of guile, her long lashes batting like a pair of moths against a window until her aunt dissolved into laughter at her absurd exaggeration.
"You're a wicked tease, Wendy Darling....but I hold you to that promise. You might just meet someone who stacks up to your lofty ideals of the perfect man."
Still chuckling, Wendy grinned at her aunt. "That's impossible, there's no such man on this earth."
"We shall see, young lady......we shall see."
Now, with that conversation ringing in her ears, they stood, side by side waiting to be received inside the lofty portal of Hookham House. As they slowly made their way up the sweeping staircase, Wendy tried to serepticiously assess the surroundings without gawking like a green girl at the elaborate paintings on the walls and even the ceiling above their heads. In that she might just have well not bothered, as everyone was looking up at the ceiling, many pointing at the masterpiece depicted. As they reached the top of the stairs, Wendy chanced to give in to temptation and looked up, her lips parting in a gasp as the image swam before her eyes.
Above her head, in glorious colour and realistic rendition, a ship sailed a painted sea, its sails billowing out as it plunged through the waves, the wind almost palpable as the prow dipped, the men scurrying around her decks, the sky a balmy blue with seagulls and fluffy clouds. She could almost feel the salt spray and smell the seaweed, her hand lifting slightly as if to touch the image so far above their heads.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
Wendy shut her mouth with a snap as the deep male voice struck a chord in her memory, her eyes swivelling to meet his in shocked surprise.
"You!"
"Welcome to my home Miss Darling, Mrs. Harding...you are most welcome."
As Wendy continued to stare at the stranger that had been much in her thoughts, the man himself was talking to her aunt, explaining about the painting and the artist, his voice washing over her as she stared quite rudely at the features she'd tried to catch in her sketchbook. When his eyes turned to hers, she held out her hand for him to shake. Instead he gripped her hand, turning it over and lifted her fingers to his lips, his mouth warm against her gloved skin. Startled, Wendy almost snatched her hand from his grasp as a spark seemed to leap between them, his eyes once more mocking her, as if aware of her reaction to him. Her aunt was asking a question and Wendy listened with half an ear, her mind chaotic with the sensations coursing up her arm.
"You are surely not Mister James Hookham himself?"
"No madam, his adopted son......Piers. My foster father is indisposed at the moment, he hopes to join the ball later in the evening."
"Oh....nothing serious I hope?"
"A trifling matter. I hope you both enjoy yourself tonight."
Dismissed, Wendy and her aunt passed into the ornately decorated rooms beyond, Wendy acutely aware of Piers Hookham's voice greeting the next set of guests behind her.
"Such a nice young man, don't you think Wendy?"
"Oh.....er.....yes, very nice."
"And to think he was the same young man who picked up your programme the other night.....isn't that a coincidence?"
"Yes aunt.....quite a coincidence."
As they advanced into the room, Wendy glanced over her shoulder in what she thought was a negligent manner, only to find that Piers Hookham was, in fact, staring at her, his head tilting in a nod to her before turning away to greet another guest. Wendy found herself blushing, to have been so easily caught out, and briskly followed her aunt, hoping the hectic colour would fade fast.
The evening passed pleasantly enough. Wendy was pleased to note, not without a little surprise, that her advancing years didn't mean she lacked for dancing partners. If they found her a little distracted it only added to her, somewhat otherworldly appeal, her dreamy blue eyes and soft mouth drawing her admirers like bees to the honey. If they'd known the direction of her thoughts they might have been less enthusiastic of their praise, but fortunately that was not the case and Wendy smiled and danced and wondered when it would be a good time to ask to leave.
As her partner returned her to her aunt, that lady in close conversation with one of her cronies, Wendy seated herself, vowing to not dance again that evening and suffer more bruised toes from inept partners. She was about to voice this utterance to her aunt when a man presented himself to her. As she swung her head around to send the importunate individual away she halted, her mouth already open.
Piers Hookham stood expectantly in front of her, his golden skinned hand held out for hers, his face smiling down at her.
"Miss Darling?"
As if in a dream, her former protests dying on her lips, Wendy found herself placing her gloved hand in his, her eyes meeting his briefly before falling to contemplate his superbly fitting evening clothes as he lifted her to her feet and started to lead her onto the dance floor. The music was just starting the strains of a waltz and Wendy smiled to herself as the orchestra warmed to its performance.
"I would hope that you smile is for me, Miss Darling, but I suspect that it not so."
Startled, Wendy raised her eyes to his, his mocking smile causing her heart to contract painfully. As he placed his hand on her waist and gently clasped her hand in his other, she found herself drawn towards him, closer than the required space, her remaining hand reaching up to rest on his shoulder. She tried to relax into his embrace, her body stiff and upright, defeating the purpose of the dance, making her stumble, a mistake quickly covered by her partner.
"I know that you dance divinely, so I can only suppose that your mistake is my doing."
"Oh no....I'm sorry, I don't seem able to..."
"Relax? I had noticed....I've danced with broomsticks that were more pliant than you."
Her face already heated in an embarrassed blush, Wendy now found herself burning with resentment at his rude assessment of her abilities.
As she fumed, she forgot her awkwardness and actually relaxed in his arms, the dance coming naturally to her as she internalised her rage at his impertinence.
"That's much better....I think you are actually enjoying it now."
His infuriatingly urbane voice brought her back to the present and she realised that what he said was true. She was enjoying herself, so expertly swept around the dance floor, her feet and body following his lead so that she almost felt that her feet were no longer on the floor at all but she was flying. So enthralled by the surprising sensation she closed her eyes, a smile tilting her lips, the steel arm behind her back pressing her even closer to him as the dance spun them around the room.
All too soon the music ended and Wendy opened her eyes to find her partner's hooded gaze focused on her face, her breath leaving her body at the intensity of his look. Without waiting for her to speak, Piers led her away from the dance floor and out the French doors that opened onto a flag-stoned balcony lit by dancing flambeau at regular intervals. It was deserted for the moment and Wendy barely had time to catch her breath before she found herself swept into a tight embrace and her mouth crushed under insistent lips. For a moment she stood rigidly, her body shocked into immobility, then his tongue begged entrance to her mouth and surprise parted them for him, allowing him access to the tender interior. With this intimate invasion Wendy melted against him, her arms, far from pushing him away, coming up to press him closer, her own tongue tentatively exploring his with naive delight. Heat pulsed everywhere their bodies touched, his assault on her senses complete and uncompromising as his hands swept down her back to press her intimately against him.
"Wendy!"
Her aunts horrified voice penetrated the thrall of passion, Wendy pushing herself away, their lips clinging for a second before her usual reticence belatedly came to the fore as he let her go, her arms wrapping around herself in a gesture of protection. Whether from him or from herself she wasn't sure.
"Wendy.......I've never.....an exhibition....whatever has come over you."
Her aunts voice continued to rail at her, although discreetly quiet so as not to alert the rest of the assembly to her indiscretion. As she stared in horrified fascination at Piers Hookham, Wendy noted that his eyes shone strangely, neither with guilt or shame, but another emotion that she was hard pressed to understand, triumph.
As her aunt bustled up, Piers executed a brief bow, "Miss Darling, Mrs. Harding," before leaving the balcony without another word, a smile lighting his face once his back was turned to the two women.
If Wendy had seen that smile she might have had an inkling as to who her amorous dalliance had really been with. As it was she had to suffer the continued berating of her shocked aunt before pleading a headache and asking to be taken home, a request her aunt was more than happy to agree with.
Once home, her punishment for such wanton behaviour wasn't done with until her aunt completed a full hour on the subject of young women and their reputations. Full of despair at her nieces strangely atypical behaviour, Millicent sent the girl to her room, her fervent hope that no-one at the ball had made any note of the whole affair.
In that she had nothing to worry about, the three were the only witnesses to the kiss, at least from the ballroom. But there had been one witness that none of the players had seen.
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"You weren't supposed to seduce the chit.....what were you playing at?"
With his back to the door of the library, Piers hadn't heard the door open from where he stood, on well shod foot propped against the fender of the dying fire, the embers casting his face with a ruddy glow as he leant his forehead on his arm against the marble mantelpiece.
"It was only a kiss......we barely touched lips."
"A minute longer and you could have had her on the flagstones!"
Turning around, Piers grinned at his foster father and shrugged.
"Well she is a rather a delicious morsel.....can you blame me?"
"Blame or not......I don't need you upsetting the apple cart at this late stage. Control your rampant libido, we need her intact if we're to make this work."
As he stood waiting, the glow of the fire behind him, Piers watched as his foster father limped to the chair beside him, the man's good hand reaching to the arm of the chair to help lower him stiffly into its overstuffed embrace.
"I still don't see why we have to go to all this trouble to kidnap one young woman. There are dozen's in London far more willing and possibly more beautiful."
"But this is the only one that can put back what was taken."
Piers met the fiercely blue eyes that blazed from the scarred face of the man he regarded as his surrogate father, and had done for as long as he could remember. Walking over to the other chair flanking the fire, Piers flopped down into it, one leg hooking over the arm, his hand reaching for the glass and decanter on the small table beside him.
"Whisky father?"
"I prefer Muscat, you know that....whisky makes my ulcer play up."
"A nice cup of tea then?"
"Don't get cocky with me, boy.......I can still best you if you get too big for your breeches."
Grinning, Piers downed the glass of whisky, his lips thinning appreciatively as the warmth chased its way down to his stomach.
"So now we've hooked our fish......when do we land her?"
"Patience....we have to hope your stupid stunt tonight doesn't scare the fish away completely."
"If her response was anything to judge by, I think Miss Wendy Darling will be panting in anticipation of seeing me again."
"Your arrogance will be your undoing......curb it. We will lay low the rest of this week......give our little minnow some room to breath before we move again."
"Whet the appetite hmmmm?"
"More like douse your fires.....I suggest you take yourself off and relieve your needs with one of the maids. You'll need a cool head to get Wendy Darling to follow your willingly back to Neverland."
"You worry too much father......I tempted her before.....I'll tempt her again." With a smug smile, Piers, formerly known to Wendy Darling as Peter Pan, lifted another glass of whisky to his foster father, the pirate Captain, James Hook before tossing is back as if it were water.
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Chapter: Two - Peter
Rated: R - for naughty bits of a sexual nature.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Authors Note: Thought I'd reply here to some interesting points raised in the reviews for this fic. Yes I had noticed, despite my advanced age, that there was another wonderful actor, Jason Isaacs in this movie.....I thought he made a delicious Hook. Maybe it squicks some of you out that a woman of such a great age (42) should have such a passion for a "young" boy. I should mention that I have been a fan of Peter Pan (the character and story) longer than most of you have been alive. Having him brought to life by such a beautiful boy who also happens to fit the part like a glove, made my love of the character come alive in a way the Disney movies couldn't. So as much as I loved Jason as Hook, and in fact have a great liking for Hook as a baddy....it is Jeremy as Peter, and Rachel as Wendy that inspire me to write. Hook will always be Hook, a tortured soul with a black heart.....but I'm working on that side of his wicked nature too.
And to answer another point raised.....if my story reads a little (or alot) like a Historical Romance....well guess what I live and breath and devour in three hours flat. I have been a reader of HR fiction again, most probably, longer than most of you have been around, and I never tire of it. It takes me to places I will never see except in my imagination, and times in history I will never experience except in a book, throw in a dash of romance, a good helping of daring do and lashings of adventure and I can't think of a better way to spend a couple of hours. I adore stories that bring history to life. So if you think my stories are like those wonderful authors I admire, that's diamonds and rubies to me, and kudos to the author's I'm emulating. Thank you to all who have been so encouraging regarding my new story, and in fact my previous stories, I hope I continue to deliver what you have come to expect. If I don't.......never mind, I'm sure you can do better!
Now, on with the adventure.......
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He was dreaming again, his eye's flicking rapidly under his closed eyelids as his unconscious mind took him away into the realm of fantasy. Only it wasn't fantasy, not really, because this was Peter Pan and he was dreaming his most favourite fantasy, he was flying.
In his dream he looked down and saw a tropical island with a volcanic peak, its flanks covered in thick jungle, the shades of green as numerous as the clouds floating above it. As he skimmed the tree-tops he reached down and plucked a flower, its trumpet petals exuding a rich aroma along with its exotic colour. He tucked the flower into the leaves across his chest ("leaves?") and flew onwards, his skin alive and tingling as he swooped and dived among the peaks and valleys of his island ("his island?"). In the dream there was someone he was flying to see, someone he wanted desperately to see but the island below him was changing, the flower he held so close to his heart withering as a chill wind buffeted him, tossing him high in the air before pushing him down towards rocks that loomed pointed and dark below him. Now he clawed at the air, frantically trying to fly again, but as always he fell, spiralling down to the rocks, his mouth open in a scream of remembered terror.
With a harsh cry he awoke, his body still trembling in the aftermath of his most common nightmare. As his heart beat a tumultuous tattoo in his chest, he sucked in lungfuls of night air in a vain attempt to calm himself, his skin feeling clammy and cold. With staring eyes he tried to cling to the sensation that started his dream, the feeling of flying with no cares and no worries, free as a bird. Slowly his pulse quieted and his heart slowed to its normal pace, his lips pulling back in a grimace, half smile, half snarl as he raised his hands to cover his face.
"Another dream?"
He jumped, not expecting the voice to come out of the darkness.
"Don't you have a bed to go to?"
"I was in my bed when I heard you crying out boy....you've had this dream every night this week....."
"It's only a dream......its nothing,"
"A nothing that leaves you sweating and shaking....tell me about it."
"NO!.....no.....its alright father......its just......a dream."
"Hmmmmmm...." James looked on as his son turned on his side in his wrecked bed, pummelling one of the pillows into submission before burying his face in the damp linen. He knew Peter wasn't going to tell him anymore that night. It had been the same when the boy first was brought to him, bloodied and half-alive. James had wanted to kill him, had ached in his bones to end his life, his hook raised to deliver the killing blow, but something inside him stilled his arm, cooling the murderous thoughts that bubbled and boiled in his brain. A voice spoke to him, to his heart and he took another look at the child that had been his constant source of aggravation for longer than he cared to remember. For that was what he was, only a child and injured and in need of care that only James Hook could provide. How Peter was hurt, Hook never found out, for whatever injuries the boy suffered, it took weeks for him to recover. Peter lay in a fever that sapped his body and his will until Hook was convinced that the child would fade to nothing and blow away when he died. But Peter hung on, the fever leaving him weak and almost entirely unaware of his life before, a condition that Hook relished as the supreme irony of his life.
Hook was not exactly in prime twig himself when he became Peter's nursemaid and saviour. He had killed the crocodile that so relished the flavour of his flesh, but in doing so had suffered cruel lacerations over most of his body from the sharp teeth that tried to chew him up, as well as having one leg so mangled it now carried him with a permanent limp. No, James Hook was not the same man that had swaggered the deck of the Jolly Roger, supreme in his strength and purpose, he was a man changed by savage circumstance and the strange twist of fate that delivered up his enemy, to become his son.
When Peter recovered from the worst of his illness the dreams started, the boy crying out every night for something he had lost, for people he remembered only in dreams. One name came most frequently on his lips, one name that left the boy weak and trembling, crying anguished tears into his pillow, the sound so gut-wrenching that another piece of Hook's pirate heart melted and he held the boy in his grief until he slept again. As the weeks and months passed, and Peter regained all of his youthful strength, it became clear that something had pulled a curtain over the boys memory, making his dreams the only place that he remembered the time before Hook, before he gave up being Peter Pan and became plain Peter, a cabin boy on the Jolly Roger, adopted son of a Pirate Captain.
As time flew on faster and faster wings the boy became a young man and eventually took over his fathers position as Captain of the Jolly Roger. His command of the ship netting himself and the crew many handsome prizes when they raided the world beyond the island that was Neverland, for they had found that if they sailed far enough the two worlds of reality and fantasy merged, creating a barrier that only the Jolly Roger seemed able to breach, bringing the pirate ship into an age where the rich pickings were easy and few ships equal to defending themselves against a fully armed, expertly sailed pirate ship of a bygone age. The raids were not many, but they were bloody and brutal, with no quarter given, blooding the young boy and giving him a taste for life on the edge which, as any pirate will tell you, is the only way to live.
In time the dreams of his past life faded, eclipsed by the hard life he now lived, and he no longer awoke crying out and being held in an old pirates arms for comfort. Until now.
As he closed the door on Peter's room, Hook was under no illusions as to why Peter was having his nightmares once more. It was all that poisonous Wendy's fault, and the witch magic she continued to wield where Peter Pan was concerned. The sooner they returned to Neverland the better.
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Peter heard the click of his door shutting and turned over onto his back.
Rising, he stripped off his sweaty nightshirt, throwing it with some force against the wall near the door. With his fingers threading through his damp curls to lift them away from his scalp, Peter padded over to the wash basin, pouring cold water from the jug into the porcelain bowl. Bending down he scooped up handfuls of the cool water and splashed it against his face and over his head, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck as the water rivulets cascaded over his shoulders and down his back to his buttocks, where it continued its long journey, down his legs to the floor. Leaning on the washstand, he bent down once more and scooped a handful of water to his mouth, drinking greedily, the excess running down his chin and throat as he stood up, his head back, eyes closed. After a second or two he reached for a towel, the drips running down his chest tickling as they dried. Scrubbing his skin, he dried himself off before tossing the towel to land on the discarded nightshirt. Once more he threaded his fingers through his short hair, pushing the damp strands off his face where they tended to flop if given a chance. Padding over the soft carpet he didn't bother to find another shirt but just flopped onto the bed after straightening the rumpled bottom sheet. He lay there, his body cooling in the night air, the remaining damp making patches of contrast on his skin, as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep again.
This time his dreams took another slant, bringing with them moans of pleasure from his lips instead of grief.
He dreamt he was back in the ballroom, his eyes seeking and finding the girl that had such a hold over him. She was dancing with some nonentity and he didn't feel himself walk but suddenly he was there and she was in his arms instead. Her body was supple as it swayed to the music, her full lips curved in a smile that bathed him in a warm glow, her cheeks faintly flushed. As he held her, his hand spread across her back, he felt an answering heat coming from her, her body glowing with a faint light that surrounded him and made him pull her closer. Suddenly they were alone in the room, the other people all gone, only the two of them circling the room. She was speaking to him but he couldn't hear her words, only the movement of her ripe lips as they formed words, their shape and movement mesmerising him, his own tongue coming out to wet his suddenly dry mouth. The scene shifted again and he was once more on the balcony with her, her softness held against him, her breasts pressing against his shirt front. As he kissed her they fell, their bodies hitting a yielding surface, his mouth plundering hers as his hands found her flesh, their clothes no longer a barrier. She writhed under him, her glorious eyes begging him to make her his own, his body rising to the occasion, hotter and harder than he'd ever felt before. As he made love to her mouth, his body worshiped her, plunging into her sweet warmth as he took her and melded himself with her. As their bodies became one he felt the heat take up residence in his loins, his flesh exploding and splintering into a thousand shards as he found his release.
Jolting awake, his breath hitching, Peter groaned deep in his throat, his body still trembling with the force of his dream, his hands shaking as he lifted them to touch his stomach that still twitched and jerked under his fingers tips. The evidence of his passion was still there, slick and warm on his warm flesh, his fingers smoothing it into his skin as his lips curved into a drowsy leer of remembered lust. Reaching further down he stroked his manhood, still aroused and hot, his fingers finding their familiar rhythm, moving leisurely at first, but picking up the pace as he revisited his dream, his images more intense as he thought of new positions for the object of his desire to perform, his hand moving surely and quickly to bring release, another moan and another offering from his body as he jerked in pleasure, his mouth open, eyes squeezed shut his mind giving him a focus for his passion. Spent, his lean frame boneless against the bed covers, his manhood appeased and lax, Peter slept once more, this time with no dreams to disturb his rest, but a name and face more readily on his lips as a sigh. Wendy.
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The instigator of all this frenzied dreaming was herself asleep, as yet undisturbed by such turbulent thoughts, her face pillowed on her hands, her lips relaxed into a suggestion of a smile.
She had spent the week attempting to erase of memory of that heated, and entirely improper kiss on the balcony of Hookham house, and as anyone will tell you, the more you try, the less likely you are to forget. In fact, the more you think about it, the more it starts to fill your every waking thought until you think there is nothing else in the world.
So she slept, and dreamed and woke in the morning with a faint feeling of dissatisfaction, having no memory of them at all.
The first few days after the ball, her aunt had been in a ferment of distress, jumping whenever the doorbell chimed or the maid announced another visitor. So far, Wendy's indiscretion remained unremarked by all of Millicent's wide circle of acquaintances, so much so that by the following Wednesday, she announced that they were to once more go about as usual as if nothing had happened.
And in a way, nothing had. Not in Millicent's world at least. In Wendy's world things were not so settled.
Certainly she told herself nothing had happened, it was only a kiss after all was said and done. Her usually practical nature tried to dismiss it as another incident to file away as experience. But her heart told her otherwise. As she sat and stared at the sheet of paper requiring her to write something upon it, she started to drift, to almost daydream and inevitably her thoughts returned to the kiss.
Only one other time in her life had a kiss taken on such significance, a time that had almost disappeared into the mists of her memory, to remain, forgotten and forlorn in her long ago childhood. Of course she remembered that previous kiss and the boy she had bestowed it upon in her youthful abandon, but some of the details of that time had become blurred, the face of the boy also blurred, only vague impressions of his cheeky grin and wicked eyes remaining to cause a twinge in her heart and a sigh on her lips. Her reminiscences of Peter Pan jogged a memory of something she did at the time, and she jumped up, her finger tapping her lip as she tried to recall where she'd stored her girlhood momentous for safekeeping.
After turning out several drawers and searching the trunk that stored her winter clothes, as well as the top shelf of her cupboard, Wendy sat on the side of her bed. Again she jumped up, but this time she crouched down and felt under her bed, her fingers closing around the handle of a battered brown suitcase, shoved so far back she had to lay on her stomach to reach it. Pulling it out, she dusted off the top and lifted it onto her bed, while she continued to kneel beside it. Slowly she lifted the lid, the contents giving off a strange smell that at first she couldn't identify easily, it being neither mildew or dust, but something else. She lifted out a length of twine, its fibres interwoven with leaves that were now dry and brittle. She vaguely remembered that she had worn this crossed over her nightdress to hold a sword. Placing it on the bed cover she turned to see what other oddities the suitcase held. A sketch pad was the next item, her fingers eagerly lifting the cover to reveal page after page of crude sketches in her childish style, images of boys in ragged, peculiar clothes holding bows and arrows, of Indians dancing around a fire, of her brothers, John and Michael holding, quite incongruously, a Top Hat and a Teddy bear. Other sketches were of Peter, her childish hand trying to capture him as he sat playing his pan flute, or standing ready to fight with a sword in his hand. She smiled at her efforts to capture his spirit, all in vain of course. As she flipped through the pages, she found only one where she'd tried to draw Peter's face in detail and she stopped, staring in fascination at the image, her mind almost refusing to acknowledge the truth staring out of the paper at her.
A niggling thought starting to worm its way into her brain as she put the sketch book to one side. A thought so outrageous that she laughed aloud at her absurdity. But the thought remained.
Sitting back on her heels she leant over to the pile of paper beside her desk and pulled out the sketchbook she'd shoved to the bottom. With trembling fingers she lifted the pages until she reached the one she'd used the night after the musical soiree, the programme slipping out as she gazed at the face she'd worked so hard to capture. Slowly she placed the two pictures side by side, the image of the boy beside the image of the man. As she drew in a trembling breath, her fingers pressed to her lips, she stared at the two images, drawn eight years apart.
The eyes told the truth. Despite her untutored hand, at barely thirteen, Wendy had captured Peter's eyes to the life. In her now more skilful hand, her image of Peter as a man was unmistakable.
Pulling the two pictures down to the floor, Wendy bent over them, her hands coming up to frame her burning cheeks as she looked at the evidence before her. A tear splashed down onto one of the pages, quickly followed by another until she covered her eyes with her hands and gave into the long forgotten grief of her lost first love.
Peter Pan had returned to her, but no longer as Peter, the ruler and defender of Neverland, but as Peter, the foster son of the notoriously bloodthirsty Pirate, Captain Hook, which must make Peter a pirate as well.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, Wendy strove to calm herself, her fingers wiping the tears from her cheeks as she tried to think it all through, without the muddying influence of sentiment. If Peter, now a pirate, was seeking her out, it had to be for some nefarious purpose tied in with James Hook. She had to forget that his kisses set her nerves tingling and her body to liquid fire, that was irrelevant. He was a danger to her sanity and quite possibly her life. She would have to avoid him at all costs. Making up her mind, she closed both sketchbooks and put them into the suitcase, shoving them down hard as she attempted to close the catch. Losing her balance, the suitcase fell off the bed and its contents spilled onto the carpet. A glint drew her attention and she picked up a thin gold chain, on the end of which swung a shrivelled, blackened acorn. She stared at the small momento as it swung from her fingers, the chain catching the light. Balling it up in her hand, she slapped it down on her bedside table before turning to bundle up the other items back into the suitcase and shut the catch firmly. Once more it was consigned to under the bed, Wendy rising to her feet and shaking out her skirts just as a knock came at the door. Hurriedly patting her hair into place and smoothing her cheeks, Wendy answered the knock, the maid requesting her presence which Wendy dutifully acknowledged before shutting the door behind her as she left.
On the bedside table the little acorn button, so brown and withered after so long in the dark, started to swell, its wrinkled skin filling out and becoming smooth, its cracked shell mending and becoming whole, the dead leaf on the remains of its twig changing colour from brown to green as if only picked that morning. In the center of the acorn, the hole created by Tootles arrow appeared freshly made, the flesh of the acorn nut white, like new.
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Chapter: Three - Chance Encounters
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Wendy's attempts to avoid meeting Peter in his guise as Piers Hookham were, for the most part, successful. She pleaded to be released from many of the more public events for that week, her aunt happy to oblige for once, using the excuse that Wendy had a cold and was unable to attend. This worked well, and she breathed easier after five days passed and there was no sign of Peter or any invitations from the Hookham household. Eventually, feeling stifled, Wendy decided to take a walk in a local park, within walking distance of her aunts home, the day conspiring to produce sunshine and warm breezes, but with a hint of autumn in the air.
Encased in a tailored French blue walking dress, a shade darker than her eyes, Wendy set out for her walk with Sarah in attendance. When she reached the park she allowed Sarah to sit on a bench in the sun and chat with another maid, leaving Wendy to pace the small park and enjoy the fresh air alone. She had her head bent, her broad brimmed hat tilted so that she didn't see the man in the middle of the path directly in front of her. That was, until she walked into him.
"Oh...I'm so sorry....I didn't see......you," her voice tailed off as she tipped up her head and saw the man's face. She was instantly thrown into a quandary, did she acknowledge that she knew his identity, or continue to call him by his adopted name. As it was, the choice was taken from her by the man himself.
"Wendy.....I had to see you again."
"This is highly improper sir....I have my maid with me, I'll leave you to your walk."
"Don't run away from me....I need to talk to you."
"I'm not running," Wendy retorted, her eyes snapping as her sapphire-blue clashed with his sea-green. "I just choose not to talk to you.....Mister Hookham."
"Forgive me.....I didn't plan on kissing you.....it just happened."
"Well this conversation isn't happening.....good day to you sir."
As she attempted to leave, Peter's hand wrapped around her upper arm, preventing her from moving.
"I've asked you nicely.....now I'm telling you.....we need to talk."
"Mister Hookham....this is abominable. I will not talk to you, so please let me go."
"No."
Turning on his heel, Peter swung Wendy around with him, his hand on her arm tucking her close to his side so that anyone observing the couple would assume they were lovers enjoying a tryst in a quiet park. Wendy fumed, her arm held securely by a hand that seemed made of steel, his grip so tight she was sure she'd have bruises.
"You're hurting me."
"Then don't struggle....you wouldn't want your little maid running home with tales of your unseemly behaviour with me in a public park."
"You are ridiculous....we are only walking, there is nothing...unseemly about that."
"What if I kiss you again ?"
Wendy shot a startled glance up at him, her eyes wide. Looking down at her, Peter felt something twist in his chest as her lips parted in surprise, making him want nothing more than to kiss her senseless. Something in his expression must have told her he was quite serious because she shut her mouth and stared straight ahead, walking quite sedately by his side, her arm tense and rigid under his fingers.
"What do you want?"
"I want your help......there's a place that you need to re-visit, to put right something that's gone wrong."
"What are you talking about.....what place?"
"It's an island....in a place called Neverland."
Here was her chance, an opening. She chose to ignore it.
"I can't recall ever hearing of such a place?"
Unfortunately for Wendy, her body couldn't lie and Peter felt her arm jerk under his fingers, her response his answer.
"You're a clever girl Wendy Darling....I shouldn't be surprised that you figured it out already."
Too shocked that somehow she'd betrayed herself, Wendy stopped walking, her eyes lifting to his in mute dismay. Peter smiled, his teeth very white in the sunlight, his eyes twinkling.
"Yes Wendy.....I am Peter.....Peter Pan."
"No you're not." She answered angrily, wiping the cocky smile off his face. "You're not Peter Pan......you may have his name, and even his face, but the Peter I knew....he wouldn't have become what you have."
Frowning, Peter tightened his grip on her arm, making her wince as he gave it a little shake.
"What do you think you know......what thoughts are whirling in that pretty head of yours?"
"I know you're not the Peter Pan I knew so long ago......he would never have been so ungallant as to become a....a.....pirate."
Peters face suddenly lightened, his grin back in place.
"Then you'll just have to get to know me all over again......and maybe you'll find that being a pirate isn't such a dreadful choice."
Torn between her conflicting emotions, Wendy chewed on her bottom lip, her hand coming up to touch something below the high neckline of her dress. Peter saw the movement and quickly checked the park before reaching up and stilling her hand, pulling it away to hold in his warm grip. Too surprised to resist, Wendy let him, her eyes flicking to his before turning her head to stare away over the park, apparently indifferent. Slowly, Peter raised her gloved fingers to his lips before lowering it again and turning her hand over. His other hand was no longer gripping her arm, but Wendy didn't seem to have noticed, all her senses focused on Peter's lips and her internal tremors that threatened to split her apart.
"Wendy?"
As she turned her head to face him, he held her hand, palm up, cradled in his while his other hand busied itself with releasing the buttons at her wrist and pulling the soft kid glove off , leaving it naked and vulnerable in his much larger, warm palm.
"What are you doing?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Smiling into her wary blue eyes, Peter bent his head and pressed his lips to her palm, curling her fingers against his cheek, lingering for a second, the tip of his tongue tracing a circle on her soft skin. For a second Wendy closed her eyes, her breath leaving her lips on a sigh. Then, as if stung, Wendy snatched her hand back, shocked that she'd let it go that far.
"I think this has gone quite far enough sir. I suggest you find yourself another young lady to practise your seduction technique upon. I am going home. I would appreciate you not approaching me again."
Backing away, Wendy turned on her heel and walked off, her head high, her back rigid.
Peter watched her leave, his lips curved into a smile. Looking down he realised he still held her glove in his hand. Tucking it into his coat pocket, he left the park, climbing into the waiting carriage, his expression thoughtful.
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Wendy managed to maintain her air of calm until the door of her bedroom closed behind her. As she leant her back against the wood she slumped, head bowed, tears starting to her eyes as she stood frozen with a sense of helplessness. Pressing the back of her knuckles against her lips, she walked to her bed and sat down heavily on the edge. Again she reached up for something concealed by her dress. This time she unbuttoned the collar and pulled the gold chain out into the open, its precious cargo swinging free, warm from the contact with her skin.
She had been very surprised, and a little frightened if truth be told, to find the acorn button that had been wizened and black when she placed it on the bedside table, was now whole and as new as the night Peter presented it to her instead of a kiss. She had worn it for many years before resigning herself to the inescapable truth, that Peter was never going to return. It had then remained in her jewellery box until finally consigned to the battered suitcase, where she stored her treasured memories, of a time in her girlhood that seemed no more substantial than a dream.
Now Peter had returned, and somehow the acorn had been revived and returned to its former glory. It was all very unsettling. It was some comfort that at least one thing had been accomplished with their meeting in the park. She had made her feelings clear, she would be on her guard against him if he was imprudent enough to attempt to contact her again.
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Peter entered Hookham house and shed his outer coat, first lifting the pale blue glove from the pocket before handing it to the waiting servant. With a smile playing around his lips he walked into the morning room, lifting the glove to his nose, a trace of perfume still discernible.
"Where have you been?"
"Out."
Throwing himself into a plush sofa, Peter discreetly tucked the glove into his trouser pocket, his arm extending along the back of the sofa as his father appeared from the shadows.
"Has our bird flown?"
"No.....she is a firmly trapped as ever. Whatever happens now, she will come willingly......where I go......she will follow."
A bark of laughter greeted this piece of supreme arrogance, and Peter scowled as James Hook limped to the chair opposite and sat down, his scarred features twisted into a parody of a grin.
"You still have a lot to learn about the female mind, but for now, it is enough that she hasn't left London. I have made arrangement for us to leave in three days."
"So soon?"
"I think you are getting to like this world Peter.....are you so quick to give up your pirating days?"
"No.......I don't intend to give up anything. I just meant that we haven't exactly been here very long." Peter picked at a thread on the back of the sofa, avoiding Hook's piercing gaze. "I thought you'd want to stay longer...or have we run through our funds already?"
"We have nothing to worry about in that regard. Your plundering has provided the means for us to remain here indefinitely......but this is not our world. Neverland is.......and it needs you to return. Would you leave poor Smee forever frozen in that hell hole?"
Peter smiled in remembrance of the doughty first mate.
"Poor Smee......do you think they know what's happened?"
"It happened so fast, I doubt they knew what was happening until it was too late to do anything about it. What is more important, is whether this witch will be able to reverse what has happened."
Peter scowled at his fathers terminology.
"Don't call her that......she's not a witch.....she's just a girl."
"Just a girl.....I see she has already twisted you into her serpents coils. I thought you'd be stronger Peter.....but it only takes a pair of red lips and a pretty bosom to turn your head!"
"That's not true," Peter jumped to his feet, dragging his fingers through his hair as Hook laughed harshly behind him.
"She's got you on the run.....maybe I should give her a sword so she can make you walk the plank in her stead!"
Pricked by his laughter, Peter flushed an angry red, his eyes stormy.
"She is nothing to me......less than nothing. Wendy Darling is the means to restore Neverland.....nothing more."
"That's right boy.....she is nothing more. Just remember that.....once back, she has to be sacrificed before she has time to do more than breath the air. It is the only way." Hook relaxed back in his chair, his eyes hooded. "Now, if you are ready, we need to discuss how to stage her departure from this world before we take her back, and do the deed for real in ours."
"How do you know this will restore Neverland....what if it fails?"
"It won't....unless you wish to take her place. I'm sure Neverland will be just as happy to accept your blood as its due."
Surprised that after all this time his father could still shock him, Peter swallowed, dropping his eyes as he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, his hand closing over the soft glove inside.
"Your jokes are as tasteless as ever. When do you want me to bring her here?"
"Sit down boy and I'll tell you.......you give me a crick in my neck, you're so tall."
Returning to the sofa, Peter regarded his fathers merciless eyes. He almost pitied Wendy Darling. Ruthlessly he squashed the thought.
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That afternoon, Wendy had another excuse to make sure she was out of the public eye. Her monthly courses started, cramps forcing her to bed with a hot brick and a cup of hot chocolate to sooth her. Her aunt, long past the age of such feminine worries, fussed over her and generally drove her mad before leaving for an engagement later that day. Rather than brood on the mornings unhappy meeting, Wendy drew her paper and pen towards her and attempted to complete the story she'd started, what seemed like years ago, when in fact it was only days. As she stared at the half completed sheet, she found that her story now lacked substance. Where before she had been happy with it, it now needed something to lift it above the banal, but what, she was at a loss to know. Setting her writing aside she picked up a book instead, losing herself in the trials and tribulations of the Bennet family, a favourite of hers and never known to fail to uplift her spirits. As the afternoon drifted into the evening, Wendy took her supper on a tray, her body still making her uncomfortable. Once the lamps were lit, she retreated once more into the lives of the characters that Jane Austen penned so evocatively. In time her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep, the lamp still alight, her book open beside her.
It was thus that Peter found her upon entering her room, not by the window, as Wendy would have expected of the Peter Pan she once knew, but by the door. As stealthily and with due cunning as only a pirate can.
It had been a simple matter to wait outside the house for the aunt to leave. He had figured that Wendy would immure herself in the house to avoid him, so it was only a case of waiting for the household to settle for the night, one of the maids leaving out the backdoor for an assignation, before entering through an unlocked window and making his way up to her room.
As the door snicked shut behind him, he stood and surveyed the room, noting the books and writing desk, the plain function of the room, with little attention paid to the usual fripperies that cluttered a woman's domain. His soft kid boots made no sound on the carpet, his tread light as he approached the bed. The gas lamp spluttered, the flicker casting strange shadows against the wall as he knelt down beside her bed, a strange emotion gripping him as he gazed at her sleeping countenance. He watched her for long minutes, his hand resting on the coverlet, a scant inch from where her own rested in relaxed repose. He silently marvelled at the difference between them, his tanned skin against her fair, his rough, pirate hands against her soft and pampered, girlish hands. He saw a small callous on her index finger, where her pen rested, tiny compared to his hardened calluses from constant sword practise and other, far more mundane, physical tasks required for the smooth running of a sailing ship. Lastly he compared their size, his own broad palm and strong tapering fingers, hers small, smooth and rounded. As if drawn by an unseen force, he gently ran his finger down the back of her hand, drawing small circles in an echo of what his tongue had done to her palm that morning. His touch was so slight that Wendy didn't stir, her breath coming sweet and even, her eyes closed and untroubled.
He wondered what strange force made the attraction between them so strong. He didn't know her, and what he did know was hardly likely to recommend her to him as a prospective lover. His father had broadly sketched the details of the time before Peter had joined the pirates, mentioning that Wendy had had something to do with the accident that robbed him off his former memories, but that was all. His father hadn't elaborated, only saying that this girl had the power or ability to put right what had gone wrong in his world. That it required her life was unfortunate, but many lives had been taken for one reason or another in his short time on earth and Peter was ever a pragmatist. Getting to his feet, he left Wendy to her slumber and walked over to the desk, picking up some of the papers scattered over its surface. If she was to die, so be it, but he still wanted to know something about this girl that seemed to bring out the worst in his father. He sat down on the chair and started to read, his eyes skimming the neat handwriting, his interest quickly piqued as the story unfolded in front of him. Before he knew it, an hour had passed, the clock in the house chiming ten and reminding him that he still had alot to accomplish. Reluctantly he replaced the papers the way he'd found them. Wendy had only stirred a couple of times, sighing in her sleep and turning over, Peter freezing as she moved, before relaxing as she remained asleep. Her book was slipping off the bed and he leant over to catch it, reading the spine before placing it on her bedside table and returning to his reading. She now lay with her back to him, the long line of her spine and hip curved enticingly, her hair draped over her back and shoulders like a silken cape. Rising once more he picked up the canvass bag he'd brought and emptied its contents onto the carpet. With the now empty bag he went to her dresser and pulled open the drawers, sweet herbs in sachets scenting the air as he rummaged among her clothes, pulling out several items and stuffing them into the bag. He heard a door slam in the house and froze, his eyes darting to the bed before fixing on the door to her room. He heard footsteps and looked around for a hiding place. With barely a hesitation he kicked the items he'd dumped on the carpet under the desk, out of sight, and dived beneath the bed himself, fitting his lean frame with some difficulty underneath and behind the frilled valance, pulling the canvas bag in beside him, just as a soft knock sounded on the door.
"Wendy dear.......are you awake?"
Peter listened, but the sleeper above him didn't stir. He saw the bottom of the door open and a woman's slippered feet appear. From the hem of the dress he deduced it was the aunt checking up on Wendy. The woman tip-toed over to the bed, obviously leaning over to peer at her niece.
"Oh you poor thing.....its such a trial to be a woman....I'm so glad I don't have to go through this every month."
Not understanding what the aunt was whispering about, Peter watched as one of her slippered feet lifted slightly as she bent down to place a kiss on the sleepers brow.
"It'll be all better in a few days."
He watched as the feet departed, closing the bedroom door quietly behind them. He thought about what the aunt had said, was Wendy sick? Was that why she hadn't been out the last week? Maybe she hadn't been deliberately avoiding him. The thought brought a cocky grin to his face, his confidence in his own attractions once more restored. His elbow knocked against something shoved against the wall behind him and he wriggled out from the under the bed, dragging the suitcase with him. It was too battered to be used as ordinary luggage, so he lifted the lid, his insatiable curiosity outweighing any consideration for somebody else's privacy. He found two sketchbooks on the top and promptly opened the first, finding himself looking at images that seemed childish in their execution but also completely inexplicable in their subject matter. He flipped through the pages until he reached one that looked vaguely familiar, a drawing of a boys face. From the quality of the drawings he assumed this was something Wendy had done when she was very young. Putting it aside he opened the other, flipping through the detailed images of landscapes and town life and animals to reach the last page where his own face leapt out at him. He had to admit, she had talent. He stared at his own image, his hand coming up to stroke his jawline as he compared reality with the rendition on paper. He saw that she had drawn him with a small smile, the expression in his eyes soft, but with a hint of laughter as well, it was not a face of a pirate but of a young man with the world at his feet, not a man who had done deeds that would make most civilised men blanch. He couldn't put his finger on the feeling it evoked in him, but he was perspicacious enough to realise this portrait had been drawn with a great deal of emotion and quite possibly love. It was almost humbling. Closing the sketchbook slowly he replaced with its fellow back into the suitcase, careful to latch it and push it back under the bed. He should have left it well enough alone, it only made what he had to do now all the harder.
Quickly he went back to what he'd been doing, rummaging in her clothes drawers and pulling out several items before stuffing them with little ceremony into the bag. That done he pulled out the items he'd kicked under the desk. It was time to get on with the job in hand.
Once more approaching the bed, he leant over the sleeper, his hands placed either side of her body as he balanced himself over her. As he stood, bowed over the bed he became aware of little things, the rise and fall of her body as she breathed, the sound of her breathing, the colour of her hair, loose and unbound, glinting with golden threads in the low gaslight. It tweaked at his memory that he had been in a similar position before, leaning over someone in a bed, the image elusive and fleeting and gone before any detail could be made out. Shaking his head he lifted one hand to brush the strands of hair away from her ear before bringing his lips close and whispering.
"Wendy.....stop dreaming and wake-up.....its time to go,"
Beneath him, she stirred, her lips parting as if to reply. Again he whispered in her ear.
"Wake up Wendy girl.....I want to see those eyes again."
But again Wendy only stirred, her hand clenching in a soft fist, her head shifting slightly on the pillow. Grinning, enjoying himself hugely, Peter leant down and this time closed his lips over her earlobe, sucking the small morsel into his warm mouth and closing his teeth ever-so gently on the soft flesh before releasing it again.
This time Wendy reacted by turning onto her back, her tongue snaking out its tip to wet her lips as she sighed, her head rubbing her ear on the pillow where he'd touched her. Deciding to have some fun, Peter drew a finger down her cheek, as softly as a butterfly's touch, Wendy turning her head to follow his finger, her own flexing against the pillow as she mewed quietly to herself. His finger continued its exploration and traced the curve of her bottom lip, his own pulled into his mouth and under his top teeth as he felt his body start to respond to the allure of the beautiful girl laid out under him. Her loose negligee had fallen open, her nightdress plunging low over her breasts as they rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the thin material revealing the darker colouring of her nipples through the soft folds of pleating. Her warmth rose up and enveloped him, her scent intoxicating as he lowered his head to dart out his tongue and taste the skin between her breasts. He could feel the vibration of her heart under his lips, his own starting to thump in time with hers, his body setting up a series of tremors as his manhood strained against its confinement, aroused to a fever pitch by nothing more than the taste and smell of this woman. Peter moaned, the sound deep in his throat but enough to awaken the sleeper, her eyes opening drowsily, her body still relaxed and unalarmed. Peter sensed the change in her breathing as he raised his head from her chest, his eyes, bright with arousal meeting hers, shadowed and slumberous, still shrouded in sleep. Before she came fully awake Peter gave into his overwhelming desire and lowered his mouth to hers, sealing her lips with a kiss that ravaged her with its savagery but also transported her to a world of unbearable sweetness, her body responding automatically. Completely ruled by his libido and reacting to her body's signals, Peter lowered his lean frame onto hers, fitting his long, muscular legs between her thighs, his hips cradled against her pelvis. His elbows were taking his weight on either side of the pillow as he cupped her head between his hands tilting it to deepen the his kiss, his tongue wrapping and dancing around hers, drawing her deeper into his seduction.
It might be said, at this stage, that one would expect Wendy to at least put up a token struggle, maybe even scream and pummel her seducer, but in her defence, he was only continuing what had been a particularly vivid dream she'd been having about Peter, her body and mind making an easy transition between her dream lover and her real one. She already knew who he was, her lips and body told her, so her mind quite easily ignored all desire to resist as it sunk without trace under the sheer weight of an endorphin overload transporting her to heaven.
Peter was already in heaven, his turgid manhood being ground against her softness by the subtle movements of his hips, aided by Wendy's unconscious mirroring of his actions, heightening his contact until he became almost mindless with no other thought than to bury himself in her heat before he splintered into a thousand pieces. Some of his urgency communicated itself to Wendy and set off alarm bells that finally broke through her thrall like a bucket of ice water, her hammering heart almost deafening her as Peter ground his rigid length against her core in harder and more uncoordinated thrusts, his tongue echoing the movements of his hips. Raising her hands she buried them in his short curls and curled her nails against his scalp. She tore her mouth from his, her lungs gasping as she drew in air to speak.
"Stop......please stop,"
Peter's answer was a growl as his mouth latched on to her neck, Wendy gasping as he bit her before lathing his tongue over the hurt and kissing it. Tugging at his hair, she tried again.
"Peter......please.....stop this!"
At the sound of his name, Peter froze, his body trembling. Raising his head from her neck he stared down at her, his eyes dark with frustrated lust, his lips wet and open as he panted, his heart thumping against hers.
"You don't want me to stop,"
Keeping her eyes pinned with his, Peter jerked his hips, his manhood hot and hard against her center, his lips pulling back in a grin as she slammed her eyes shut and hissed through her teeth, her body arching under him.
"Yes....I do want you to stop." Wendy ground out, her eyes opening and glaring up at him.
"Make me,"
For a second she stared wide eyes at him, disbelieving her ears. Then her expression changed to one of anger and she bucked under him, her hands leaving his hair and reaching to rake his face. He easily subdued her hands, his body pressing her further into the mattress as she tried to twist out from under him. His maddening grin still in place, Peter held her easily while she writhed under him, her movements making him grind his teeth as it pressed him more intimately against her and he thought he might just explode if she didn't stop.
"Enough.....stop your thrashing.....you'll hurt yourself before you can dislodge me, so stop fighting."
"Get off me....I can't breath."
He gave her a sardonic look, his eyes dropping to her breasts that heaved as she sucked in air, refuting her statement.
"Get off me or I'll scream!"
Laughing softly, Peter smiled down at her indignant face.
"Scream away....I'll just tell anyone that comes in, that you invited me up here."
"What!?"
"That you were so overcome with lust for me that you snuck me up the back stairs when your aunt went out for the evening so that we could desport ourselves in private."
"Why you.....arrogant, scheming, hateful......deceitful....bastard!"
"Why Wendy Darling.....your little gutter snipe. Has anyone ever told you, you're beautiful when you're angry?"
"Get off me you oaf....and take your pathetic conceit with you."
"tut tut my sweet......such language from a mouth made for kissing."
"Ooohhhhh! I hate you."
"I beg to differ.....but now is not the time to discuss semantics."
With casual grace, and Wendy suspected long practise, Peter rolled off her and sat upright on the side of the bed, adjusting his clothes to ease the painful tightness of his trousers.
Scooting backwards, Wendy drew her legs up and wrapped her negligee more firmly around her body, leaning herself back against the headboard.
"What are you doing here......did you come to steal something?"
"Only you Wendy.....only you."
Wendy stared at him, as if he'd grown two head.
"You can't just go about....stealing people. This is London, not some eastern potentate."
"You'd be surprised.....people are stolen all the time, from their families, from their lives......from the people that love them."
Wendy looked at him, not understanding his suddenly pensive mood.
"But why me, Peter. You don't love me.....you don't even care for me anymore, not like you did.....before."
"I don't remember.....before, Wendy.....I don't remember you. It's all gone, whatever I did, whoever I knew, or was....its all gone."
Responding to his unconsciously anguished tone, Wendy reached out and touch his arm. Peter turned to look at her, his confusion evident.
"Why do you need me to go to Neverland, Peter......what is it you think I can do there?"
As if only just remembering what he was doing in her room and why, Peter rose to his feet, pulling away from her physically and emotionally.
"You are going to put everything right again.....stop what's happened and put it all back to where it was."
As he spoke he reached down for something off the floor. Wendy didn't notice, she was too wrapped up in trying to understand what he was saying.
"I don't understand.......what can I possibly do?"
With his back to her, Peter shook some liquid onto a cloth, screwing the cap on tightly before putting the bottle on the desk and turning around, the cloth hidden behind his back. Wendy looked up at him as he stood beside her bed, his face so different from a moment before.
"You can die Wendy."
Hardly believing what he'd just said, Wendy opened her mouth, inhaling sharply. As she did, Peter pushed a square of cloth over her mouth and nose, holding it there tightly as his other hand came around to hold the back of her head, his fingers clenching in her hair as she fought to free herself. The fumes did their job quickly, Wendy's eyes closing as her body slumped into unconsciousness. His hands catching her as she flopped bonelessly in his arms.
Sitting on the side of the bed, he pulled her onto his lap, his arms holding her lax body against his chest, rocking her as he buried his face in her hair, his eyes squeezed shut.
"I'm sorry.....I'm so sorry....it wasn't supposed to be like this.....I'm not supposed to care."
Unbidden, a tear slid down his face, lost in the silky strands that cris-crossed his skin.
Turning, he laid her down on the bed, pulling the coverlet around her to trap her arms and legs, his hands gentle as he smoothed the hair away from her face and tucked it neatly into the coverlet. Finally he covered her face, pressing a kiss to her closed eyelids before hiding her away. Getting to his feet, he picked up his equipment, stuffing it into the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Going to the door he listened before opening it. Checking the corridor he left the door open, returned to the bed and lifting Wendy onto his free shoulder, her body completely relaxed and unresisting.
As stealthily as he arrived, Peter left the house, his movements sure and unhurried as he carried his precious burden down the back alley and away into the night.
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Chapter: Four - Neverland
Rated: R for violence this time......sorry, had to happen.
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"Did you have any problems?" Asked Hook, peering into the dimly lit room.
"No.....it was simple."
The two men looked down at the woman lying as if asleep on the narrow bed, the only piece of furniture in the small room. Peter shifted restlessly, his eyes sweeping the chamber, flicking to the small, high window set just below the ceiling. His foster father limped forward, using his curved hook to lift some of Wendy's hair away from her face, the strands running over the metal like water.
"Pretty baggage....no wonder you lusted after her, " Hook cast Peter a shrewd look, "You didn't despoil her.....did you?"
Flushing at Hooks crudity, and also because, given half a chance, Peter would have quite likely pursued his seduction to its logical conclusion. Peter glared at the man, turning on his heel and leaving the small room, his shoulders rigid. Hook only chuckled, his eyes sweeping the length of the young woman on the bed, shaking his head.
"Not long now......I'll be rid of you, and your influence over him. He'll never regret losing what he never had." Hook hissed, his face contorting as he fought to control the rage that flickered at the edges of his sanity.
Turning away, Hook left the room, locking the door behind him.
He found Peter in the library, a decanter already by the young mans elbow as he lifted a glass to his lips and downed it in one gulp.
"That's too fine a vintage for you to drink it like water, slow down boy."
Ignoring him, Peter thumped his glass down on the side table and picked up the decanter, filling his glass to the brim. Hook limped over to the sideboard and filled a small glass of sherry, his hand shaking slightly as he lifted it to his lips. He heard the glass stopper rattle again before he turned around, sipping at his own glass before walking over to a chair by the fire, lowering himself down and extending his feet towards the warmth.
"Why does she have to die.....wouldn't her just being there be enough?"
Hook smiled into his glass, his eyes closing as he tilted it upwards and drained the thick sherry.
"You haven't been paying attention boy.......it clearly states that whoever set the process on its course, must return and offer their life to reverse it."
"Where does it say that....I want to see it?"
"You can't.......you have to take my word for it."
"Not good enough...." said Peter, his voice harsh and slightly slurred. Looking over his shoulder, Hook watched as Peter fumbled the decanter, a surprised look on his face to discover it almost empty.
"My word no longer good enough....I see." Lifting himself out of the chair he moved with a speed that took Peter completely unaware, the hook appearing against his jugular as if by magic. James leered down at his foster son, his eyes like shards of ice as he searched Peter's face for something, his lips curling into a snarl when it didn't appear. "Not afraid?"
"No....if you wanted me dead, you've had ample opportunity these last eight years."
The hook pressed harder against his neck and Peter arched, his head tilting back and pushing into the plush fabric of the sofa. As they stared at each other, Peter kept his expression fearless, not giving into the tremor that lanced through his stomach, his muscles tensing in anticipation of a fight, not that he thought he would have a chance. He had seen his father dispatch more people than he cared to remember, with just this manoeuvre. Slowly James removed his arm, the hook leaving an impression on Peters neck, a tiny bead of blood on his skin, sitting as mute witness to Hook's very real intentions.
"You are right of course....has it been eight years?"
Peter kept silent, his eyes following his father as he returned to the fire, his hook tapping against his cheek as Hook pondered his rhetorical question.
"Do you remember when I took you on your first raid?"
"Of course."
"You were afraid then....I saw it in your eyes. I never thought to see that look again. A pirate can't afford to be afraid...its death to hesitate."
"When was I afraid.......was it before?"
"Oh yes.....before.....you were an impudent youth, full of your own importance, full of arrogance and conceit, the world your oyster, yours to take or leave as your fancy dictated."
"Why was I afraid?"
"You were afraid that she would leave you....alone, unloved....done for." Hook stuck out his bottom lip, his eyes staring into the past.
Peter's brain was rapidly dispelling the fog of the alcohol. His father rarely reminisced about the time before, this was a rare opportunity to fill in the gaps of his missing memories.
"Why would she leave me....what did I do?"
"You wouldn't love her...you couldn't love her, not the way she needed to be loved.....an epic tragedy, as tragedies go."
"When did you see me afraid?"
"When I tried to kill you." Hook turned in his chair, wagging his hook at Peter."We were having one or our interminable battles.....she was aboard the Jolly Roger. You were so sure of yourself and I pricked your ego. You were so easy to trick, so gullible, so vulnerable....she made you that way."
Peter squashed his anger at his fathers words, he needed to find out more, and anger would surely destroy this golden opportunity.
Swallowing hard, his face schooled to hide his unease, Peter spoke.
"Why was I vulnerable.....who made me vulnerable?"
"She did.....it was always her. She was so transparent, so fresh, it was a delight to toy with her, to use her against you."
Feeling a thrill of anticipation, Peter pressed on. "What happened?"
"You believed me....every word.....you were so brittle, so desperate to have it all. I had you in the palm of my hand....you were completely at my mercy," Peter saw Hooks hand close into a white knuckled fist, raising it as if to shake it at the ceiling and the woman in the room two floors above. Recalling himself, Hook grinned, a merciless expression that sent chills down Peter's spine, his hands sweating as he tried to appear nonchalant against the overriding desire to flee the room, to ignore the words spouting with such venom from the man he considered his father.
"Why aren't I dead?"
Laughing out loud, Hook swung around again, his eyes glaring, his hook raised as if to strike.
"Because she had the power of life and death......she gave you life when I wanted to give you death!"
Keeping his countenance with difficulty, Peter rose to his feet unsteadily, the alcohol he'd so rashly imbibed making his limbs shaky and setting his head throbbing.
"Can she really reverse what's happened to Neverland...or is this just some sort of twisted revenge for denying you the pleasure of killing me so long ago?"
As if shutting a door, Hook's face adopted a bland expression, the madness of a second ago disappearing as if snuffed out, like a candle.
"Wendy Darling started the chain of events that lead to the situation we have now.......she is the only one who can change what has happened."
"I don't believe you. I don't believe she has anything to do with this or with Neverland." Peter shouted, his mouth suddenly dry with his audacity. Peter spoke from his heart. "...I don't want her sacrificed just because you say so."
His defiance sent ripples of tension across the room, Peters eyes bright but wary as he stared at his father. Hook looked at his defiant son and sighed inwardly. It had gone far enough, time to put the puppy in his place.
"Then you are no longer my son.....you are my enemy."
Picking up his glass, James Hook made to walk past Peter, as if towards the sideboard to replenish his drink. As he passed close, James whipped his arm out to the side, his hook connecting with Peter's face, gashing his cheek and knocking him so the carpet, blood pouring from the wound. Dazed, Peter tried to get to his feet, blood entering his mouth and choking him. Before he got any further than his knees, Hook slashed again, the blunt edge of his hook hitting Peter above his eye. Peter hit the floor with a cry, blood blinding him as Hook loomed over him, a vicious kick sending spasm of pain through Peter's ribs as he rolled, trying to protect himself. Wherever he turned, Hook was there, his clothes becoming shredded from the hook catching and slashing his back and chest until a kick aimed at his head caught him on the jaw, his teeth clashing together and sending him into the welcoming blackness.
Panting hard, Hook paused in his attack, Peter's stillness registering in his mind and stilling his arm. As he stood, shaking with reaction, Hook took note of the blood. It was everywhere, red and thick on the carpet, in sprays over the sofa and chairs. Peter's face was a red mask, his body covered in wheals of red, his dark clothes slashed to show patches of golden, bloodied flesh in the tears, his blond curls matted and dark.
Straightening up, Hook turned away from the body and limped over to the sideboard, his hand still holding his glass. With exaggerated care he poured himself another drink, his stomach sending a spasm, a warning which he chose to ignore.
"It's for your own good boy.......I can't let you throw your life and mine away on a woman.....they're never worth it."
Wiping his mouth with his hand, Hook turned and limped past Peter's body, reaching the door of the library and flinging it wide. Without a backward glance he walked out, his heels clicking over the marble floor as he crossed the foyer and opened the door directly opposite.
He gestured to the man and woman sitting by the fire, their faces hard and unflinching as Hook sauntered to the fire, blood splattered on his face and clothes.
"Mrs. Winter, there is a girl in a room upstairs, she is in your charge for the next three days. I will give you an opiate to administer to keep her docile. Consider her your patient and see to her needs, whatever form they take. Ask the housekeeper for whatever you need for yourself or the girl, anything at all."
"As you command, my lord." Bobbing a curtsy, Mrs.Winter exchanged a quick glance with her husband before brushing past Hook and leaving the room.
"Mister Winter.....I have two task for you. One is lying in the library. My son has chosen to try my patience, I had to administer a reprimand. Take him to his room and see to his.....needs. I don't expect to see my son until I'm ready to leave in three days time. I don't think you'll have too much trouble with the boy, his....reprimand....will keep him in his bed for that time, without a doubt. His health is your prime concern, but be aware that I want no doctors in the house. If his health deteriorates, I will hold you personally responsible.....is that clear?"
"As crystal, milord'. You said you had two tasks?"
"Ah yes......there is a body of another woman in the room under the stairs. She is to be dressed from the clothes you will find in the bag beside her. Once dressed I need you to arrange to have her body dumped in the river. You're not squeamish are you Winter?"
"Not remotely milord'." Grinned Winter.
"Good, make sure no-one can recognise her face......oh and there's a note to be secured upon her person to be found by the authorities...make sure it isn't lost by mistake."
"Of course not...it will be as you command."
Bowing, Winter backed out of the room, his whole demeanour unctuous and willing to carry out any task James Hook cared to set him.
Suddenly weary, Hook slumped into one of the vacated chairs, his bloody hand coming up to cover his eyes. Outside the door he heard Winter removing his son from the library and carrying him upstairs. Sighing at the injustices meted out by ungrateful and rebellious children, Hook sat brooding in all his bloodied madness, the room growing dark around him as the lamps guttered in their smoky shades.
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There was an outcry, two days later when the body, supposedly of Wendy Moira Angela Darling was found floating in the Thames. Her clothes were identified by her distraught father, the note found in her bodice discreetly kept from the newspapers as its contents spoke of a woman who no longer wanted to live. Her family refuted the note vehemently, her aunt most vocal in denying that Wendy Darling had any such thoughts in her head. In the end it was decided at the coronary, after a suitably thorough investigation, to be death by misadventure, rather than suicide given the evidence against such a possibility. Her family wanted it ruled a murder, but with no evidence other than her ruined face, it was filed as another unsolved case, possibly suicide. In the end her family buried their beloved child without ever having seen her face, George Darling having deemed it to dreadful for his wife and sister to see and not necessary for the children to witness. They mourned long and sincerely for the girl they buried, never once suspecting that the poor soul in the coffin was just another human victim, caught up in the maniacal plot conceived and executed by one pirate, Captain James Hook.
In Hookham house, Wendy lived in a strange world of lucidity and darkness, her body no longer her own as it floated in a world of shadows, her limbs like lead when she tried to lift them, her eyes barely able to stay open, focusing blearily on the woman that remained the only constant in her half-world, the stomach rebelling as the opiate continued to be forced between her resisting lips. Mrs. Winter proved an able and competent nurse, her job more boring than difficult as the days stretched out from the original three, to more than seven. Hook's plans to leave the house with his son had run into a hitch with Peter developing a severe fever from his injuries. As the Darling family mourned their dead daughter, Peter teetered between life and death, his body fighting off an infection that tried to carry him off, only his youth and constitution allowing him to claw his way back. In frustration, Hook refused all contact with society outside Hookham House, his servant finding, more often than not, in the morning room, brooding over the vagaries of missed opportunities.
On the morning of the seventh day after Wendy's arrival at the house, Mrs. Winter presented herself to her employer for an interview.
"What do you have to report, Mrs Winter?"
"I just wanted to know how much longer you wanted me to keep drugging the young lady. I have some knowledge of the effects of long term use of this opiate. Already she had lost weight and she needs to have fresh air and to get out into the sun, as well as food and exercise if you want her to be in any sort of condition when you are ready to leave."
"You are right, of course Mrs Winter.....but you see.....I don't want the young lady to live....her life is already forfeit, so her condition, or otherwise, is of no importance. Just keep her alive, that is all I ask.....your able husband has reported that my son is recovering, we should be but another day or so and then your services will no longer be needed."
"As you wish, I only felt you should be made aware of the situation."
"Quite right....and I thank you for your due diligence. You are dismissed."
As she bobbed a curtsy, Hook rose to his feet and followed the woman out of the room and up the stairs. At the top they parted company, Hook to see his son, Mrs.Winter to sit with her charge.
When he opened the door of Peter's room, he saw Mister Winter with a bowl of water and a towel over his arm, obviously having just finished shaving the boy.
Peter sat propped up against the mound of pillows at the head of the bed. His face was turned away from the door, the bruising around his face starting to fade, his pallor still evident despite his golden tan. Around Peter's bare chest, a bandage covered his ribs and upper torso with more bandaging on the boys arms and a splint on the fingers of his left hand.
"Do you wish something milord'?" Asked Winter, putting the basin down and bowing to Hook.
"Nothing but a few words with my son, you may leave us."
Hook waited for the manservant to leave before walking over to the bed and around it, coming to stand with his back to the window that held Peters undivided attention.
As Peter continued to ignore his presence, Hook spent the long minutes inspecting his son's face. The swelling over his eye had gone down, the lid once more open, despite the black bruising around it. His jaw also sported a fine contusion, the purple and green contrasting luridly with his honey coloured skin. Hook could see several long scratched over his shoulders which disappeared into the bandaging around Peter's chest. In all, he looked as if he'd been in a battle. In defying Hook, Peter had been in a battle, one which he lost without ever having struck a blow.
"Will you not look at me, Peter?"
"No."
"I see. You were ill-advised to defy me like that. It is always rash to think you can simply demand that which you want, it is rarely granted and never given freely."
Peter didn't betray a flicker of interest, his half closed eyes still fixed upon the window.
"You haven't asked about Wendy......don't you want to know how she is?"
Slowly, like someone in a trance, Peter turned his head, his eyes closing for a second, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed on a dry throat, before he raised his eyes to his father and answered him.
"I assumed that you had already done away with her......afterall, that was why you did this," he gestured to his chest, "wasn't it...or did I miss something?"
"Curb your sarcasm, the witch still breathes.....for how much longer depends on you."
Hook noted the flicker of hope that just as quickly died as Peter once more turned his face away.
"I no longer care what happens to her......it is not my concern."
"Oh no Peter....that I will not allow, you lie poorly at the best of times. You care for her, that is evident....how much, will be tested soon enough. I have decided, after due consideration, that I no longer need you.....either in my life or as my son, or in Neverland, for that matter, as the Captain of the Jolly Roger. You will be sacrificed together....fitting don't you think.....a chance to end the tragedy of so long ago.....two young lovers, unsullied and noble, dying together so a world may live.....Neverland will be forever in your debt."
This time he got the reaction he was hoping for.
With a sudden move, Peter launched himself out of the bed, his body hitting Hook and knocking him to the floor, Peter's hands reaching to encircle his foster fathers throat as they rolled on the carpet, the bedclothes entangling them like kelp.
"I'll kill you." Peter cried, his hands managing only a weak clasp before being thrown off, a blow to his wounded chest making him curl up as the breath left his lungs, lights exploding behind his eyes.
Hook pushed himself away, breathing heavily as he clambered to his feet and looked down at Peter still on the floor. The door to the bedroom opened and Winter entered, looking alarmed. Hook waved him over and they lifted Peter between them, the boy half conscious as they dumped him back on the bed.
"Are you alright?" Panted Winter, his eyes wide as he warily watched Hook straighten his clothes and limp to the end of the bed.
"He is still too weak....I want him strong and ready to fight for his life......I'll give him that as my last gift."
"It'll take a few more days for him to be ready."
"He has three more days to recover.....after that, his time, and hers, is up."
Peter watched through half closed eyes as his former parent left his room. His chest hurt where Hook had punched him, but his heart hurt more. His disillusionment was now complete. He'd had several days, once the fever left him, to think about what had taken place, what had been said and, more importantly, what hadn't been said. He had drawn his own conclusions regarding Captain Hook's desire to be avenged on the girl lying drugged above and if it was in Peter's power to save her, he would.
Winter reached over and helped Peter into the pillows, noting the grimace on the boys face as his hand came up to touch his chest.
"I'll change the dressing......don't want another infection setting in."
Peter reached up and gripped the mans arm, pulling him down.
"What has he done with Wendy?"
"The young lady?" Peter nodded. "Why she'd being looked after by my wife.....no trouble at all, from what I hear, as docile as a lamb."
"Is she still drugged?"
"Of course."
"How long?"
"Seven days now.....good bit of work for the missus and me. Only supposed to be three days, now its a week.....keep us tidy for years that will."
"Can you take me to her?"
"To my missus?"
"To Wendy....I want to see her."
"Oh no...can't allow that....his lordship would have a fit. More than my life's worth to allow that."
"I'll pay you.....handsomely."
Winters eyes gleamed, his brain already working out the possible gains to be had.
"Can't be now....have to be later....when the house is asleep."
"What about bringing her here?"
"To your room?"
Peter nodded again, his mind turning over possible escape routes as Winter considered the question.
If Wendy stayed in the room upstairs there was little hope of getting her out. His attack on Hook had told him his strength was returning, he just had to make sure it was back before the deadline in three days.
"Has my father ever visited Wendy in her room?"
"Not that I'm aware of....the missus just reports to him about the girls state of health. Other than that, no-one goes near the room."
"Then it should be easy enough to bring her here....no-one will know."
A leer spread over Winter's face, a look that made the bile rise in Peter's throat. He was well aware of how it looked, but if it got Wendy out of that tiny room, it didn't matter what Winter or anyone else thought of his motives.
"Can you do it?" Peter asked.
Still leering at what he thought Peter wanted to do with the girl, Winter nodded.
"Tonight?"
"Anything you say.....if the price is right." Replied Winter, moving away from the bed and picking up the bed covers strewn over the floor.
Thanking the heavens for greedy mercenaries, Peter relaxed back against the pillows, his strength, for the moment, all gone. With luck and the help of the Winters, Peter would have Wendy safe beside him before too long, a plan for their escape already taking shape in his mind.
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Chapter: Five - Escape
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Peter fretted for the rest of the morning, his body still sore from his futile attack on his former foster father. Winter had changed the dressings on his injuries before leaving to speak to his wife, leaving Peter to sit up in the big bed, bolstered by the many pillows, his head once more turned to stare out of the window. His eyes may have been open, but they were unseeing, his mind in a ferment of activity as he proposed and discarded numerous escape ideas. Only one seemed to offer any hope. He would have to take Wendy back to Neverland and somehow hide there while they figured out what to do next. He considered London, even approaching her family, but knowing Hook, he wouldn't scruple to wipe out everyone associated with the Darling family to achieve his goal, and Peter didn't have access to sufficient funds to hide them both in London indefinitely. In Neverland he knew enough hiding places to keep them out of Hooks hands forever. It was just getting there that was proving the stumbling block.
The door opening drew his attention away from the window and his chaotic thoughts. Mrs.Winter entered first, her hard face breaking into the suggestion of a smile when she spotted Peter, pulling the door wide to allow someone else to come through. Mister Winter entered next, his arms apparently full of laundry. Peter made to get out of the bed, easing himself to the edge before Winter reached him.
"No need to move.....she won't take up much room," said Winter, hefting the bundle in his arms.
Peter winced as Winter's wife giggled, the sound obscene coming from the hatchet faced woman. Winter deposited his bundle on the bed farthest from Peter, the man winking at him.
"We'll leave you to it then......his lordship has left the house, told the missus he wouldn't be back until late."
"Thank you both." Peter threw the husband a small pouch that chinked when it landed in Winters hand. "There'll be more if you leave us alone for a few hours."
"Of course. 'Til later then."
Peter watched the pair leave, the door snicking closed behind them, before he moved towards the bundle of linen lying so still on the side of the bed.
With shaking fingers Peter lifted the corner of the sheet wrapped around the body, his first glimpse of Wendy making the breath still in his chest. Her face was a pale as the finest porcelain, her lashes very dark where they rested on her white skin. As he peeled the layers of material away, her hair fell around her face, its colour dull and flat. As he continued to unwrap her he felt something wet on his cheek, his fingers brushing away a tear as her slender limbs came clear of the sheet. For all his gentleness, the sleeper didn't stir, her lips slightly parted, her chest, rising and falling, the only indication that she wasn't already dead. Wendy was dressed in a simple sleeveless, knee length shift, the cotton material as dry as her skin. She looked as if a breeze would blow her away, her slender fingers like fragile petals as he lifted one hand to his lips and kissed it.
Peter was consumed with guilt, his heart contracting painfully as he took in the results of his actions. With consummate care, ignoring the pain blooming in his arms and back, Peter lifted her off the bed, carrying her slight weight over to the other side, the covers already pulled back, ready to receive her. Arranging her against the pillows, he smoothed the tangled hair from her face, running the back of his fingers down her soft cheek. She felt cool, her hands and feet cold to the touch. Tucking her legs under the covers, Peter left her there, coming back around and sweeping the sheet she'd been brought in off the bed before climbing into the bed himself. Scooting over he settled himself before pulling Wendy's limp body into his embrace, her head flopping onto his shoulder. After pulling up the covers he pulled her body closer, trying to instil his warmth into her, his hands rubbing up and down her back and arms to stimulate her circulation. Through all this she remained unresponsive, her breath puffing against his neck, reassuring him that she still lived.
As he lay with her in his arms, he cursed the man that had brought her to this, cursed himself for bringing her to the house, his eyes squeezing shut as tears threatened and shame engulfed him.
He must have slept, his eyes opening hours later to find the light different, darker, the sun having moved to the other side of the house, his window now in the shade. He felt a small movement as the girl against his side stirred, her previously lax hands curling against his chest. It wasn't much, but it was enough to give him hope.
He slept again, his arms tightening around her slender shoulders tucked securely against his ribs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wendy drifted slowly back to consciousness, her body warm and relaxed. She hoped, as she always did, that this time she'd be allowed to stay awake, her body tensing in readiness to fight the ever present woman with the hateful spoon of oblivion.
As she lay blinking, her eyes adjusting to the darkened room, she became aware that something was thumping under her ear, a steady sound that soothed and almost lulled her back to sleep. Her fingers curled into a small fist, feeling something rough under her fingertips, spreading her fingers she encountered another strip, her brain supplying the information that is was a bandage of some sort covering someone's chest that rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Bemused, but still under the influence of the drug, she merely accepted that she appeared to be clasped against a naked male torso, her head resting on a well muscled shoulder, warm and smooth under her cheek. Absently she rubbed against the skin, her face tilting up, her drowsy eyes taking in the strong chin and jaw that bordered a face turned away from her. The light coming in from the window was too faint to allow her to identify the room, other than the fact she was no longer in the small room with the distant window. Blinking, she tried to keep her eyes open, the effort sapping her small reserve.
"Water...."
The chest under her hand jerked, the head turning towards her.
"Wendy?"
She swallowed, knowing the voice but unable to gather her scattered wits to put a name to it.
"Water.......please..."
The body moved, shifting to the side, Wendy instantly missing his warmth. She found herself held by firm hands, her head lowered to a soft pillow.
"Don't move....I won't be a second."
She wanted to tell him she couldn't move if she wanted to, but he had gone, his bulk a darker shadow in the room as he moved off the bed and out of her sight. She drifted, her eyes closed, until an arm snaked under her shoulders and she found a glass pressed to her lips, a cool liquid begging entrance to her mouth.
Almost greedily, she sucked at the water, her body craving the cool nectar.
"Not too much....you'll only bring it all back up."
She heard the voice but still couldn't place it. The glass was removed and she was lowered back to the pillows. A light flared in the darkness, her eyes squinting to bring the light into focus. The blurry figure that had given her water, now placed a candle beside the bed, the gold light highlighting the blond hair of her nurse.
"Peter?"
"Don't try and talk....save your strength."
"Where am I.....why are you here?"
"You're a prisoner Wendy......same as me. This is Hookham House."
"But....how can you be a prisoner? And why are you all bandaged up like that?"
Peter sat sideways on the edge of the bed, his head turned to look down at her. He winced slightly before getting comfortable, his bottom lip pulled into his mouth.
"Peter?"
"I brought you here Wendy.....I kidnapped you."
Still suffering the after-effects of the drug, Wendy didn't comprehend what he was saying.
"Kidnapped?"
"Look....I brought you here because I thought that you could save Neverland.....I was duped. You can't save Neverland, you never could. It was all a plot for my father.....for Hook to kill you, to get back at you for saving me."
"That seems an awful lot of trouble just to get rid of me. But you haven't explained why you're all bandaged up.....did you have an accident?"
"If you call getting thrashed by a madman an accident...."
Wendy closed her eyes, her strength ebbing.
"I'm sorry Wendy......so sorry you got dragged into this mess."
"Peter Pan apologising? You have changed.....pirates don't give ground, it's in the rules."
Not sure whether she was being serious or teasing, Peter didn't answer, his head bowed. Wendy opened her eyes and reached out a hand, her fingers brushing his arm. Peter turned to look at her and she gasped, seeing his face clearly for the first time.
"Oh Peter.....your face."
"Not pretty, is it.....Winter says it'll heal without a scar, but I don't know.....all pirates should have an impressive scar....it give the ladies something to swoon over." A ghost of a smile tilted his lips.
As he hoped, a faint answering smile curved Wendy's mouth, her eyes a bit brighter than before. Peter rose to his feet, Wendy's hand dropping form his arm to lay loosely on the covers.
"Do you think you can eat something? Winter has left a tray of some stew and soup."
"Soup......please."
Padding over to the fire, he lifted the tray off the side table, carrying it over to the bed. He hadn't heard the manservant enter, but was grateful the man had the foresight to leave something to eat. His own body was growling at the smell of stew, but he curbed his appetite, Wendy needed it more than him.
When he reached the bed Wendy was struggling to sit upright, pushing her hair back and panting with the effort. Setting the tray down, he reached over and put his hands under her arms, lifting her easily despite the pull on his own injuries. Wendy blushed slightly, her eyes averted from the expanse of golden skin a hairs-breadth from her face. Peter had donned a pair of loose, knee-length trousers when he'd got up, more for Wendy's modesty than his own. Once sitting upright she watched as Peter lifted the tray onto her lap, his eyebrow raising in a question as he held up the spoon.
"I think I can manage," Wendy answered him.
Slowly, her hands shaking slightly, Wendy lifted the spoon and took her first real nourishment in days. Peter watched her as she ate, each spoonful an effort. After seeing her struggle, Peter closed his hand over hers and took the spoon from her, his eyes meeting hers.
"Let me."
Wendy lay back, even that small effort exhausting her. She watched Peter as he fed her several more helping of the delicious soup, her mouth opening obediently, her eyes never leaving his face.
Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Peter avoided her gaze and concentrated on the task at hand. By the time the bowl was half empty Wendy held up a hand.
"Had enough?"
"Thank you....."
"Don't thank me Wendy.....I don't deserve it."
Still avoiding her eyes, Peter lifted the tray off and returned it to the side table, his back to her while he fiddled with the dishes.
"Peter....won't you talk to me?"
"You should curse me...not want to talk to me. I've been everything you said I was.....a pirate through and through. If you knew half the evil I've done in the guise of piracy..... " He swallowed hard, his back still to her. "I can't ask you to forgive me for this piece of villainy, but understand this....I will not let anyone harm you again."
Wendy bit her lip, her eyes closing as a great weakness stole over her, tears welling under her lashes. Turning her head into the pillow she didn't hear Peter return, the bed sinking under his weight the first indication of his presence. She felt the faintest pressure on her cheek, as light as a butterfly and as warm as the sun. Turning her head, she opened her eyes, finding Peter already pulling away, his eyes dark with turbulent emotions.
He sat once more upright on the side of the bed, his face turned away from her.
"I have to get you away from here......in three days, Hook is going to be taking us both to Neverland.... to kill us in some mad attempt to put right what's gone wrong. We have to escape before then."
"But how? You're injured, I'm as weak as a kitten....."
"I don't know....but I have to come up with something."
"Peter....why don't you fly?"
"I can't get hold of the fairy-dust.......Hook carries it on his belt, I don't have a hope of getting it."
"When I knew you....before....you didn't need fairy dust to fly."
Disbelieving, Peter glanced at her, his mouth twisting wryly.
"When you knew me Wendy......I was still a boy..." He indicated his body, "That's a long time ago......without fairy dust, pirates can't lift an inch off the ground."
"You've already proved you're not entirely......a...a pirate....and I don't believe that you can't fly.....you've just forgotten how."
"If you know so much.....how do I fly? What magic do I have to recite to bring it back....because for the last eight years the only way I've flown is on the end of a rope or with a big dose of dust."
Wendy smiled at his angry face, his frustration making his muscles knot in his back. He had that same expression, she remembered, when he couldn't get his shadow to stay on his foot, all those years ago.
Peter saw the smile and scowled even harder, thinking she was laughing at him.
"Don't laugh at me."
"I'm not....I was remembering when you lost your shadow and you were so cross because you couldn't stick it back on....you were trying to use soap, of all things."
Intrigued, Peter turned to face her, his anger fogotten, his face alight with curiosity.
"I know so little about that time.....tell me more."
His earnest expression irresistible, Wendy smiled again, taking a deep breath before launching into her tale.
"Well.....it all started because you were listening outside the nursery to hear the stories I was telling my brothers......"
By the time Wendy finished, Peter was lying on the bed beside her, his head propped up by his hand, his eyes fixed on her face in flattering absorption as she told him of their adventures in Neverland as children. Her soft voice washed over Peter, her words painting wonderful pictures of his life back then, through her eyes. Having heard Hooks version of the final battle he was astonished to hear quite a different account from someone intimately involved. He particular liked the bit where Wendy described how she'd kissed him and he'd turned pink and exploded upwards in a shower of shooting stars. His eyes watched her mouth and the expressions chasing themselves across her face as she recounted the final moments. Wendy paused after telling of the battle, her face no longer animated but sad.
"Then you took me and my brothers and the Lost Boys back to London aboard the Jolly Roger.......it was a beautiful night and you were wearing one of Hooks coats, all lace and braid and dark velvet. You had one of his hats on, too big of course but you looked very grown-up in it. When you went to leave, you said you'd come back...but that was the last time I saw you....before the concert."
"Tell me again how I could fly without fairy dust?"
"Well....I can only tell you what you told me......that all you needed were happy thoughts and they carried you into the air."
"But you needed fairy dust, didn't you?"
"Yes....we all did....and even Hook used TinkerBell to give him the ability to fly. But you.....you could fly without it.."
Wendy turned her head to look at him, her eyes almost black in the faint light from the guttering candle.
"Don't you have any happy thoughts Peter?"
"No....not any more."
"Not even of your time as a pirate? Didn't anything you did make you happy?"
She watched as Peter chewed his lip, his forehead crinkled in thought, his eyes lowered as he focused on a length of her hair he was toying with.
"It's hard to describe what its been like.....exciting, scary, exhilarating...all of those things...but I wouldn't use happy as a description of life aboard a pirate ship."
"What would you describe as happy?"
Looking up he stared at her, his expression open and vulnerable.
"I don't know.....you say I was happy once...so happy I could fly...but I don't think I'll ever be that way again. I'll never fly again."
Responding to the pathos in his whispered words, Wendy held out her arms to him and he almost fell into her embrace, his head buried in her neck, his curls tickling her face. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her cheek resting against his ear as she held him, his arms snaking around her back and chest to wrap them both in shared comfort. Peter raised his head, his eyes bright, his face golden in the flicker of candle light.
"How can you bear to give me so much, when you know what I've been and what I've done."
"You can't change what's gone before Peter....but you can change what happens from here onwards....I knew you when you were just a boy, when being Peter Pan was all you wanted to be, to never grow up or take on grown up responsibility. I had faith in you then.....I have faith in you now....you can be like that boy again.. courageous and brave, fearless and fun-loving....you only have to believe."
"Why don't you hate me Wendy......if I was you.....I'd hate me."
"I couldn't possibly hate you Peter."
"Why?"
Wendy drew in a deep breath, her lips trembling slightly as she prepared to lay her heart at his feet.
"Because I love you Peter.....I've always loved you....I could no more hate you than stop breathing."
She saw Peter's eyes open wide, his expression incredulous.
"You love me?"
"Yes Peter....even as a pirate....even as you are, I love you."
"Wendy?"
She looked into his sea-green eyes shot through with enticing shadows and felt herself falling.
"Yes Peter?"
A hint of the pirate came through as his lips stretched into a grin that that was at once wicked and entirely seductive.
"Would you object if I kissed you.....right now?"
"As long as its only a kiss...."
"Just a kiss......I promise." He whispered, his mouth closing the distance between them and pressing softly against hers.
At that precise moment the candle gave up its struggle and flickered out, plunging the room into darkness. Wendy felt her bones melt as Peter moved his warm lips over hers, his breath teasing her skin, his hands stroking her back as he rolled them onto their side, Wendy's mouth was now pressing down on his as his head sank into the soft pillows. Despite her weakened state she felt secure in his strong arms, her fingers winding through his short curls as the kiss turned from something innocent to something much more. In the darkness Peter felt her hair fall over his face, his lips still moving over hers, his body starting to respond to her slender curves pressed to his. With extraordinary restraint he slowed the kiss down, fighting the clamouring of his body to take this girl and make her his own. Pressing small kisses to the corner of her mouth he finally stopped, his heart thundering in his chest as he pressed his face against hers, breathing heavily.
"See..." he panted, still holding her pressed to the length of his body, "just as kiss...as promised."
Having some difficulty in controlling her own heart and lungs, Wendy could only press herself closer, making Peter groan.
Entangled as they were they didn't notice anything wrong until Wendy lifted her head and looked over Peter's shoulder. A gasp pulled Peter's attention from his attempt to control his rampant libido to find Wendy staring past his head to something behind him.
"What's the matter?"
"Peter," Wendy's whisper sounded more like a squeak, "are you having a happy thought?"
"Happy....more like ecstatic," Peter replied smugly, his teeth gleaming faintly in the gloom. Wendy turned her head to stare at him although Peter had difficulty reading her expression in the darkness.
"I think we've solved the problem of your inability to flying."
Still not understanding, Peter frowned, belatedly noticing that there seemed to be nothing underneath him. Confusion ripped through him, chased with a spurt of fear. Just as suddenly they found themselves falling back to the surface of the bed, landing in a flurry of arms and legs and breathless cries of surprise. Peter had kept his arms around Wendy the whole time so that she landed on top of him before rolling to the side in a tangle of bedclothes and tussled hair.
Peter lay there stunned, his hands patting the bedclothes to reassure himself they were once more on a solid surface. Silence from beside him made him jerk onto his side to check on Wendy, her shoulders shaking, her face hidden in the pillows.
"Wendy....I'm sorry, please don't cry..... I didn't realise....are you hurt?"
A chuckle from the pillow threw Peter into a state of confusion. His hand coming to rest on her shoulder as he waited for her to raise her head.
"I'm not crying Peter.......I'm sorry, I just had a picture of us flying to Neverland with me kissing you all the way."
Finding his fear turning to amusement, Peter shook her shoulder before turning to flop onto his back, a hand scratching at his bandages.
"That doesn't sound so bad......could be a little impractical, but I'm sure we'll sort something out."
Feeling the accumulated effects of the lingering opiate and the emotional rollercoaster she'd been on that evening, Wendy tried to stifle a yawn, quite unsuccessfully. Peter saw and immediately sat up, pulling the bed covers over them both and pulling Wendy to lie partly over him again, her head fitting in the space between his shoulder and his neck as if it had been made just for her.
"We both need to rest if we're to have any hope of having the strength to get away from here."
"I know you'll save us Peter....it was what you were best at....before."
"I hope I can live up to your expectations Wendy.....I want to....I really want to."
Snuggling closer, Wendy muttered incoherently before her body relaxed, giving into the urge to sleep. Peter wasn't long following her, his mouth curving into a smile as he heard his name slip from Wendy's lips on a breathy sigh before he succumbed to the lure of oblivion.
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Chapter: Six - Learning to Fly
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Peter awoke to someone tugging Wendy out of his arms. Light was just barely showing through the window, promising dawn not far away.
"Wait.....wait, don't take her!"
"Sorry young sir....but she has to go back to her room...his lordship is in a fine mood and wants to see you. If he finds her here it'll be our necks for the chop."
Wendy had come awake and was actively resisting Winter's pull, her still weak limbs failing to make any impact on the implacable manservant. Peter tried to help but Winter shoved him back, bundling Wendy once more into a smothering sheet, her legs kicking to no avail. Their fingers were the last to part, Wendy's anguished call to Peter almost breaking his heart as she was ripped away, Winter carrying her from the room before Peter had time to disentangle himself from the bedclothes. The door slammed behind the manservant, Peter falling against the door, his fist beating against the wood in frustrated rage.
"Bring her back......bring her BACK!"
He tried the door handle but it was locked, his fist raising to beat against the door again.
"WENDY!"
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Hook paced the morning room, his coat tails flying out as he swung around, his limp more pronounced as he kicked a chair out of the way. He'd had a miserable night at a gaming hell, his luck as damnable as ever with the cards. In his hand he held a glass which he now tilted to his lips and drained. Once empty, he hurled the inoffensive receptacle to smash in the fireplace. His anger suitably assuaged, he decided to see how his recalcitrant prisoners were. Why should they sleep when he couldn't. Flinging the door wide Hook stomped across the foyer to the staircase, his limp hardly slowing him down as he climbed the steps, reaching the corridor to take him to his son's room.
Without knocking he unlocked the door and flung it open, the door banging against the wall with the force of his push. Peter was just making his way back to the bed, his hand on the bedpost, his other against his side. His head snapped up as the door banged open, Peters eyes wary as Hook entered the room, his glacial glance sweeping around as if expecting something other than just Peter to be in the room.
Ignoring him, Peter turned and made his slow way to the bed, exaggerating the extent of his injuries so that he appeared weaker than he really was.
"Up early aren't you....where's Winter?" Asked Hook, his tone curt.
"I don't keep track of my jailer...ask his wife, I'm sure she knows where he's lurking."
"Keep a civil tongue in your head, boy.......he's supposed to be here....taking care of you."
"He has been.....I am most carefully watched and cared for...quite the privileged prisoner.....father." Peter laid a heavy emphasis on the last word, his lip curling as he eased himself into bed, turning on his side so his back was presented to Hook.
Ignoring the pointed snub, James Hook sauntered further into the room, his glance falling on the supper tray before noting the rumpled bed. Walking to the window he hooked the curtains and flung them wide, the first glimmers of sunlight sending glittering dust motes dancing in the air.
"I may have been a trifle hasty yesterday.....I still need you Peter.....as my Captain and as my son."
A harsh laugh came from the bed, Hook turning to see Peter glaring at him from pillows.
"You may have need of me......but I have no need of you. I don't know what warped plan you're hatching now, but I won't be a party to anything that requires a death to put something right that was never wrong in the first place."
"For someone in such a vulnerable position, you don't give ground easily....do you."
"Surrender is not a word in a pirates vocabulary....you taught me that."
"Neither is giving quarter to the enemy.....and if you persist in this you will be my enemy, for the rest of your short, and if I can make it so, miserable life. Do you really care so little for the Wendy witch that you would throw this olive branch onto the fire regardless of the benefits?"
"I see no benefits to remaining in a relationship with a black-hearted villain who holds life so cheaply. I have my own course to steer."
"Ah Peter......you really are a boy after my own heart....as ruthless as a rattle snake if it suits your purpose. I wonder what your Wendy would say if she had seen you plundering that last prize. I didn't see you hesitate to put the crew to the sword, or give up your share of the pillaging....by the way, what did happen to that little piece of skirt I saw you dragging kicking and screaming to the captain's cabin? I was sure I saw her body floating with the others in the water before the ship went down."
Hook fixed Peter with a hard look, the boy returning it in spades, the two of them having a battle of wills, Peter the first to drop his gaze, his head turning away, his jaw tense as a muscle jumped in his cheek.
"I'm as damned as you for the crimes I've committed. The difference is that I regret them with every fibre of my being," Peter spat vehemently, ".......you don't even give them a second thought."
"Regret is such an empty emotion....almost as useless as love. Do you think Wendy will love you despite all these heinous deeds? I think not...you are a pirate Peter.....as fine an example of the scurvy breed as one could ever hope to find."
His eyes bleak Peter felt something wet slide out the corner of his eye, disappearing into the pillow cover. Swallowing hard, Peter bit back the tears and blinked to clear his vision before turning his head to regard the man he'd called father for eight years.
"You are quite right.....I am a pirate...through and through...I don't know why I thought that would or could ever change. I can't change what I did before....I don't want to, not really. I found it exhilarating. Why I ever thought I would want to change that I don't know." His gaze steady, Peter returned Hook's questioning look, a supercilious brow raised in sardonic amusement, a sneer curling his lip. Hook regarded him warily, tense and expectant. As the seconds passed and Peter continued his unblinking regard, Hook relaxed, his thin lips curling into an answering leer, his hand and hook coming down to rest on the edge of the bed to brace himself as he leaned towards Peter, his ice-blue eyes raking Peter's face, drinking in the wicked grin that painted Peter's mouth with an ironic twist.
"Yes boy.....you are....the finest to sail the Jolly Roger. And what of our dear Wendy?"
"She is nothing......I have no further interest in the whore....kill her or keep her...its all the same to me."
Another hard look greeted this sally but Peter held firm, Hook raking him once more with his chilling eyes. Apparently satisfied, Hook pushed away from the bed, his expression satisfied.
"We leave in two days......I will make sure that nothing delays our departure from this place. I look forward to sailing with you again...son, so much so, you'll have the honour of the killing blow..its the least I can offer you in recompense for my harsh treatment of you."
Peter watched as Hook limped out of the room, his face aching as he strove to maintain his look of piratical cold-heartedness. As the door once more closed, Peter found himself shaking, his body collapsing against the pillows as if a puppet with its strings cut. Sweat stood out on his forehead as he closed his eyes and listened to his heart thump painfully. He could only hope his acting talents matched his bravado. Hooks contrary moods were taxing what little strength he had to call on, another session like that and he'd be hard pressed to keep his countenance and not give in to the urge to throttle the madman. It made his escape with Wendy even more important with Hook in such an unstable state of mind. Reaching up he ran his fingers through his hair, his head turning to stare at the sunshine now pouring into the bedroom. Tossing the covers aside he pushed himself out of bed and stood, his face bathed in the warmth coming through the glass. It was time he tested his ability to truly fly, to see if he could do it on his own.
Blanking his mind he relaxed his shoulders and let the sun bathe his skin, warming it. Now for a happy thought. It proved harder than it should, Hook's conversation still clouding his thoughts. Pushing it aside he brought Wendy's face to his minds-eye, his lips curling into a smile as he remembered her sweet words of the night before. Against all the odds she loved him, really truly loved him. As if on their own volition Peter's arms spread outwards, his palms facing upwards as if offering himself to the morning sun. Closing his eyes he recalled the exact timbre of her voice as she said the words, the soft look in her eyes as she glanced at him through her lashes. His mind full of Wendy, he didn't notice himself lifting off the floor, his body slowly spiralling upwards until his head bumped on the ceiling. This time he concentrated on the feelings in his body, the sensation of being weightless, the warmth radiating from his chest as he stayed suspended just below the moulded cornices.
Feeling the need to experiment he leant backwards and floated, the sensations in his body changing as his body altered its angle. Grinning he mentally pushed off, his body following his will until he bumped into the wall above the fireplace. Feeling confident Peter pushed off from the wall and twisted in mid-air, his body swooping over the bed and curving around, dipping and twisting as he performed a series of rolls and jackknife's off the corners and walls. After an hour of practise he lowered himself slowly to the bed, his face painted with a smug smile as he laughed softly to himself. His body tingled all over as if electrified, his skin glowing. Pleasantly tired, Peter rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillows, his success leaving a lingering smile on his lips as he fell into a deep sleep.
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Wendy lay curled up on her pallet, her back to the door, her head tucked into her chest as she tried to make herself as small as possible. The fight when she'd left Peter had sapped her small reserve of strength, her body still too weakened to allow her to prevent her removal from Peter's arms. Winter had carried her back to her cell, his touch impersonal. His wife received her with a knowing smile, a bath ready to wash the weeks worth of bed grime from her wasted body. Unable to fight back, Wendy submitted to the indignity of the woman washing her, Mrs.Winters' rough hands stirring her circulation and producing a wealth of suds in Wendy's sadly neglected hair. She was too weak to get out at the end, Mrs.Winter easily lifting her out and setting her on the bed and wrapping her in a large bath towel. In all this Wendy said nothing, her face turned away, humiliation burning in her heart. The one spark that kept the tears at bay was the thought that Peter would soon take her away from the hideous room, and her none too gentle jailer. Because of her docile behaviour the opiate was deemed not necessary, Wendy happy to don another plain shift and relax onto the hard mattress, falling quickly into a deep sleep, her damp hair spread like water weed over her pillow. Even the sound of the bath being removed failed to rouse her, her thoughts all of Peter and their escape.
Hours passed and Wendy lay unmoving, her mind drifting from the past to the present and all points inbetween. She heard someone moving around the room but ignored the noises and voices as easily as she ignored the hunger pangs cramping her stomach. The voices left, the room plunging into darkness with the removal of the only light source.
Soon afterwards the door opened and Wendy heard someone moving stealthily around the room, coming to crouch down and hold a candle close to her face so that the heat almost scorched her skin.
"Wendy?"
The heat receded and she opened her eyes, blinking at the sudden burst of light that seared her, her hand flying up to shield her face. The person holding the candle backed off and placed it below the bed so that the light cast strange shadows over the person now leaning over her.
"Wendy...we have to go....can you sit up?"
The whispered voice seemed to come from a long way off and Wendy had to moisten her lips before she felt able to reply.
"P...Pe..ter?"
"Yes, it's me....I'm going to carry you, can you put your arms around my neck?"
Rolling onto her back, Wendy reached up with her arms and found his curls against her fingers, his arms going around her back and legs and lifting her easily against his chest. He was wearing something silky, his heat radiating out to envelop her, her arms doing little to help her hold on.
He didn't hold her for long, lifting her to sit on his lap as he pulled some fabric around her, Wendy shivering slightly as the cooler air of the room caressed her bare arms and legs.
"Won't be long.....I've brought a cloak to keep you warm...just sit forward, I'll drape it around you."
Her mind still foggy, Wendy followed his instruction, the fine silk of the cloaks lining cool against her skin. Peter completely enveloped her in the cloak, only her pale face visible when he finished. Lifting her in his arms, he felt a twinge of fear at her lack of substance, as if she was merely a shadow of herself. Swinging her around her left the small room, leaving the candle to burn itself out. Once in the hallway he checked before turning the corner, his ears pricked for any indication of sound or movement. At the end of the corridor he entered a small room with a very large window. The furniture suggested it was another servants room, the outlook very high up and overlooking the street four storeys below.
"I just have to put you down for a second while I open the window." Peter explained, pressing a kiss to her cold forehead before setting her down to sit on the edge of the creaky bed. He quickly turned the latch and lifted the sash window, the cool night air washing over him bringing the scents of the city, of soot and refuse, and the river. Turning back to the room, he once more approached Wendy and lifted her into his arms, her lack of response worrying but not as much as the possibility of being caught. Seating himself on the windowsill he held her close and lifted his legs out, standing on the broad ledge that ran along the guttering outside. Up in the clear sky the last remnants of a glorious sunset painted the few clouds purple and a deep pink, a bright star already beaming its light into the velvet heavens. Peter looked down at his precious burden and found himself regarded by a pair of bemused blue eyes.
"I'm taking you home Wendy.....to my home...to Neverland. I'll keep you safe there....I promise."
Receiving a faint smile for an answer, Peter hefted her slight weight in his arms, closed his eyes for a second then launched himself off the ledge. For a heart stopping moment he hung suspended in the cold air, his body adjusting to the long forgotten sensation of hovering, then his face lit with a grin of sheer exhilaration as the glow started to encompass him and he felt a power expand and fill his limbs and torso. Slowly at first, but gathering speed, Peter flew across the rooftops, the wind ruffling his hair and stinging his eyes, his teeth bared in a grin of triumph. A slight movement from the woman held in his arms drew his attention but she was just pressing herself closer, her lips seeking and finding his neck to give him a kiss before relaxing back into his embrace. As if lit by a flame, Peter picked up speed and headed up into the clouds, leaving London and their enemies far behind. Ahead lay hope, and more importantly, their future and the future of Neverland.
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Hook twirled the stem of his glass between his fingers, the dishes set out on the table growing cold while he played with the wine. He'd sent for Winter to give a report on his son's condition but so far nobody had returned, either one of the Winters or any of his servants. Slamming the glass down on the table, Hook pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. As he made to move away from the table the door to the dinning room opened and a man stepped hesitantly into the room.
"What is it Cullen.....where's Winter?"
"Um......er....we.....er.....can't find him."
Scowling, Hook advanced on the man, Cullen looking almost anywhere but into the face of death stalking him down the length of the polished table.
"Can't find him?" Hook repeated, lifting his hook and polishing it with the palm of his hand. "Can't find him? What can you mean, Cullen?....Has he gone out?....Is he with his wife?.....What of her, isn't she with her charge?" Hook fired the questions at his minion, the man flinching visibly with each bitten off query.
"We....we can't find either Winter or his wife......they've gone....gone from the house, all their belongings with them."
"I see......and my prisoner....the woman in the room upstairs?"
This time the man paled, his hands twisting as he glanced up at Hook, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.
"Gone.....gone as well....no one saw anything...please.."
The man never got to finish his plea, Hook slashing his hook around and ripping the mans throat out, the blood spurting out and ruining another set of James Hook's fine clothes. Stepping over the corpse he limped out into the hallways and made his stately way to the staircase, upwards to the second floor and his son's room. The door stood open, the room empty. Silently Hook proceeded to the fourth floor and found Wendy's cell similarly empty. Of the Winters there was no sign.
"So.....my pigeon has flown the coop.....but I have a fair idea where the little bird has flown to.....I was a fool to think you'd changed your allegiance, Peter Pan. It was always to that milksop.....then, as now......so be it." Turning his back on the small room, Hook returned down the stairs to the foyer, his heels clicking across the marble, turning right he entered the library, not bothering to notice the rapidly spreading pool of blood coming from the entrance to the dining room. Once in the library Hook strode over to a section of the bookcase, a hidden button releasing a row so that it swung outwards, revealing a safe behind. Opening the safe, Hook pulled out a drawstring bag, hefting it in his hand before turning his back on the safe, not even bothering to close it. Once more he crossed the foyer to climb the stairs, this time turning left to take him to his own suite of rooms and a necessary change of clothes. His batman was brushing one of his suits and jumped with alacrity to divest his master of his bloody clothes, a common enough occurrence to raise not a flicker of interest in the servants blank face.
"I'm leaving tonight, Hutchings....pack something for me.....not too much....I'll be travelling light."
"Of course sir.....anything in particular you want me to pack?"
"No.....just a selection of my pirating gear.....nothing formal."
"Of course sir.....when would you like it to be ready?"
"No later than midnight, Hutchings....don't be late."
"Never sir...midnight it is. Will you still require my services sir?"
"No Hutchings....I have a feeling I will be gone for a long time. I have to return and complete some paperwork.....I'll leave all necessary arrangement set out on the desk for you to carry out when I'm gone."
"Thank you sir.....if I may say so......it has been a pleasure to dress and serve such a fine gentleman."
"Don't push you luck Hutchings.......my temper is not the best right now."
"As you wish sir..." Hutchings stood back to allow Hook to survey his once more tidy appearance in the long mirror. Picking up the small, draw-string bag, Hook placed it in an inside pocket, patting it once his coat was once more buttoned.
"Midnight Hutchings.....don't disappoint me."
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Chapter: Seven - Neverland
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Peter flew with Wendy through the darkened skies above the island that formed the centre of Neverland, the high volcanic peak soared up into the clouds, snow dusting its crater lake. The whole island appeared dark and brooding, the sun cut off from the sky by a thick blanket of dense cloud casting a gloomy light over the sea, the water looking like mercury sliding back and forth against the shoreline.
The forest loomed dark and menacing as Peter swooped down and skimmed the tree-tops, his eyes searching for something, the wind chill against his face. No birds flew up to investigate, no movement set the bushes rustling, it was as it the forest was dead, its living inhabitants long gone. A bluff loomed up ahead and Peter headed towards it, the rock face forming the back of the Black Castle where, according to Wendy's tale, a confrontation took place between Peter and Hook, in the time before, which almost ended Peter's life. It was also where Wendy had first seen Hook, and fought her first pirate with a sword. From the sea the Castle looked as it was, a shattered fortress, black and forbidding, the sea pounding its walls into dust. Usually there were seagulls wheeling around its turrets, but there was nothing as Peter approached from the land, setting down on a rock strewn slope, an opening leading into darkness in front of him. As he touched down the skies opened and rain pelted him and his burden, the drops hard and stinging. Ducking into the tunnel opening he turned to survey the outside, the rain throwing up globs of mud from the already soaked ground.
Nothing appeared to have changed from the last time he'd been in Neverland.
With the surety of long association, Peter carried Wendy into the dark fortress, the passage way opening out quickly into a room with several doors leading off it. The air was cool but dry, one of the reasons Peter had chosen the place. Setting Wendy on her feet, he held her against him, his arms around her shoulder.
"Where are we Peter?"
"The Black Castle.....I know you've seen it from the seaward side, but from the land it is truly a castle, with rooms both dry and secure for us to use for shelter."
"I didn't see much coming in, it was so dark.....is it night-time here?"
"No.....its always dark here now......I can't remember the last time I saw the sun rise on Neverland.....it's as if the place is cursed."
"Oh Peter....there must be something we can do.....what about the fairies?.....the Indians? Do they know what's happened."
"I'll tell you all when we're settled, come on.....its only a short walk from here.....do you want me to carry you?"
"I feel like an invalid, you've carried me so much.....I have to get these legs working again....if we can go slowly..?"
"We have all the time in the world....lean on me.....we're going this way.."
Careful of the uneven floor, Peter led Wendy through one of the doors, the passageway beyond dark but with arrow-slit windows along its length to let in some light. The stone walls were dry, the floor dusty and unmarked by footprints or any other indication that another living soul had passed that way recently, only the occasional spray of rain from the outside to mark the dust.
"I'll get a fire going as soon as you're comfortable.....the smoke won't be seen by anyone......the chimneys are so convoluted they dissipate the smoke before it reaches the outside.....great if you want to remain invisible."
"How do you know this place Peter......I'd have thought Hook would have kept you close by, on the ship."
"He did......but he also had to send foraging parties ashore for water and food, I often supervised the sorties and used the time away to explore. I found the landward entrance by chance and cleared the area around it, then during successive visits I found my way about its interior."
They had reached the end of the passageway, a slit window letting in a bite of light beside another door. As Wendy waited for Peter to open it, a flurry of wind brought in a smattering of raindrops that dampened her face and made her pull the cloak more tightly around her. Peter ushered her through into a room that was obviously a hall of some sort, the ceiling very high with more slit windows around the dome shaped roof. Arches around the perimeter lead to other, as yet unseen, rooms and Wendy walked slowly to the middle, peering into the gloom. There was little furniture to be seen, only a large fireplace big enough to take a whole tree trunk in its heath, the grate blackened and cold. There were stone seats set into the walls and niches that seemed to hold strange statuary, but Wendy shivered and followed close beside Peter as he led them towards one of the archways. With her hand clasped solidly in his, Peter held a curtain to one side and waited, a smile curving his lips as Wendy walked into the room, a small gasp leaving her as she took in the sight before her.
"I brought it all here.....some I made, the rest I....borrowed."
"I'm sure it looks lovely Peter."
Wendy walked into the centre of the moderately sized room and looked around. As she waited for her eyes to adjust, Peter struck a light and the warm flame of a candle lightened the gloom, giving Wendy her first real look at the room. Here there was furniture of all sorts and sizes, iron sconces holding torches waiting to be lit, rugs softening the hard stone floors as well as hanging from the walls. A rough table stood to one side with two rustic, homemade chairs at each end. A curtained partition, currently held back by ties, led to a sleeping alcove, the beds surface covered with furs and velvet in a rainbow array of colours. Leather bound chests were pushed against the wall with candle holders set into niches around the walls. A scraping sound behind her alerted her before yellow light flooded the room, from Peter igniting one of the wall torches, raising the light level and bringing a glow to the metal plates and cups set out on a serving table set against the wall near the dining table. Peter lit the other candles, the flames leaping before settling to a steady glow. There were no windows in the room, the conical roof acting like a chimney, drawing the smoke upwards to be released out of unseen vents. A sizeable fireplace, large enough to have a kettle suspended over it, and stones for pots to heat on, took up a corner of the room, as yet unlit. As she looked around Wendy marvelled that Peter had managed to create such a richly appointed hideaway. A tiny voice nagged that it had all come from his pirating, looted from unfortunate victims of the Jolly Roger, but that was squashed under the weight of his actions in rescuing her from Hook.
Wendy swayed slightly, her fingers clutching her cloak, her eyes blinking as her limited strength and lack of food took its toll. Peter saw her slight movement and left the lighting of the candles to scoop her up, despite her mild protest.
"I really can't let you keep doing this Peter...but I have to admit I feel embarrassingly weak."
"Not surprising......you need to rest and get well....I have to go and get some food....there's none here, I never know how long I'm going to be away, but there's plenty of food if you know where to look."
He gently deposited her on the bed, her fingers stroking the fine animal pelts as Peter pulled up a velvet rug to cover her legs. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, his lips sweetly curved in a smile. Wendy smiled back before relaxing into the plush embroidered pillows, her eyes already closing. Peter backed out of the sleeping alcove, his bottom lip pulled into his mouth as he considered how he was going to get his Wendy back to health.
Taking up a torch, he left the room, closing the thick wooden door that had been hidden by the curtain when they entered. Once secure, he lifted off the ground and flew to the other side of the huge chamber, the flames from his torch sending shadows skittering into the corners as he touched down to open another door. This led to a staircase that disappeared downwards, the darkness palpable as Peter started down the steps, the faint sound of the sea booming against the stone walls far below.
Wendy must have dozed, her body warmly tucked under the thick cloak and the soft velvet. She awoke with a start, a dream still lingering at the edges of her consciousness, her hand coming up to rub her forehead as she tried to remember what the dream had been about.
"Peter?"
There was no answer to her call, the silence only broken by the hiss and spit of the candles beyond the alcoves curtain. Sitting up, she found the cloak too enveloping and slipped it off her shoulders, leaving it pooled on the bed. Shuffling to the edge of the pallet she found her toes touching another animal skin on the floor, her feet digging into the soft fur and wriggling around for a second. The room felt warm, her thin shift, barely covering her body modestly, already damp with sweat under her arms. She desperately wanted to have a drink but feared her wobbly legs were not up to the task of searching the room beyond. Several chests stood against the wall with their lids closed. Hating the rough cotton shift, Wendy pushed herself off the bed and walked haltingly over to one, sitting down heavily on its neighbour to take a breather before tackling the heavy lid. On opening the chest she found a Kings ransom in clothes, the fabrics costly and the styles ranging across the last few years. This chest seemed to hold only women's clothes and Wendy paused, wondering if she was the first to visit Peter's luxurious hideaway. Shrugging, pushing the thought to her back of her mind, she lifted out a couple of the dresses, finding them quite beautiful despite being crushed and sadly creased from their rough handling. Shaking them out she lay them over the end of the bed before turning back to investigate some more. Further down, she encountered petticoats, again sadly crushed, and some silk shifts in several colours, none of them white to her relief. These had fared better, their soft fabric slipping through her fingers and catching the light from the chinks in the curtaining. Choosing a golden apricot coloured slip, she called out for Peter once more. Finding herself still alone, she lifted the cotton shift off and tossed it into a corner, distaste for the hateful garment curling her lip. Slipping the silk over her head, she sighed as it settled on her body, the small cap sleeves kissing her shoulders, the smocking around the neckline edged with ivory ribbon. It gathered under her bust with another ribbon, the fabric hugging her slender torso, accentuating her bosom, leaving little to the imagination. Standing up she found it was obviously meant for a taller woman than her, the fabric covering her toes and making a little train behind her as she moved. Feeling deliciously decadent, she slowly moved back to the bed, sitting on the edge to look at the dresses she'd put there earlier. One was a lovely sky blue with blond lace and matching ribbons. It had a boned bodice and tiny puffed sleeves of organza. It was completely impractical and Wendy loved it. Sighing she turned to the other dress, this in a pale green, the colour of new willow leaves, the neckline trimmed with silver lace that was echoed on the three-quarter sleeves and around the bottom of the hemline. It was less ornate than the blue but just as impractical. Lying back on the bed she ran her fingers over the lace, her legs curling up behind her as she lay across the bed, her eyes half closed. In a half remembered gesture she reached up to her neck, looking for but not finding the chain she'd taken to wearing with its rejuvenated acorn. She bit her lip, realising that it had obviously been lost in her struggles, somewhere.
The sound of the door opening broke her from her revelry, Peter's voice jerking her upright.
"It's only me." Peter called, his voice excited and boyish.
She heard him drop something on the floor with a great clatter, before Peter appeared, throwing back the curtains, light flooding the alcove. His face was wreathed in smiles, his eyes bright, almost sparking, water glistening in his hair.
"I've been fishing...I hope your like seafood."
Wendy found her mouth tilting into an answering smile, his extraordinary vitality enveloping her as he stood, hands on hips looking down at her.
"I see you've found a change of clothes....good....that shift did nothing for your......er.....charms." As if just noticing the silk slip, Peter faltered in his observations, his throat working as he found it suddenly dry. In the wash of candle light Wendy appeared more slender and fragile, at the same time looking as desirable as a woodland nymph all dressed in gold, the colour giving her skin a glow, highlights from her hair catching the light as well. The flickering glow also highlighted the dips and hollows of her body, the firm swell of her breast and the enticing juncture of her legs. Finding his own body responding he turned away, lifting his soaked shirt from his back and tossing it to land next to Wendy's discarded shift. He head a gasp behind him and turned around. Wendy's eyes were riveted on his body, her gaze running over the network or welts and bruises that painted his skin.
"Oh Peter....what did he do to you...." her voice barely above a whisper, Wendy rose a trifle unsteadily to her feet, Peter forgetting his dry shirt, bridged the small distance between them, his hands coming to her shoulders to steady her. She raised her eyes to his, drowned blue meeting swirling green, her fingers reaching up to caress the ugly scar on his cheek, the stitches sticking out like spines. "Oh Peter....why did he do this to you....what did you do to give him cause to hurt you so?"
Peter pressed his lips together, shaking his head, her compassion almost unmanning him. Her fingertips were as light as a butterfly's touch but he still winced, his mouth twisting into a grimace. Instantly Wendy withdrew her hand.
"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't......it doesn't hurt...much." He gently manoeuvred her to sit down again on the edge of the bed, her skin feeling hot under his hands. Too hot, if he was any judge.
"Wendy, how do you feel?"
"I'm fine Peter.....a little warm, I suppose...and I'm terribly thirsty...did you bring any water with you?"
Frowning, he cupped her cheek, the soft skin burning his palm. As he scanned her face he saw that what he took for eager welcome was more like a fevered brightness, her skin flushed with heated blood.
"Get into bed Wendy...I'll fetch the water."
Seeing her perplexed and slightly befuddled look, Peter smiled encouragingly before leaving the alcove and hurrying over to the water cask he'd filled only minutes before. The water poured out clear and sweet into a gold mug, some splashing over his fingers. Taking care not to spill any more, he returned to the alcove, finding Wendy once more laying against the plump pillows her face carrying hectic spots of colour on each cheek. Despite that she smiled at him, rising up to take the cup he held out to her, gulping the water greedily. She stopped before Peter felt the need to remonstrate with her, her fingers slipping from the mug as Peter took it once more from her. Placing it on the floor he sat on the bed, his torso twisting as he leant over her.
"I'm just going to make a fire and cook this fish....I'll be able to get some fruit tomorrow......hopefully. Do you think you can manage some soup?"
"I'm sure I can.....this is just a silly weakness..I'll feel better after a little rest."
Despite her assurances, Peter felt a very real anxiety that Wendy was sicker than either of them realised. Keeping his fears to himself, he reached down and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, getting off the bed and reaching for a clean shirt before leaving the bedroom and heading towards the glistening fish waiting to be scaled and cooked.
Wendy watched him leave, touched by his concern for her. She did feel a little unwell, her body shaken by strange tremors, her skin prickling first hot then cold. Too tired to think, she drifted off to sleep, the sound of Peter in the next room, only separated by a thin curtain, comforting despite its strangeness.
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Peter awoke her an hour or so later, a steaming bowl of tasty stew in his hands, the smell enticing. With his help she managed several spoonfuls before pushing it away. Another drink of water followed and Peter left her to rest, coming back with a bowl for himself within minutes, sitting down on the side of the bed to keep her company. Wend lay, her eyes closed, the warmth of the fish stew spreading through her body. Peter finished his quickly, his appetite keen after the days exertions. Removing the dishes he spent some minutes clearing away, taking the dirty plates outside the room in a wooden bucket to be washed later. Banking the fire, he extinguished half of the candles and all the torches before returning to Wendy and laying himself down , his elbow supporting his head as he lay in his side and looking at her.
"Wendy?"
"Hmmmmm?"
"Do you want to hear what happened to Neverland now?"
"Hmmmmmm...yes please Peter."
"Alright.....I guess I should explain about the fairies, as you say they did exist before....I haven't seen any since I joined the Jolly Roger. I didn't remember, and they never approached the pirates, so I didn't know......I did see some lights once, a great cloud over the forest one night.....about a year or so ago. I thought they were fireflies or some insect swarm, but if what you say is true, they must have been the fairies."
"Where did they go?"
"That's just it....I don't know....we all watched the swarm...even Hook. He left after a few seconds, not interested I assumed at the time, but I watched.....they gathered into a swirling mass, spiralling upwards until there were no more coming from the trees. Then they streamed away, above the clouds and behind the volcano, like a comet tail. I noted the part of the forest they'd come from and took a search party there on one of our water runs, but all we found were strange ruins, nothing else. It was a strange part of the forest, no birds, no insects.....completely silent. The men were spooked and said it was cursed."
"That was the place we danced.....when we watched the fairy wedding.....it was a magical place," said Wendy dreamily.
"The Indians must have gone about the same time.....we'd been trading with them for years. They left us alone between trading days, and we left them alone. When we went to trade as usual, the camp was gone, only cold fire-pits and bald patches where the tepee's had been. We never saw them go, we can only assume they trekked to the other side of the island or left it entirely. We did sail right around Neverland but found no trace of them. As if they disappeared, like the fairies."
"Oh Peter......how sad.....what about the mermaids?"
"Oh they're still here, somewhere.......but they keep well away from the ship. We used to hear their singing when we returned to the island, and see their bodies slicing through the waves sometimes as we sailed the waters around here, but that was years ago now. Once, I was fishing and a whole group of them approached me. The spoke to me, I think, but I couldn't understand them. I was on my own but I wasn't frightened of them, I just couldn't understand them. After a while they just watched me, their eyes like sea otters, huge and dark. When I left, they followed me as I rowed back to the ship, then they disappeared under the water. They went missing around the same time as the Indians and the Fairies, only occasionally will you see a dark head above the water.....somehow its all connected, but I don't know how."
Wendy reached out her hand and clasped his, her cool fingers engulfed by his large, work roughened hand. He had told her everything in a matter-of-fact voice but his expression belied his words, his eyes full of confusion and bewilderment at finding out how much he'd lost without realising it.
"We'll solve the mystery together Peter......when I'm....when I'm rested. Maybe...." Wendy paused, and idea taking shape in her head, connecting the events that happened so long ago with one so much more recent. "Maybe its got something to do with you."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't put my finger on it, but what if this is all because of the changes in your life.....with you growing up, with what you've been......er.....doing?"
"You mean with me being a pirate, this could be related to that?"
"I told you about that last fight you had with Hook before he was swallowed by the crocodile.....did I tell you about TinkerBell and how she died?"
"You said Hook poisoned her and I somehow saved her."
"I wasn't there to see what you did to bring her back....but I do remember what happened on the ship.....it was so surprising. One minute it was fine and sunny, next the clouds appeared out of nowhere and swirled around us like a tempest, then it snowed. Great fat snowflakes came out of the sky.....Hook thought it was because you had drunk the poison and were dead......but then the strangest thing happened.....I heard this voice in my heard, as strong as if you had been standing beside me.....you were chanting....I do believe in fairies, I do, I do......and it kept on and on......and I started to say it too...then the Lost Boys, then the crew....it was amazing...we all chanted the same words....over and over again and the snow kept falling. Somehow it brought TinkerBell back from the dead, and soon after the skies cleared....as if it was all linked back to you."
"But that's ridiculous.....how can I influence what happens to the weather or anything.....I'm just....me."
"No Peter....you were never just you......you're special....so special that this world and the way it is, is somehow connected to you in a way I can't explain."
Exhausted, Wendy closed her eyes and Peter noticed how pale she looked, her cheeks still carrying their spot of hectic colour, dark rings under her eyes.
"We'll talk about this again....when you're rested. Are you warm enough?"
"I do feel a little cold......and Peter? I need to....um...all that water." Wendy flushed in embarrassment, not sure how to address her body's pressing needs. She swallowed, casting a pleading look at him, before lowering her eyes again. Peter puzzled over it for a second or two before comprehension dawned.
"Oh.....right.....of course.....I'll take you there.....its just off the corridor leading to this room, but its draughty, so I'll wrap the cloak around you. Ready?"
Still embarrassed but need outweighing modesty, Wendy nodded, Peter helping her up and wrapping her in the warm cloak before once more lifting her into his arms and taking her from the room. Almost immediately outside the door a small archway led to a garderobe, a candle already lit, casting a low light over the small stone room. Peter put her on her feet.
"Will you be alright....I can stay if you want?"
Unbelievable, Wendy's face flamed hotter still. Her modesty had been sorely abused in the days leading up to their escape, her weakened state making her helpless and dependant on her nursemaid to help her with basic functions, but she at least had been another female. This was entirely different. Looking around, she noted that all the necessaries were there, so she placed a hand on Peter's chest and gently pushed.
"I'll manage......I just need....I need a little privacy Peter."
Amused but not unaware of her flustered and embarrassed state, Peter backed out of the room, leaving her standing in the middle, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.
"I'll be just outside...call me when you're done....I'll help you back to bed."
"Thank you Peter....."Wendy flapped at him to make him go, which he did, moving away for decency's sake, but not so far he couldn't here her if she called.
Her basic needs taken care of, Peter carried her back to the bed and made her comfortable, pulling up the velvet covers and once more lying on his side having himself changed out of his trousers and shirt and into a pair of loose fitting, drawer string trousers, his torso left bare.
Wendy was already dozing, her eyes shut before Peter had her settled, missing completely the sight of him changing, the candle light playing over his broad shoulders and golden skin, despite its current patchwork of injuries. As he pulled the covers over himself, Peter laid his hand against her forehead, Wendy not stirring, already inhabiting a dreamland of her own making. Satisfied that she wasn't any worse than before, Peter settled himself after extinguishing the remaining candles, bar one which he put on the table beside the bed, the flickering light casting shadows over Wendy's face as she lay in repose.
For a long time he enjoyed just looked at her, memorising her features, watching her softly rounded bosom rise and fall, her limbs occasionally twitching as she dreamed, her lips parting sometimes, words not always clear but his own name heard more than once as she travelled the dream-realm. His physical reaction was just as strong as ever, but his passion was banked with tenderness, an emotion he'd had little occasion to employ in the last few years. Somehow, Wendy brought out all his softer feelings, emotions he would have scorned as a pirate, but embraced now if it made Wendy smile at him, her eyes to soften in their special way towards him. She made him feel needed, wanted, loved. For the first time in a long while his heart felt whole, not brittle and cracked. He felt healed.
Soon enough the sound of her steady breathing lulled him into a doze, his body enveloped by her heat and scent, his hand entwining in hers as it lay on the cover, her face the last image before sleep claimed him.
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Chapter: Eight - Renewal
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The next few days passed in a similar fashion, Wendy gaining strength, Peter nursing her, caring for her and providing anything and everything she needed. On the fourth day of their arrival in Neverland, Peter burst through the door into the chamber, something concealed behind his back. It was still very early, the dawn only just breaking outside their fortress hideaway, Wendy was still abed, her cheek cradled on her hand, her skin tinged with faint colour. Peter snuck across the room, leaving the door open behind him. He was dripping wet, his hair slicked back against his head, a few rogue curls drooping over his forehead. As he approached the bed he was careful not to drip on the sleeper, instead laying the flowers down on the pillow beside her, the scent already heady in the small space. Despite his care, a drip found its way off an errant curl, falling to splash on Wendy's shoulder. Peter crouched beside the bed, his face pulled into a mock grimace as Wendy stirred, her hand reaching up to brush off the offending drip.
"Is it raining in here?.....I think I'd better tell Peter the roof leaks."
Her lips curved in a smile, Wendy opened her eyes to meet Peter's mirthful look over the edge of the bed. She saw the flowers, the perfume heady. Reaching out a finger she stroked the petals, the colour a rich pink with streaks of mauve and blue down the length of each petal.
"Oh they're beautiful Peter.....where did they come from?"
"Its the strangest thing.....I found them beside the waterfall, but there's never been flowers like this.....at least not that I can remember......ever!"
"Maybe you just never saw them before..."
"No.....I've been to that waterfall on a regular basis, all year round for years....these flowers have never bloomed there....never."
Pulling the informal bouquet towards her, Wendy buried her nose in the flowers, inhaling deeply.
"Well, whatever they are....they smell heavenly."
Peter grinned at her, his eyes dancing.
"That's not all I found.......how do you feel about taking a little trip?"
Wendy grinned back at him, his impatience rolling off him, Peter almost twitching to show her something.
"What else have you found?"
"No.....I want to show you.....pleeeeeease?"
"I can't go out in this.....are there any clothes that don't need more than two people for me to get them on?"
Jumping to his feet, Peter turned around and threw open a chest, clothes flying out as he pulled out shirts and trousers, breeches and jackets. He presented her with a long sleeved formal shirt and a pair of brown trousers, his face a picture of smug success. Wendy sat up, the flowers clasped in her hands, laughing at his antics.
"You really want me to go and see.......whatever it is?"
"Get dressed.....hurry......it'll be gone otherwise."
Perplexed, Wendy raised a quizzical eyebrow but Peter just grinned at her, turning his back to pulled off his soaked clothes. Wendy blushed and scooted to the other side of the bed, the clothes he'd tossed to her, and the small bunch of flowers, clutched to her chest. Behind her Peter continued his disrobing, unaware that Wendy was sinking into the floor with embarrassment. It wasn't that she was a prude, she had two brothers after all, it wasn't even that she hadn't seen plenty of Peter's torso in the last few days, although she did have the excuse that she hadn't been well enough to appreciate the view. The problem was that she was now more than well enough to appreciate that she was living in close quarters, even sleeping with, a most attractive male that she had already professed her love for. Peter, on the other hand, hadn't made any such declaration, his casual, almost impersonal nursing of her leaving her in a very confused state of mind regarding their physical and emotional relationship. Despite her obvious vulnerability, Peter had not touched her other than to see to her needs, his manner completely impersonal, as if the heated scene in her bedroom had never taken place.
Peter finally turned around, noting Wendy's rigid back. Belatedly remembering that Wendy was still an innocent, despite having seen him in a state of semi-undress every night, Peter hastily adjusted his clothes and left the alcove, making sure the curtain fell into place to give her privacy. Relaxing slightly, Wendy put the flowers down and quickly changed into the male clothes, the shirt almost reaching her knees as it hung on her slight frame. She found a long ribbon and used it like a sash, cinching it around her slim waist. Another served to tie her hair back from her face. After rolling up the legs of the trousers she was done.
"I'm ready Peter..."
She appeared before him, smiling shyly, feeling a little ridiculous in the large clothes. Peter didn't notice, too eager to leave, grabbing her hand and almost dragging her out of the room into the echoing hall beyond. She noticed that there was much more light coming in from the high slit windows as Peter, impatient at her slow progress, scooped her into his arms and flew her to a door she hadn't been through before. With a sly grin, Peter opened the door and let her go through first. It led to a stone balcony that overlooked the forbidding headland, the Black Castle jutting out into the bay. On the blue horizon the sky was getting lighter by the second. Peter drew her to the stone railing which came as high as her chest, his arm warm around her shoulders.
Above their heads the sky was almost cloudless, a far cry from the smothering blanket of a few days before.
"Look..." Peter extended his free arm and pointed to the horizon. A sliver of gold appeared, followed by a crescent that grew into a half circle and finally a full circle of blazing sun, the rays streaking and painting the sky with glorious light.
"Oh Peter.....but...."
"That's right.....the sun hasn't risen like this for......longer than I care to remember......this is a miracle."
"Oh my....." Wendy squinted at the rising sun, the few clouds turning pink and orange, the sky yellow. Peter squeezed her shoulders, his face lit with the suns glow, his eyes bright as the faint breeze ruffled his hair.
"Maybe Hook was right......you do have a magic, Wendy....this has happened because you're here.....you're better, so Neverland is better too."
"But Peter......I don't think I have anything to do with......." Wendy started to remonstrate, but the memory of the acorn suddenly stopped her. Peter looked at her, a question in his eyes.
"Peter....do you remember the acorn you gave me?"
"An acorn? No.....why?"
"You remember....I told you, when you and I first met....I wanted to give you a kiss for saying such nice things about girls, but you didn't know what a kiss was....so you gave me an acorn button."
"Urh....alright....what does...."
"Let me finish......I kept that acorn, I had it on a chain, I wore it for ages......always close....."Wendy chuckled," my aunt despaired of me ever taking it off. I did, eventually...."
"Because you thought I wasn't coming back." Peter finished, his tone flat. Wendy swallowed and nodded.
"You weren't...you wouldn't have come back at all if Hook hadn't...if Hook hadn't wanted to kill me." Wendy looked up at Peter, surprising a look of guilt on his face. "Whatever the reason Peter.....you did come back....in a way. The acorn was kept in an old suitcase, I found it and put it beside my bed." She had Peter's full attention, the sun continuing on its stately rise into the sky. "I only held it in my hand for a second or two, it was old and dried up, black and wizened. I was going to throw it out."
"But you didn't?"
"No...when I came back, hours later, it had changed. It wasn't old and black anymore....it looked the same as if you'd only just given it too me that day. Down to the hole that Tootles made with his arrow."
"What are you saying......you do have magic?"
"I don't know......but maybe.....just maybe....oh it sounds so absurd."
Peter turned to face her, his hands warm on her shoulders, his eyes intense. "It's not absurd.....what are you thinking?"
"You hadn't flown for.....ever so long....but when we were together.....you found the will to fly again. Maybe there is a magic, but only when we're together." She peeped up at him to see if he was laughing as her strange hypothesis. Instead she found herself drowning in his swirling sea-green eyes, blinking to clear her own sun-spangled vision.
"Go on.....what else are you thinking...?"
Encouraged by his serious tone, Wendy swallowed and spoke again.
"What if....what if it takes both of us....together..in harmony to bring Neverland back to the way it was." She turned to look at the rising sun. "You said the sun hadn't risen in...years. Now, we've come back...together...and once I'm back to health, suddenly the sun puts in an appearance and you're finding flowers that didn't exist before....maybe they did.....but not since you forgot and I left."
"To grow up."
"Well yes...to grow up." Wendy was warming to her theory, her eyes sparkling. "But remember when I gave you the.....thimble...kiss... on the deck of the Jolly Roger....maybe that changed something...made it different somehow."
"Changed me and changed Neverland.....and the more I turned towards being a pirate, the darker and more inhospitable Neverland became."
"But that's changed now....don't you see? You're not a pirate anymore....are you."
Peter smiled down at her, enigmatically, his lips curved into a smirk that Wendy found caused a little twinge in her heart, the expression so like the boy she knew long ago. As quickly as it appeared, the smile vanished and Peter once more regarded her gravely.
"I may not be plundering ships and killing innocents.....but that doesn't right the wrongs I've done. My heart is still as black at Hooks, I've done things that would see me hung in your world."
"Don't say that.......you're not Hook.....you didn't remember who you were....he used that to make you into something else......a pirate."
"Excuses Wendy....just excuses for the truth. You are the only magic here.....you gave me back my ability to fly and this," he swept his arm in an arc. "This is you too."
"I don't understand you......you aren't a pirate.....I've slept next to you, you could have taken what you wanted, anytime, I couldn't have fought you off, but you didn't." She wrung her hands, frustration at his self-abasement making her angry. "You aren't Hook......you could never be him......your Peter Pan.....my Peter......the boy I loved in my youth....and the man I'll love in my dotage. I couldn't love a pirate, but I do love you.....so you can't be a pirate......I won't let you!"
Peter laughed out loud, his eyes merry as he pulled Wendy into his arms, crushing her against him.
"Oh my fierce defender, you are completely illogical!" He cried, his teeth bared in a broad grin, his raw scar pulling the skin of his cheek into a pucker, ".......but I'm willing to forgive you, if you'll forgive me for being such a bore and not ravishing you at the first opportunity."
Wendy found herself laughing as well at the whole absurd conversation, her arms wrapping around him, her hands spreading over his back. Peter held her tight, one arm around her back, his other hand, fingers spread to cradle her head, holding her face against his heart, his own cheek coming down to rest on her soft hair, guinea gold mingling with honey brown. As they hugged, the sun rose higher, its warmth bathing them like a benediction, the sea below turning from lead to liquid gold.
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Things aboard the Jolly Roger's were starting to return to normal, that is, as normal as reviving from suspended animation can be. At the first touch of the sun on the main mast of the ship, the ice around the hull started to crack and split, the noise quite simply horrendous as the sea water plumed into the air, the ice melting and releasing its grip on the aging pirate ship.
On deck, her crew were also coming alive, their previously frozen bodies shivering and shaking as the ice that had coated them, cracked and flaked off, leaving them wet and cold but very much alive. Smee, finding himself sprawled half over the rail of the ship, collapsed in a heap, his clothes cold and clammy. Around him the other sailors groaned and moaned, their teeth chattering as they flapped their arms to get their sluggish circulation moving again. The sun had risen enough to clear the horizon and everyone that could move, was crowded against the wooden bulwark, soaking up the heat, their clothes starting to steam. Flapping his arms across his chest, Smee staggered to the door of the Captains cabin, his concern not for Hook, but rather to get his hands on a tot of rum to warm his innards. Leaving the crew to sort themselves out, Smee shuffled into the cabin and, without paying much attention, headed straight for Hook's liquor cabinet, his fingers closing around the neck of the decanter.
"Can I help you, Mister Smee?"
Shock caused Smee's hand to jerk and his heart to miss a beat. His teeth chattering, Smee turned slowly around to see his Captain leaning back in his chair and regarding him with a gimlet eye.
"Oh dear me....." Smee stuttered, his hands flapping as he tried to recover from his surprise. "Oh dear me...."
"If you're trying to fly, you'll need something more than those pathetically podgy paws."
Pushing his hands behind him, Smee grinned sickly at Hook, his smile spoilt by the chattering of his teeth which set his beard wobbling up and down.
"For heaven's sake man.....have a shot of rum.....you look all done in."
"Thank 'e, Captain sir.....thank 'e."
Swinging around Smee grasped the decanter once more and poured himself a handsome measure of rum into a brandy balloon, lifting it instantly to his lips and downing the lot in one go. He reached for the decanter again but a tutting noise behind him stayed his hand.
"Not a good idea on an empty stomach, Mister Smee."
"Right you are Captain sir." Smee looked longingly at the array of bottles but turned his back on them and faced Hook once more, the rum making his insides as warm as toast and dispelling the shivers nicely.
"What is happening outside Smee? Is that the sound of ice cracking?"
"Why yes.....the sun if rising.....a very welcome sight, if I may say so sir.....it's been such a long time since we had a nice sunny day."
"Yes Smee......a very long time. What do you think it means?"
"Means ?"
"Yes Smee......what does it mean? I'll tell you, as your brain appears to be still frozen....it means that Peter Pan.....and I stress the Pan bit of his name......Peter Pan has returned to Neverland."
"Oh dear.....do you mean to say that the boy, Peter, that used to be Peter Pan but became a pirate....is now.....er....Peter Pan again?"
With a crash, Hook's arm came down and buried his hook in the surface of his desk, the inkwell and candelabra jumping with the force of the blow.
"It means," Hook ground out," that I have my old enemy back....and, if I'm not mistaken.....he has someone with him that I have an urgent desire to eliminate."
Smee screwed up his eyebrows, his brain still too sluggish to grasp Hook's import, his mouth opening and shutting several times as he tried to make sense of Hook's words.
Eventually Smee gave up, a sheepish smile twisting his lips and an eloquent shrug his only answer. Hook rolled his eyes, before getting to his feet, his hook and hand resting on the desk to brace him as he leant forward.
"It means that Peter Pan has the Wendy with him.....Peter is no longer a pirate.....he has become a pest. One I will eradicate before too long, along with his paramour."
Hook had started softly but by the end he was bellowing, Smee wincing as the words blasted him where he stood.
Swallowing, Smee shuffled his feet, glancing around the cabin, at the floor, at the walls, anywhere except at his enraged Captain.
"So, what would you like me to do in the meantime, Captain sir?"
"Get the men dry and hand out whatever they need, a tot of rum should take care of warming them up. Then I want you to send out search parties, as many as you need. Some to reprovision the ship, the rest to search for any evidence of where Peter Pan is hiding. I've been here four days and there's been no sign of the whelp.....he has to be here somewhere....and you are going to find him for me. Not kill him, or capture him, just find him. The rest will be left to me."
"Right ho'...search parties.....not capture parties....right you are then......"
"You're dismissed Smee.....inform me when they're ready to depart."
"Sir, yes sir..." Smee saluted smartly and hurried from the room. Behind him Hook lamented the state of his unworthy crew, his hand reaching to a large humidor to pluck a cigar from its depth. Sitting back in his chair he clipped the end and pushed the cigar into a silver holder before lifting a candle to the end and puffing it into life. Thick smoke swirled around his head, the heady aroma bringing a smile to his lips. He would miss Peter as his right hand man, Smee was an old fool and only succeeded in irritating him, but the man was at least loyal, unlike his former son, who was sure to be a thorn in his side for some time to come.
But not forever.
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Peter left Wendy behind when he went on his next foray, still not convinced she was fully recovered from her illness. Wendy objected, more than ready to revisit some of their familiar haunts, but Peter wanted to reconnoitre the Jolly Roger before allowing any sight-seeing tours. She watched as he disappeared among the tree-tops, his dark clothes a contrast with his bright head. The sun was now high in the sky and Wendy felt the need to explore. Going back to the room, she rummaged among the trunks again and found a pair of soft kid boots that only reached as high as her mid-calf, making it easy to tuck in the excess trouser length. Suitably shod, she next lit a torch and left the room, closing the door behind her. Knowing that she didn't want to overtax herself, Wendy explored the rooms off the main hall, pushing open the doors and waving the torch in front of her to clear any hanging cobwebs, a sticky hazard in those rooms not opened for a long time, if ever. Most were empty, just echoing stone chambers with no particular use that she could fathom. Some had dusty barrels or mouldering chests, but more often than not, they proved empty of anything but insect corpses. The last door she tried revealed a staircase that led downwards, cool, salt laden air wafting up to her along with the sound of waves booming hollowly. Not yet sure that she wanted to venture so far, Wendy shut the door, turning once more to survey the vast hall, the fireplace catching her interest. She padded over and stepped into the gaping maw, the huge metal grate quite empty. Lifting her torch she watched the smoke get pulled upwards, the flames licking excitedly in the draft. Seats carved of stone had been inset into the side walls and Wendy sat on one, her knee resting against one of the fire dogs. As she made to rise her knee pushed against a metal lever and the whole panel of stone swung around. Wendy lost her balance and the torch, finding herself thrown off her feet and onto an uneven floor. The torch lay beside her, thankfully not extinguished. Picking it up she stood up rather shakily, looking back at the stone seat that was now on the wrong side of the fire wall. She brought the torch close to the wall, looking for a switch or lever that would reverse the action and get her back on the right side of the wall, but there was nothing to pull or press, the stones quite devoid of ornamentation.
Concerned but not unduly frightened, Wendy swung around and surveyed her surroundings. She was in a corridor that stretched several feet before turning a corner. The ceiling was just above her head height, cobwebs hanging down like lace curtains, currently devoid of any obvious life, but not dust, which fell like delicate rain as she tried to clear them away. Using the torch she swept it in front of her as she approached the corner. Looking up she saw that the smoke was being pulled ahead of her, instead of pooling above her head. At least she wouldn't asphyxiate from smoke inhalation. As she turned the corner she saw a faint light up ahead. Thinking it a window she hurried ahead, the torch spluttering in her hand as it ignited more cobwebs. When she reached where the light was strongest, she found it was from a vertical shaft that rose about twenty feet, before ending in a grated opening to the sky. It was too narrow for her to climb into, plus there was nothing to help her climb, the stones set perfectly together and seamless. Sighing, Wendy pushed on, the narrow tunnel taking more twists and turns until she had no idea what direction she was pointing in. It was also starting to slope downwards. The sound of the sea was now sounding very close, the smoke from her torch still drawn towards the front so that she was sure there was an opening somewhere ahead. She passed two more shafts, all of them too narrow to climb and shut off with a metal grate at the top, before reaching what appeared to be the end of the secret passage way. Her torch was seriously in danger of expiring, its flames flickering uncertainly. Not wanting to be stuck in there with no light, Wendy searched the blank wall for something to indicate a switch or lever. She found a stone that she thought moved under her hand. Leaning the torch against the wall she pushed against it with both hand and was rewarded with the stone moving inwards. As suddenly as before, the wall swung around, carrying Wendy with it.
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Chapter: Nine - Close Call
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Peter sat nestled quite comfortably in the fork of a tree that overlooked the bay where the Jolly Roger wallowed in the slight swell. He had kept below the profile of the trees, not wanting to be sighted by the pirates that swarmed over the deck of the aging ship. He had surmised, quite correctly, that the sun would revive those that were frozen, and he watched as the unfortunate sailors endeavoured to overcome the effects of a Neverland ice age. It had been a stroke of good fortune...or maybe bad luck, that both he and Hook had been in London when the ice had overrun the Jolly Roger. They had returned, briefly, to find the ship locked in solid ice, the crew, like bizarre statues, all frozen into place, their eyes open and aware. Peter had been horrified, but Hook seem to take it in his stride, as if finding ones crew in such a state was a regular occurrence. They had left abruptly when it became clear that they could neither help, or change, what had happened, and if they stayed, they too would become as the crew.
Now, if Wendy was to be believed, the arrival of them both back in Neverland had somehow revived not only the weather, but the island itself, and in the process the benighted crew that now seemed to be lowering the boats into the water to come ashore. From his vantage point and with the aid of his telescope, Peter could see Smee directing the action, the portly first mate flapping his arms like a demented chicken, to Peter's eyes without the benefit of Smee's voice to explain his actions. Whatever the explanation, Smee was ordering almost the entire crew into the two longboats, and one jolly boat that now sat rocking beside the ship. The morning was well advanced when the first boatload crunched onto the sandy shore, her well armed passengers leaping into the surf to draw the boat up high. They were obviously not returning to the ship any time soon. Without even leaving a guard, the pirates split into groups of three and headed into the forest, their weapons brandished menacingly as if expecting something, or someone, to leap out at them at anytime.
As the pirates passed below him, Peter once more trained his telescope on the remaining boats, seeing one, the smaller jolly boat, being rowed up the coast to his left, the other heading down the coast, towards the Black Castle. He would have to move Wendy to another hideout.
Keeping as close to the canopy as possible, Peter flew over the trees, ducking in and out of the branches like a wraith. He reached the headland and dropped to the ground, running into the tunnel, his boots echoing against the stonework.
Across the hall he flung open the door to his room and called for Wendy. Getting no reply he pulled back the bed curtain, thinking she might be asleep, but there was no sign of her. Calling again, he raced out of the room and checked all the others, finding them, as Wendy had, empty of anything but dust and cobwebs. A frisson of fear started to well up inside him, his calls more urgent, still receiving no reply. He stopped in the middle of the vast hall and tried to think. He stood, one hand on his hip the other rubbing his chin as he stared sightlessly at the floor, his mind trying to imagine where Wendy would have gone. He was pretty sure she wouldn't have gone down the stairs to the loading dock, that was a steep and slippery climb and she hadn't been long out of her sick bed. As he pondered, he saw something on the floor that drew his attention. Footprints. Wendy sized footprints. He looked around, finding them all over the floor but following a clear pattern as he twisted around. Racing back into the room he lit a lantern, the wick spluttering before taking hold, then carried it out and crouched down to check the floor, before following her trail. Once he knew what he was looking for, it was easy to follow her progress from room to room as she explored, her prints leading to the door that led to the steps, but turning away, as he'd suspected she would. They then led him to the fireplace, where she had paused, before sitting down in one of the stone chairs. Then the trail went cold. He looked and looked but couldn't find any trace of her after the fireplace. Everywhere else he could follow her clearly, now she appeared to have vanished into thin air.
Seriously worried, Peter called again, his voice echoing back to him as he stood, lantern in hand in the giant maw of the stone fireplace.
Unable to solve the puzzle, Peter put the lantern on the floor and went to the door that led to the balcony. As he walked outside, he closed his eyes briefly, revelling in the warmth of the sun bathing his face. He had missed its heat and his skin was quite fashionably pale, having lost its deep tan during the last few years in a perpetually cloudy Neverland. As he stood, soaking up its rays, he could almost feel his skin absorbing the golden light, his face tingling as it received the suns kiss. The cry of a seagull jerked his attention back to the matter at hand and the still missing Wendy. Looking over the parapet, Peter saw the long boat coming around the bluff, the sailors working hard to pull the boat through the slight swell, a chant keeping them in rhythm as they worked the oars. There were ten pirates in the boat, eight rowing, four to a side, one steering and another sitting in the prow. They were clearly heading for the Black Castle, for what purpose he could only guess at.
Now, at the worst possible time, Wendy was somewhere, lost maybe, even injured, certainly unaware that trouble was about to arrive in a long boat and Peter didn't know what to do.
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Wendy blinked, her head ringing as she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, the floor whirling in a mad circle as she shook head to clear the buzzing. Groaning, she felt a wall to her right and slumped against it, hitting her elbow. Feeling very ill-used, she rubbed the offended joint and tried to figure out where she was. The smell of the sea was very strong, the wall she was leaning against almost damp. The secret door, when it gave, had pitched her through the opening and onto a hard floor, her head hitting the wall and knocking her out. She didn't think it had been for long, as her shirt was only slightly damp from contact with the floor, but that was small consolation. Cautiously she assessed her condition, finding that she was sound, as far as her arms and legs went, only a slight bump on her head to account for the headache rapidly fading. Pushing herself upright, she silently cursed the idiot that put such a strong spring in the door, before using the wall as a support and walking to the end of it to peer around the corner. The wall was a clever disguise, appearing to lead nowhere to any casual notice, and almost invisible against the uniform stonework that ran the length of the wall. Looking beyond, she found herself in another big hall, similar in design to the one she'd just left, but this one was in a state of semi-ruin, several walls apparently collapsed with staircases that seemed to lead upwards to nothing. Again, several doorways led in different directions and light spilled through gaps in the roof, but in all, it was a gloomy and depressing place, her skin prickling as a chill breeze swirled around her.
The sound of waves booming against the cliff face was very loud, the hiss of the sea like a huge snake as it sucked the rocks, as if to drew them down into the depths. She remembered the sound from when they had come to rescue her brothers and Tiger Lily, the Indian princess, from death by drowning on Marooners Rock. Drawn by the sound, Wendy went to an archway where the door hung on is hinges in rotten splinters. Steps led downwards and this time Wendy followed them, the smell of the sea luring her onwards. The steps were slippery and wet but she kept a hand braced on the wall to avoid any accidents. The stairs opened out and she found herself high above the sea entrance to the Castle, her memory replaying the fight between Hook and Peter that almost ended so tragically. There was the huge statue that Peter had used to hide himself, while he played tricks on Smee using Hook's voice, there was the rock that still held the manacles that her brothers had been secured with. There was the entrance through which the crocodile had launched itself at Hook, while Peter stood on the prow of the longboat and crowed his defiance at them both, as Wendy, her brothers and the princess all rowed away to safety.
As if her memory had come to life, the bow of a boat appeared in the wide entrance, oars splashing in the water as it worked its way through the gap and against the stone landing, the sailors shipping the oars as she gaped in disbelief. It was as well that she was high up, as any one of the pirates could have seen her if they'd been bothered to look. Gathering her scattered wits about her, Wendy started to back away, back up the steps, the curve of the stairway taking her out of sight of the pirates scrambling over the slimy rocks below. Her breath seemed frozen in her chest, her nails scaping the wet brickwork as her feet felt for, and found, the next step behind her. She could hear then talking, the sound almost amplified by the black rocks, their conversation largely concerned with grumbling about having to search for someone who might, or might not, exist.
When she judged she was completely out of sight, Wendy turned, unfortunately too quickly, and slipped, her foot kicking a loose stone to go rattling and bouncing down the stairwell, ending its precipitous journey by bouncing off the end of the broken stairs to the water below with an audible splash. All the voices stopped, as if a door had shut and Wendy held her breath. At once the voices started again, querying the rock and where it had come from and maybe what had dislodged it. Panting now, Wendy pushed herself to her feet and scrambled up the remaining steps, her soft boots largely noiseless on the slippery stones.
On reaching the ruined hall, she darted across its floor, her head twisting in all directions, looking for a bolthole. Behind her, she could hear the pirates searching the cavern, their boots ringing on the stones, their weapons clanging as they brushed against the walls and stairs. Panicking, Wendy sobbed, dashing her hair behind her ear as she tried to think above the pounding of her heart. A broken stairway led upwards, ending in the remains of a doorway and a little ways beyond. It looked rickety and not at all safe, but she was desperate. Scrabbling, she ascended the open staircase, reaching the ruined doorway just as the first pirate cautiously poked his nose and musket around the stairway to the sea. Wendy threw herself behind the crumbling arch, the space behind just enough to hide her. Keeping herself as small as possible, she peeped around the stonework and watched as the pirates fanned out across the floor, separating to search each of the rooms and doorways around the perimeter. Wendy heaved a silent breath, her heart still hammering, as she congratulated herself for her good sense in not choosing one of them. She would surely have been found within the first few minutes, as each of the searchers returned to report nothing found.
"There's nuffin' here......must have been a rat or summit'"
"Naw.....it was someone...I heard footsteps....search some more!"
As Wendy shrank into the shadows, one of the pirates approached the broken staircase that led to her hideout. Holding her breath, Wendy listened, her head tucked against the rock as the pirate started up, his cutlass brandished in his hand. The sound of rock crumbling made her gasp, but it served to dissuade the pirate from completing the climb, his fellow crew-mates laughing as he jumped hastily from the ruined steps, cursing roundly.
Wendy pressed her knuckles to her mouth as a sob rose in her throat, she could feel tremors shake her body as she hugged the cold stone, the pirates moving away and spreading their search wider. As she peered around the corner, she saw they'd left one pirate to guard their retreat, his blade gleaming dully in the faint sunlight, his face in shadow. Resigned to having to wait until they departed, she shifted to make herself more comfortable, but in the process dislodged a rock from the edge, that bounced from her precarious hiding place to the ruins below, the sound of it striking the rocks like a pistol shot.
"'o-o-hs th-e-r-e?" Shouted the man, his sword held loosely in his hand as he stared into the shadows, his eyes showing their whites. Wendy clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a hysterical giggle, the man's quavering voice prompting her mirth. Below her, the man was as jumpy as a frog, his arm swinging his blade jerkily in front of him, as if to dispel invisible foe. Her attempts to muffle her nervous laugh provoked an unexpected cough that Wendy couldn't stifle quickly enough. The man below heard the sound and his eyes swivelled upwards to look at the ruined staircase in shocked surprise. Darting his eyes to the corridor, where his crewmates had gone, he obviously decided that whatever made the noise wouldn't wait for his fellows to come back and investigate. With his sword held out at arms length in front of him, the pirate advance on the staircase, his eyes wide and staring, his blackened teeth bared in a fierce grimace, as if to frighten whatever made the noise with his expression alone.
Wendy was now in real peril. She cursed herself for giving her hiding place away, and now looked about for something, or anything, to use to defend herself. There was precious little that she could see. The man's slow footsteps were getting nearer, his harsh breathing telling her what her eyes could not, that the man was on a knife edge, ready to slash at anything that moved, then worry about the consequences later. Keeping the wall between her and her attacker, Wendy straightened up, her back pressed against the cold stones. She felt a trickle of sweat itch between her shoulder blades and she longed to scratch it, her tongue snaking out to wet her dry lips. Her hands held a rock, the only weapon she could lay her hands on, her fingernails digging into the harsh surface, grating against the grit.
"ya better come out....whoever ya are.....I know ya up here...." The mans rough voice set Wendy's teeth chattering, her nerves stretched to breaking point.
The tip of the man's sword preceded him, the light catching it and making it flash. Wendy felt mesmerised, swallowing on a dry throat as she prepared to fight for her life. As his hand came into view, Wendy lifted her arms and brought the rock down on his wrist, screaming at the same time. The man jumped and howled, his sword dropping from his nerveless fingers, his face contorting into a snarl as he clutched his injured hand. Wendy launched herself at him, knocking him back on his heels, pushing past him and running pell-mell down the broken stairs. Behind her she heard a wail, then a scream suddenly cut off. Deaf to anything but the pounding of her heart, she jumped the last steps to the bottom and ran across the floor to the archway leading to the sea. Behind her she faintly registered the pounding of many feet, her own slipping on the wet steps as she fled down the uneven stairs and skidded around the corner. Her feet carried her down to the long boat, the waves slapping against it's side as she jumped into the bilge, the boat rocking dangerously as she rushed to untie the mooring line. She heard shouting and the clash of weapons as the pirates came down the staircase, hot on her heels. Using one of the oars she pushed the boat away from the dock, the space between the boat and the rock edge widening only slowly as she pushed with all her strength. The first pirate appeared in the archway and immediate yelled on seeing Wendy pushing the boat away from its mooring. He was quickly followed by the others, all of them leaping down the steps and yelling with bloodcurdling cries.
Wendy pulled on the oars, one in each hand, her strokes uneven and desperate. The distance from the boat to the dock was widening slowly, the pirates now on the stone ledge, waving their swords and swearing volubly. One kicked off his boots and dived into the water, another following his example and diving in as well. Wendy's strength was fading, her teeth bared as she tried to beat the men to the entrance. She was doomed when the first man reached the long boat and managed to hook his arm over the edge, an added incentive for her to give up was a pistol ball that clipped the oar she was holding , sending splinters into her hand, making her scream in pain and fear as she let go of the oars and fell back into the boat. The pirate was now heaving himself over the side, a short knife blade clenched between his teeth. Wendy stared at him in horror, her mouth open as she gasped for breath, her hopes of escape fading fast.
"Gotcha my pretty!" Gloated the pirate, removing the knife from his teeth and waving it in circles in front of her. Wendy bared her teeth at him, scowling ferociously, but he only laughed, looking back at his companions as he pointed at her.
Wendy used his inattention to get to her feet, turning to make her way to the prow. The shouts of his shipmates alerted him, the pirate turning in time to see Wendy dive over the side, disappearing into the choppy waves. With a shout the man stumbled to the front of the long boat and peered into the water, searching the surface for any sign of their quarry. Only bubbles greeted his intense scrutiny.
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Peter heard the shot, the sound echoing up from the stairs and rumbling around the hall where he stood, still undecided on how to find Wendy. The sound made his breath stop, his body freezing in horror. A second later and he was moving, flying through the arch and down the dark staircase like an arrow from a bow, his body twisting and turning through the passage way, bursting into the ruined hall as a round of cheers drew his attention to the entrance that led to the sea. Instantly he sped down the steps, his heart bursting with fear of what he'd find. The pirates were too intent on their quarry to hear or see Peter as he flew out of the arch and hovered high above them, almost invisible against the cavern's broken ceiling. Peter took in the scene at a glance, the pirate peering over the front of the boat at a patch of the sea where bubbles rose and broke the surface. The other sailors all cheering and jeering, their weapons raised above their heads as they pointed at the boat and the water.
Someone had gone overboard, and Peter had a fair idea who.
With the speed of a hawk, Peter dove into and under the water, his body a blur as he passed under the pirates boat, only slowing as he discerned a shape in the water ahead. It was Wendy, her hair floating around her head, her body sinking downwards, her eyes closed. Another shape appeared behind her, and Peter closed the distance between him and Wendy, wrapping his arms around her before kicking to the surface. They erupted from the water in a froth of bubbles, Wendy a dead weight in his arms, his mouth open to suck in air as they bobbed about six feet from the gaping pirates. Not waiting for a reaction, Peter lifted himself and his sodden burden into the air, the water draining off them in a waterfall as he rose high enough to clear them both of the sea. The pirates, quickly overcoming their surprise, started to shout, one raising his pistol to take a shot. Peter, his hands under Wendy's armpits, flew backwards, ducking under the opening and rising straight up the cliff, his eyes scanning the water below for an indication that he'd seen what he thought he'd seen when he rescued Wendy. Sure enough, a dark head appeared, well away from the Black Castles opening, the Mermaid floating in the water, just looking up at Peter as he flew his burden to the top of the bluff.
Setting down on a patch of thick grass, Peter laid Wendy down, his eyes scanning her pale face and closed eyes.
"Oh god, don't die on me now....please breath....come on Wendy....breath dammit....please!"
He turned her on her side, her lips turning blue as he thumped her back, a sudden convulsion warning him that she was about to expel the seawater in her stomach and lungs, a torrent gushing from her mouth as she spluttered and retched, rolling further onto her side to cough up the remains of her brush with the sea.
"Oh....god...that....hurts," Wendy groaned, her body shaking in reaction to the cold and shock. Peter lifted her slightly, holding her as she retched again, her eyes still tightly closed, her tremors increasing. Uncaring of the probability of her throwing up again, Peter lifted her into his arms and together they floated into the air, flying away from the Black Castle towards the slopes of the Volcano.
Peter took her to the other side of the Volcano to a thickly grassed meadow that lay bathed in sunshine, a stream running through its heart while trees provided shade if needed. Touching down, Peter lay Wendy down, the thick grass making a soft mattress under her. Peter knelt over her, his fingers picking the stray hairs out of her face, his lips following his hand, kissing her eyelids, her nose, her damp cheeks as he stroked her hair away from her skin.
"I'm half drowned, look dreadful and feel worse." Wendy moaned, her hands coming up to cover her face as tears of reaction set in, her shoulders heaving. Peter gathered her up into his arms, her face against his shoulder as he made soothing noises, letting her cry her hurt and fright out, his hands stroking her wet hair and soaked shirt, heedless of anything but her distress. As they sat there, the sun warmed them, drying their clothes. Wendy cried herself out on his shoulder, sniffing as she slowly stopped, slumped in his embrace.
"Feeling better?"
Wendy shook her head against his shoulder, settling herself further into his arms. Peter smiled, easing himself down to the fragrant grass with Wendy still clasped to his chest. They lay there, Wendy relaxing against him, her shock leaving her as she let the sun dry her clothes and Peter sooth her shattered nerves.
"I was drowning, wasn't I?"
"I don't know.....you weren't exactly fighting when I found you, so I suppose you were....sinking."
Wendy chuckled at his attempt to avoid admitting that she had in fact been drowning.
"You saved my life......again......I'm never going to be able to repay you."
"I should think not.....of course...there is that ravishing thing you mentioned....."
Predictably, Wendy head shot up, her eyes clashing with his, her mouth opening in indignation as she noted the wicked smile painting his face.
"You can't possibly want to ravish me.....I'm soaked......well I was, my hair is in rat-tails, I was violently ill not long ago.....I'm sticky with salt....and..."
"And you look beautiful.....I'm not complaining Wendy.....I'm just glad I arrived in time. Next time you want to go exploring, please tell me..?"
"I wasn't expecting to have to fight off a hoard of pirates...and anyway it wasn't my fault, I found a secret passage next to the fire....and it took me down there, I couldn't avoid it....rather bad timing really."
"Bad timing......" Peter laughed, "I'd say that was an understatement."
Settled once more against his chest, Wendy lay basking in the sun, her clothes stiff and dry against her back, warm and relaxed, Peter's heartbeat lulling her into a doze.
Peter felt her relax, her breathing even and steady. He marvelled that she could sleep after all that terror and excitement, his own body still thrumming from the whole rescue, drowning, life threatening scene. Plus there was the sighting of the Mermaid, something he hadn't thought to see again. It raised a host of questions.
If the sun was rising again, did that mean the rest of the denizens of Neverland would return, like the Mermaid, like his ability to fly. He hoped it was the case, he had alot of reparations to make for the years of neglect while he'd been a pirate. He only hoped he could put everything right, not least his feelings for the woman in his arms.
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Chapter: Ten - Hidden Talents
Rated: R for some naughty stuff of a sexual nature.
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Wendy awoke to find herself alone in the meadow, the sun still warm on her face, but no sign of Peter. His impression remained in the grass, proof that her ordeal hadn't been a bad dream, but of the man, there was nothing. She called, but only the wind answered, her voice snatched away and mocked by the trees.
Birds flew overhead, their brilliant plumage flashing as if rainbows were fixed to their feathers, their raucous calling at odds with their beautiful adornment. A sound alerted her to movement further down the meadow. Where she sat, surrounded by long grass, she was hidden from view, but was herself able to see the animals grazing by the stream. A buck, doe and fawn stepped from the shelter of the trees and reached their long necks down to pluck the sweet grass, Wendy sighing at the novel sight. Just as they were settling down, the three deer leapt away, the buck snorting in alarm as the doe chivvied her fawn into flight.
A shadow passed over her and she looked up.
"Peter....you frightened them away!"
"Frightened who away?"
"The deer......they were over there, so sweet."
"Tasty too......where did you say they were?"
Ignoring his teasing grin, Wendy looked longingly back at the stream but the deer were gone. Turning around she faced Peter, noting the parcels under his arm and pack on his back.
"You've been back to the Castle?"
"We needed stuff.....plus I didn't want to leave it all for them to ransack and pillage.....so I moved some to a new location. This is the last load."
"You've been busy....I must have been asleep longer than I thought."
"It is getting late and I want us to be settled before night fall....ready?"
"Is it far away ?"
"Some.....give me your hand." Peter helped her to her feet.
"But I can't fly Peter......unless you have some fairy dust, I'm grounded and you can't carry me and those bundles...."
"I reckon you can fly if you want to Wendy.....you did in the bedroom.....remember? And if your theory about us being a greater magic together than apart.......if I can fly, so should you."
"That's not exactly what I said.....but close enough." Wendy chewed her lip, "it's been so long Peter.....I don't think I can."
"Well, not if you don't think you can....." He wiggled his eyebrows at her, "I could suggest something that might give you the necessary happy thoughts."
Wendy walked neatly into his trap. "What did you have in mind?"
"Oh I don't know.....maybe this!" As he spoke, Peter came closer until he was within a hairs-breadth. He'd dropped the parcels on the way and lifted his hands to cup her face. As his lips closed over hers, Wendy swayed towards him, her palms resting against his chest. With exquisite tenderness, Peter moved his mouth over hers, his tongue begging entrance to her lips, hers opening like petals to the sun to allow his questing warmth to slip in and make love to hers. Enraptured by his slow seduction, Wendy melted against him, her mouth and his dancing together, giving and receiving until they couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Her body tingling, Wendy felt a warmth swell in her chest, her heart taking up a throbbing beat that transmitted itself everywhere she touched Peter, from her fingertips to her core. Peter's long fingers were caressing her cheeks, his thumb stroking her skin, leaving sparks in their wake. So caught in the moment Wendy didn't notice when they left the ground and started to spiral upwards, slowly but surely, into the hazy afternoon sunshine. As they continued to ignore everything outside their own bodies, the air around them started to create a vortex, grass seeds and dust rising up in a column, flowers and leaves whirling around them in a twirling dance like a miniature tornado. Wendy's hair lifted in the swirling air currents, wrapping itself around her and around Peter, like tendrils of silk.
With infinite care, Peter pressed small kisses to her lips, slowing their kiss down to a gentle embrace, his eyes coming open, ocean green shining down at her uptilted face, her lashes laying soft against her flushed cheeks.
"Wendy?"
"Hmmmmm...yes Peter?"
"Open your eyes and look around you."
Slowly, drowsily, tingling with arousal, Wendy blinked and stared back at Peter, her eyes the colour of the kingfisher.
Peter flicking his eyes down then up, Wendy following, only to stare in shock at the ground several feet below her dangling boots. To distract her, Peter kissed her again, his lips moving over hers in an age old dance that drew her heart into her throat, her eyes sliding shut as her arms wound around his neck, drawing her closer. After a few more delectable minutes, Peter once more slowed the embrace, his kisses leaving Wendy drunk with desire, her body glowing. This time it was Peter who looked shocked as he stared at something over Wendy's shoulder.
"What is it Peter?"
"Look.....just look."
Wendy tore her eyes from his and turned her head, gasping in surprise and delight as she did indeed look.
"Oh its....beautiful!"
As they circled slowly, still suspended in the air, they took in the sight of the meadow completely covered in flowers of all colours and varieties, their heads nodding in the breeze, those nearest flattened in a circle by the swirling vortex that continued to wind itself around them, although more slowly now that their intense emotions were less evident. As far as the eye could see an ocean of flowers surrounded them.
Slowly they floated to the ground, still in awe of the power they seemed to wield together.
"If that's just from a kiss...." Peter mused, a smug grin breaking over his face as he released Wendy and turned around to survey the glorious meadow.
Wendy just stared, her face illuminated with a brilliant smile, her hands reaching down to touch the velvety petals that swayed and nodded under the sunshine.
"Oh Peter.....this is amazing.....I almost don't believe it....that we could.....that we did.....oh my."
"Don't forget you were flying too.....I wasn't holding you up Wendy.....you were doing it on your own."
"I was.......wasn't I?"
Peter nodded, his arms folded across his chest as he watched her.
Biting her lip, Wendy spread her arms wide and threw her head back, almost at once she started to rise, her face split with a big grin as she rose effortlessly into the air, her toes pointing like a dancer as she concentrated, twirling in a lazy circle before stopping and looking down at Peter who watched her, laughing.
"I'm doing it.......I'm doing it!!"
Experimenting, she lay herself back so she was horizontal with the ground, her eyes closing as the sun blinded her. Turning onto her stomach so she was not facing the sky, Wendy opened her eyes to find Peter floating directly below her, his hands behind his head in effortless ease, his grin a smug as a Cheshire cats. Wendy reached down and stroked his face, smiling back, her confidence soaring.
Mentally, she pushed off and sped away, her body twisting and turning over the ocean of colour, the breeze from her passage shaking the flowers, making ripples upon the petal sea. Peter followed, looping around her as she laughed and swooped, her body as free as her spirit.
After chasing all over the meadow they arrived back where they started from, touching down next to the bundles and the crushed circle of grass. As she felt the ground beneath her feet she threw herself at Peter, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug.
"That was wonderful......so exhilarating.....I can fly!"
"Never doubted it.." said Peter softly, his arms wrapping around her, hugging her back.
After a minute he pulled way, leaning down to pick up the bundles again. Wendy watched him, some of the laughter leaving her face as the parcel's reminded her of what had gone before.
Peter saw her change of expression and leaned in to give her a kiss, instantly perking her up.
"We have to go now.......come on, its getting late."
"I know.....I just....." she swept the meadow a lingering glance.
"What we've done here......we can do all over Neverland. We have the magic....both of us together......we can restore it back to the way it was."
"We can.....can't we."
"Come on.....take my hand, I'll show you your new home."
Slipping her hand in his, Wendy rose into the air, the flowers dropping away behind them as they soared into the sky and headed for their new hideout.
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Hook rubbed his hand over his eyes as Smee tried to present the first report on the incident at the Black Castle. The first mates halting account only reinforced Hook's desire to find himself a new first mate. Smee was hopeless.
"And then....er...its appears that....er....Smithy took a header off a staircase and broke.....er....his silly neck. Then....er."
"Alright Smee.....I get the picture....they found Peter and Wendy, they let them escape and a man was killed. Did I miss anything?"
Smee paused to think, his mouth dropping open as he pondered Hook's question. Sighing, Hook rubbed his temple with his finger, his hook tapping on the table top.
"Nope....I think that's it.....in a nutshell.....yup."
"Thank you Mister Smee.....any word from the other search parties?"
"Er......no sir.....but the ship if now fully provisioned if you wanted to sail......er.....anywhere."
"Thank you Smee......dismissed."
"Right you are......fancy a cup of tea?"
"No....just go....inform me when any of the men return."
"Yes sir....right you are then."
"GO!"
Smee scuttled out of the cabin, his face white as Hook thundered, the door slamming shut behind him.
Slumping back in his seat, Hook lifted his glass and took a sip, his expression moody. So, Peter Pan had been hiding out at the Black Castle. Not surprising, given the rabbit warren nature of the place. Now that the Castle was off limits, it served its purpose in narrowing down the places they could use for shelter. Pans old haunts had been thoroughly searched and revealed nothing so far. But time was on Hook's side and he intended to savour his final triumph with all due relish.
Maybe Smee suggestion about a trip around the island would not be such a silly idea after all.
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They arrived at Peter's new hideout, but at first Wendy didn't recognise it as such. They approached a section of the forest where the trees were quite extraordinarily tall and their trunks very broad. They tops were spread out as if their roots were where their branches should be. Wendy remembered seeing a book that had an illustration of a Baobab tree from Africa and she thought these were similar, but several sizes larger than those specimens. Plus, where on the Baobab the branches were often bare, these trees had quite luxuriant growth that seemed to bend in on itself to form a dome of branches that was very unusual. Peter flew around several trunks until they were almost in the centre of the grove where the king of the species, and probably parent to all those around it, stood in its formidable glory. It was truly massive and Wendy gazed up at it in awe, never having seen a tree so huge. Peter tugged on her hand and they ascended up the smooth trunk to where the branches started, almost a hundred feet from the ground. With a grin on his face, Peter let go of her hand and ducked into the branches. It was as if he vanished without a trace. Wendy stared at the interlacing greenery and couldn't see where Peter had gone.
"Peter ?"
"I'm still here Wendy..." Peter voice could be heard quite close but Wendy simply couldn't see him.
"Where are you?"
"Right here...." A hand appeared out of the foliage and Wendy grasped it, finding herself pulled into the leaves to join Peter in the green lit interior. The leaves closed behind her, plunging them both into a green cavern of rustling leaves and white branches.
"Peter...this is amazing....no one could see you, its like camouflage."
"There's more....follow me."
Still holding his hand, Wendy followed Peter towards the interior of the canopy. They were surrounded on all sides by massive white branches that interlocked and interwove creating avenues and pathways among the branches, some so broad Wendy could walk along them with ease. As they came close to the center, the branches thinned out, only the canopy remaining like a rustling roof over their heads, rising up to form a domed ceiling of glittering green. Ahead she could see that the top of the trunk, instead of the usual point, flattened out into a rough circle, dipping towards the centre, but quite smooth. All around the edge, like a fringe of hair, branches grew out from the side for several feet before curling back, up and over to form the dome. It was extraordinary and quite amazing, forming as it did a hollow dome over the heart of the tree. It provided a perfect bower, the sun flickering through the moving leaves to create an ever-changing pattern on the bleached wood on the surface. So intent on looking up and around she almost tripped over the first chest before realising that many of the things from the Black Castle were scattered around the shallow bowl.
"So...what do you think of your new home?"
"It's....unbelievable.....simple amazing...I've never seen a tree like this."
"Almost magical....wouldn't you say?"
"Oh yes.....definitely magical."
Peter grinned, pleased that the new accommodations met with her approval.
"I have to go and get some food." He shrugged, " there was only so much I could carry. I'll leave you to sort out where you want to sleep......and stuff."
"Peter....is there somewhere I can bathe....I'm so sticky with salt, I really could use a bath."
"Sure.....there's a stream at the bottom of the tree, if you follow it, it ends in a pool. I'll look for you there, when I get back."
She watched as he walked to the edge of the platform.
"Don't take any risks Peter.....the pirates might be still around."
"I'll be careful." Then with a final wave he stepped off the edge and disappeared into the greenery.
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Wendy hummed as she combed out her long hair, the sun now too far down in the sky to penetrate the thicket that surrounded the pool. She was clean at last, having found a bar of soap in one of the chest along with other grooming necessities that she employed with vigour. Her clothes that she'd been wearing were washed and sat in a bundle ready to be taken up to the treetop to dry. She sat on a warm rock, like a sylvan naiad, her hair over one shoulder as she brushed it to help it dry, her head bent, her arms moving up and down with the comb. She had donned one of the silky shifts, her arms bare but the rest of her covered from her neck to her toes, the colour this time a delicate rose that made her fair skin glow in the fading light.
Peter watched her, his eyes drinking in her unconscious grace and sensual movements that made the silken shift move across her body in tantalising folds and dips. He felt tremors starting inside him, his body responding to the beautiful girl so unaware of his presence. He closed his eyes briefly and moaned low in his throat as his body tightened and strained his trousers, making him fidget uncomfortably. She was sorely testing his resolve not to ravish her in the way he wanted to, the pirate in him burning to make her his own, in as rough and ready a manner as his lust would allow. But his heart, his new found tenderness, advocated a softer approach, that she deserved better than the rape of her innocence. As he fought himself, his body remained hard and insistent, his hand moving to his groin to rub at his swollen flesh through the material confining him, trying to give himself some relief. Unfortunately it had the reverse effect, and he gasped as his body jerked in response to his own caress.
Unaware of Peter and his torment, Wendy stopped brushing her hair and rose to her feet, the material of her shift falling in silky waves to her feet as she stretch upwards, her arms above her head. Bending over, presenting her silk covered derriere to Peter's hidden gaze, she gathered her clothes together, along with the soap, and bundled them together. Once more she bent down, her bottom clearly defined by the thin material before straightening up and walking around the pool to reach a cleared patch of ground, the bracken swallowing her as she pushed through its luxuriant growth.
Peter slumped against the ground, his body, his lust taking control, his fingers hurriedly releasing his burning manhood from its confining prison. He gripped himself, his eyes sliding shut as he replayed the image of Wendy's rounded form as she unconsciously provided an erotic peep-show for her most ardent admirer. Despite all his best intentions to treat her with respect and keep her chaste, his body had other ideas, his hand moving surely and swiftly as he brought himself to completion, his breath leaving his lungs in harsh gasps, his muscles straining as he reached for the release so close to the edge of his awareness. With a cry his body coiled and burned, his head straining back as his body jerked and expelled his most precious fluid over his stomach and chest.
For several seconds he lay twitching and jerking in the aftermath of his orgasm, his mouth open as he panted, his eyes still closed. Rolling onto his side he moaned quietly, his face pressed to the cold earth, the moss under his fingers as soft as velvet.
Sitting up he tucked himself away, grimacing at the mess on his shirt front, his body racked with after-tremors as his heart still pounded. He only hoped that by relieving his immediate need, he would be able to sleep chastely beside Wendy and not fall prey to his baser instinct. It was a faint hope, but he clung to the fantasy.
Reaching up he ran his fingers through his hair, lifting the damp curls away from his scalp. Still feeling the after-effects of his passion, he decided that the only recourse was to take a swim and try and tire himself out before returning to the tree and facing Wendy.
Kicking off his boots, he stripped off his shirt and trousers, dropping them to the mossy ground. He was so intent on his thoughts that he didn't notice that the ground all around where he'd lain was sprouting shoots that continued to grow as Peter padded barefoot to the pool and dived in.
The pool closed over his head in cool waves, his body tingling as the water washed him clean, the tea coloured water soft and fragrant. He surfaced and swum strongly to the far side, before turning back and swimming back, standing up at the edge and walking out of the pool, his body glistening and glowing. He shook his head to rid himself of the worst of the wet, the drops flying out in a arc of diamond tears. Reaching where he'd left his clothes, Peter felt his mouth open in surprise as he stared at the glade. Every inch of the ground was covered in closely packed, star-shaped purple flowers, so dense that only his clothes were left to tell him where the bare ground had been before.
Shaking his head, Peter laughed, the sound starting as a quiet chuckle, but ending in unrestrained mirth as he contemplated the effect that a simple hand job had on the local flora. After the meadow, he thought he wouldn't be surprise what eventuated, but this was further proof that strong emotions, especially those connected with sex, could somehow affect the environment on Neverland. It was a sobering and strangely endearing thought.
It was getting dark as he pulled on his trousers and picked up his boots, not bothering to put them or his shirt back on, before flying up to return to the crown of the tree. With his passions under control, or at least temporarily assuaged, Peter felt quite able to face Wendy without wanting to ravage her. Or so he thought.
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Chapter: Eleven - Harmony
Rated R: for major, major naughtiness....smut smut smut!!!
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Wendy was hanging her damp clothes on several branches near to the edge of the rounded platform, her back to Peter as he alighted on the smooth surface of the trees heart. He looked down at his own shirt, cursing that he didn't think to wash it when he was swimming. Padding over to one of the chests, he stuffed the shirt inside and pulled out another. Wendy heard him and turned to send him a smile before finishing her laundry. Peter kept his attention on sorting out their sleeping furs and not on the enticing curves so blatantly displayed by Wendy's thin shift. Satisfied that the clothes weren't about to fall off, Wendy turned and walked back to the centre, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. Peter swallowed hard, his good intentions flying up into the clouds as his body twitched in response to the soft undulations of Wendy's hips and the sway of her breasts as she walked towards him. Tearing his eyes away he threw the furs into a roughly bed shaped mat and turned to sort out their meal, turning his back on Wendy, so missing her perplexed look as she halted, wanting to gauge his reaction to her in the silky shift, a difficulty when faced with only his broad shoulders and the back of his head. Thwarted, Wendy shrugged and decided to take matters into her own hands by going to sit in the middle of the sleeping furs and arranging herself as attractively as she knew how.
Peter turned with a bowl of fruit in his hands, ready to pass it to Wendy only to find her already sitting on the furs, her legs tucked to the side, her face upturned to his with a small smile playing over her lips.
"I thought we could sit here while we eat...it'll be like a picnic."
"Sure....er....okay....here, take this....I'll....er.....light a lantern."
Leaning down Peter passed the bowl to Wendy, getting a good view down her cleavage in the process. His body twitched again, making him flush. Turning away, he busied himself with the lamp, while Wendy picked over the fruit, choosing a pear from among the offerings, the noise of her biting into the juicy fruit making Peter grind his teeth in frustration, his crouched position making his trousers uncomfortably tight. With the lamp lit, he stood up and carried it over to where Wendy was licking the juice off her fingers, his eyes riveted to her tongue as it dabbed at her sticky digits.
"This fruit it wonderful Peter.....I didn't realise there was such a variety in Neverland."
"Huh?"
Wendy looked up at Peter, noting his concentrated attention, deliberately putting one of her fingers into her mouth to clean it. Peter moaned, the sound low but clearly audible. Wendy looked away, unable to keep the smile from her face. He shook himself and placed the lamp on top of a small crate beside the bed. The light outside their green bower was fading fast, the sunset irrelevant as they couldn't see beyond the leaves. The golden glow of the lamp highlighted the golden streaks in Wendy's hair, Peter feeling an urgent need to touch the shining strands. He tugged his loose shirt down as far as it would go to hide his bodies reaction, lowering himself to sit beside Wendy, cross-legged on the furs, before reaching for a apple and crunching it savagely. As if unaware of her companions discomfort, Wendy rose to her knees to reach for another fruit, her hand coming down on the furs to brace herself as she stretched past Peter, her hair brushing his leg. When she made to lean back on her heels she lost her balance and pitched onto Peter's lap, her hand brushing his thigh, close to his straining manhood. With a yelp, Peter jerked as if he'd been burned, his apple flying away, as he found his hands full of feminine softness and the scent of Wendy.
"Oh I'm sorry.....did I hurt you?"
All solicitous, Wendy pushed against him, one hot hand still on his thigh, the other against his chest. With temptation under his very nose, Peter surrendered, his vow not to ravish her evaporating under the heat of her skin and the smell of her hair.
With a growl, Peter clasped her upper arms and pushed her away from him, but not very far, just far enough for his mouth to descend on hers and meld them together in a devouring kiss. Her goal achieved, Wendy melted against him, her limp body pulling them down, so that she lay on her back against the furs, her hair spread around her head, and Peter kissing her as if she was the source of his only nourishment in days.
While he plundered her mouth, his hands were busy exploring all her curves, his hands stroking her breasts, finding their hard peaks and teasing them into greater prominence. He was half laying on her, his leg flung over hers as he continued his assault on her lips, his tongue teasing hers into a battle within the cavity of her mouth. His feet were busy too, stroking up and down her calf, pushing the skirt ever upwards as his knee nudged at her centre between her thighs.
Wendy bent her knee, the material sliding down her thighs in a wanton display that Peter didn't overlook, his hand going from her breast down to her leg and tracing a heated path up her thigh towards his ultimate goal. His mouth left hers, kissing a path over her face, her neck down to her breast, latching onto a nipple through the thin material, soaking it so it became transparent, the coolness making her skin tingle with sensitivity.
Wendy's hands were busy too, first burying themselves in his damp curls, her nails dragging across his scalp, then working their way down to his shoulders, a mewing sound when she encountered his shirt, wanting to touch his skin. Her feet were also busy, running up and down Peter's calves, pressing him closer to her.
Pulling himself away from Wendy, Peter pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it out of the way, her hands instantly running over his chest, finding his nipples and caressing them.
Resting on his elbows, he gazed down at her flushed face, his eyes burning as he panted above her.
"If you want this to stop....it had better be now....any more, and I won't be responsible for the consequences."
Her lips curving into a seductive smile, Wendy lifted her hands and stroked his face, her eyes roving over his beloved features as if committing them to memory.
"Weeeendy?"
"I don't want you to stop Peter....I want you to make love to me, .... make me yours, for as long as you want me....."
"Oh I want you.....I want you so much....now and forever."
"Love me Peter......just love me."
With an inarticulate cry, Peter claimed her lips again, the sweetness almost unbearable as they gave and received their souls with each searing kiss.
With her hands on his chest, Wendy pushed Peter onto his back, straddling him, kissing him as she felt him press against her most intimate core, his heat matching hers, almost melting them both. Breaking the kiss, she pushed herself upright, looking down at him, feeling incredibly excited to be sitting over him in such an intimate way, her shift bunched around her waist. Leaning down, her hair creating a curtain around them, Wendy placed her lips close to Peters ear. His hands came up and resting on her hips as he waited for her to speak.
"I told you how I gave you my hidden kiss on the deck of the Jolly Roger all those years ago.......that it was yours, and yours alone. I've never, in all that time given that kiss to anyone else. Now I want to give your all I have.....all I am.. my essence and myself...."
Straightening up, Wendy crossed her arms across her body, grasping the edges of her shift. In one smooth movement she lifted it over her head, her hair falling back to cloak her shoulders as she let the fabric drop from her fingers. Revealed to his gaze, Wendy felt a frisson of fear before she lifted her eyes to find herself drowning in Peter's burning gaze, his eyes glittering in the lamplight as he looked at the treasures so trustingly displayed before him. The hands lying softly on her hips suddenly clenched as Peter found himself in an agony of emotion, his head turning away as his eyes squeezed shut to stop the prick of tears unmanning him. Wendy saw his throat work as he swallowed to stop his tears from spilling over. Suddenly unsure, Wendy reached forward and turned his face back, her hand on his cheek, stroking and soothing as his trembling lips brought all her maternal instincts to bear.
"Peter......tell me what's wrong....tell me...."
Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, Peter opened his eyes, tears spilling over and running down his temples to soak into his hair. She filled his vision, her sweet face all concern for his distress. As he fought to control his raging emotions, Wendy leant down and kissed him softly on the lips, then on the cheek, his eyes sliding closed as she kissed his brow then his eyelids, calming him and soothing the multitude of hurts that rose up to haunt him. Under her gentle caress, he started to relax, the tears drying on his skin, his hands unclenching and lying against her warm skin. Once more under control, Peter lifted one of his hands and smoothed the hair away from her face, trapping her cheek in his hand. Wendy smiled down at him, her eyes patient as he fought to find the right words.
"Wendy.....I've done.....so many things I regret with my heart, but I can't change them...or put them right."
"Did you try to?"
"Yes.....when I could.....but mostly I failed....failed to save anyone. There was a girl.....she was so young." Peter closed his eyes, his ghosts revisiting him, " We were only going to take their cargo, not fire the ship, but something happened.......the engines caught fire or something.....the ship went up.....I tried to save her, took her to the Captains cabin to get something to help her survive but.....I don't know what happened, there was an explosion, something knocked me out.....not for long, but long enough. When I came to.....she was dead.....I didn't find a mark on her, but she died anyway....." Wendy stroked his hair, her fingers threading through his curls as he unburdened himself. "The crew thought I'd taken her to.....to....rape, but I didn't, I couldn't.....she had hair, just like yours. I didn't want her to die....but she did." Wendy made soft noises, her fingers combing through his hair, her eyes soft and forgiving. "I had to take her body and throw it overboard.....everyone thought I'd murdered her.....it was turning point, after that the crew trusted me completely.....there was nothing I could do that was wrong.....its was my.....final initiation into the crew, I was finally a man....." Peter lips twisted into a bitter smile, his eyes closing as he drew a shuddering breath.
"Peter.....open your eyes, look at me..."
Reluctantly, he did, finding her command irresistible.
"I don't pretend to understand what your life has been like, I can only judge what I've seen of you since your came into my life again. I know what you were like....before....and your are my Peter again now....if you weren't I wouldn't be giving my most precious gift to you.....here and now." She smiled softly at him, "You feel guilty about your life before, but you had no control over that. What you do with your life from here on is what's important. What you feel in your heart is important.....you can't put back the lives lost, but you can make sure no more lives are ruined because of your actions."
"How can you still speak to me.....love me, knowing what I've been, what I've done."
"I love you Peter....I've loved you for so long...I thought I would never see you again, but I still loved you. When I realised who you were, who you purported to be, I loved you still. In my heart I know that if you had known who you really were, you wouldn't have done any of those....crimes. It's simply not who you were.....Peter Pan.. my Peter...my love."
"I don't deserve you.....I feel......I feel...."
Reaching down, Wendy lifted one of his hands and placed it between her breasts, her skin warm under his palm, the beat of her heart regular and strong under his fingers.
"Feel this.....know that this is yours as surely as my kiss....its always been yours......and will be 'till the day I breath my last."
Unable to bear it, Peter pulled her down, wrapping his arms around her back so that she was crushed against his chest, Peter burying his face in her neck, murmuring incoherently into her hair. Again Wendy stroked his tangled curls, soothing and petting, letting him weep out his ghosts and guilt against her skin.
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Minutes or hours later, Wendy felt his lips move against her flesh, his hands spreading over her back as he rolled them over, his body covering hers, his tears bathing her face as he kissed his way to her lips. The heat of passion that had been simmering below the surface erupted into life, searing and flaring as Peter made slow love to her body, teasing her nipples into hard peaks as his hands explored her dips and hollows, finding their way to her most secret folds, gently parting her and seeking the heat within. She felt like a musical instrument, played by an expert, her body arching and singing as Peter found her secrets and brought her to the heights of ecstasy with only his mouth and hands. As she gasped into his mouth, he pulled away briefly to dispense with his remaining clothing, the trousers ending up somewhere behind them before his burning skin melded once more with hers, heat exploding wherever they touched. His mouth plundered her breasts, suckling and pulling on her heaving flesh as she writhed under him, her legs falling open as his talented fingers made lightening coil between her legs and explode in a thousand stars behind her eyes as she arched into his hand. As tightly as the spring coiled, she unwound, floating down from the stars on a cloud of euphoria as Peter kissed her gently back to earth.
"I ache to make you mine.....I want to worship you with my body..."
"Love me Peter......love me."
Shifting, Peter positioned himself between her legs, her knees raising to bring him into closer contact with her liquid center, his rigid flesh pressing against her most private portal as he brought his hand down to ease the head of his manhood into her heat. With his burning flesh partially sheathed, he braced his elbows on either side of her head, his hands cradling her face, watching every expression as he slowly pushed himself inside her, her eyes widening as she felt him inside her body for the first time, her liquid core accommodating him, stretching to his size and shape, Wendy relaxing her muscles to draw him in deeper. As he felt himself come up against her maiden head he paused, withdrawing to repeat the process, accustoming her to the feel of his body in hers.
Wendy was on fire, her body welcoming him, wanting more. Feeling her arch underneath him Peter thrust hard, breaking the final barrier, his mouth swallowing her moan of pain as he buried himself fully in her velvet center.
"I'm sorry.....the pain will pass.....I promise."
Kissing her eyes, her forehead, her cheeks, Peter started to withdraw then buried himself again, a moan of passion from her swollen lips spurring him on, his thrusts becoming less controlled as Wendy writhed and tried to pull him into her, their bodies straining to complete their purpose, Peters back rippling under Wendy's fingers as he arched above her, his head coming down to allow his mouth consume her breast, making her cry out as sparks connected her nipple to her core. His flesh was one with her as passion carried them to the pinnacle, Peter falling over with a series of hard thrusts, his body jerking as he groaned harshly, his flesh releasing his seed inside her, his movements against her, pulling her after him, her cries of release a high pitched wail of completion.
For several seconds they lay panting, Peter with his face buried in her neck, Wendy still feeling the tremors through her thighs as Peter twitched and jerked with aftershocks inside her. Completely spent, Peter relaxed his pelvis so it fitted neatly into hers, his body joined snugly with hers. Still braced on his arms, he lifted his head from her shoulder and pressed a damp kiss to her ear, noting that her heart seemed to be beating in time with his own hectic pace.
"The next time will be better.....the first is always painful, but it will fade." Peter whispered to her, his expression anxious.
Wendy started to laugh, weakly, her body shaking under his as she opened her eyes and sparkled up at him, laughing even harder as she noted his confused expression.
"If this.....if this wasn't the best....I don't' think I'll survive better....I'll just surrender now....if its all the same to you." She chortled, reaching up to stroke his lips with gentle fingertips.
Grinning, his expression wryly smug, Peter laughed with her, his eyes dancing as they laughed together, lying replete and sated on the soft furs. As the Neverland moon rose and bathed the treetops with silver light, a warm breeze carried the scent of the millions of flowers that bloomed outside the bower, living proof of the love that had been so sweetly consummated in the heart of the King of trees.
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Chapter: Twelve - Honeymoon
Rated: R.....for lots of naughty stuff with major fluff.
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Overnight the island of Neverland bloomed. It's long dormant spring had finally arrived. Every meadow produced its own rippling ocean of flowers and rich grass, every tree its own garland of blossom. Everywhere was colour, soft, vibrant, living colour, Neverlands' lifeblood flowed through its flora and fauna. In the skies above the island, birds swooped and dived, the ocean birds jostling for position on the rocky cliffs and headlands, the more exotic birds vying for premium nesting sites among the verdant trees. Everywhere life celebrated its renewal, its rebirth.
Hook hung over the edge of the Jolly Roger's port rail and glowered at the dolphins cleaving their way through the clear water, racing the ship as she sailed through their watery world, their gleaming skin reflecting the rainbows of spray from the pirate ships prow. Feeling a smile of appreciation unwillingly curve his lips, he straightened up and turned away from the sight, fixing his interest on the ugliest member of his crew, so hideous that it was a sure fire guarantee to wipe a smile off anyone's face, to look upon the unfortunate man. Satisfied that he'd managed to conquer the urge to appreciate Neverlands' new mantle of life, Hook sauntered across the deck, his jet black curls lifting in the breeze as the Jolly Roger sailed before the wind, making excellent time. He had instructed the helmsman to circumnavigate the island, a trip that usually took the best part of two days. It was now the third day and they had still not sighted their original birth, in the lee of the Black Castle headland. It would appear that not only had Neverland become awash with burgeoning life and colour, but it was also expanding its borders, adding shoreline that hadn't existed since the last survey done only two years before. As he climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck he glanced towards the coastline, noting that it was completely alien to him, the tall chalky cliff glowing impossibly white in the bright sunshine. Above the cliffs, what looked like moorland stretched as far as the eye could see, the low, scrubby heather already purple with flower.
From the earliest reports, it would seem that, whatever Peter and his witch were doing, it was recreating Neverland in a richness that had never been seen before. There were animals here that had never been caught or even sighted before, birds and insects, plants and fish, that were all new and wondrous to see and eat. It certainly had improved their diet for the last few days, Hook even dusting off his game pieces, highly decorated and polished, his prize possessions, to indulge in a pheasant shoot. Indeed they all ate royally off the livestock that seemed so abundant. At this rate, Hook surmised, they would all get as fat as kings and just as lazy. He must find Peter soon and put an end to all this frivolity.
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Peter rolled onto his back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His heart pounding as he lay boneless and completely relaxed, his lips curved in a grin while his eyes remained closed.
"That has to be the best way to start a day....."
Beside him, Wendy stretched languidly, her arms above her head as she arched and squirmed, her body tingling all over.
"You might bother to wake me up next time......really, you're insatiable."
"Hah....you were awake....nobody can squeal like that and still be asleep....your body proves you a liar every time." Peter grinned smugly.
"Oh you're insufferable......" Wendy rolled onto her side and draped herself across his chest, her hair like a silken shawl. "And I have to agree......that is a most pleasurable way to be awoken.."
"Told you so..."
"Well honestly.....you are quite the most smug, conceited...."
Wendy found herself rolled onto her back and her mouth silenced as Peter kissed her into submission, his lips teasing and devouring hers as he sent her once more into rapture, his hands roving her treasures with a surety born of constant re-acquaintance over the last few days. Finding all her secrets anew, he brought her to panting completion, his own building quickly to his release not long after hers.
Catching her breath, Wendy gazed up at the green canopy, her fingers stroking through Peter's golden curls where they lay, tickling her chin.
"We really should get up.....we didn't get much done yesterday either..and I'm sure there's something we're supposed to do...."
"Hmmmmm" Peter nuzzled her breast, his tongue flicking out to tease an already sensitive nubbin.
"Peter...."Wendy swatted him, receiving a cheeky grin in reply. "What are we going to do about Hook...and the others."
"What do you want me to do with them?"
For a moment Wendy's mind went blank, her body attempting to recover from the fog of sexual satisfaction that still held her in its thrall. They had been discovering each other, in their love-nest in the heart of the tree, for the best part of four days, their need for each other not diminished in the slightest. On the first morning, after taking a leisurely swim in the secluded pool, they had lain in the warm sun and just explored their bodies. As Wendy had still been a little sore and stiff from all the new muscles she never knew she had, Peter had confined himself to mapping every inch of her skin, cataloguing all her pleasure points, taking note of every gasp and twitch, every sigh and tremor, driving her mad with pleasure until she flew apart in his arms and gambolled with the stars, not once but several times that day. That night she returned the favour, and took great pleasure in driving Peter to distraction, his reactions to touches and tastes as Wendy used her mouth to explore him, causing him to discover new sensations that even he, with his experience formed in London bawdy houses, found didn't come close to the same acts, when performed with love and tenderness, curious hands and uninhibited trust. He found himself brought to shuddering completion at her hands, and discovered depths to his emotions he'd never experience before. The next day they used all their new found knowledge and partnered it with bringing their bodies together in the most intimate of acts, their passion now enriched by their knowledge of what each liked and responded to, their joining the culmination that carried them to the heights of satiation. They simply couldn't get enough of each other, each new experience melding them more firmly together as one body, one heart, one unbroken union.
Blissfully unaware of the changes occurring in Neverland around them, they existed only in their leafy bower, the immediate vicinity all they needed to sustenance them, with food and water in abundance, themselves being all they needed for company or entertainment. It was an idyllic honeymoon.
As Peter continued his leisurely exploration of her breasts, Wendy tried to remember what it was she was asking him. Something about Hook, and the Jolly Roger.
"Peter?"
"Hmmmmmm" She could feel the vibration of his hum through her skin, setting up tremors in her stomach.
"Peter.....please we have to talk.....about Hook..."
"Hmmmmmmm...." His tongue was hot on her skin, tracing the little veins that painted her white flesh around her aureole, the tip flicking against the nipple, making it pebble and swell. For him, Wendy was a feast he could never have his fill of, her body a banquet with more courses yet to be sampled and tasted. She was blossoming under his loving touch, her inhibitions flown to the four winds under his unceasing assault on her senses, until he wondered if she was an opiate to so enslave him, body and soul until she filled his every waking thought and every possible fantasy. All thoughts of his former life were swept away, all guilt washed clean in the love that shone from her eyes, all hurts bathed in the warmth of her lips. He was as one reborn, his life only starting when their bodies became joined, their hearts united in ecstasy as they scaled the heights of passion and love. It was a euphoric state that he didn't want to awake from.
"Peter?" A tug on his hair brought his attention back to her, his head raising to bring his face near hers.
"You don't like what I'm doing?"
"Don't be ridiculous......of course I like what you're doing....I just don't think we can be doing this all the time....."
"Why not?"
"I....why....I...." Wendy blustered, her brows drawing together in a bewildered frown as she tried to think of an answer to his question while his hand wandered down her body, threading their way through her nether-curls to delve into her heated folds and set up the tremors in her stomach again. "Ooooooh Peter......stop that.....I can't think when you do that....."
"That's the idea......you think to much Wendy......" Peter replied, his voice low and smoky as he bent his head and lay a path of kisses down her jawline as she turned her head to give him greater access. "I think.....that we should leave Hook to stew in his own juices for awhile....he can't find us......he won't find us....and there's nothing he can do, so let him be.....he can await our pleasure...." Peter, hot and hard and ready, raised himself up over her body, his hips finding a willing cradle between her legs, ".....mmmmmmmm he can await our pleasure......." he pressed forward, his manhood sliding into her heated core, "......and that could be.....aaaaahhhh..... long time to come......oh Wendy!"
Arching her back, Wendy lifted her legs and wrapped them around his slim hips, drawing him in deeper, his arms supporting him as he dove into her, his pace at first slow and teasing, but quickly becoming faster and harder as he sought to become one with her, her cries echoing his as they sought to ride the stars again. As he shuddered in release he sealed her lips with his, drawing her moans into his mouth, the sound of her own completion wringing the last of his passion as he jerked into her, his muscles, so strained only moments ago, now lax and boneless as he collapsed one her, Wendy's arms coming around him to crush him to her chest.
Minutes later, he felt a tug on his head and he lifted it from its warm pillow on her shoulder.
"Peter?"
He cocked an eyebrow as she pouted at him, her lips swollen with is kisses.
"I'm hungry and I want a swim.....pleeeeeease?"
"Turning into a nag already...." he teased, shaking his head at her. Wendy only grinned and clenched her internal muscles around him, making him wince. "All right.....all right......food, swim.....but only if I get to dry you off." He waggled his eyebrows at her, making her giggle.
"If I let you dry me off, I'll just have to have a swim again....."
"Then I'll just have to dry you off again....I don't see a problem with that...."
"Oh you are impossible.....come on....swim....food....that order."
Grumbling, Peter rolled off of her, Wendy leaning over him and pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before clambering to her feet and stretching, her hair cascading down her back to her bottom. Padding over to the edge of the broad tree-heart, her hips swaying provocatively, Wendy paused at the edge, her back to Peter. From where she stood she could see straight down to the base of the tree, Peter having created a clear corridor for them, to use for flying up and down the trunk with ease. Poised, she glanced over her shoulder at Peter, still sprawled among the furs, his hands behind his head, his glittering eyes watching her every move. Lifting her hand she blew him a kiss before diving off the platform in a graceful arc, her body caressed by the warm air as she flew down the trunk and swooped towards the hidden pool, her hair streaming behind her like a silken cloak. Hovering above the pool, she dipped her toe in to test the water before drawing in a deep breath and plunging feet first into the deepest part, the fragrant liquid closing over her head before she kicked her feet and rose to the surface. She immediately looked up, hearing a shout as Peter prepared to join her, his body swooping through the air, passing over her head to fly up in a loop, before tucking himself into a ball and splashing down, water exploding upwards, soaking Wendy and sending waves washing against the shore and rattling reeds. Wendy laughed as she wiped the water from her eyes, the waves making her bob as she trod water. Peter surfaced beside her, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her against him, Wendy clinging to him, her arms around his neck.
"Did you like my new dive?"
Inches from his grinning face, Wendy smiled back, pecking him on the nose.
"It was very.......wet."
Peter looked askance, pouting in mock disappointment. "Is that all....wet?"
"Well I really wasn't paying attention...maybe if you did it again?"
"Wench.....you just like to see me showing off this magnificent body for your entertainment."
"Well, there is that added bonus of course......." Wendy teased, pushing away from him and floating on her back, leisurely moving her arms to paddle backwards. Peter dived under the water, coming up under her to nip her on her buttock, making her squeal before surfacing beside her again, shaking water from his hair.
"You rat.." she splashed a handful of water at him, precipitating all out war as they started splashing each other, Wendy finding herself outclassed as Peter's well muscled arms windmilled, to soak her in a continuous spray of water. Ducking under to escape, she kicked out and stayed under water, swimming away.
Surfacing she found Peter waiting for her, his face unusually sombre.
"Wendy....are you happy?"
Perplexed, Wendy looked at him quizzically.
"Of course I am Peter....why do you ask?"
"I just.....its all so perfect....I'm afraid.....I'm not sure...."
"Peter....I'm sure. This is perfect because it was meant to be....always." Raising her hand she laid it against his cheek, her thumb stroking his wet skin as she gazed at him with all the love she had shining in her eyes. "I love you Peter...I....love....you." She interspersed her statement with kisses, her arms winding around his neck as she pressed herself to him, her legs wrapping around his hips.
"I love you Wendy....I haven't said it, but I do.....I want...I want to be with you always and forever. I want to live with you, laugh with you....I want everything!"
"I want that too Peter.." Wendy murmured, her cheek against his, her heart full with the words she'd wanted so much to hear from his lips.
Peter drew in a deep breath before continuing. "I want more.....I want to have children with you.......I want you for my own.....my life.....my....wife."
"Oh Peter......" Overcome, Wendy could only place her hands on either side of his face and kiss him, her eyes filling with tears of happiness as she tried to give him her heart in her kiss.
Pulling back slightly, Wendy regarded him with her rich blue eyes, blinking the water from them before speaking. "You may get your wish before you realise Peter......we haven't....um...exactly been using any form of.....um......protection."
"Protection?" Peter quirked an eyebrow before realisation dawned and he grinned at her. "Oh......protection.....um...how soon would you.....er.....how long before you know."
"Well....I'm not entirely sure.....I could be wrong....but..."
"You could be right.....Oh Wendy....just think, a boy, with my looks and my brains....wouldn't that be glorious, we could have our own Lost Boys......"
"Well they wouldn't be lost, Peter....and the boys might be girls..with my looks and my brains...." Wendy chastised him, smiling at his gleeful look. "And I think it'll be a little while, several weeks, until I know for sure."
"Would you be disappointed if you weren't?"
"I don't know Peter.....its not something...well, I have thought about it....what girl hasn't, I just didn't expect it to happen right now....its all been so sudden." She noted the slight frown marring his brow and quickly kissed it, to smooth it away. "But I don't mind, really......whatever happens.....what will be, will be. As long as I'm with you, the rest is just icing on the cake."
"I want to give you children, Wendy. It's what a husband does, isn't it?"
"Yes Peter.....a husband does give his wife children. He also give her love and protection and provides a home and lots of other wonderful things."
"I can do all that....I want to do all that." Peter kissed her, his eyes dancing as he nudged himself between her legs, his readiness hot and hard against her. "I also want to do this again.....unless you think we've done it too much already." Again a worried frown drew his eyebrows into a little crease. Wendy could only smile and kiss him again, filled with warmth from his tenderness and caring, overwhelmed and choked by her emotions.
Swallowing hard, she managed a wobbly smile, her eyes sparkling.
"I remember my mother telling me once, when we had one of our mother-daughter talk, that when she married my father they had their honeymoon at a place called Brighton, in a nice hotel with very nice rooms.....they were there for two weeks and didn't leave their room except to eat and occasionally take a walk along the seafront....its where I was conceived. She said it cemented their love and forged bonds that could never be broken. It made their marriage that much stronger. I think that this is our honeymoon Peter....and I want to forge bonds between us that will never be broken."
"Does that mean we can do it anytime we want to?"
Giggling at his eager face, Wendy buried her face against his shoulder, blushing furiously. "Yes Peter.....we can....do it as often as you want......as we both want."
"Oh good....." Without further preamble he buried himself in her liquid heat, making her gasp as he filled her. "Because I want to, right now.......I can't be near you and not want to....."
"Peter...." Wendy sighed his name, her eyes sliding shut as sensation swamped her, visions of blonde haired, blue eyed, wickedly cheeky boys and pretty brunette, sea-green eyed girls swimming before her minds eye as Peter claimed her for his own, branding her with his passion and searing her with his love.
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Chapter: Thirteen - Allies
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Another seven days slipped by without a ripple disturbing the surface of Neverlands' calm, its forests and fields only populated by animals and birds, insects and flowers, the streams running unimpeded, their water unpolluted. On the morning of the start of the third week since Peter had carried Wendy off to Neverland, change was palpable, as tangible as the smoke carried to the tree-tops to alarm and tantalise the two people living in splendid isolation atop the king of trees. Wendy noticed it first, the smell so reminiscent of London and its smoky fogs, that a rush of longing for home overcame her, making her almost sob in her sleep, the smell pulling her awake, so that she sat up suddenly, her fingers wiping the wetness from her cheeks without realising what had caused it.
"Peter......Peter wake up......I smell smoke.......Peter!"
At the note of alarm in her voice, Peter rolled to his feet, reaching for a knife, before registering that the menace wasn't at their door, only within their vicinity.
"I'm awake...I'm up...Wendy?"
"Smoke Peter.....something is burning."
Peter lifted his head, drawing air into his lungs, his eyes narrowing as he tried to analyse the air and its ominous burden.
"It's wood-smoke, not volcanic," he announced, reaching down to pull on a pair of trousers, boots, a shirt and a belt to tuck his knife into. Wendy similarly rose and dressed, pulling on a dress that she had altered to allow her more freedom of movement, while still retaining its simple style. It didn't need anyone but herself to put it on and she quickly fastened the buttons at the front, before pulling her hair back, twisting it into a plait as Peter found his sword and scabbard, buckling it on his hips with sure hands.
It would seem that their honeymoon was over. Receiving a nod from Wendy that she was ready, they ran to the edge of their home and dived off, swooping down and then up, clearing the green branches that formed their bower. Once free of the tree they rose above the canopy and surveyed Neverland. It was as if they had been transported to another world.
"Peter.....what's been happening to Neverland?"
Shaking his head, Peter could only look around, his eyes trying to find familiar landmarks in the bewilderingly new landscape. Wendy flew by his side, their hands entwined as they looked in wonder at the changes wrought since their arrival.
"Oh Peter.......what has been going on?"
"If the meadow was an indication, I'd say our 'magic' has been rather busy...much as we have," Peter replied wryly, his lips twisted in a crooked smile as they continued to fly over their new domain.
The only constant in their vision was the Volcano, that still dominated the centre of the island, rising several hundred feet, its cap dusted with snow. Peter spotted the smoke first, as they rounded the mountain, the roiling cloud rising from the far end of the island. A section of the forest was on fire, black smoke rising from the smouldering canopy, the smell of smoke now strong in the air as they flew towards the blaze, Wendy's fingers tightening on Peter's as they slowly approached the conflagration.
"This is awful......how on earth could it have been started?...there's been no lightening.....not even any rain that I'm aware of."
"Maybe that the problem.....no rain to keep the vegetation wet, its dried out.....who knows what started it......we have to find a way to put it out before all of Neverland is consumed."
"How do we do that?"
"I don't know.........maybe......maybe there's something we can do together.....maybe we can affect the weather as well as the plants.....its worth a try."
Wendy glanced at him uncertainly, her brow furrowed as she tried to rationalise what he'd suggested. It was true that Peter had affected the weather, all those years ago. He'd made the skies cloud over and snow to fall when he had grieved over Tinkerbells' death, and the skies had turned red when he'd been fighting Hook. But how to translate that into what they had now, was something else.
"Peter..I don't know what to do......the last time it was because you were heartbroken over Tink dying.....that's not something you can just repeat."
Peter was watching the flames lick at another tree, the wind whipped up by the heat, aiding the flames, urging them along as they hungrily ate another tree, leaving a blackened trail and clouds of thick smoke.
He felt helpless, his anger rising as another tree succumbed to the orange flames, his island....his land going up in smoke. Above his head clouds started to gather, grey and heavy, the sky darkening dramatically directly above Peter and Wendy where they hovered, uncertain what to do next.
Wendy glanced up, noting the clouds and tugged at Peter's hand.
"You're doing it Peter......whatever you're feeling, its bringing the clouds...."
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Chuckling to himself, Hook steadied the telescope, the lens trained on the specks hovering in the air some distance away. Above his head, clouds had started to appear, black and heavy with rain, swirling above the heads of the two people in the air.
"Well it took a big enough carrot to lure you out of your bolt hole, Peter Pan, and I see you've brought the Wendy witch with you, how fortunate for me."
As he spied on them, Peter and Wendy flew closer to the line of fire eating its way through the forest, the sound of the trees exploding as their sap ignited, audible to Hook from his vantage point at the top of the rocky ridge. Smoke obscured his vision for a moment, his search of the sky futile until he spotted his quarry once more, this time directly over the flames, the heat causing them to be buffeted by wind gusts as the clouds continued to amass above their heads. As he watched, a salacious grin lighting up his sallow face, Peter appeared to send Wendy away from him. Now Hook was torn between watching Peter or watching Wendy. Snatching the telescope from his eye he squinted as he sought the specks, noting that Wendy hadn't gone far, standing off to the side, away from the smoke that rose up to engulf Peter as he hovered over the fire-front. Once more employing his telescope, he watched as Peter stretched out his arms, the clouds above his head now heaving and banking together, black and threatening, a flash of lightening illuminating the floating figure as it remained stationary, despite the heated updraughts. A particularly bright flash of lightening caused Hook to wince, closing his eyes as the afterimage blinked before him. With a huge boom the skies opened and Hook found himself drenched in a tropical downpour that thundered down like a waterfall, water running off in torrents from every surface. Cursing volubly, Hook limped towards a shallow cave in the rock wall, his clothes dark with rain, his hair dripping. Reaching the overhang, he used his shirt to dry off the telescope before putting it to his eye once more. He found Peter, still floating in mid-air, his arms still outstretched, his head thrown back like some ancient Greek god, summoning the weather to his will. The fire was no-longer, the last flickers of flames extinguished as the downpour continued, the clouds massed in the area where Peter remained, the rest of Neverland still basking in sunshine. Within minutes the downpour had started to slow to a steady drizzle that continued its fall for another hour before dissipating entirely, leaving a blackened, steaming plain where once a forest had stood. Above his head the clouds started to disperse, Hook watching as Wendy now returned to where Peter floated, apparently embracing him from what Hook could make out.
It had proved an most interesting lesson and a most valuable demonstration. Still grinning, Hook left his shelter and started to limp his way down the narrow ledge that led to the base of the rock face, his mind already going over all that he'd seen and how he could use it to his advantage.
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Peter felt exhausted, his muscles stretched to their limits, his body pummelled and beaten. Wendy approached slowly, her face a study in worry as she reached out to touch him, his skin still tingling from the forces at work within him.
"Peter..... are you alright? Are you hurt at all?"
Opening his eyes with difficulty, he slanted her a look, his lips curving into a grin of triumph.
"I put the fire out.....see?"
"You did.....quite spectacularly, I might add."
"Not bad for a beginner....."
As Wendy reached for, and grasped his hand, Peter found his vision starting to go black around the edges, a buzzing sound in his ears. To Wendy's horror, Peter's eyes rolled back in his head and he went completely limp, his body starting to fall from the sky. Without hesitating, Wendy wrapped her arms around him, keeping him in the air with her, his head falling forward to rest on her shoulder.
"Oh Peter...what have you done.."
With some difficulty, Wendy started to fly slowly back to their home, her own worries pushed to the back of her mind as she concentrated on getting them back home without any accidents.
Behind them, the smoke started to dissipate as a breeze blew the worst out to sea, the blackened ground already starting to sprout green shoots even as Peter and Wendy flew away.
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Hook found his men huddled at the base of the rocks, their clothes damp from the downpour, their expressions sullen.
"Well gentlemen.....we have our answer, the way to bring our quarry into the open."
"What's the use of that, if he's hundreds of feet above us?"
"Good point, my soggy friend.....and one I will now go and work upon. If the pigeon won't come to Hook, then Hook must devise a better trap and entice the pigeon within."
"Huh?"
Curling his lip, Hook disdained to illuminate his thoughts further, simply kicking his crewmen to get them moving and leading them down the hill towards the coast and the waiting pirate ship.
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Wendy stroked the tousled curls back from Peter's forehead, her fingers gentle as she teased his hair, thinking, inconsequentially, that he needed a haircut. Peter lay with his head in her lap, his body on its side, relaxed in sleep, or so Wendy hoped. He hadn't regained consciousness when she finally reached their tree-home, Wendy managing to get him onto the furs before her own strength gave out and dropped them both. She had no idea how long his faint would last, so she made sure she had enough things to hand, divesting Peter of his weapons, before positioning herself as his pillow and keeping watch over him.
That had been three hours ago, now her legs ached and her back was twinging, cramped from sitting in the same position for so long. But she was loathe to move, her fingers drawing comfort from the contact with his head, her eyes on his chest as it rose and fell, proof that he was only asleep and not more seriously injured.
She surmised it was past midday, the heat in their shady home tempered by their green umbrella, but the sound of the cicada's was a drone that was lulling her to sleep, her body falling sideways as she settled on the furs, Peter unstirring as she dozed off, her hand still threaded through his hair.
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It was dark when he awoke at last, his eyes blinking as he tried to remember where he was and why it was dark. A strong aroma of smoke seemed to coat him, his nose wrinkling at the acrid smell. He tried to rise but found something tangled in his hair, preventing him from moving. Lifting his hand he felt Wendy's fingers still entwined against his scalp. Gently, he removed them, turning onto his stomach to look at her dark form curled on her side near him.
"Wendy?"
As if from far away, Wendy heard Peter call, her body jerking at the sound of his voice, her eyes flying open to be greeted with darkness.
"Peter!"
"I'm here." She felt the reassurance of his fingers wrapped around her own, squeezing slightly.
"How long have you been awake?"
"Only seconds......what happened, why is it dark....and why do I stink of smoke?"
"What do you remember Peter?"
Sitting up, Peter let go of her fingers and ran both his hands over his head in a dry wash, massaging his eyes which felt gritty and dry.
"I....I was trying to put out the fire....I was thinking about what a waste of trees and plants, of life......I was so....angry. Neverland.....my land, was burning and I couldn't stop it."
"But you did Peter...you did stop it, you made it rain....torrents....a real downpour. It put the fire out."
"I did?"
"Yes...you sent me away, remember? You weren't sure what was going to happen, so you told me to stay away and watch."
"I did? Then how did I end up here.....smelling like a bonfire?"
"You were engulfed by the smoke......when you...finished, I came back and you said, not bad for a beginner, then you fainted. I flew us back here....hours ago."
"I fainted?........I never faint."
"Well whatever you want to call it...I carried you back here, and you were out cold. I must have dozed off."
"I fainted?.....I feel fine now." Getting to his feet, Peter stretched, his muscles bunching under his skin, the stretch pulling and tugging as he twisted.
"I pleased you're fine.....you had me worried there for awhile."
He heard the note of tiredness in Wendy's voice and realised that she'd been really worried for him. In the total darkness of the bower, Peter searched for, and found the lantern and the tinderbox. Striking a flame he lit the wick and golden light flared into life. Swinging the lamp around he placed it on one of the chests before returning to sit by Wendy.
"You have a smut on your nose." He admonished, flicking the end of her nose with a gentle finger.
"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black." Wendy muttered, receiving an impudent eyebrow in reply.
"You should see yourself Peter.....you're as sooty as a chimney sweep."
Looking down at his hands, he saw that they were several shades of grey, caused by the ash in the smoke cloud he assumed. Reaching across he drew a finger down Wendy's face before she had a chance to pull back, leaving a long streak down her cheek.
"Fancy a late swim?" Peter asked, starting to pull off his offensive shirt and kicking off his boots before unbuttoning his trousers. Wendy watched him strip with interest, not making a move to take off her own smoky garments. Peter was already stepping out of his trousers before realising that Wendy wasn't even starting to get undressed.
"Wendy?"
Noting her air of abstraction, he stood before her in nothing but his skin, his hands resting on his hips, his head tilted to the side in amusement as Wendy continued her perusal of his body with blatant appreciation.
"Wendy!" He snapped his fingers together, the loud sound jolting her out of her reverie, her head jerking up to stare wide eyed at him.
"Yes Peter?"
"Smoke....smelly....bath...soap....swim.....any of these things ring a bell?"
Belatedly realising that she must have been daydreaming, Wendy grinned up at Peter and held out her hand for him to haul her to her feet.
"Sorry...must have been wool-gathering...did you say a swim?"
Laughing, Peter spun her around reaching for the hem of her dress to pull it over her head as she squealed and quickly undid the few buttons at the bodice, finding the skirt sailing over her head before she had time to draw breath. Not listening to her protest, Peter hoisted her onto his shoulder and carried her to the edge of the tree, launching himself off with Wendy still hanging over his shoulder, her scream muffled as she bumped and pummelled his back.
Peter dived straight for the pool, a rippling mirror in the darkness, the few stars above reflected in its glassy surface. Pulling out of his dive he paused, tipping Wendy into the pool with a loud splash, before dropping in himself, the water closing over his head, cold against his heated skin.
Wendy spluttered to the surface, her hair all over her face, her shift and cotton drawers plastered to her body as she trod water. Peter surface a few feet away, his teeth gleaming as he grinned broadly while she gasped and coughed, her hands pushing her hair out of her eyes.
"Oh you wretch....you beast...that was a rotten trick!"
"Don't be mad....on the other hand, you look adorable when you're mad...." he blew her a kiss, before diving again, presenting his white bottom to the stars before disappearing under the water. Wendy could only glare daggers at the ripples on the water's surface, her head dipping back to wet her hair again before starting to untangle the long plait with nimble fingers. So engrossed in sorting out the tangles, she didn't notice that one of the stars that were twinkling above her head appeared to be moving, as well as coming closer.
"When I get my hands on you....Peter Pan.....I'll....I'll wring your neck." She fumed to herself, wincing when she pulled a knot before loosening another strand of the plait. As she wrestled she became aware that her fingers were quite plain to see, despite the darkness of the pool. Without looking up she spoke over her shoulder.
"Could you bring the lantern over Peter.....I can't see this knot properly."
"What lantern?" Peter's voice sounded right by her ear, making her jump.
"Why that lantern......" Wendy glanced upwards and gasped, her hands stilling in their task.
Peter looked up as well, but instead of surprise he felt a warmth start to spread in his chest, as bright as the light above their heads.
As Wendy gazed skyward a host of sparkling lights hovered over their heads, about ten feet above the surface of the pool.
"Wow....fireflies," exclaimed Peter, reaching up a dripping hand. One of the lights detached itself from the swarm and slowly flew down to his upstretched hand, its wings fluttering as its small body landed with the grace of a butterfly on Peter's fingers.
"It's not a firefly Peter......it's....it's a fairy," breathed Wendy, gazing at the delicate creature perched on Peter's hand. A faint tinkling sound like miniature bells issued from the beautiful creatures mouth, her light so bright it was hard to make out details of face or form.
"Hey Wendy.....you didn't say that fairies could talk?"
"What did she say Peter?" Wendy asked, happy that he hadn't lost the ability to talk to his former friends.
"She asked if I was Peter Pan......and how did I get so big."
"What's her name Peter?"
Wendy waited with bated breath for the answer, sure that she already knew it, but wanting Peter to say the name, to jog his memory, maybe, of his childhood playmate.
"She says her name is......is....TinkerBell." Peter exchanged a glance with Wendy, confusion on his face. "I know that name....you told me I had a friend called Tinkerbell..before. That she died."
"Yes Peter, TinkerBell drank the poison Hook left for you....she died...but you brought her back to life." Wendy smiled encouragingly at him, willing him to remember.
Looking at the sprite sitting so trustingly on his fingers, Peter couldn't help but smile back at her, his face illuminated by her bright light.
"Hello TinkerBell.....did you miss me?"
The incongruity of Peter's statement made Wendy laugh out loud, her hand slapping over her mouth to muffle her giggles. Peter shot her a mock angry look as TinkerBell also appeared to be convulsed with laughter, at what, Peter was at a loss to understand.
"What's so funny?"
"Sorry Peter....I'm not really laughing at you..it just, what you said, its so.....you!" Wendy said, her eyes dancing.
Not entirely sure that her comments were complimentary, Peter managed a crooked, if a bit baffled, grin at them both. TinkerBell rose up from Peter's fingers and fluttered close to his face, startling him as she bent at the waist and gave him a kiss on the end of his nose, before fluttering away to join her brethren in the sky above. As they gazed up at the fairies, the tiny creatures broke from their formation and darted everywhere at once, their lights swooping and diving in the air like the fireflies that Peter had likened them to. It was a little like a miniature fireworks display, with fairy dust trailing behind them like the sparkles of rockets as they danced in the sky, obviously happy to have found Peter Pan back in Neverland.
Wendy floated on her back, gazing up at the spectacle, the fairy dust cascading down onto the water and everything in it, coating the surface with glitter so that it looked like an enchanted pool in a glow-worm grotto. TinkerBell returned and fluttered around Peter, her bell-like voice twittering animatedly with him, in what was becoming a largely, one-sided conversation from what Wendy could tell. Content to leave Peter to his reunion, Wendy floated to the shore and clambered out. The night was still warm but she shivered in her wet clothes. Seeing that Peter was engrossed and now engulfed in a glowing mass of fairies, all eager to touch him and reacquaint themselves with him, Wendy flew up to their tree-house and set about changing out of her wet clothes. Once more dry, she bundled up the smoky smelling clothes and carried them to the edge, to be washed in the morning. The lamp was still burning and she lit another to give her light to make herself a meal. There was some cold meat left over from their breakfast and she munched on several slices after pouring herself a cup of water from the barrel. It was very quiet under the leafy dome, only the rustle of the wind through the leaves and the occasional rasp of a cicada to disturb the peace. She started to hum, a tune she'd been practising on the piano not that long ago. It was a haunting melody and as she hummed the notes she felt tears spring to her eyes, choking her and cutting off her vocal chords. An unbearable longing to see her family rose up and overwhelmed her. Peter had told her about the original plan to plant a body for her family to find and she grieved for the pain it must have cost her parents and brothers. She also mourned for aspects of her life that had been left behind, her stories, her writing, her future as an authoress, as tentative as that was. She understood why Peter said she couldn't go back, at least not while Hook was alive, to protect those she loved. The shock alone, of having their daughter returned from the dead, was almost enough to convince her that a return was impossible, but she so longed to see her mother again, to explain to her about Peter, and Neverland, and her love for the boy that had grown up. She wanted to tell her brothers about all the wonderful things that had happened, her mind already writing the story in her head, with all the embellishments that made her such an enthralling writer. But her brothers were young men themselves, caught up in the importance of making a career for themselves and finishing school with good prospects. Maybe they wouldn't want to hear about her adventures, forgetting Neverland and her, as time went by. Once more tears sprung to her eyes and Wendy wept as homesickness swept her along in its tide of memories. She was so caught up in her grief that she didn't hear Peter arrive on the platform, or see him as he rushed to her side, alarmed to see and hear her weeping.
The first indication she knew of Peter's presence was when he engulfed her in his warm arms and pulled her against him, his broad hands stroking her hair as he held her head to his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her ear. Her emotions out of control, she clung to him, sobbing her heart out as he held her, not understanding her grief but wanting to sooth and comfort her despite not knowing. He wanted to help her through whatever had caused the storm of tears, he didn't demand an explanation, just held her while she cried herself to sleep, her tears soaking his shirt. Her body relaxed in his arms, Peter eased her down onto the furs, laying her on her side.
Getting to his feet he fixed himself something to eat while keeping an eye on her sleeping form, his expression troubled. He hadn't meant to spend so long with TinkerBell and her kind, surprised when he looked for Wendy and found her gone. A small frisson of fear had chased down his spine before TinkerBell told him Wendy had flown up into the tree. He'd stayed with the fairies, climbing out of the pool and sitting on the same rock that Wendy had used when she'd combed out her hair all those days before. As he sat, his knees drawn up to his chest, he listened to the TinkerBell as she related some of their adventures since Peter had turned his back on being a boy and become a pirate, forgetting his former friends. Peter explained what he knew about that time and the fairies listened, interjecting with their own point of view about a particular event, ending with the reasons they had gone into hiding and their eventual return. Peter had asked them what had happened to the Indians and the Mermaids but the fairies only replied that he had still alot to discover in this new Neverland.
Eventually, the night chill started to prickle his skin and he rose to his feet, scattering the bright lights that floated around him. TinkerBell told him she would return the next day, that the fairies were going to return to their grove and prepare for the arrival of the fairy king and queen. Bidding them goodbye, Peter launched himself skyward and flew the short distance home. When he alighted he hadn't at first noticed Wendy or her distress, rummaging in one of the chests for some dry clothes before straightening up and looking over to where Wendy sat huddled on the furs. He didn't immediately sensed anything wrong, until a closer look at her averted face and the shine of tears on her face made the breath catch in his throat, her sob a few seconds later galvanising him into action so that she was soon pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her as he rocked her, her grief like a knife in his heart as she wept unreservedly within his arms. He didn't question her, didn't ask why she wept, just held her and soothed her, murmured nonsense until she calmed, her sobs subsiding as she relaxed, too tired to cry anymore. As he continued to rock her, she started to doze off, exhausted by her cathartic release. Laying her down, he made sure she was asleep before leaving her and fixing his supper, still perplexed as to the cause of her distress.
He tried to think about what had happened, if he'd done something to bring on this emotional outpouring, but apart from her fit of pique at his actions in carrying her off and dropping her in the pool, he couldn't think of anything that would have set off the storm of weeping he'd witnessed.
Feeling unsettled and unsure, Peter paced the area of their home, his eyes flicking to the still figure on the furs. Finding his body not remotely settled for sleep, he decided to work off his fidgets in a session of flying. Picking up a knife as an afterthought, Peter placed a kiss on Wendy's forehead before padding barefoot to the edge of the tree-heart and stepping off. Beyond the tree, Neverland lay bathed in moonlight, the stars like a blazing rainbow in the clear skies. There was still a lingering smell of smoke in the air, but not enough to alarm him. Neverland was a different world at night, the occasional flash of a pond or stream catching the moon like silver in their reflection, as he flew low over the forest, a flock of night birds swooping behind him, their strange cries eerie in the quiet blackness of the night. The sea was calm, the moon's path clear as a road, ripples dancing and shaking the moon's rays into a glittering carpet of silver. As he flew leisurely over his domain he felt a faint vibration, like a heartbeat, an echo of his own pulse. Pausing, he slowly circled, finding from which direction the vibration felt the strongest.
It pulled him, the soundless vibrations setting up a rhythm in his head, urging him on, tantalising him to seek their source.
Forgetting his purpose for being out at night, forgetting Wendy back at the tree, forgetting everything, Peter flew faster, drawn onwards by the heartbeat that seemed to resound in his head, pulling him towards it like a lodestone.
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On his quarter deck, Hook was also restless, something preventing him from seeking his bed. The moonlight bathed the ship in an eerie radiance, the sea reflecting the moon and shining on phosphorescence in the waves as they slapped against the hull. All alone, Hook wandered his ship, his eyes drawn to the moon, which is how he happened to see the black speck that flew across the white face, startling the pirate, who seized his telescope from his belt and quickly placed it to his eye. He just caught Peter as he crossed the edge of the moon, his body rimmed by silver light. As Hook watched, Peter flew like an arrow, no dips or dives, straight towards the tall volcanic peak that so dominated the landscape of Neverland.
He continued to watch until Peter's dark shape became lost in the folds and ridges of the volcano.
"And just what might you be up to, Peter Pan? Flying around Neverland on such a night as this. I wonder if your Wendy knows you're gadding about? And why have you decided to visit the volcano, of all places?"
His hook tapped against his chin as he pondered the answers to his questions. A sudden chill swept over him, making him shudder.
"Someone just walked over my grave." He muttered, collapsing the telescope before turning on his heel and making for his cabin, his good hand reaching up to rub his right arm in an effort to dispel the bone-aching chill.
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Chapter: Fourteen - Voices
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Slowly, unwillingly, Wendy opened her eyes, her lids feeling swollen and gritty after her emotional outpouring of the night before. Sunlight was filtering through the leaves over her head, the soothing green light a balm for her sore eyes. She vaguely remembered Peter holding her as she wept, her fingers clutching his shirt as her home-sickness overwhelmed her. Turning her head, she found herself alone among the furs, no sign of Peter anywhere. Rolling onto her stomach she groaned, feeling wrung out and lethargic. Minutes later she lifted her head, a tinkling sound coming from somewhere, drawing her attention towards the edge of the tree-heart. One by one, bright sparks appeared through the leaf canopy, popping into sight from different points and hovering uncertain just inside the dome. Sitting up, Wendy pushed her tangled hair from her face and tried to tidy her rumpled clothes. When she looked up again there were nearly fifty fairies hovering in a cloud over her head.
"Hello," Wendy said tentatively, getting to her feet as one of the fluttering crowd broke away and came to hover in front of her face. She recognised TinkerBell and smiled at the small sprite.
"Hello TinkerBell, its nice to see you again."
The tiny creature regarded the girl with her head on one side, her arms crossed over her chest, as if considering something before speaking. When the fairy finally spoke, Wendy was surprised to find that she could understand her, her high pitched voice overlaid with the sound of crystal bells, but otherwise quite clear for such a tiny body.
"Where's Peter...he was supposed to meet me this morning?"
Wendy looked perplexed, indicating the area around her with a shrug and a sweep of her hand.
"I'm sorry TinkerBell, but I can't help you....I only just woke up myself and Peter wasn't here."
"Then where is he?"
Wendy could only shrug again which made TinkerBell stomp her tiny feet and buzz around Wendy's head in an angry flutter.
"I was going to take him to see the Fairy King and Queen. They are expecting him."
"I am sorry.....would it be any help if I came along instead?"
Scowling, TinkerBell shook her head. "You are just a big, ugly girl.....why would they want to see you?"
Hurt, but not surprised, Wendy sighed patiently, smiling at the irate fairy, ignoring her rudeness.
"I can't help you TinkerBell..Peter isn't here and I don't know where he might be. He could be back in a minute, or an hour."
"Oh it is too bad of him." TinkerBell appeared to consider her options, then spoke again. "I suppose you will have to do. You'd better get ready, we're already late."
"You want me to come?"
"It's what I said, stupid girl!"
Smiling, still ignoring the fairy's downright insulting behaviour, Wendy went to one of the chests and threw back the lid. Today she'd need something a bit special to meet the fairy royalty. She was still in the clean shift she'd donned the night before, after her swim, so a suitable dress was the priority. Pulling one out , she slipped it over her head and smoothed the wrinkles. It was a pretty day dress with ribbons that tied under the bust and a frill of lace around the neckline and sleeves. It skimmed over Wendy's slender curves and swirled around her ankles. The colour was the same as her eyes, with tiny sprigs of flowers in cream and yellow, and she thought it was very lovely. There were a pair of matching satin slippers which she slipped on before reaching for a brush and attempting to bring order to her tresses.
TinkerBell and the cloud of fairies watched as Wendy brushed vigorously at her waist length hair, the air crackling with static as she dragged the brush through the worst of the tangles.
Bored, TinkerBell darted around their living area, prying into boxes and chests, tossing articles of clothing around as Wendy strove to bring order to the chaos that was her hair. Finally satisfied that she had defeated most of the knots, Wendy found a ribbon and tied the gleaming mass behind her head, leaving tendrils to soften her forehead and cheek. As a final touch to her toilette, Wendy soaked a small towel with water from the barrel and pressed it to her red eyes, soothing the grittiness and making her feel a hundred times better. Putting down the towel and with a final pat of her hair, Wendy turned and called to the fairy, who was currently admiring herself in the small hand mirror laying on the ground.
"I'm ready TinkerBell."
With an unseen, by Wendy at least, signal the fairies all turned to leave, TinkerBell leading the way with Wendy following. They all disappeared through the leaves and waited for Wendy on the other side as she flew down the access way and outside. Reunited, TinkerBell set off with Wendy flying behind, several of the fairies buzzing around her like excited stars. Neverland lay bathed in sunshine, the few clouds in the sky only adding to the summery atmosphere. The ground passed far below in a riot of colour, reminiscent of a Monet painting that Wendy had seen in an art exhibition in London. TinkerBell started to descend towards the forest canopy, Wendy following, still surrounded by her cloud of fluttering stars.
As they flew among the trees, the sunlight became dappled and mysterious, the trees well spaced so she had no difficulty following the darting sprite as they approached the fairy grotto where Wendy and Peter had danced so long ago. It was quite overgrown in some parts, the ruins that had been easily visible when they'd last visited, were all but invisible now, green covered angular blocks among the tree trunks. Touching down on the mossy ground, Wendy waited for TinkerBell to return from the tree that she'd dived into, leaving Wendy to make it to the ground alone. The other fairies had also left her, all of them flitting away and disappearing inside the huge hollow tree that was their home.
As Wendy waited, a butterfly approached her, fluttering its colourful wings as it bobbed and weaved among the branches. As she watched, it was joined by another, the two insects dancing around each other as they spiralled up towards the sunlight. Another pair joined the first in a butterfly dance that enchanted their enraptured audience of one, Wendy feeling a lightness in her heart as the butterflies performed their mating waltz for all the world to see. With her attention on the insects, Wendy didn't notice the brightness rising from the fairy tree.
The glowing light lifted from out of one of the large holes in the tree and floated for a second before starting to drift towards the girl still staring up at the butterflies. As it came closer the bright cloud started to form into the shape of a woman, her clothes lifting in an invisible breeze, wafting around her almost in slow motion. The woman walked on the air, her feet not touching the mossy ground as she approached Wendy, her face forming from the brightness, her hair floating behind her in an aura.
Wendy suddenly became aware of a strong aroma of lilies, the perfume heady and sweet. As she turned to face the fairy tree she saw the ethereal woman approaching, her body still transparent but her outline clear. Surprised, but not scared, Wendy waited for the woman to reach her, the apparition halting only a few inches from Wendy so that she had a close up view of the woman's face.
"I am pleased to meet you...Pan's Wendy. I am called Celosia."
Dipping into a curtsy, Wendy smiled shyly at the Fairy Queen. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I am honoured that you have come to meet me."
"You are the reason that Neverland once more lives, Pan's Wendy. If you had not come here Neverland would have...died."
"Then I am doubly pleased that I was able to help prevent that."
The Fairy Queen smiled a slow smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners, provoking an answering smile from Wendy. Lifting a transparent hand, Celosia reached out as if to touch Wendy, her hand passing around the girls head, leaving only a whisper of sensation in its wake.
"I am told that Peter is not to be found this day. Have you no idea where he is?" Celosia asked, her brow furrowed in concern.
"I'm afraid I don't. He was not there when I awoke, and there was nothing to tell me where he'd gone or why."
"It is a concern to us that he is missing. There are forces at work in this new Neverland that make us.....worried for Peter's safety."
Wendy felt an icy chill slip down her spine, her smile slipping as she noted the grave expression on Celosia's face.
"Is there danger in Neverland?"
"There is danger anywhere.....and certainly in Neverland. That has always been the way."
"I thought the only danger was Hook and the pirates, now that the crocodile is dead."
"It is true that Captain Hook has been a thorn in the side of the Pan all these years. Hooks villainous scheme of raising Peter as his own and turning him into a pirate, certainly put both Peter and Neverland at grave risk. Now Peter is free of his pirating ways, but he may yet find himself drawn back into that dark place if you cannot save him."
"Save him?" Wendy gaped at the Fairy Queen, not understanding. "How can I save him....I don't know where he is, or what trouble, if he is in trouble...he may be in?"
"Has the Pan left your side in all the days since your return to Neverland?"
Blushing, Wendy could only shake her head, the Queen regarding her with a wry amusement as Wendy lowered her eyes in embarrassment.
"Do not fear, Pan's Wendy, your lives have been quite private, no one has spied on you. It is evident from the changes in Neverland that you and Peter have come to an......understanding. It is the way of things when children grow up, and your destinies were sealed when Peter brought you here, those long years ago."
"Destinies?"
"Why yes.....do you not believe in fate...in destiny?"
"I don't....that is, I haven't really given it much thought. I suppose, if I was honest, I always considered that Peter was the only boy....er....man for me. I couldn't forget him, not in all the years since our brief time together. I tried, but he was my first love....I couldn't let go."
"Neither could he. Despite his unusual change from being Peter Pan to becoming Peter the Pirate, he still held a secret corner in his heart for you. He didn't know it....but we did. It was this hope that kept us from despair, and gave us the will to stay here."
"If Peter doesn't return......"
"He won't return, he can't....he is now a prisoner of something that I thought had been destroyed. Somehow, your rebirth of Neverland has brought it once more to life..and it threatens all of us if Peter cannot defeat it again."
"Again?"
"He faced this threat many years ago, when he was still a child. His power then was only slight, but enough to send the Malekite back into the bowels of the earth."
"The Malekite?"
"A vicious sprite, one of our kind, I am sorry to say....but with powers that are banned by our fairy laws. It is with shame that I tell you that Salema was...is...my sister. She is cursed and banished to dwell forever in the depths of the peak that dominates our world."
"And you think......that this Salema has Peter?"
"She has the ability to lure men to her. Peter was immune as a boy, part of the reason he was able to defeat her in the first instance, but now he is a man......with a man's susceptibilities. She will have lured him to the mountain some how. Now he is in mortal danger. She will take great pleasure in returning Neverland to its former, uninhabitable state, if only to stop me and my kind from living here."
"How did Peter defeat her, if he was only a child?"
"He had special gifts, some he has never been aware of, or used since that time. They are, in essence, a power of good. Salema will try to turn these to wreak vengeance for her continued banishment. Peter, if he was aware, could easily deflect her purpose, turn her evil back on herself. But I fear he has fallen into her trap and will need you to free him before he has a hope of defeating her again."
Wendy rubbed her forehead, overwhelmed with all the information Celosia was imparting, her brain reeling with fear for Peter and fear for herself if she failed to free him. Celosia hovered in front of her, the other fairies flitting around the trees, their lights bright in the gloom of the forest.
Drawing in a deep breath, Wendy raised her head and faced the Queen, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
"I don't know what I can do, or if I can free him from.....your sister, but I'll do whatever it takes."
"As I knew you would, Pan's Wendy. You will not be going alone. I will send some of my most trusted fairies to guide you and help you where they can. You will also need to call on the Mermaids, they have something that will help you break any spells that Peter may be under."
"Spells?" Wendy asked faintly, her mind having difficulty in wrapping itself around everything.
"Not true spells....but there is a fairy magic that can be used to enslave a human heart. I fear that my sister will employ all the dark arts to bend the Pan to her will."
"Oh dear....are you sure I'm going to be able to do anything useful.....this is quite beyond my comprehension."
"You will need only your courage and your love for Peter to win against her....the rest will come from the Mermaids."
"Then I'd better start now.......do you want me to come back here and collect your people?"
"I will send them to you.....I wish you luck, Pan's Wendy...but I can see that your heart is strong, you will prevail. You have to."
"Then you know more than I do, Majesty." Wendy replied wryly, her brow creased with worry lines as she tried to form some sort of plan of action. Already Celosia was floating away, becoming smaller and smaller, her face fading into a glowing light before disappearing altogether into the hollow tree, as if she'd never been.
Turning away from the fairy tree, Wendy picked her way across the forest floor, oblivious to the sprites that continued to hover over her head. A thousand questions buzzed in her mind as she digested all that the Queen had told her. It seemed fantastic and almost unbelievable, but all her experiences in Neverland had been beyond the realm of usual expectations, so this was hardly as outrageous as it appeared. Of course, she might have some difficulty convincing anyone from her own world of the existence of fairies, both good and bad, but she really couldn't be completely surprised, this was Neverland, after all.
Coming to a halt, Wendy raised her head and stared up at the sunlight filtering through the canopy. If the weather was any indication, then Peter was still alive and well, and somewhere inside the volcano in the clutches of an evil fairy. Smiling to herself, Wendy thought, incongruously, that it almost sounded like a synopsis of one of her adventure tales. She only hoped that this would have the happy ending that everyone seemed to think she could deliver.
Drawing her courage around her like an invisible cloak, Wendy flew up into the air and headed for the tree that had served as their home for the past weeks. She had alot of planning to do.
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Hook watched intently as the boat approached the beach, the waves carrying him forward until he heard the hull scrape on the sand. His men jumped into the water first, the biggest leaning over so that Hook could climb onto his shoulders and be carried in state to the dry sand. There Hook waited, as the men unloaded the boxes and chests that had provided an uncomfortable seat for him during the trip from the Jolly Roger to the shore. He had been consumed with curiosity to find out what Peter had been flying towards on the slopes of the volcano, his night spent searching through his map collection for information on the most prominent feature of Neverlands' topography. Buried amongst his charts was an old map that he almost discarded, so faded and stained it had been. On closer examination, Hook found that the faded map detailed a route around the volcano, ending in a passageway that lead into the mountains heart. Intrigued, he spent the remainder of the night poring over the parchment, his hook tracing the route through the forest and up the flanks of the volcano, ending with its unexplained entrance. Hook could never recall having looked at the map before and its obscurity only served to pique his interest further. Convinced that he had a map to one of Neverlands' secret treasure troves, Hook had no difficulty engaging his bored crew's attention with the lure of a treasure hunt.
If they happened to find Peter Pan, or his current hiding place as well, then the trip wouldn't have been entirely wasted.
Pulling the fragile parchment from the inside of his red velvet coat, Hook perused its faint outlines, gauging the distance from the coast to the foot of the mountain. He heard the second boat crunch onto the sand, disgorging its cargo of pirates and supplies. Stepping further up the beach, Hook surveyed the lush vegetation, finding the rock that pointed to the start of the supposed trail to the treasure.
"This way men......load up and lets get moving."
With his hat jammed on his black curls and a brace of primed pistols in his belt, Hook set his face away from the sea and led his men inland.
In the shallows, behind the beached boats, two Mermaids raised their heads from the water and gazed inscrutably at the pirates as they filed out of sight. For several minutes they watched until the last man was swallowed up by the greenery, then they approached the long boats and lifted themselves up to peer inside. Finding nothing of interest they splashed back into the water and, with a flip of their long tails, dived out of sight, heading back to their brethren to impart their news on the strange behaviour of the pirates.
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Wendy tied the knot on her hair ribbon as tight as possible. She was standing in the middle of the furs, her hair plaited tightly into two braids to keep them out of her face. She'd changed her dress for a more practical outfit of shirt, boots and breeches. Her slim waist was spanned by a broad belt that carried her arsenal of knife, sword and pistols together with powder and shot. The scabbard was tied against her thigh to prevent it banging against her leg as she flew, her chest crisscrossed with the straps of the knapsack that held food and water and meagre medical supplies. She stamped her feet to get her toes more firmly into the toes of her soft, deer-skin boots before crouching down to stuff an unlit lantern into the small sack that held anything she couldn't fit in the knapsack, including the tinder box and spare candles for the lantern, as well as a length of rope. Having no idea of conditions inside the tunnels of the volcano, Wendy tried to think of everything, realising that she was most probably ill-equipped for a rescue, but doing the best she could.
She patted the sword again, reassured that this time she was better prepared to wield it, Peter having given her lessons during their honeymoon, more at her insistence, than with a view to allowing her to actually indulge in anything as dangerous as sword fighting. Wendy smiled to herself, Peter could be so old fashioned some times. Her muscles weren't nearly conditioned enough to do much more than put up an adequate defence, but it was a start.
Satisfied that she was as prepared as she was ever going to be, Wendy walked to the edge of the platform and stepped off. She flew down and out of the tree, hoping in her heart that it wouldn't be the last time. TinkerBell and a small group of fairies waited for her, beyond the green barrier. On her arrival, TinkerBell flew up to Wendy and hovered scant inches from the end of Wendy's nose.
"We will lead you to where the cavern's begin...but we cannot..we are forbidden to venture into the volcano itself."
"Just take me as far as you can TinkerBell. We'll visit the Mermaid Lagoon on the way."
"Then let us go....."
TinkerBell turned around, but just a quickly turned back.
"Good luck......Peter's Wendy....."
"Thank you TinkerBell....I have a feeling I will need all the luck you can muster to bring this story to a happy ending."
Not understanding the literary allusion, TinkerBell gave Wendy a confused look before turning around and flying off, her companions following in close formation behind her, Wendy in the rear.
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Chapter: Fifteen - Collusion
Rated: R for naughty bits again...but not in the way you expect.
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Salema trailed a languid hand over the chest of the young man laid out on the alter-stone. She walked around the alter, her hand trailing behind her, stroking the golden skin, running over the well muscled legs and arms, tangling in the sun-kissed hair as she arrived back at the start, beside the mans head. It had been ridiculously easy to lure the youth to her lair, his heart responding instinctively to the beat that she sent out to him, his curiosity, as to the source, his undoing and his downfall. Now he lay, inert and unaware, his body displayed for her delectation, stripped of his clothes and weapons, his skin gleaming faintly in the uncertain light of the torches on the wall of the stone chamber. Looking down at him, Salema marvelled that a mortal could be this desirable. As a boy, the Pan had been as beautiful as an angel, and as fierce as a tiger. Now, as a man, he was the embodiment of masculine beauty, from his strong features to his well developed body and lean musculature. It really was almost too delicious that he was hers to do with as she pleased. She had taken a form that would appeal to any human male with red blood in his veins, her usual fairy form no longer adequate for the situation. Her long banishment, alone and untouched, made her crave even as lowly a mortal as the man in front of her. Her magic powerful enough to allow her to take any form that suited her purpose, for a short time, the added piquancy being that it went against all the fairy codes and law. Her time was short in this form, so she decided to waste no more on idle speculation.
"Open your eyes...." She ordered, her hand still resting on his hair.
Slowly, Peter obeyed, his lashes parting to reveal his sea-green gaze, blinking once, then twice before focussing on the woman leaning over him.
"You may speak....are you the boy once known as Peter Pan?"
Peter wet his dry lips before replying, Salema glancing at those self same lips with a predatory gleam in her eye.
"I am....who are you?"
"I am Salema....and you are in my domain. When I last saw you Pan, you were a mere boy....how is it that you are matured?"
"I....I don't know....I was found by the pirate, Captain Hook.....he raised me...its been eight years."
"Only eight.....it seemed longer. But then, you wouldn't remember when I last saw you...would you?"
"No....I don't remember you. I lost all my memories of the time before."
"How unfortunate.....but then, how fortunate that you are not burdened by such mundane knowledge." Salema stroked her long fingers down Peter's face, her fingertips rasping against the stubble on his chin. "You haven't asked me why I brought you here.....aren't you interested to know?"
"It is not important.......I'm here, you're here....what more is there to know?"
Salema smiled broadly, her mercury eyes gleaming as she congratulated herself on the effectiveness of her fairy magic. It was working just as she hoped it would, dulling his memory of the immediate past, and making him receptive to whatever she told him.
"You are right of course.....it is not important. You are with me now, and that is enough. Are you hungry?"
Peter smiled up at the woman, his mind wonderfully blank of any cares or responsibilities, his body relaxed and comfortable. He didn't know where he was, or why he was there with the woman, but it didn't matter.
"I am a bit."
"Then come with me.....I have a banquet all ready for you."
"A banquet? Are we celebrating something?"
"You arrival Pan.....it is an occasion of great importance to me."
"Then lets not keep it waiting." Rolling onto his side, Peter swung his legs over the edge and sat up, only now noticing that he appeared to have lost his clothes somewhere. Unconcerned, he jumped the short distance to the floor and waited, his arms by his side.
Salema moved closer to him, her hands reaching out to touch his chest, arms, then around to his back. She circled him while he stood there like a statue, his face a bland mask, his lips curved into a slight smile as she stroked and petted him up and down his torso.
"You have grown into a handsome man, you are a delight to mine eyes."
Peter's gaze followed her as she came to stand in front of him, her wide silver eyes glowing appreciatively. In turn, he swept his eyes over her, from the crown of her flaming red hair, to the tips of her dainty feet, his lips parting in a grin.
She barely reached to his shoulder, her hair flowing in ripples of flame to her waist, her curves barely concealed by the gold toga-like dress that draped over her body in folds of whisper gauze. She looked and moved like a flame, her hands heating his flesh as she touched him with her long fingers, her nails scratching his skin. Her touch was arousing him, his flesh responding to the blatant lust in her eyes, his gaze riveted on her scarlet mouth as the tip of a tongue came out to wet them, his body leaping to life as her hand trailed down to his sex and brushed, like butterfly wings, across the head. Peter drew in a sudden breath through his teeth, his eyes narrowing as lust gripped him, his body responding to her with a will of its own.
"You are really quite magnificent, Pan." Salema purred, her eyes flicking up to his, before returning to her perusal of his body. She could see tremors setting his stomach muscles fluttering, his turgid manhood a direct result of her teasing and caresses. As she walked behind him once more, she scraped her nails down his back, the red marks visible against his skin from his shoulder to his buttocks, his legs tensing as she stroked him.
"I have a feeling the banquet will have to wait....you seem to have developed a....problem....that we need to take care of."
Peter felt on fire, his skin ablaze everywhere that she touched him. He was drowning in her silver eyes, hypnotised by their brilliance as she came to stand in front of him again. Reaching up to her shoulder, she undid a clasp and her dress dropped to the floor with a whisper of sound, revealing herself to him. At the same time she reached out and grasped his heated flesh, making him cry out as her hand closed around him, his legs threatening to buckle as she stroked his length, her other hand reaching up and behind his neck, drawing him down to her, her lips parting as he bent at the waist and sealed her mouth with his. He burned everywhere, his mouth an inferno, his manhood an rod of flame in her hand, his arms coming around to clasp her to him in a fever of lust.
"I must have you.....now." He growled against her lips, his teeth nipping her swollen mouth, hers drawing blood as she snarled against his lips.
Letting him go, Salema stepped back a pace, to allow Peter to sweep her into his arms, carrying her the short distance to the alter to lay her down, his mouth not leaving hers.
Breaking the embrace, Salema stared triumphantly up at him, her fingers grabbing his head to hold him still as she bared her teeth at him.
"You are my slave, Pan. You are mine until the day you die. You will only leave me in death. No other shall have you."
His brain and body completely consumed with need, Peter could only nod in agreement, his body straining to make this woman his, to quench his lust in her blazing heat. As he loomed over her, his eyes, usually so green, were now a blazing red with flames flickering in their depths.
With a laugh that would have chilled the blood, Salema let go of his hair and gave herself up to his demands. It had been too long, far, far too long, but now, it would appear, it had been well worth the wait.
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Wendy flew steadily towards the volcano, her face set as she chewed over all that the Fairy Queen had told her. The sky above her was turning a fiery red, but it was too soon for sunset, the golden circle still quite high in the sky. As they approached the flanks of the mountain the sky turned a deeper hue, bathing the island in a bloody glow that frightened Wendy with its implications.
Her trip to the coast had had mixed results, the Mermaids proving elusive, initially, despite the fairies best efforts to bring them to where Wendy waited. She had huddled on the wet rock, while TinkerBell had approached the dark heads that finally appeared, bobbing in the water twenty feet away. She had been conscious of her last encounter with the strange creatures, their attempt to lure her to a watery death, only to be prevented by Peter. As she watched, TinkerBell hovered over their heads, her bright light darting to and fro as she explained their mission. At one point, one of the Mermaids ducked under the water and disappeared. The one remaining swam slowly towards Wendy's rock, her darkly slanted eyes not leaving her, as if expecting Wendy to leap up and attack at any time. Keeping her movement slow, Wendy raised herself onto her knees and leaned slightly forward as the creature approached, TinkerBell hovering overhead.
"They are prepared to do a Celosia asked, but they are fearful of a trap. They don't trust you."
Wendy bit back her retort that she didn't trust them either, swallowing her anger as she tried to smile at the cautious Mermaid.
"Tell her we mean them no harm.....we only want to help Peter."
TinkerBell darted down and appeared to whisper in the Mermaids ear, the creature baring her teeth and replying in a voice that sounded like whale song, but as Wendy had never heard a whale it was merely a mournful wail with clicks and whistles that sent shivers down her spine.
"She says her sister has gone to get what Celosia is asking for, although she isn't sure it will be off much help against the Malekite." TinkerBell shrugged and flew back to the Mermaid. They continued to hold a conversation, largely ignoring the girl on the rocks. Just as Wendy felt like getting to her feet and leaving, the water broke at the base of the rock and a Mermaid surfaced, her eyes glittering as she lifted her arm and lay something at Wendy's feet before slowly backing away from the rock as Wendy bent down to see what she'd left.
At a glance it looked like a long arm of coral, twisted and bent but smooth as if worn from much handling. As she picked it up it turned from the bone white it had been to a soft blue in her hand. As she turned it over she saw holes in the side, making it more like a flute than just a stick. When she put both hands around it, it glowed brighter, the blue turning to green as she watched. She saw there was a hole at both ends and she tentatively put it to her lips, only to have it snatched from her grasp as the Mermaid leapt from the water to retrieve it. TinkerBell flew agitatedly over, bobbing in the air, her wings a blur of motion.
"Don't play it.......don't even blow through it.....it will cause all sorts of trouble!"
The Mermaid, still clutching the flute to her chest, warily approached again, laying the coral piece on the rock at Wendy's feet. A rapid exchange of sounds followed, and Wendy looked inquiringly at the fairy for a translation.
"She says.....if you find that the Malekite has Peter under a spell....just play a tune on the flute and the spell will be broken."
"What tune should I play.....there's so many?"
"They say its not the tune that's important...just the notes themselves.....the stronger the spell, the more notes you need to play."
"Oh......I see. Well thank them for me....I hope I won't have to use it, but I'll take great care of it and return it to them when Peter is safe."
Before Wendy had a chance to leave, the other Mermaid approached and tossed a small sealskin pouch in the air, which Wendy caught deftly in one hand, the other still holding the flute.
The Mermaid warbled at TinkerBell who turned to translate.
"In the bag is an ointment that will heal any cut, no matter how deep or how big. It only needs to be smeared on the skin to seal the wound, the cream will to the rest. It is very rare and a great gift from the Mermaids."
Wendy gazed at the soft pouch, her fingers closing over hit protectively. "Thank them again TinkerBell, I hope I never have cause to use it, but thank them anyway."
The Mermaids looked sceptical, their eyes glowing strangely as they backed away, their mouths opening to emit a final call before turning to dive back under the sea, their tails slapping the water with a crack.
Wendy tucked the coral flute inside her shirt, cool against her skin, the sealskin bag going into the backpack before she took off from the dark rocks, flying up into the air and heading once more inland, towards the volcano, TinkerBells' bright light, and those of her escort, circling around her.
They were within a hundred feet of the ground, approaching the foothills of the mountain when Wendy felt the air shift around her. She wasn't able to explain exactly what happened, but suddenly she was falling, her body plummeting towards the ground, her breath freezing in her chest as the ground rushed to meet her. She screamed, the sound following her down as she hit the top of the trees, the branches snapping around her, leaves snagging her hair and digging into her clothes. A bright light appeared in front of her as she continued to fall, her body slamming against a thick branch, pain lancing through her as she screamed again. She saw a glittering shower in front of her eyes and she felt herself start to slow her descent, her body coming to float slowly down the remaining distance to the ground and land gently on the pine needles. She must had passed out, her body bruised and consumed with pain. When she next came to, a flask was being pressed to her lips and brandy trickled down her throat making her cough, her hand coming up to push the flask away.
"Easy girl....you've had a nasty fall."
On hearing the voice, Wendy's eyes snapped open and she stared disbelievingly up into Captain Hook saturnine features, her head reeling as she tried to push herself away from him.
"Let me go.....don't touch me!" To her horror her voice sounded slurred and weak, the face above her wavering as she put a hand to her head and it came away with blood coating her palm.
"As you wish.....stand back me hearties, the lady wants some space."
The words were solicitous, but the tone was pure sarcasm. Wendy winced when the supporting arm was removed and she had to support herself against the hard ground. She tried to push herself up but found the ground moving under her, nausea clogging her throat as she closed her eyes. She struggled to release the pack on her back, dragging it around to find the water bottle inside, ignoring the people standing around her and taking a long draught, panting as she recapped the bottle. Looking up, she finally realised that she was currently surrounded by pirates, their scarred and tattooed faces peering down at her with various expression ranging from loathing to fear. Hook stood impassively perched on a tree root, his attention keenly focused on her. Feeling at a disadvantage, lying as she was at his feet, Wendy tried to sit up again, fighting the nausea as she managed the feat, gasping as pain shot through her body from the many bruises from her frightening fall.
"What are you doing here?" She rasped, cautiously feeling her arms and legs for any breaks or fractures.
"I could ask you the same question....you could say it was a happy co-incidence that we happened to see you, and hear you.....fall from the sky."
"You haven't said why you're here in the first place." Wendy replied acidly, noting that her sword appeared to have been snapped in the fall, hanging broken in its scabbard.
"No I haven't.....what I want to know is......what you are doing here, alone and unguarded? You are remarkably composed for someone surrounded by pirates and quite possibly seriously injured."
"I'm not alone....."Wendy snapped, before glancing around and finding herself, in fact, alone with only the pirates and their Captain.
"If you're looking for the fairies...they departed when we appeared."
Wendy chewed her lip, her mind in a ferment of what to do now.
"I can see from your expression that you are thinking of what to do next. It would appear that our destinations are the same, so if you are feeling more the thing, let us continue on our way."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Not even to find out where your precious Peter disappeared to last night?"
Wendy's head shot up and she stared at Hook, her face giving her away before she could duck her head. Hook grinned at her, his good hand wagging a finger at her.
"Ah yes....we do have the same destination. If Peter had returned, you wouldn't be here looking for him."
Wendy looked at him sharply. "What do you know about Peter?"
"I know that last night he flew to this mountain, in some haste from what I saw."
Wendy bit her lip, her eyes dropping to the forest floor again as she digested this latest piece of information. Something dug into her ribs and she cautiously felt the coral flute still intact and hidden in her shirt. She desperately wanted to find Peter, her heart aching to see him again.
"Why on earth would you want me to go with you ?....You wanted to kill me that last time I was anywhere near you."
"How ungallant to remind me......my purpose hasn't changed, witch," Hook hissed, "I just don't have the time to bother taking you back to the Jolly Roger to exact my revenge. I not only want you, but I want Peter Pan as well, and what better way to extract my pound of flesh than to have you with me, when we find him and his treasure. You could say I'll be killing several birds with one rather convenient rock!"
Amused by his own wit, Hook laughed uproariously, his crew joining in, although a trifle nervously as Wendy looked around her in horror. Pushing herself to her feet, she stumbled away, not seeing Hook signal to one of his men who quickly caught up with he and wrapped a meaty arm around her waist, swinging her around to face back towards Hook.
"Very inadvisable my dear.....as you seem reluctant to join our venture voluntarily, I am forced to bind you, " a flick of his hook and one of his other men approached, a length of twine in his hands. Wendy kicked out at him, prompting the man behind her to bring his free arm up under her chin, forcing her to arch her neck, her feet almost lifting off the ground as she leant backwards to relieve the pressure on her windpipe. Incapacitated, the approaching pirate took advantage and bound her hands in front of her, the rope burning her wrists as he yanked them together. A length of rope was left to dangle free and this was held out for Hook to take hold of. Signalling her release, Hook tugged on the rope as Wendy lifted her bound hands to rub her sore neck.
"I don't want to waste one of my men to carry you, they have their hands full with the supplies, so I'll recommend to you that you co-operate and walk under your own power. The alternative, if you choose to rebel, will not be pleasant." With a flick of his eyes he indicated a man standing on the edge of the mob of pirates, his burning eyes undressing Wendy as she stood there, his tongue coming out to lick his fleshy lips, making Wendy shudder and sway in disgust. "I see we understand each other," Hook drawled, tugging once more on the rope, dragging Wendy's gaze back to him. "Behave and I'll keep Mister Sly away from you. Cause me any trouble and I'll hand you over without a second thought."
Casting another glance at the lascivious pirate still staring at her, Wendy shuddered and turned away, lifting her chin.
"Its only what I would expect from you.....you give me no choice."
"Quite so, wench. Now, we've lost enough time, let's get moving, this sky suggests that time is of the essence."
As Hook led off, Wendy stumbling behind him, she glanced up at the blood red sky, her heart missing a beat as she tried to rationalise what must be happening to Peter to create such an unusual phenomenon.
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TinkerBell and her fellow fairies watched as the Pirates filed out of the glade below and continued on their way towards the flank of the volcano. She also glanced up at the red sky, her face lined in worry as she tried to decide what to do for the best. She had been told to help Wendy and guide her, but that had been taken away when the pirates arrived. The fairy had no idea why Wendy's ability to fly had been taken away, TinkerBell had felt the pulse herself, like a strong breeze, but it hadn't affected them the way it did the girl. Conferring briefly with her companion, they reached a decision to stay and follow the pirates, to keep an eye on Wendy and help her if the opportunity arose. Like will-o-the-wisp they flitted through the branches of the trees, keeping out of sight as they followed the trail of the pirates.
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Chapter: Sixteen - Found
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Peter moaned and rolled onto his side. He ached all over, his eyes seemingly glued shut as he lay wondering why he felt like a ship had rolled over him. The surface under his side felt hard and unyielding, and his fingers encountered grit as he gradually became aware of his surroundings through touch. It certainly wasn't what he was expecting.
Prising his eyes open he blinked as he encountered complete darkness, his hand coming up to touch his face, panic feathering his nerves as he briefly thought he was blind.
"Wendy?" His voice echoed back to him, sounding hollow and distant. As he lay blinking, he started to make out shapes, his blindness due to lack of light, not damage to his eyes. Feeling only a little reassured, he used his arm to push himself upright, his body protesting at any move, muscles screaming as he came to sit on his backside, panting from the effort. He realised belatedly that he appeared to be naked, dust and grit sticking to his skin and smeared over his face. Bewildered, he made to get up and couldn't stop a howl of pain as his back spasm'd, his skin burning as he twisted around to get to his feet. Once upright, he paused, hissing through his teeth as pain washed over him in waves of agony. Swaying, he tried to focus, pushing the pain to the back of his mind, the flashes behind his eyes fading, the pain diminishing to a dull ache. Had he been in a fight? Had he been beaten by Hook again? His memory couldn't supply any reason why he would be in such a poor way. His last recollection was flying over Neverland and something attracting his attention, a pulsing vibration that tugged and pulled at his body. He remembered flying towards the volcano but after that, it was all a blank. Finding himself able to remain standing without feeling as if the floor were moving, Peter hesitantly stepped towards what he thought was a wall, his hand outstretched, encountering hard rock, warm and rough.
Faint light was coming from some distance away and it revealed that he had been laying in a narrow stone chamber, the air slightly stale and warm, the ground sloping downwards towards the light, the surface scattered with gritty pebbles and small rocks. Keeping one hand on the wall he made his way forwards, the light getting stronger the more steps he made. As he walked, he tried to think, but he found his brain uncharacteristically blank, as if mired in thick glue, barely able to form simple thoughts or remember anything important.
He reached a bend in the narrowing corridor, the light much stronger from beyond. Pushing himself away from the wall he stepped around the corner and into the light. Ahead of him the corridor expanded into a large chamber, hewn from solid rock, its floor almost glassy, its roof too even to be natural. Flaming torches flared at intervals around the walls and light also appeared to be coming from a deep chasm that split the floor in front of steps leading up to a throne, set against the back of the room. An alter dominated the centre of the cavern, its surface spread with animal furs but its sides stained with something Peter would rather not think about. As he stepped further into the chamber, he saw there were several tunnels leading from it, all of them dark. His head was now pounding, his throat working to swallow, but too dry in the heated air. He paused about six feet from the alter, his strength seeming to leach out of his body, making him lightheaded and faint. Hanging his head, he looked at his feet, his eyes widening as he saw streaks of blood on his legs from long scratches, the cuts scabbed over and black. Horrified, he looked down at himself and saw blood over his chest and stomach, also from long scratches that had bled but were now crusted over, cris-crossing his torso, overlaying the older scars caused by his beating from Hook. Another wave of faintness made his head reel and he felt his legs buckle as he saw the floor rush up to meet him, his knees hitting the stones and causing pain to lance upwards, spots dancing in his vision. Gasping, his skin starting to sweat in the heat rising from the chasm, Peter winced as his bodies effort to cool him only stung his skin further, the salt aggravating the scratches that seemed to cover him, front and back. Still on his knees, he leant forwards so that he could use his hand to brace himself, before keeling over onto his side in a dead faint, blackness swirling in his brain.
Salema watched the human collapse on the floor, her bright fairy light rising from behind the throne to perch on the seat, a glow starting to expand as she changed form into the shape of a woman with flaming red hair and mercury eyes. Stepping down from the throne, she stepped delicately over the crack in the floor, heat rushing up to scorch her before she passed over, her feet welcoming the cold stone on the other side. She approached the man curled up on the floor, her eyes noting his flayed back before circling him and standing by his blond head, her toe reaching forwards to nudge his head in an attempt to rouse him. Finding him apparently insensible to her presence, she walked back to the throne, climbing the stone stairs and perching herself on the edge, frowning at the still figure below her.
He had proved far more entertaining that she had ever hoped, considering her previous experience with mortals. Those that had the misfortune to wander into her domain sometimes lasted only a few hours in her presence, quite often not surviving past their first encounter with the Malekite. This one, on the other hand, had not only survived his first encounter, providing her with pleasure beyond her imaginings, but also his second, his body strong enough to withstand her punishment for crimes against her, he couldn't even remember. She would have to allow him time for his body to recover, a waste, but she wanted to experience the pleasure again, her brief time in the form of a human her most rewarding, at least with this lusty youth. It was time for her to change her form, her hand rising to pass in front of her face, as it passed, it left behind a new feature, red hair turning to ash blond, mercury eyes turning to amber, scarlet lips turning to soft pink. Transformed, Salema once more stepped down from the throne and walked over to where Peter lay, her silver gown whispering against her feet, pooling around her as she sat down and lifted his head into her lap. This illusion lasted much longer than the other, being less substantial and more fairy like than her more vital and earthy alter-ego.
Stroking back the damp fringe of curls from his brow, Salema called to Peter, her fingers cool against his sweating skin, her voice soft and beguiling. He didn't respond for several minutes, so she continued her call, her fingers soothing and petting, his body lax under her ministrations. Eventually she was rewarded with his eyes slowly opening, shadowed with pain, but awake and staring up at her in bemusement.
"Have I died and gone to heaven?"
"No.....you are still here, in Neverland. You are injured, do you know what happened to you?"
"I don't....I don't remember....there was a woman, with red hair, I think, I can't remember....I don't...where's Wendy?" He closed his eyes again, while Salema continued to stroke his hair, all solicitude while inwardly laughing at his weakness. She wondered who this Wendy was that he asked for, it piqued her curiosity.
"Why don't you let me help you....this floor is very hard, you would find it softer over there." She pointed to the fur covered alter, her lips curved in a smile of extraordinary sweetness, beguiling Peter and hiding her black heart completely. Confused, but not adverse to leaving the hard floor, Peter, with Salema's help, managed the small distance to the alter, easing himself onto his back and groaning as his cuts protested at his movements.
"I will go and get some water.....you have been fearsomely injured, then you can tell me all about this.....Wendy."
Before she could leave, Peter caught her arm in his hand.
"Who are you and what is this place?"
"I am of no importance.....and this place is Salema's domain. You are inside the volcano, can you not tell?"
"It's so hot....." Peter released her arm, his hand dropping to his side as his eyes closed again and he tried to wet his lips with a dry tongue. Salema turned away, smiling to herself at her own duplicity. Wafting across the chamber she filled a stone goblet with water and returned to the alter, putting her hand behind his head to raise it up while holding the vessel to his lips and letting him drink deeply.
If his strength held out, she would have much sport with this mortal before despatching him to the underworld. She had many years of revenge to enact upon his body and his mind, payment for his part in having her banished so many years ago. She would save the best, though, until last. In the moment before he died, she would make sure he remembered everything, including this Wendy person who seemed to mean so much to him, who he'd betrayed so easily not more than a couple of hours since with her, his agony of spirit would be sweet indeed.
Revenge was indeed a dish best served cold.
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They reached the entrance to the volcano as the sun was setting. Hook referring to his map more frequently, the closer they got. Wendy felt lightheaded and almost detached, her bruises and headache almost irrelevant as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and not falling flat on her face. Her wrists were raw from the chafing of the ropes, her eyes focused only on the back of Hook's ornate coat, his long black hair, not noticing when they left the shelter of the trees and struck out across the bare slopes, ever upwards, the blood-coloured sky making everything look lurid and strangely flat. Hook called a halt at the wide entrance, its walls jagged and dark, the floor of the entrance littered with boulders of all sizes, some obviously from recent falls. Sinking onto a large flat rock, Wendy sat, head bowed, her posture a picture of dejected surrender. Around her the pirates started to set up a camp, getting ready for the night, some gathering wood from the low growing scrub, others pitching an ornate tent that would supposedly house their Captain. Hook had relinquished her lead into the hands of a man who held the rope as if it were a live snake, his eyes darting from Hook to his companions, but never resting on her for more than a second before skittering away. Wendy smiled to herself at the mans' nervousness, thinking that he hardly fitted the usual mould of a pitiless, bloodthirsty pirate to so fear one woman, and a bound one at that.
Coming back down the slope, Hook folded up his map and seated himself beside her, his face wreathed in smiles of satisfaction as he surveyed his men working to make the camp ready. A fire had been built, the flames leaping into the air, adding to the strange light that already bathed the slopes and vegetation.
"Well witch.....have you nothing to say?"
"Nothing that would interest you."
"Oh come now.....have you no idea what Peter is doing inside this place?"
"None whatsoever." Wendy replied, putting as much weariness in her voice as she could. She needed to disarm her captors if she was to have a hope of escaping. Hook looked at her sharply, noting her pallor and the dark matt of blood that still streaked the side of her face. He frowned, signalling for one of the men to approach.
"Fetch me a bucket of water, and a cloth."
Wendy watched from the corner of her eye as Hook fidgeted impatiently while his minion fetched the required articles. The man holding her leash also shifted, hopping from one foot to the other in his agitation, Wendy wasn't sure whether it was the proximity to her, or his unpredictable Captain.
When the bucket and cloth arrived, Hook shooed both men away, the rope dropping to the ground. Wendy evinced no reaction, maintaining her pose of a dejected and docile prisoner. Hook held the corded handle of the bucket with his hook, his hand dipping the cloth into the water before reaching towards Wendy's face. She reared back, not expecting the move, almost toppling off the boulder in her surprise.
"Don't move girl.....I'm just going to clean you up a bit. I offends my sensibilities to see you so haggard and dirty."
"Flattery will get you everywhere....what do you care what I look like?"
"Don't fence with me wench....be thankful I am bothering at all."
Trying not to wince, Wendy submitted to his dabbing at her face, the cloth quickly becoming dark with her blood as he cleaned the gore from her cheek and hairline. His touch was not exactly gentle, but it wasn't cruel either and Wendy felt confused at his lightening change of moods.
This close to, Wendy was able to see the lines of bitterness that scored Hook's face, the scars from his brush with the crocodile still livid against his sallow skin. His hair was liberally sprinkled with grey, marking the passage of time. Her eyes roamed over his features, having not been this close to James Hook since her last adventure in Neverland aboard the Jolly Roger. She thought she'd seen him in most of his guises, as the revengeful pirate, the solicitous gentlemen, the courtly lord, so tragic in his final descent from supremacy to defeat as he fell into the crocodiles jaws, once more beaten by a boy, so ignominiously. Now he was playing a considerate nurse, it was all very unsettling. As she studied his face, she found herself similarly studied by a pair of glacial blue eyes, their black brows drawing together as she dropped her gaze from his.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" He asked urbanely, still wiping her face with the damp cloth.
"Nothing I hadn't expected."
One dark brow arched in derision as Hook leaned back, dropping the cloth back into the bucket. "You'll do." His lip curling in disdain at her pity.
Getting to his feet, he limped over to the newly erected tent and disappeared inside. The man that had been holding the rope, once more approached and jerked her to her feet, Wendy shooting daggers at him, as pain blossomed in her sore wrists.
"Don't glare at me witch....don't even look at me!"
"Afraid I'll cast a spell on you?" Wendy taunted him, pleased when his dirty face paled and his eyes widened. "Maybe I'll curse you and wither some part of your body for keeping me captive." She hissed.
The man was now at the end of the rope, keeping as much distance from her as possible. "Don't you curse me.....I'll kill you before you do!"
Satisfied that she'd put his own fears to work for her, Wendy lowered her eyes and followed meekly behind him as he led her towards the side of the tent and tethered her lead to one of the pegs holding the guy ropes.
"Don't move witch," snarled the pirate, the whites of his eyes showing as he back away. Wendy ignored him and lay down on the ground, her head pillowed on her arms. As her captor went and sat down by the fire, another man approached and threw her knapsack down by the tent wall. Feigning sleep, she didn't move until he had walked away, his back to her. All the pirates were now huddled around the fire, a pot being lifted onto a hook hanging from a braced cross- piece, and a kettle placed among the embers as they prepared their meal for the night.
Light flared in Hooks tent and she could see his outline as he seated himself in a chair, remaining unmoving until one of his crew entered with his meal. As the sky darkened, Wendy pulled the knapsack towards her, slowly so as not to attract any attention. The men around the fire were tucking into their stew, Wendy's mouth watering from the savoury smell. Every time anyone turned to peer into the shadows at her, she feigned sleep, unmoving since her leash-keeper left her there. A bottle was being passed around, the men's nervous laughter sounding loud in the night air as stars started to appear in the sky, twinkling down on the camp. Wendy remained where she was, her pack tucked against her body, hidden in the shadows, as the pirates started to settle for the night, their voices turning from nervous, raucous laughter to quiet murmurs as bedrolls appeared and the light in Hooks tent was lowered. Someone banked the fire and it flared briefly, illuminating the eyes of the pirate that had so unnerved Wendy, Hook calling him Mister Sly. He alone was still sitting up, apparently on watch, his eyes glittering as he swept around his circle of shipmates, their snores taking over from the murmured conversations as sleep claimed them one by one. Eventually even Hook's light was extinguished, plunging Wendy into darkness, the fire the only source of light apart from the faint starlight.
Carefully, she sat up, moving the pack and undoing the opening, reaching in for the bottle of water and taking a long drink. Replacing the stopper she put it back, digging down awkwardly with her bound hands for the pack of food at the bottom of the bag. As her fingers closed over the small packet, her head was suddenly yanked back by a hand entwined in her loosened braids, a knife pricking her neck as she jerked backwards, her hands lifting to her head to relieve the pressure from the cruel grip.
"No sudden moves, my pretty pretty. I wouldn't want to mark that lovely skin."
"Let me go!"
"Not until I have's me a piece of the treasure....and you're going to show me where it is."
"I don't know what treasure you're talking about," Wendy gasped as the hand in her hair let go and grabbed her bound hands, using them like a loop and pulling her arms over her head. Snagging her pack, the man started dragging her backwards towards the low bushes surrounding the camp. Kicking, Wendy struggled to free herself, opening her mouth to scream but finding a dirty rag pushed into her mouth, almost choking her.
"Don't want to wake the whole camp, now do we, pretty pretty?"
Unable to cry for help, Wendy let her body go limp, making it as difficult as possible for the pirate to move her. Belying his slim build, the man dropped her hands and pulled her to her feet, heaving her over his shoulder before heading off at a trot towards the dark maw that marked the entrance to the volcano. Lifting her head she could just make out the fire, as well as a light going on in Hooks tent. Praying that the pirate Captain would check on her, Wendy tried to slow the progress of her abductor by kicking and using her bound hands to pummel his back. She caused him to stumble and drop her onto the stony ground, that pirate cursing as more lights appeared and a shout rose from his crew-mates in the camp below.
"Damn you witch.......now they'll all be after me."
Wendy saw a glint of light off a blade and her eyes widened, thinking the man was going to kill her first, but he only sliced through her bonds, freeing her hands and dragging her upright again. By now torches were coming fast behind them and the man grunted, his iron fingers digging into her arm as he pulled her into the dark entrance and into the unknown.
Wendy stumbled alongside Sly, her breath heaving as she almost fell on the uneven ground. Some distance from the opening, the pirate paused, dropping his grasp on her arm and rummaging in his shirt for a stub of a candle, the spark from the tinderbox making Wendy squint as he lit the candle, holding it up high to see his way forward. His fingers once more around her arm, he started forward and she had no choice but to follow.
Behind the fugitives, Hook ordered his men to gather their weapons and torches and whatever supplies they could carry, waiting impatiently at the opening, watching the tiny flicker of light disappear into the distance as Sly and Wendy hurried deeper into the depths of the volcano.
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Chapter: Seventeen - Found
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Sly's grip on Wendy's arm didn't lessen, despite the uneven footing of the subterranean passageway or the wavering light cast by the small candle. The tunnel had been sloping inexorably downward, its features almost too regular to have been naturally made. The passageway was neither broad nor tall, merely sufficient for a man to stand upright and for three abreast to walk comfortably. At several places along the way rocks had fallen from the roof, leaving piles of rubble to be skirted. None of them looked recent, much to Wendy's relief, but she almost wished one of the falls had blocked the way, to slow her captors headlong flight into God only knew what. She could hear nothing of a pursuit, but she would have bet her gold locket that Hook wasn't far behind them. Paying too much attention to her thoughts and not enough to her footing, it came as no surprise when Wendy pitched headlong onto the floor, not seeing the rock that tripped her. Her arm was wrenched out of Sly's hand, her shirt ripping in the process. At that precise moment the candle blew out, plunging them into a stygian gloom.
"Damn and blast ye...." She could hear Sly scrabbling in the darkness, apparently rummaging in her own knapsack for something to use for a light. She thought, in an idle moment, that he was very poorly equipped if he depended on his captive to supply the necessary goods to effect an escape. As she lay, her cheek pressed to the cold stone floor, she found that a dim light appeared to be coming from further along the passage, her eyes growing accustomed to the gloom and able to make out some details from the distant illumination.
Sly was still cursing under his breath, items being tossed from the pack and landing with sounds according to their nature as they hit the stone floor. Getting painfully to her hands and knees, Wendy started to crawl towards the faint glow up ahead. She hadn't gone far when a scratching noise drew her attention back to her captor in time to see the tinder flare and a candle lit in her own lantern. The light quickly betrayed her position and she scrambled to her feet, trying to run towards the end of the tunnel. Laughing, Sly gathered all the spilt items and stuffed them back into the pack before sauntering after her, not bothering to try and catch her, just driving her in front of him. Preferring the unknown to the known, Wendy kept ahead of the pirate and consequently entered the stone chamber that suddenly opened around a sharp corner, pitching her from darkness to light so that she threw up her arm to protect her eyes, taking precious seconds to adjust to the new environment. After blinking to clear the spots in front of her eyes, she moved further into the room, her eyes widening as she tried to take it all in at once. Behind her Sly also entered the chamber, putting the lantern down on the ground and dropping the pack beside it, before drawing his sword and advancing.
"What is this place.....where's the treasure?"
Wendy could only shake her head, having no more knowledge than he of the place. To the side stood a marble throne atop a flight of steps, at the base of which a narrow chasm split the floor, vapours rising from it to heat the air. Letting the pirate walk further into the room, Wendy reached down and grabbed the pack, slipping the strap over her shoulder before edging further from the tunnel opening, putting as much space between Sly and herself as possible. In the centre of the rock room stood a stone alter, its surface covered in various animal furs. As they both circled the room from different ends, Wendy found the alter between herself and the pirate, a happy coincidence from her point of view. She kept close to the wall, passing underneath several of the flaring torches which hissed and spat their flames at the intruders.
"Where's the treasure?" Screamed Sly, waving his sword around, before running to the alter and sweeping the skins from its surface to land in a heap beside it. Wendy could see that something stained the surface of the alter, previously covered up by the furs. To her eyes it looked like blood. She had edged far enough around the chamber to reach one of the first of the tunnel openings on the left, peering inside, hoping for inspiration or an escape route.
Seeing nothing but more blackness, she turned to check where Sly was, not seeing the form that loomed out of the darkness before it placed a hand over her mouth and its arm around her waist, dragging her back and out of sight, into the dark.
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Wendy struggled against the confining arm, her body twisting and arching as she fought to free herself. Her assailant only tightened his grip, lifting her off the ground and continuing to carry her down the tunnel in the pitch black as she kicked and fought. With the light from the chamber lost in the twist and turns of the passageway, she noticed another light approaching. With a final twist of her body she managed to loosen her captor grip, dropping to the floor and rolling away. Climbing to her feet she fumbled at her waist for the broken sword, pulling out the hilt with its half blade still attached. As the man approached her, his form faintly outlined by the light further down the tunned, she lunged and sank the broken blade into the mans body, not entirely sure what part of his anatomy she managed to injure. Still not saying a word, the man pulled the blade out of his flesh and threw it to the ground, the blade clattering to the floor, his hands reaching for her as she stood frozen, not believing that he could remain so unmoved by her blade entering him.
"Who are you......what are you?" She whispered, as his hands gripped her arms and hauled her further along the corridor, thrusting her into a small chamber that was the source of the faint light she'd seen, the door banging shut behind him.
Losing her balance she tumbled to the floor, her hands scraping along the stone floor, grazing them. On hands and knees she looked over her shoulder at the man that had manhandled her so rudely and her breath froze in her throat. Unable to believe her eyes, Wendy blinked to clear the tears that welled up, blinding her. Drawing in a breath, she stared, shocked and bewildered, at the man gazing down at her so impassively.
"Oh God, Peter, what's happened to you?"
It was a Peter she hardly recognised, his eyes, staring pitilessly down at her, had flames leaping in their depths while glowing a strange reddish colour, as far removed from his usual hue as possible. His upper body was naked from the waist up, long scratches and wounds, the blood long dried, painting his torso in gory sweeps, a fresh wound seeping blood that ran down his chest from his shoulder where Wendy's broken sword had pierced his skin. As horrified as she was from his general condition, she was more alarmed at the expression on his face, niether welcome or recognition evident as he stared at her, his hands resting on his hips.
"Peter.....what's the matter....why don't you speak?"
As if the thought of speaking came with difficulty to his mind, Peter opened his mouth, his lips seeming to form words, but nothing came out, a perplexed frown marring his brow as his gaze wavered and fell from hers, his hands coming up to press against either side of his head as if in pain.
Scrambling to her feet, her pack dropped to the floor, Wendy stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "Peter?"
The fingers that had been reaching to touch him were suddenly encased in a fist of steel, Wendy crying out when his grip tightened, crushing her fingers in a cruel vice.
"Peter....please, you're hurting me!"
"I don't know you.....how do you know my name?" His head remained bent, his words sounded rough and raspy, so unlike his normal voice.
"I know you....Peter...don't you know me? I'm Wendy."
Still holding her hand, but the pressure lessening, he raised his eyes to look at her, the flames dying down, the red fading a little as he stared at her features. "How do you know me?......I can't...I can't remember."
Moving closer, Wendy lifted her other hand and gently reached up to enclose his fist in her warm hand, his skin very hot to the touch.
"I'm Wendy, you rescued me from Captain Hook....we flew to Neverland, you brought me here......we....we...are together, Peter."
As if burnt, Peter flung her hands away, stepping back from her, his face angry. "We can't be..together, I am Salema's.....she is mine, I am hers. There can be no one else."
Biting her lip, Wendy ignored most of the hurtful words, knowing in her heart that he was speaking under the influence of Celosia's sister. "Whatever you've been made to believe....you and I are together Peter.....we have made promises to each other, loved each other."
"I can't love you, I belong to Salema....she is the only one I live for, I worship her."
Swallowing hard to prevent her emotions from clouding her perception, Wendy once more ignored the hateful words, telling herself that he couldn't help saying what he did. It was hard, but she managed to maintain her composure. Peter turned from her, his face clouded, refusing her explanations.
"I can prove it to you Peter.....let me help you, heal your wounds, show you that I care for you, like you once cared for me,"
Well aware that Hook would soon be entering the stone chamber, and that their time was limited, Wendy crouched down and pulled her limited medical supplies from the pack, thanking Sly for the foresight in bringing it. She pulled out cloths and the small pouch of ointment that the Mermaids had given her. Peter watched her warily, the red glow in his eyes almost gone, his brow creased in a frown as he watched her. Looking around the room, little more than holding cell, she saw a bucket against the wall. Keeping half an eye on Peter, she approached and saw that it was half full of water. Picking it up, she carried it back to the pack. Peter had settled himself on a large rock with a fur thrown over it to take some of the hard edges off, his arms crossed over his chest, his legs slightly apart. He wore a pair of trousers tucked into his half boots, the fabric dusty but undamaged. As Wendy approached, he tensed, looking ready to leap up at a moments notice, his eyes flaring briefly, before returning to the banked glow.
"I want to clean these scratches Peter...some are infected and I need to treat them."
Glancing up at his stony face, Wendy almost faltered, his unnatural eyes burning her as she dipped the first cloth into the water and raised her hand towards him. Receiving neither compliance or refusal, Wendy set to work, her eyes watering with tears as she cleaned the dirt and blood from his golden skin, trying to be gentle, but finding it hard not to hurt him. During it all, Peter neither moved or flinched, despite the hurt she was sure she was inflicting. Several of the deeper scratches were infected, the flesh reddened and sore looking. Starting on his back, she worked to clean him up, following the water with the Mermaids balm, smoothing it into the cuts, her fingers soothing the ointment into his skin. With his back done, she moved to the front, tears spilling over, unbidden and unnoticed, as she worked on his chest and shoulders, his arms and stomach. The marks appeared to have been made by both nails and possibly a knife, his many scars from Hook's attack showing as white streaks under all the new red marks.
Fearful of discovery, sure that the pirates would find the small room at any time, Wendy worked as fast as she could, her fingers lovingly soothing his inflamed skin, the ointment releasing a pleasant smell as it penetrated the hurts and reduced the swelling. During it all, Peter remained impassive, his face carved from granite, only the tick of a muscle in his jaw and the pulse at the base of his throat evidence that he was more than a carved statue. As Wendy moved back to survey her handiwork, his hand once more shot out and grabbed her wrist, her cry making him look down, seeing for the first time the lacerations on her skin from the ropes, her tears of pity mixing with tears of pain as she winced at the pressure on her injured limb.
"Why do you cry?"
"Because you are hurting me...please let go."
Releasing her wrist, Peter moved his grip to hold her hand, turning it over to survey the marks that ringed her arm, pushing the sleeve back, a frown drawing his dark brows together. Looking up into her face, he traced the path of a tear with his free hand, trapping a drop on his finger and bringing it to his mouth.
"You were crying before......when you weren't hurting.....why?"
Sniffing, Wendy scrubbed her free hand across her face, leaving streaks of dirt behind, but removing the evidence of her grief.
"I would cry for any animal as mistreated as you are. Who did this to you Peter?....whoever did, couldn't love you."
"I....I don't know how I got these," he gestured to his chest, his other hand still holding hers, as it he'd forgotten about it.
Feeling the urgency of their situation, but not sure how to deal with this spellbound Peter, Wendy bent down to gather her supplies, Peter releasing her hand, almost reluctantly. As she bent over the coral flute, still hidden in her shirt, dug into her ribs reminding her of its presence and its purpose. With her back to Peter she drew it out, the pale coral glowing a faint blue in her hands. As she straightened up, a hand came around and snatched the flute from her fingers, Wendy crying out and spinning around to snatch it back, but Peter stepped back a pace, holding the coral in his fist.
"Did you think to stab me with this...stick?"
"No....its a flute....I thought......I thought you might like to hear some music...to take your mind off your hurts."
Still holding the coral flute, Peter twirled it back and forth, Wendy's heart rising to her throat at the thought of him snapping it or throwing it against the wall. Hesitantly, she held out her hand, palm up towards Peter, her eyes begging him to give it to her. With a snort, he dropped the instrument into her hand, seating himself once more on the rock and eyeing her with amusement.
"You are very strange...Wendy. But play your flute.....as Salema is my mistress, so I will be your master......play slave!"
Her fingers shaking, Wendy placed them over the holes in the flute, her lungs swelling as she drew in an unsteady breath and prepared to blow. With infinite care she blew into the hole, the first note coming out like a sigh, soft and sweet and clear. Gaining confidence, Wendy moved her fingers and blew another note, the sound like a bell in the small chamber. At first she tested the different holes, finding out what sounds she could use, then with a deep breath she began to play a simple childish air, the tune slow but steady, the music filling the stone chamber with magic.
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Hook sent his pirates ahead of him, not wanting to be caught in any traps that might be guarding the treasure, or set by Peter Pan. As he rounded the corner and entered the brightly lit chamber, he checked, watching as his men fanned out across the floor, his narrowed eyes taking in the throne and the alter and the eerie emptiness of the place. He knew that Sly and his captive, Wendy, had to be here somewhere, but with four other tunnels to choose from he would need time to find them. One of his men called out and he sauntered over, as much as his limp would allow, to the alter, noting dispassionately that it seemed to be sporting a coating of dried blood. Raising an eyebrow at such barbarity, Hook circled the stone and came to stand on the other side where he found his men clustered around a body laying beside the alter. It was Sly, his throat cut from ear to ear, his face contorted into a ghastly expression.
"A fitting end to a traitor....shame I didn't get to commit the fatal blow....but never mind. I would be surprised if it was the Wendy witch, or even Peter......I wonder if there is another player in this particular game." He tapped his teeth lightly with his hook as he contemplated the room around him. His men muttered among themselves, their weapons raised as they darted worried looks around the cavern. "Spread out men.......we still have at least two people on the loose in here.....light your torches and search those tunnels, keep in pairs, and report back here after you have travelled a hundred paces."
Hook watched as his men carried out their orders, the lights disappearing from view, leaving him with a handful of men who stared uneasily around the room. Turning around, Hook walked towards the stair leading to the marble throne, stepping over the crack in the floor, the hot, noxious vapours gushing up to envelop him before he jumped to the first step, his hand on his sword hilt. Walking cautiously up the stairs, he reached the top and gazed around him. The throne had faint carvings on it, the stone bare of any cushioning. Despite the paucity of padding, he lowered himself into the throne, a vibration passing through the stone and his body as he settled into the unyielding surface. A sly grin passed over his face as he relaxed, one leg crossing over the other, his hook tapping against the veined marble as he gazed out over the room. His men remained around the alter, their eyes casting around for an enemy to kill, hating the silence and the unknown.
Behind the throne, unseen by Hook and his men, Salema rose up in the form of the red-haired woman, her body voluptuous and desirable.
She reached around the stone chair, her long fingers brushing across Hook's shoulder, a jerk the only acknowledgment that he noticed her presence. Stroking her hand across the velvet and gold lace, she slowly worked her way around the throne, Hook's eyes meeting hers as she slid her hand down his arm, her hair trailing behind, her body leaning forward, the better to display her charms. A choked cry from his men when they saw her was cut off by a wave of Hook's hand as Salema reached the end of his arm and lifted the wickedly curved metal that served as his hand, her eyes lifting to his with a blatant invitation in their mercurial depths.
"I'd be careful how you handle that, madam. It is, after all, very sharp."
"Oh I like things that slice....and I can see that this could cut a man open without any trouble at all."
With his eyes hooded, Hook gazed upon Salema, his gaze sharpening as she wound herself around the throne, like a golden serpent, her hair the colour of the dried blood on the alter.
"And who might you be?" Hook asked, his body, if not tense, certainly not as relaxed as before.
"I am Salema.....beloved of the flame."
"Hmmmm I can see why.....you are truly very beautiful."
"And you are sitting in my throne,"
"Oh I do apologise..." Hook made to rise, only to have Salema press him back into the stone when she swung her leg over his, straddling him, her hands against his chest.
"No need......I like a man who takes what he wants."
Captain Hook raised an autocratic eyebrow, his lips lifting in a supercilious smile. Salema smiled back, her ruby lips stretching to reveal her sharp-looking teeth. His men watched mesmerised, their faces reflecting their fear and fascination with the woman draped over their Captains lap.
"I was wondering.....if you would know where a certain person was, that I am looking for......he was last seen heading this way?"
"I don't see many people here......it's a little....isolated." Salema had leant forward to whisper the last part into Hook's ear, her hand reaching up to lift off his plumed hat, her lush bosom pressing against his chest. Enveloped by her exotic perfume, Hook found himself responding in a way he hadn't experience in years. Salema instantly noticed, her lips pulling back into a feral grin, her eyes swirling with lust and something suspiciously like hunger.
"I'm looking for Peter Pan." Hook ground out, his eyes never leaving hers as she undulated on his lap, her hands stroking his face while her body pressed against him, eliciting a response from him that he found hard to ignore.
"Why would you be looking for him here?......He is not in the least important."
"He is to me.....he is somewhere here with his paramour, the witch, Wendy."
Hearing the same name that Peter had been muttering about, Salema stopped her movements, her eyes narrowing to slits.
"Who is this Wendy?" She hissed, her nails digging into Hook's sallow cheeks as she pinned him to the stone with her silver eyes.
"She is the bane of my life, and I intend to kill her. After I dispatch Peter Pan to the hereafter, of course."
"I like a man who has such a clear cut and singular purpose. But there is one little change to that plan. You may have this Wendy person, whoever she is.....but the Pan is mine. I have prior claim on his life."
"You do? How unfortunate. I fear this will put us at odds, madam."
"Only if you are foolish enough to cross me....and not many survive an encounter with the Malekite."
"The Malekite? I can't say I've ever heard of this dreadful foe. Should I be afraid?"
Throwing back her head, Salema laughed, the shrill sound making his men back off another pace, the hair standing on end on more than one of their necks. Hook only grinned, his eyes gleaming like ice, despite the heated atmosphere and the strange woman who he suspected was far more dangerous than she appeared.
"Only a foolish man is not afraid of the Malekite.....and you don't strike me as a foolish man. I have your....Peter Pan. I can take you to him if you like. But I want you to promise that you'll leave him with me when you depart eventually."
"I can promise nothing madam......but I will honour another bargain. You show me where the treasure if hidden....and don't dissemble, I know it is here...I have a map that confirms it. If you show me where the treasure is, I will gladly take it and the Wendy witch away, and leave Pan to your tender mercies."
"You drive a hard bargain......mortal. I will consider your proposal. In the meantime......"
As Salema ran a finger down Hook's cheek, ending at his lips, a note of music drifted into the room, followed by another then another. It was only the notes of a strange scale, but it hung in the air, every man lifting his head to try and gauge where the music was coming from. Salema also lifted her head, her eyes narrowing to slits, her mouth twisting into a grimace.
"What is that sound?" She hissed, sliding off Hook's lap and turning to stand, feet apart, her head twisting back and forth as if scenting the air for the source of the notes. As they stood waiting, a tune started to play, wafting effortlessly around the chamber, echoing off the walls and replaying itself over and over.
"I know that tune..." mused Hook, his foot tapping in appreciation as the music seemed to fill the stone hall, rolling over their heads and lilting through their minds. As suddenly as it started the sound was cut off, the last faint echoes making everyone strain to hear it.
Salema whirled and pointed a finger at Hook. "What have your brought to my realm....you have distracted me while someone has played on the coralisk....BETRAYER!" Salema shrieked at Hook, spinning on the spot, her human form disappearing, evaporating before his eyes into her fairy form, before shooting up to the roof in a sparkling flash of light.
Hook leapt to his feet, staring up to the roof where the fairy had disappeared. Making his way down the steps he jumped over the chasm and waved his men over.
"Call down the tunnels, I want all the men back here now......HURRY!"
Running to obey, the men approached the black tunnel mouths and started to shout. Within a few minutes all the men that had gone to search reappeared at a run, all except for two.
"Where are Collins and Rag?"
"They went down that tunnel Captain." said one of the men, pointing to the tunnel on the left.
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Chapter: Eighteen - The Price
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Wendy closed her eyes and played, the notes sounding sharp and clear, the coral flute glowing a rich emerald under her fingers. Peter had an arrested expression on his face, his eyes still red, but the flames dying away, his body held stiffly upon the rock where he sat. The notes seemed to pierce him, stabbing at his head, his hands coming up to press either side of his temples as the music battered at his senses, his eyes closing and mouth opening in a silent scream as his mind battled for release from the fairy spell. Rising to his feet, he staggered a few steps, one hand reaching out pleadingly to the girl on the floor, her eyes still closed, her fingers moving over the coralisk with increased confidence. Wendy must have sensed his closeness, her eyes opening to see him leaning over her, his eyes now squeezed shut, his teeth bared in a grimace. Abruptly she stopped playing, and just as abruptly Peter collapsed at her feet, senseless.
With a cry, Wendy dropped the coralisk and scrambled over to him, rolling him onto his back and lifting his head into her lap.
"Oh Peter....I'm so sorry.....what have I done?"
With her head bent over his, she didn't see the door opening behind her, or the faces of the two pirates that peered cautiously into the small, stone cell.
"It's her and 'im!" hissed Collins, nudging his companion who grunted back.
"What we gonna' do?" Collins asked, receiving another grunt in reply.
Looking at his partner in disgust, Collins advanced into the room, his cutlass at the ready, while Rags waited by the door with the torch flaring in the draught.
"'ere, you...witch....get up!" Collins tried to sound authoritative, but failed miserably, his voice coming out all quavery. Rags only rolled his eyes, snorting under his breath.
Through her tears, Wendy looked up and over her shoulder, seeing the pirates but not really registering their presence, other than as intruders on her grief.
"Go away," she cried, once more bending her head to touch Peters, her tears soaking his face. "Leave us alone....."
"'ere....you're our pris'ner...you can't tell us to leave." Collins sounded positively indignant, false courage giving him a much needed backbone. As his opponents were one senseless youth and a weeping girl, it was hardly an act of manly courage to wave a cutlass at two unarmed people, but he felt it would look good if he was the one to present his Captain with such a prize.
Feeling very pleased with himself, Collins smirked at Rags who was still standing by the open door, his dour face bored with the whole situation. As he opened his mouth to speak, Collins suddenly halted, the words dying in his throat as a figure appeared behind his crewmate, a long black tendril reaching out and wrapping itself around Rags' neck. With a shout, Rag's dropped the torch which rolled to the side, the flames sending shadows dancing over the mans body as he wrestled with the creature choking him. Collins lifted his sword and swung at the black substance, his blade slicing through and digging into Rag's arm, making the man howl even louder. Behind Collins, Wendy had turned in alarm, her body shielding Peter, her eyes rounding at the sight of Rags being lifted off the ground. Something was wrapped around his neck, something else starting to circle the mans body when, with a jerk, Rags disappeared into the unlit corridor, his cries echoing off the stone walls, fading away as he was carried down the passageway, away from the small chamber.
Collins stood shaking, his cutlass still in his hand, staring slack jawed at the spot his partner had so recently occupied.
Turning his head slowly, he flicked a glance at Wendy, on the floor beside him, his arm coming up, a finger wagging pointedly at the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that?"
Wendy was thinking the same thing, her body crouched over Peter, her hand reaching to her belt, only belatedly realising she had no weapons.
"I don't know.......I DON'T KNOW!" She shouted the last because Collins had moved towards her, his blade lifted threateningly. Wendy shut her eyes and lifted her arm to shield her head, waiting for the killing blow. It never came. With a shriek, Collins had dropped his blade and run out of the room, sprinting down the darkened corridor, hitting the rock walls and almost knocking himself out. As he scrambled to his feet, he felt something grab him around the ankles, snatching the ground from under him and sending him crashing to the floor before starting to inexorably drag the screaming pirate down into the inky blackness.
Wendy felt herself trembling uncontrollably as Collins' cries faded into the distance. Feeling faint with horror, she lowered her head and sucked in lungfuls of air, her eyes opening when a groan came from the man lying below her.
"Peter?" She whispered, her hand stroking the tussled hair from his forehead.
Infinitely slowly his eyes opened and Wendy found herself gazing into a pair of clear blue-green eyes that stared confusedly up at her, his forehead creasing in a frown as he tried to assimilate his surroundings.
"Wendy.....why...why am I on the floor?"
"Peter.....do you know where you are? Do you remember why you are here?"
Blinking, he stared up at her, noting her dirty, damp face, lined with tear tracks, her eyes red-rimmed and shadowed. He could see that one sleeve of her filthy shirt was torn into strips, her hair in two wildly disordered plaits, blood matting one side of her head.
"You look like hell.....what's been happening to you......to us?"
Sitting back on her heels, Wendy watched silently as he made to sit up, wincing as his healing injuries pulled, his hands coming up to feel the new cuts and abrasions over his body. Once upright, he looked down at himself, his eyes widening as he noted all the scratches and cuts, his hand reaching up to his shoulder to find the wound made by Wendy's sword. Bewildered, he stared around, seeing the rock walls and flaring torches as if for the first time. He looked at Wendy, seeing fresh tears slide down her face, despite her best efforts to scrub them away. Looking down, he saw her raw wrists, partially covered by her shirt and his eyes flew to hers.
"Who has done this to you?"
Unable to speak, she could only look mutely at him, shaking her head, at the limit of her endurance. Rising to his knees, he reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, with an inarticulate cry, Wendy launched herself at him, burying her face against his uninjured shoulder, rocking him back on his heels while he wrapped his arms around her, his own cheek against her hair.
He heard shouting and feet running on the stone passageway outside, then torches appeared and men crowded into the room, Hook pushing his way through and coming to stand over the pair on the floor. As his glacial eyes swept over the dishevelled pair, another scream rent the air outside and he turned to push past the sailors crowding the doorway.
"Bring them with us.....everyone back to the main cavern!"
Hands reached down to pull Peter and Wendy apart, but Wendy clung to Peter as they rose to their feet, defeating their best efforts to separate them. Realising the futility of trying to part them, the pirates left them together, hustling them out of the small stone room and into the corridor, their torches lighting the way back to the main cavern, Hook limping ahead, his sword drawn.
As they burst into the well lit chamber, Peter and Wendy found themselves pushed to the side, Peter shielding her from the worst of the buffeting as the pirates stampeded towards a tunnel opening to the right as another scream gurgled from the passage they'd just come from.
"Keep together men.....whatever it is, there's enough of us to defeat it!" Hook rallied his crew, the men surrounding him, their weapons drawn, all looking towards the tunnel they'd just left.
Peter edged himself and Wendy away from the black opening, his eyes flicking over the chamber, trying to find something to use as a weapon to defend them. She remained glued to his side, her body trembling in fatigue and fright.
"Wendy......tell me what's been happening....why are we here....and where is "here"?" Peter asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
As succinctly as possible, Wendy brought him up to date, telling of her meeting with Celosia, the Mermaids, of Hook capturing her, of the nerve racking flight through the tunnels and his capture of her, ending with the use of the coralisk to free him from Salema's spell.
While she told her tale, Peter watched the pirates, Hook conferring with his men, finding out what they found down the other tunnels. If Peter thought them forgotten, he was quickly disabused when Hook glanced up and glared directly at Peter, his eyes narrowed, death in his icy gaze. Peter stared back fearlessly, his chin lifting a little, refusing to be cowed by the pirate Captain. As Wendy's tale drew to a close, Peter happened to glance upwards to the ceiling of the chamber and saw a bright light flitting across the roof. He drew Wendy's attention to it, but she didn't know what it was, suggesting that maybe one of the fairies had followed her in after all, despite the Queen's edict. Wendy felt alot calmer now, her body still trembling but her tears thankfully abated, her courage bolstered by Peter's presence back by her side. Hook had noticed their upward gaze and now spotted the bright light himself, but instead of treating it as an ordinary fairy and ignoring it, Hook sheathed his sword before pulling a pistol from his belt and aiming at the light. He fired, the noise deafening in the confined space. He missed the darting light, a shower of rocks falling to land on the stones below, scattering shards everywhere. The light darted away, swooping down from the roof and flying across the room towards Peter and Wendy. Hook aimed another pistol and Peter ducked, pulling Wendy down with him as Hook's shot missed the fairy once more and hit the rocks behind them, sending hard shards of stone showering down on their heads.
"I don't think Hook likes this particular fairy," Peter whispered, standing up again and glaring at the pirate Captain.
"It must the fairy, Salema...Celosia's sister. The Fairy Queen said you defeated her once, resulting in her being banished to the volcano and imprisoned here. Celosia said you'd have to defeat her again."
"How? Hook has all the men, the weapons...and she is only a fairy."
"A fairy that lured you here and inflicted all those cuts and welts, have you forgotten those?"
"That Mermaid ointment has worked so well, I had almost forgotten about them. Wendy....we have to get out of here....but Hook is blocking the only way, apparantly, back to the surface."
"Peter...you are free of Salema's spells....which means you're free to work your own magic. Celosia's said you had abilities that you weren't even aware of. "
"Which doesn't help Wendy....how can I use something I don't know I have!"
Wendy cast him a fulminating look, unable to refute his logic, ignoring the frustration that made him curt with her.
Hook had given up using the fairy for target practise when she disappeared down one of the tunnels. Not wanting to suffer the same fate as Collins and Rags, Hook started to edge out of the room, his men forming a phalanx in front of him. Before he had taken more than a couple of steps, something black loomed out of the tunnel behind him. With his back to it, Hook was unaware of the danger. Peter saw and shouted out.
"BEHIND YOU.....LOOK OUT!"
Without hesitating, Hook swung around, confronting the dark mass that oozed out of the tunnel, its many arms snaking into the room, gaining substance the further into the light it crept. Hook backed hurriedly away, pushing through the ranks of his men, all of them staring open mouthed at the behemoth that loomed ever larger over their heads. Pulling another pistol, this time from one of his men, Hook fired at the monster, the shot going through it, its substance as yet not solid. The sailors around him scattered, their cries of terror echoing around the room as they backed away, their weapons raised. The black beast entered the room, its bulk appearing out of the tunnel like a giant octopus, its multiple arms swinging around, seeking a body to grasp.
Hook threw the useless pistol away, cursing volubly, his men still backing away, their attention all on the creature taking form before them. As the blackness started the solidify, the ground beneath their feet started to vibrate, rocks falling from the roof as the earth shifted and groaned. Peter braced himself against the rock wall, his feet widely placed, Wendy clutched to his side as the room rocked, dust cascading down on them all. The monster paused, its arms waving slowly as its body continued to become more solid. One of its arms snaked towards Hook, the doughty Captain clasping his sword and swinging it at the limb. To everyone's surprise the sword sliced into flesh, blood gushing out as the creature screamed, Hook's blade slicing clean through, severing a length. Another arm approached from the side and the pirate Captain slashed at it with his hook, sinking the metal deep into the creatures hide, another scream rending the air and deafening everyone. Finding courage in Hook's ability to maim the beast, his men crowded forward, Peter and Wendy forgotten in the rise of bloodlust, the pirates yelling as they hacked at the flailing limbs, some of them knocked over by the thick tentacles, others finding their mark, blood making the floor slippery.
The noise was horrendous, the scene straight from a nightmare. Without a weapon or a means to leave the cavern, Peter and Wendy could only watch helplessly. From the tunnel to their left a figure stepped out of the dark, her red hair streaming behind her, her face painted with a leer as she glanced over at the monster fighting the pirates. Turning away she looked over at the pair by the wall, her eyes narrowing as she noted how Peter shielded the girl, his head bent to speak to her, every move solicitous of the dishevelled female. Salema was disgusted, if this was the Wendy person, she didn't think much of his taste in women. Ignoring the battle raging only a few feet away from her, she started to walk towards Peter, her gold dress flowing around her body, her red hair floating behind her, swirling like flames around her head. When she was nearly upon them, Wendy saw her, the girls eyes rounding, a word alerting Peter who swung around to face her, Wendy pushed behind him, for all that he was unarmed himself.
"It's Salema......it has to be," Wendy whispered, clutching Peter's hand.
Halting a couple feet away, Salema smiled at Peter, her scarlet lips stretching into a lustful leer.
"How nice to see you again Pan......I see you've recovered from your.....punishment. Are you ready for another bout of lust in the furs?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about.....who are you?"
"Why, can you have forgotten out delightful dalliance only hours ago?" Salema pouted, one red eyebrow arched provocatively. "I assure you that I have not......it's the most pleasure I've had with a mortal in years."
Peter could only regard her with bewilderment, not remembering her or his actions since arriving. Wendy was dividing her attention between Salema and the battle still raging with the black monster, her lips parting in a gasp when the monster managed to send Hook flying, the man landing near the base of the stairs leading to the throne, the crack in the floor painting his sallow face with lurid shadows. Peter was entirely focused on Salema, images chasing themselves across his mind, blurred and indistinct, but memories of a red haired woman.
"I...I don't believe you.....who are you?"
"I am Salema....beloved of the flame.....and you, Pan are mine."
Peter's eyes flashed, wishing with all his heart that he had a weapon. "I am not yours....I never was....or will be."
"No......I suppose not, not now...more's the pity." Murmured Salema, walking in an arc in front of them, Peter following her every move. "But then I was never going to keep your forever....just until I grew tired of you."
"Is that your doing?" Peter nodded towards the behemoth, the creature starting to back into the tunnel it had appeared from, its limbs spewing blood, the pirates still hacking at it, their yells taking on a triumphant note.
"A diversion, that's all....it acts as a useful deterrent, a watch-dog if you like."
"What do you want with us?"
"Why nothing.....not really......I lured you here to kill you...that hasn't changed.....the rest is purely entertainment to relieve a long and boring banishment."
Peter felt the conversation was taking a bizarre turn, Salema talking as casually, as if about nothing more important than the weather, her flame coloured eyes never leaving his face as she paced like a tiger in front of them. Behind her golden figure, he could see the pirates driving the creature out of the cavern, their attention sure to return to their side of the chamber before too long.
"Look at me Pan........" Salema hissed, her eyes shooting flames at him. Peter threw up his arm in an automatically protective move, his head turned away. As the flames leapt towards him, an aura appeared around Peter like a shield, the faint blue changing to deep sapphire as the flames hit, deflecting them into vapour. Salema screamed in fury.
Peter heard Wendy's gasp of surprise behind him, no less than his own at seeing the flames dissolve. Salema stepped back, her hand rising to point at him, her fingers curved like talons. Once more light blazed from her, and again Peter threw up his arm, his body bent defensively over Wendy. The aura once more flared into life, deflecting the light and sending the bolt flying up towards the rocky roof, exploding in a flash of light that blasted the stones to gravel, showering down on the pirates still fighting the black beast.
Salema's human form started to dissolve, her face contorted, but before she could return to her fairy shape a hook appeared from her breast, the point bloody where it pierced her. Unseen by her and her intended victims, Hook had come up behind her, his face split with a grin, his arm buried in her back, his hook plunged through her body. With a jerk he pulled backwards, his hook pulling free, inflicting mortal wounds on Salema's body, her dress quickly becoming soaked in blood as she stared down at herself, her expression disbelieving. As she lifted her head, Peter saw her expression change from surprise to fury, her hands coming up to touch her torso, coming away coated in blood. Opening her mouth she screamed at Peter before spinning on her heels to face Hook. He had been grinning in satisfaction, but finding his victim not dead from the mortal wound, he stepped back, his grin slipping as he now faced the enraged Malekite. Before Peter could shout a warning, Salema unleashed a bolt of energy at Hook, catching the man full on the chest, white lightening throwing the pirate Captain across the room to land with a sickening crunch against the base of the stone alter. Lifting from the ground, Salema flew to where Hook slumped, the pirate struggling to rise, his clothes smoking where the fairy's strike had flayed him.
"Pitiful mortal.....you cannot hurt me......but I can hurt you!"
With a sweep of her hand she send a wave of energy across the room, knocking the surviving pirates off their feet, the ground rocking beneath them, rocks falling from the ceiling as the chamber's wall shook. Lowering her arm she pointed a finger at Hook, the pirate glaring up at her, his glacial eyes contemptuous.
"You madam......are no lady."
With a flick of her finger, Salema drew a short line in the air above Hook, a red line appearing on his throat, blood gushing from the wound. The pirate gasped, his hand rising to grip his neck, futilely trying to stem the loss of his life-blood. Tossing her head, Salema turned around and left him, bubbles of blood coating Hooks lips as he tried to speak.
The pirates hadn't risen from the ground, leaving Peter and Wendy the only survivors of the uneven battle. As Salema approached, Peter felt Wendy tighten the grip on his hand, her voice whispering to him.
"I love you Peter Pan. You are my world, my life, my everything. There is nothing you can't do.....you only have to think it and it will be....what I have I give to you.....my heart, my strength my all...."
He listened as she repeated the words like a litany, his lips echoing the words, his heart swelling as he tilted his head and prepared to meet his nemesis.
Salema floated back to the cave wall, approaching Peter, her gown drenched in red, her face wiped clean of the malice that had been evident when she struck at Hook. She stopped a few steps away, her eyes blazing with red flames, her lips curved in a broad smile, bloody teeth gleaming in the flaring torch light.
"So Pan.....there is no-one left but you and me."
"You cannot hurt me, you are powerless against me." Said Peter, his voice as fearless as his expression.
Throwing her head back, Salema laughed, her hair rising around her head, whipping in an unseen wind. "You are so pitiful...you should not believe what my hag sister has told you. You are weak, a mere mortal, you are nothing compared to me."
"If that was true....you would have killed me when you had the chance, why bother to keep me alive?"
"Because you are the first mortal I have ever felt the stirrings of desire for......as a boy you were arrogant and cocky, traits I admire in a male.....as a man, you are all those and more. I could have taken your life, but I spared it....so you could service me."
"Whatever you took from me.....it counts for nothing. You are evil Salema......and evil has no place in Neverland."
"And what are you going to do.....Peter Pan. Banish me again? That has been done, and with the consequences you see around you."
"You leave me no choice......I must destroy you."
"Hah.....with what?" Salema extended her arm, pointing at Wendy standing shoulder to shoulder with Peter, her hand entwined with his. "With this baggage, this milk-sop?"
Enraged beyond reason, Salema spread her fingers and sent a bolt of light directly at Wendy. Peter closed his eyes, not raising his arm this time, trusting in the truth told to Wendy by the Fairy Queen. As the lightening bolt sped towards them, it appeared to slow, until it stopped completely, hovering a foot from where Wendy stood. Salema stared in astonishment, her eyes flaring crimson. His eyes still closed, Peter lifted his hand and the lightening bolt settled on his palm, floating just above his skin. Salema started to back away, her mouth working, her face contorted with a snarl. Peter lifted his hand and pulled back his arm before hurling the light at Salema, the bolt hitting her in the face, her scream abruptly cut off as the force threw her across the cavern to land among the scattered pirates, sprawling her across the floor.
Peter took a step forward, then another, Wendy still beside him, her face filled with pride and confidence, his with determination and purpose.
Salema pushed herself to her feet, her hair in wild disorder around her face. With a jerk she flung out her arm and sent another bolt towards Peter, this one easily deflected with a wave of his hand to shatter harmlessly against the wall. Peter continued to advance, and Salema stood her ground, her mouth opening on a scream of fury.
"You are banished Salema......not just from Neverland....but from this plane of existence." With these words, Peter condemned the Malekite, his hand rising, the power filling him as he directed a cold blue light at Salema, the aura enveloping her, sucking the life out of her as she writhed and twisted, her screams horrible to hear. With a jerk, Peter closed his fist and the blue light shrank to a small sphere, Salema's form reverted back to that of a fairy, her tiny body encased in the blue ball of light. Opening his hand he moved it, the blue ball following his direction until it hung over the chasm in the floor, the light from below painting the sphere red and orange. With a snap of his finger the ball dropped into the crack, disappearing from sight into the depth of the volcano's heart, a distant boom marking the end of Salema's wicked existence.
In the sudden silence, the moans of the injured pirates could just be heard above the cracking of stone as the floor once more lifted and settled, another earthquake bringing more rocks crashing to the floor.
"We have to get out of here.." Peter urged starting to lead Wendy out of the cavern.
"Peter..." Wendy tugged at his hand, her head twisting to stare at the alter. "Hook!"
Together they hurried to the square stone, turning the corner to see Hook, his hand still pressed to his throat, his eyes open and staring, his lips pulled back in a grimace. On seeing Peter, he stretched out his hook, his eyes widening, his mouth working but no words coming out.
"Peter, what can we do?"
Peter stared at Wendy, confused. "Do?.....have you forgotten, this man wanted to kill you....kill us!"
"But Peter...." Wendy pleaded, her soft heart unable to bear the look in Hook's eyes as he begged silently for his life. After a second Peter closed his eyes and held out his hand, a sparkle appearing on his palm before the small pouch of Mermaid balm appeared.
Pulling the neck of the pouch open, Wendy hooked a fingerful of the fragrant ointment and smeared it around Hook's neck after prising his fingers away from the bloody wound. Peter watched impassively as the magical healing balm knitted the torn flesh together, the blood flow stopping instantly, the skin starting to heal before their eyes. Hook's eyes had closed, his chest heaving as he lay limp before them, his skin, hands and clothes coated in his own crimson blood, his complexion pale and clammy.
"You have done all you can for him.......we must leave now," Peter held out his hand to Wendy, raising her up and started to walk away. Hook, weak but still alive, tried to speak, his voice a thin croak. Peter looked back over his shoulder, his expression severe.
"You have been given another chance at life.....don't waste it."
"Why....why...did you...allow...." Hook asked, his dark rimmed eyes staring at Peter from his sallow face.
"You can thank Wendy for your life....but be warned. If you attempt to harm her, or Neverland, your life will be forfeit. There will be no second chance from me."
Turning his face away, Peter tugged on Wendy's hand and they walked together away from the carnage, past the pirates who were struggling to rise, groaning from their injuries, past the black beast that lay dead in the entrance to the tunnel. Wendy staggered as they started up the dark tunnel, her body drained of its strength, her spirit battered by all that she'd seen and heard. In a single move, Peter scooped her into his strong arms, his glowing aura lighting the tunnel with a blue light as clear as the sky.
"Let's go home, Peter....take me home."
Closing her eyes, Wendy nestled into Peter's embrace as they flew out of the tunnel and into the welcoming sunshine of a new, Neverland day.
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Chapter: Nineteen - Heartache
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Peter had hardly flown more than a few feet from the entrance to the volcano when a cloud of fairies appeared, enveloping them in a fluttering mass of bright lights and tinkling bells. Peter hung in the air, Wendy cradled in his arms, his face still grim, despite the successful end of their hair-raising adventure. TinkerBell pushed her way through the fairy throng and hovered directly in front of Peter, bobbing agitatedly, her wings a blur of motion.
"Peter.....what has happened?....are you alright?.....what's wrong with Wendy?.....where are you going?"
Peter closed his eyes for a second, a gentle force reaching out and pushing the fairies away, freeing a passageway through which Peter flew, speeding away without answering any of Tinkerbells questions.
He flew over the forest, his eyes blind to the fine weather and blooming plants a blur beneath him. His heart was heavy in his chest, Wendy a dead weight in his arms. Despite the defeat of the Malekite and the warning to Hook, Peter felt that he had lost something infinitely precious, but he couldn't say exactly what it was.
He swooped low, approaching the king tree, a cloud of butterflies rising up to greet him, their iridescent colours like jewels in the bright sun. Ducking under the canopy, Peter flew up and onto the broad bowl-like surface of the tree-heart. With infinite care he alighted on the smooth wood, Wendy unmoving in his arms. Gently he lay her down on the sleeping furs, her body lax, her head turning away from him as he released her. The only sound around him was the rustle of the green leaves as the wind stirred them. Feeling suddenly unsure of himself, he stood looking down at Wendy for a moment, taking his first real look at her without the distractions of life-threatening situations. What he saw shocked him. Her face was as pale as porcelain, her lashes dark against her white cheeks. Crouching down he reached over and brushed the hair away from her face, her neat plaits a faint memory, her hair a mess of tangles, matted with blood on one side of her head. Her outer clothes appeared shredded, one sleeve almost gone, the rest covered in dirt and dust. Her wrists were raw, evidence of the ropes that had bound her, the flesh angry and sore looking. All this, she had suffered for him. It made him feel so unworthy of her love, her constancy.
Feeling unclean and unfit to touch her, Peter stripped off his filthy clothes, walking naked to the edge and diving off, flying to the pool and dropping in with a splash. Taking the minimum of time, he sluiced himself off, rubbing his healing body with undue vigour, dunking his head repeatedly to remove the stone chips and dust. Refreshed and clean, he flew back up to the crown, landing lightly before snagging a towel and rubbing himself dry. Pulling on a pair of loose pants he gathered together some supplies before approaching her again.
With gentle hands, Peter stripped Wendy of her ruined clothes, his eyes burning as her skin revealed huge bruises over her body, tears sliding down his face as he dressed and bandaged her wrists, his mouth twisting as he cleaned the dried blood from her hair and scalp. Through it all Wendy remained insensible, her chest rising and falling, her eyes darting beneath their lids as dreams carried her where Peter couldn't follow. When at last he was satisfied that she was as comfortable and as clean as he could make her, Peter put aside the soiled cloths and bucket and lay down beside her, gathering her limp form into his arms, his face sticky and tight from the tears he'd shed.
Some hours later Wendy awoke, her body enveloped in warmth, her limbs stiff and bruised but cushioned by soft fur and warm flesh. Her dreams had been troubled and confused, images of the Malekite woven with images of Peter threatening her, his eyes like flames, chasing her down long tunnels with Salema's face at the end, swallowing her whole. Blinking, she stared at the canopy of green leaves softly rustling to themselves above and around her, the flicker of sunlight twinkling like sparks as the leaves moved. Peter's arm was a solid weight around her waist, his leg between hers, his nose buried in her neck. She felt surrounded by him, contented and cared for, despite the insistent ache of her limbs. She could hardly believe that it was finally all over, that Peter, with her help, had managed to defeat not only Salema, but Hook as well. She only hoped the pirate Captain would take heed of Peter's warning and leave them alone from now on. But that raised a number of quandaries for Wendy. If they were free of any threats to their health and safety, and Neverland's future was now assured, what was to stop Wendy from returning to her life in London, to her family, from resurrecting herself and her former life. That was an easy question to answer, she didn't have a life without Peter in it. As much as she loved her family, if she'd married someone, anyone, she would have had to leave them behind and start a new life, what was the difference now. If her future husband had wanted to take her to a different part of the country, or a different continent, she would have had to part from her family eventually anyway. Peter bringing her to Neverland had only precipitated the inevitable. If truth be known, there was nowhere that Wendy wanted to be but here, or anywhere that Peter was. He was her first love and her last, there was no other, or ever would be. What better man could she hope to find, in London or in the world, than the one right beside her. The future was still uncertain, but together, they would face it and surmount any obstacles, no matter how strange or dangerous. It was, afterall, a realisation of all those fantastic stories she been committing to paper all these years, all her adventures and fantasy, all rolled up in one place, in one man, in one life. Who could ask for more.
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Peter lay beside her, well aware that Wendy was awake, but not ready or able to face her. Feigning sleep, he simply enjoyed the pleasure of the feel of her slender curves pressed intimately to his, her body warm and wonderful, her scent familiar and comforting. His mind, unlike his body was in a ferment, images of his time in the volcano's interior passing his inner eye with horrible clarity, Salema's face and body tormenting him with the reality of what he'd done with her, for her and because of her. He felt drowned in guilt, betrayed by his body, its willingness to give of itself, when his mind screamed that it wasn't hers, either to take or to use. He felt that he'd betrayed Wendy in the worst possible way, his defection to Salema degrading him, but unable to be excused away, because on a basic and debasing level he'd taken his own pleasure in it. He knew he'd been a victim of Salema's fairy magic, but he had been a willing victim, a willing participant and he hated himself for it. He loved Wendy with every fibre of his being, she completed him, was a part of him, his heart and soul, which made what he'd done all the more heinous and unforgivable. She deserved better, she deserved someone who didn't put her into situations that caused the abuse that she'd suffered, who didn't betray her with the first woman to entice him, who took care of her better. That person wasn't him, couldn't be him, he had caused her to be used and hurt in the most terrible way.
The only way to keep her safe, to keep her from harm was to return her to London, to her family, as far away from him as possible. An ache started to sting in his chest like a shard of ice piercing his heart, his eyes starting to burn as he tried to keep the pain from eating him up. To send her away was the only way to keep her safe from harm, from him.
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Unaware of the direction of Peter's thoughts, Wendy closed her eyes and dozed, her body relaxing into his embrace. She felt in urgent need of a bath and food, but a great lassitude kept her firmly pinned to the ground, her lips curving into a smile of contentment as she slipped once more into sleep.
When she next awoke it was dusk and she instantly missed Peter's arms around her. Golden light streamed from a lantern out of her line of sight and she turned onto her back, groaning at her bruises and the stiffness of her arms and legs. She was covered by a woollen rug, the fabric soft and warm, the blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Lifting a languid arm she rubbed at her eyes, blinking as she tried to focus on the leafy roof above her.
A movement attracted her attention and she saw Peter, his back to her, crouched over something on the floor.
"Peter?" Her voice came out as a whisper, her throat too dry to produce much sound. It was enough, though, for Peter swung his head around and managed a small, tight smile for her, immediately standing up and walking over to her.
"How are you feeling?"
"Stiff.....I ache all over."
"I'm not surprise, you're covered in bruises. You must have taken a hell of a tumble when you fell."
"You should have seen the tree." She managed to chuckle weakly. Peter crouched down and held a cup of water to her mouth, lifting her head so that she could drink. Finding the cool liquid soothing to her throat, Wendy tried again.
"Peter.." she stopped, when he laid a finger across her lips, silencing her.
"I wanted to wait for you to wake up before I left. I want to get that Mermaid balm for your wrists. Are you hungry? I made up a bowl of stew, its not too hot. There's more water here, can you manage while I go back to the volcano?"
"Can't you do that thing.....you know, bring the pouch here?"
Peter shook his head, "I tried, but either it's too far, or the power has gone already. I'll have to get it the conventional way."
"What if Hook is still there?"
"I imagine they are long gone. I'll be back before you know."
"But Peter...." Wendy again found her words silenced by a warm finger. She stared mutely up at him, noting his unusually serious expression.
"I won't be long."
Rising to his feet, he walked away, Wendy watching as he disappeared from view off the edge of the tree without once looking back.
Slightly confused by his rather offhand manner, Wendy eased herself onto her side and up on an elbow, finding the bowl of steaming stew quite irresistible. Slowly but surely she ate every drop, the water washing it down admirably. Flopping back onto the furs, she lay feeling replete and satisfied, the warm food taking the edge off some of the aches and pains. She must have dozed because when next she opened her eyes, Peter was back, his hands gently unwinding the bandage from one of her wrists, his eyes intent on his task, barely flicking up to acknowledge her heavy lidded gaze as he set to, spreading the Mermaid ointment into her lacerated flesh, his fingers soft and soothing. Almost immediately she felt the benefit, the stinging pain becoming less as the swelling reduced and the flesh healed. She watched his down-bent head, his gold tipped curls catching the lamplight, his face serious as he started on the other wrist.
"That feels so much better......thank you Peter."
"Don't thank me," he said harshly, "thank the Mermaids. This balm has been the reason I survived most of my encounters with the pirates. Without this I would have succumbed to infection and died from my wounds years ago." He laughed, a hard sound that Wendy wondered at. "Hook never asked how I managed to survive all those skirmishes, and not get more than a scratch which seemed to heal overnight. He must have assumed it was just me, when in fact it was the Mermaids."
"Peter, what's wrong?"
For a second, he stopped his ministrations, shooting her a quick glance before ducking his head once more and concentrating on her wrist. "Nothing."
She stayed silent, waiting for him to re-bandage her arms, his face averted from her. As he cleared away, she watched him, drinking in his surety of movement, his economy of grace as he picked up stuff scattered around their camp, never once glancing at her. At last there was nothing more for him to do and he was forced to face her. He plastered a hollow smile on his face but Wendy could see it for the falsehood it was. Something was bothering Peter and she wanted to know what.
"What's happening in Neverland? Were the pirates gone when you got to the volcano?"
"Yes.....all back at their ship. Neverland is back to its usual, nothing strange or threatening......yet."
"Please sit by me Peter....talk to me."
She waited for him to settle beside her, his knees bent and pulled up towards his chest, his face only visible to her in profile. They didn't say anything for long seconds, then Peter spoke.
"I wanted to ask you something. When I arrived back from seeing the fairies at the pool...you were crying....why?"
"I was homesick Peter....I missed my family....my mother. I know I can't go back, but I just felt....a little lost, that's all."
"As soon as you're well, I'll take you back."
Wendy looked startled, not only at the words, but at the flatness of tone that they were delivered in. Peter hadn't framed it as a question, he'd said it like it was a statement of fact.
"I can't go back, Peter,"
"Yes you can....there's nothing to stop you now. Hook won't come after you, your parents and brothers are safe."
"That's not what I meant......I can't go back Peter...because I don't want to."
Finally Wendy got Peter to react, his head turning so that he faced her, his eyes boring into hers.
"You don't want to? But you just said you missed your family, your mother. You should go back......it's where you belong!" Peter said, his forehead creased in an angry frown.
Wendy felt a pain stab her chest at his words, not understanding why he seemed to suddenly want her gone, from Neverland, from him.
"But I thought......I thought you wanted me to stay here....with you....us, together."
"That was before.....now I want you to go back home. It's where you should have stayed."
Wendy felt a sob rise in her chest, but ruthlessly squashed the urge to cry. "I belong with you......here, in Neverland."
"No you don't. I won't let you."
This time she couldn't stop the sob from escaping her lips, her eyes burning with tears.
"Peter.....I love you...I thought you loved me."
Her whispered words were met with a harsh laugh, the sound ugly as Peter scrambled to his feet and turned to stare down at her, his eyes as cold as obsidian.
"What do you know of love Wendy......you, who held onto the faintest hope that a boy you met as a child would return for you, somehow a man. If Hook hadn't had this mad scheme to kill you, I would never had met you again.....never, do you understand. I had forgotten about you, completely!" His hand chopped the air, emphasising his hateful words.
Wendy could only lay there, staring at him with tear washed misery in her eyes, her bewilderment plain in the soft light of the lantern.
"I don't understand.....why are you saying this...why are you being so....horrible?"
Turning his back on her, Peter drew in a long breath, his own heart pounding as he tried to sever and destroy what kept her tied to him. He had to break her heart to get her to go back to London. Only there would she be free, only there would she have the choice of a safe life, away from him.
"Because before I met you again....my life was fine. I had everything I wanted and more. Now I have nothing.....and I want my life back."
"You want to be a pirate again?" Wendy's disbelieving voice stabbed at him, his mouth thinning as he delivered the coup d'etat.
"Yes.....I want that more than anything....more than I want you."
With a cry, Wendy turned on her side, away from him, her face covered by her hands, her shoulders shaking.
Swallowing hard, his own heart a stone in his chest, Peter walked away, his feet taking him to the edge of the platform. With a last look back at the girl sobbing on their bed, Peter stepped off, flying away from the tree and into the Neverland night. Overhead, the moon found itself shrouded in roiling black clouds that quickly gathered to snuff out the silver light and twinkling stars. Within an hour the island of Neverland was covered with heavily laden clouds, slowly dropping their cold tears on the dry ground.
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Wendy woke the next morning heavy eyed and nauseous. She found herself alone, no evidence that Peter had returned during the night. Dragging herself out of bed, she barely reached the bucket in time before she emptied what little she had in her stomach. Gasping, she pushed her hair off her face with a shaking hand, before reaching for a cloth and wiping her mouth. She continued to shiver, pushing the bucket away and crawling back to the furs, to curl up in their centre and nurse her aching body. Her physical aches were lessening, her wrists no longer sore, the bruises no longer tender, but the ache in her heart overshadowed everything. Rousing herself to take a mug of water, she returned to the furs and pulled the blanket up to her ears.
Two more days passed in like manner, with no evidence that Peter had returned to the king tree, her supplies starting to dwindle as she remained in a state of limbo, her heart broken, her mind numb. The only constant was the nausea that continued to plague her, sometimes only in the morning, sometimes a constant throughout the day. She grew hollow eyed, black circles beneath the blue, her lashes sooty against her white cheeks. By the third day it dawned fine and sunny, her wrists were completely healed, her bruises only a fading memory. Feeling listless but in urgent need of a bath, Wendy crawled out of the furs and staggered to the edge of the tree-heart. Staring down numbly, she wondered if it wouldn't just be better to step off and let gravity end the misery, but then she brushed away such defeatist thoughts, her head lifting as she pushed her self-pity to the back of her mind and concentrated on the will to fly. Spreading her arms she launched herself into the air, gliding gracefully to the pool, her body sliding into the water as if into the welcoming embrace of an old friend. She soaked herself for over an hour, lazing in the sunny shallows, her hair spread out around her like a halo as she floated on her back. The tinkling of bells alerted her to the arrival of a small party of fairies. Opening her eyes, she sat up and waited for them to approach. She recognised TinkerBell and extended her hand for the fairy to alight on.
Bringing the sprite closer to her face, Wendy pulled her stiff lips into a semblance of a smile, the muscles of her face protesting.
"Hello TinkerBell, how are you today?"
A volley of sound reached her ears, a cacophony of bells that she could only make out one word in ten of whatever TinkerBell was trying to say.
"I'm sorry Tink, but I can't understand you. Slow down."
Her hands on her hips, TinkerBell started again.
"Why have you left him?......why are you still here?....what did you DO?"
"I don't know what you mean? Are you talking about Peter?"
"Who else, you stupid girl. Where have you sent him?"
"I'm sorry TinkerBell, but you seem to have it all wrong. I haven't left Peter.......he left me."
For a second TinkerBell stared at Wendy.
"I don't believe you.....he wouldn't.......he couldn't.......WHY?"
"I don't know why, I'm sorry I can't answer your questions. I can only tell you that three days ago Peter left our home and hasn't come back. I don't know where he is, or why he left."
Finding the wind taken out of her sails, TinkerBell sat down with a bump on Wendy's hand, her fairy face pulled into a pout.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
Wendy lowered her hand, cradling it with the other in her lap, just above the water.
"I'll be going soon too, Tink. Peter doesn't want me here.....doesn't want me at all." Wendy drew in a deep breath, "I'm going home."
"No......." TinkerBells' mournful wail went someway to easing the ache in her heart. She smiled faintly at the small fairy, her eyes warm.
"Why TinkerBell......are you saying you want me to stay?"
"Yes......you stupid girl......I want you to stay....we all do. Celosia sent me to ask you to visit her again. Please say you will.....please"
Touched, Wendy nodded, TinkerBell rising from her hand and bobbing in the air, her wings fluttering. Getting to her feet, Wendy smoothed her wet hair back from her face. "I have to get changed...will you wait for me here?"
The other fairies had clustered around TinkerBell but she shooed them away, coming to hover in front of Wendy's face.
"We'll wait for you here....Pan's Wendy."
"Not Pan's Wendy anymore.....just Wendy."
Lifting of, Wendy flew back up to the top of the tree, her heart a bit lighter. Once there, she dried herself, leaving her hair loose, donning a simple dress before leaving the tree top and returning to the pool. The fairies surrounded her, their voices tinkling in the air, their wings flashing like rainbows in the sunlight.
With TinkerBell leading the way, Wendy followed the fairies through the trees, her hair flying free behind her, her face pale and still haunted but, for the first time in several days, free of tears.
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Peter glowered at his reflection in the pool of rainwater that had collected in the centre of the hall. He was sitting on a fallen block of stone, his legs crossed beneath him, Indian fashion. He tossed another pebble into the pool, watching the ripples spread out in a perfect circle until they lapped at the edges and disappeared.
His days had become like those ripples, starting off small, with the potential for something bigger, but ultimately ending in nothing. He had been hiding in the Black Castle for three days, three long and dreary days that stretched his limits of endurance to their maximum. He figured that he would have to return to the tree and face Wendy, if only to take her home to London. At the mere thought of seeing her, his heart clenched in his chest, aching intolerably as if he had a knife stuck in it, that same knife twisting agonisingly slowly so that his life blood leeched out a little more with each twist. His self imposed exile had done nothing to assuage his guilt, or confirm that his choice to send Wendy from him away was the right one. It had only made him more miserable than he could ever remember being in his entire life. Sitting with his elbows braced on his knees, Peter dropped his head in his hands and moaned.
He simply couldn't do it.
He couldn't face her.
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Wendy welcomed the sun on her face, flying with her arms outstretched, feeling a freedom she'd almost forgotten as she'd curled in on herself, trying to blot out the words that had so wounded and lacerated her heart. As she swooped down towards the tree tops, she pushed all the hurt to the back of her mind, locking it away where it couldn't destroy her enjoyment of the day, the moment, the seconds that she had left in Neverland.
Twisting and turning, Wendy and the fairies threaded their way through the tree trunks, reaching the fairy glade and touching down, her bare toes sinking into the cool moss, the sun slanting through the branches like glowing rods of gold. Her fairy escort immediately disappeared inside the old tree, leaving her alone. Minutes later, she saw a glowing cloud rise up and drift towards her, Celosia's face appearing from the cloud, solidifying as Wendy watched until the woman appeared as solid as herself.
"Welcome Pan's Wendy.....we have longed to tell you of our gratitude for all that you did.....for us, and for Neverland."
"I did nothing, Your Majesty...."
"Celosia please.....there can be no formality among friends."
"Then please call me Wendy......"
"As you wish it......we didn't want to disturb you before now...we understand you were injured during the final battle. Are your hurts healed?"
"Yes......thank you, they are much better." Wendy held out her arms, twisting her hands to show the faint marks that were all that remained of the rope burns. Celosia duly looked, tutting to herself as she noted the faint yellowing of the bruises further up her arms.
"You were very brave.....more so, I think, than any of us realise."
Wendy could only shake her head, flushing slightly, much needed colour staining her pale cheeks. Celosia peered closer, her arched brows knitting as she looked at Wendy.
"There is something else.......you are troubled, Wendy. You are still hurting....is it Peter?"
Biting hard on her lip, Wendy fought back the welling of tears that threatened to spill over, Celosia's kindness almost over-setting her hard won composure.
"He wants me to go home...Celosia, back to London. He wants to go back to being a pirate."
"What nonsense is this? Peter become a pirate again.....that is not possible."
"He seems to think it is."
"But my dear.....the pirates are gone."
Wendy stared at the Fairy Queen. "Gone?"
"Why yes.....two days ago. The Jolly Roger has upped anchor and sailed from these shores."
Her bottom lip trembling, Wendy felt her world crash in again. Collapsing to the mossy ground, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Celosia looked alarmed for a second before laying a hand on the girls shoulder.
"H-h-e-e-s....g-g-o-n-ne...t-th-e-en."
"Whose gone? Hook....yes, gone for good I imagine."
"N-o-o....Pe-e-t-e-er."
Celosia looked confused. "Peter is at the Black Castle.."
Looking up, Wendy used the heel of her hand to wipe her face, briefly stemming the flow down her cheeks. "The Black Castle?"
"We were surprised too....we thought he'd be with you. But TinkerBell tells me he's been gone for the last three days."
"That's right, ever since...the day after we returned from the volcano."
"I see.....but why did you think he went with the pirates?"
"He said.......he said that he wanted to return to that life....that he wanted to be a pirate...more than he wanted me."
Taken aback, Celosia drifted a little away from Wendy, her feet not touching the ground, her expression perplexed.
"You must go to him.......something must have happened with Salema. You must get him to tell you.....he mustn't take you away...he simply can't."
"I'm not sure I want to talk to him......he said.....he said he didn't love me."
Celosia drifted back to her, placing both hands on Wendy's shoulders and lifting the girl to her feet.
"Do you remember the time you danced in our woods, with Peter?"
"Of course....it was wonderful."
"Did you love him then?"
"Well.......yes."
"Do you love him now?"
Wendy ducked her head, her voice a mere thread of sound. "Yes."
"Then you are going to have to fight for him. Something happened during his time with Salema...something that poisoned him. If you leave, then Neverland will surely die, and Peter along with it. You are his, and our salvation, our future.......you already carry Peter's future, and yours, within you."
Wendy stared at Celosia, round eyed, her mouth dropping open. Celosia only nodded, her lips curving into a smile.
"How can you know that?"
"You have an aura, Wendy. I saw it when we first met......I see it now. Yours has been joined by another. An aura that is yours and Peter's combined. There is no doubt. You carry Peter's child."
"But......its too soon."
"The spark of life is strong....once new life is started, however small, it has its own power, its own strength, you now carry that spark within you."
"Oh dear......I think I need.......to sit down."
Once more Wendy sank to the mossy forest floor, her legs suddenly weak, her head reeling. "I can't possibly leave now."
"I don't think that was ever in question.....do you?"
Wendy looked up at the Fairy Queen, a slow smile spreading over her face as the realisation of the tiny life inside her spread warmth throughout her body. "I'm going to have a baby....our baby.....Peter's baby." Scrambling to her feet, all faintness gone, Wendy reached out and embraced the Fairy Queen, Celosia returning the hug as Wendy started to laugh, giggling as she pulled away, finding the Fairy Queen also wreathed in smiles. Fairy lights started to stream out of the old tree, TinkerBell flitting over to see what Wendy was laughing about. Spotting the sprite, Wendy held out her hand and TinkerBell landed on her palm]
Unable to contain herself Wendy leaned down and whispered. "I'm going to have a baby," to the surprised fairy.
TinkerBells face was a picture. Shock, surprise, delight, all chased themselves over her expressive face before she leapt into the air and darted in to kiss Wendy on the cheek.
"You can't leave now.....not ever, ever, ever!"
"No Tink....I don't think I'll be leaving now....I don't know how I ever thought I could."
"Will you go and find Peter?"
Both Celosia and TinkerBell looked at Wendy, awaiting her answer.
"I think.....I need to have some time to myself. With the pirates gone, there is not need to fear that Peter will be going anywhere. And he needs time to think through what's been said between us."
Celosia's face looked worried for a second before clearing.
"You know your Peter better than we do, Wendy."
"I would only ask one thing, of you all. That no-one tell Peter about...about the baby. That has to come from me...."
"Of course....we wouldn't dream of spoiling the surprise."
"Thank you.....oh dear.....I have to go, there's so much I have to do....thank you, Celosia, thank you TinkerBell....."
Feeling like her heart was about to burst with joy, Wendy launched herself into the air, spinning up towards the sunlight, her face wiped clean in that moment of all the hurt, all the pain, her thoughts only on the future, of Peter, and their child. She positively sparkled.
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Chapter: Twenty - Hearts ease
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Neverland basked in the sun, her shores washed by an azure sea, her trees swayed by a tropical breeze. All life on the enchanted island seemed content, the vegetation providing food, its rivers and pools providing water for the myriad bird and animal life that thrived within its many different lands. Wendy had returned to the king tree with her thoughts bubbling over, her joy wrapping her in a blanket of warmth that, three days on, still had the ability to paint a broad smile on her face. She was blooming, her hair as glossy as it had ever been, her face tinted with a sheen of health and happiness. She had quickly got the small encampment in order, replenishing her supplies of water and fruit and doing an inordinate amount of washing and mending of clothes. With the supplies she had, she was content to make do, finding TinkerBell most helpful in acquiring several items, such a eggs, and fish from the Mermaids, those creatures having been paid a visit by Wendy a day before, together with TinkerBell, partly to thank them for their wonderful healing balm, but also to return the Coralisk.
She had journeyed back to the volcano with TinkerBell for company, leaving the fairy, albeit reluctantly, at the opening before proceeding down the tunnel, a lantern clutched in her shaking hand. She hadn't wanted to return, the memories of the place far from pleasant, but she felt an obligation to retrieve the Coralisk and return it to its rightful owners. As she reached the end of the passageway she saw it was in darkness, all the torches burnt out, only a faint glow from the crack in the floor to illuminate the haunted cavern. Keeping to the wall she flew to the tunnel on the left and made her way as quickly as possible to the room she'd been taken to by Peter, still under Salema's spell at the time. She found the room and quickly gathered her scattered belongings once more into the backpack, her minds eye reliving the events that took place such a short time ago. Finding herself breathing heavily, Wendy tried to calm herself, telling herself there was no such thing as ghosts. Clutching the tattered bag to her chest, now containing the precious Coralisk, Wendy left the room and flew back to the chamber. Her feeble light hardly reached the far wall, the air still and slightly stale. Shivering in the cool air, she hurriedly left the dark cavern, glad to leave it far behind her. Something had happened in that awful place that was the cause of her present estrangement from Peter, but she was determined not to allow it to haunt her any further.
Emerging finally from the dark tunnel, Wendy was greeted joyously by TinkerBell, the tiny sprite spinning around her, showering Wendy with petals she'd collected while waiting. Laughing, Wendy blew out the lantern and stuffed it into the back pack. Then together, fairy and girl, sped towards the coast and their rendezvous with the Mermaids.
They flew to the same cove that Wendy had used before, her feet alighting on the same flat rock, the stone slick with water and seaweed. TinkerBell left her briefly to flit over the waves, her bell like voice calling to the sea-dwellers. Within minutes two dark heads appeared before diving down and surfacing only a foot from the flat rock. Wendy delved into the bag and produced the Coralisk, the flute glowing a beautiful sky-blue in her hand as she held it out to them.
Shyly one of the Mermaids lifted the flute from Wendy's palm, her dark eyes looking up at the girl on the rock. She opened her mouth and a stream of sounds flowed over Wendy, making her skin prickle, TinkerBell hovered close, listening intently before turning to Wendy to translate.
"She says she hopes it was of help against the Malekite."
"It was more than a help....it saved Peter's life," said Wendy warmly, smiling at the Mermaids. "And tell them, Tink, that the balm was most useful, quite indispensable in fact."
TinkerBell relayed her words and the Mermaids bared their teeth in what Wendy suspected was their version of a smile. The second Mermaid swam closer, her webbed hand resting against the rock where Wendy stood. More warbles issued from the creatures mouth and Wendy looked at TinkerBell for an explanation.
"They wondered if one day you would like to visit their underwater world, and see their coral castles."
"I would love to.....but I don't think I can hold my breath that long. But I do appreciate the honour, really I do."
The two Mermaids looked at each other before one of them reached out and tugged at Wendy's dress. TinkerBell immediately flew at the creature, buzzing in her face and driving her back with a tirade of tinkling bells, the Mermaid withdrawing several feet, their faces as impassive as ever, taking no offence from the fairy's actions. Wendy had reared back, stepping back on the stone, her hand reaching for the small knife she had attached to her belt, but she didn't have to worry, TinkerBell was speaking rapidly to the Mermaids and their faces registered first surprise and then pleasure at whatever Tink was telling them. This time, when the fairy left them, the two Mermaids once more approached the stone and lifted both their hands up into the air, one of them with the Coralisk still clasped in her fingers, bringing their palms together, then throwing them wide to splash into the water, a ritual abeyance towards Wendy.
"They give honour to Pan's Wendy.....and to the future mother of Neverland." Said TinkerBell, her expression smug. Wendy could only look on wryly, her lips curved in a smile at the fairy's description. Mother of Neverland indeed, it was so sweet. Not knowing what to do for the best, Wendy pulled her skirts wide and curtsied to the Mermaids which they took as an appropriate mark of respect, smiling back at Wendy, well pleased.
"They ask if there is anything they can do for you?"
Wendy chewed her finger for a second before crouching down and leaning forward. "Please ask them, if they are able to get me some fish....any sort, I don't mind. I'm just a little tired of just fruit, and I'm sure they know all the best fishing spots."
Grinning, TinkerBell relayed Wendy's request and the Mermaids grinned back, one diving away with a splash while the other spoke her strange language to the fairy. Before Tink could relay the message, the other Mermaid had reappeared, in her hands a plump fish, its scales glistening as she held it up towards Wendy.
"Oh my.....gracious."
Carefully, Wendy took the still wriggling fish, its mouth opening and shutting as if indignant at being pulled from its watery home. TinkerBell thanked the Mermaids for her, then they leapt away, their tails slapping the surface of the calm sea, sending a shower of water over Wendy. She gasped for a second, much like the fish, then she laughed, the Mermaid's surfacing a long way out in the bay, turning back to wave at the girl still clutching the fish on the rock.
From that moment, Wendy was kept supplied with a steady stream of sea-life to eat, from plump fish whose flesh melted like cream in her mouth, to a selection of shell fish, the oysters and scallops as juicy and meaty as the finest fillet. That, combined with the daily diet of fruit and occasional eggs, brought the bloom back to her face and figure, filling out her thinner-than-it-should-be frame and giving her a voluptuous glow.
Another week passed and her days fell into a familiar pattern. She rose with the dawn, her morning nausea requiring she keep a bucket handy at all times, but once up and moving, she found the daily upset kept at bay with regular small bites of fruit, one day her appetite craving for an orange, another day a melon. Having seen her mother go through two pregnancies when Wendy was younger, she was able to use that experience to give her a guide, her mother having suffered morning nausea for the first three months without fail with both of her brothers. As a girl, Wendy had been fascinated with her pregnant mother, often laying her head on her mothers lap, ear against her stomach, imagining that she could hear the baby inside, holding long conversations while her mother stroked her hair and smiled down at her small daughter. Those memories came alive now for Wendy, her hand often going to stroke her softly rounded belly, still flat at this early stage, while she smiled a secret smile to herself, as mothers are wont to do. Her only regret in that blissful time was that Peter steadfastly remained away from her.
She had visited the Black Castle four days after she'd seen the Mermaids, biding her time until she was sure he'd have surely stewed enough. On reaching the Castle, she cautioned TinkerBell to remain outside, leaving Wendy to approach on her own. She entered the cold stone passageways, pushing open the wooden doors, finding herself once more in the large hall, the empty fireplace a gaping maw. There had been no sign of Peter, no indication that he was there, but when she approached the curtain and pulled it back, she knew that he was living there. The room beyond, stripped of some of its trappings for their home in the king-tree, was lit by flaming torches, the room tidy but showing obvious signs of occupation. She stood in the centre of the room and called his name, her own voice coming back to her in faint echoes. Walking to the sleeping alcove she swept back the curtain, seeing the bed slightly rumpled, the pillows indented. Sitting on the edge she pulled one of the pillows over, lifting it to her face. His scent was all over it so she inhaled deeply, smiling as her body responded to his perfume, her eyes sliding shut as her mind supplied a steady succession of images of him. Blushing fiercely, Wendy dropped the pillow back onto the bed, her body tingling with prickles running down her spine. Patting the pillow into place she lay down on the bed, tucking her feet up and laying on her side. For an hour she stayed there, the torches hissing and spitting on the other side of the curtain, the only sounds in the round, stone chamber. Sighing, she rose to her feet, her hand trailing down the length of the bed before the walked back into the main room, her hands twisting together as she considered what she was going to do.
Her feet carried her out of the Black Castle and into the sunshine, her face lifting automatically as TinkerBell rushed over to greet her, darting around her head like a firefly.
"Was he there? Did you get to speak to him? What did he say?"
Wendy could only shake her head. "He wasn't there, Tink."
TinkerBell said a few, well chosen unfairy-like invectives on recalcitrant males, Wendy's eyebrows rising as she listened. Noticing Wendy's expression, Tink blushed heatedly, flying off to cool herself down. Wendy followed, only once glancing back at the forbidding bleak fortress, her head turning after a second towards the front, her mouth pressing into a thin line of determination. If Peter wasn't prepared to see her, then she was quite prepared to wait until the heavens cracked for him to come to her. She was confident that he wouldn't leave the island, with the pirates gone, he could only go back to London, and there was nothing for him there. She would simply wait for him to sort out what he wanted, then she would be there to welcome him home.
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Peter watched hungrily as Wendy stepped out of the shadow of the castle and lifted her face to the sun. He had to physically restrain himself from flying down and covering her in kisses, his need for her so strong. He'd seen and heard her arrive, slipping from shadow to shadow as he followed her. When she entered his room inside, he waited for her to lay down on the bed before allowing himself to slip into the room unnoticed, just to be within ten feet of her. His heart pounded in his chest as he now watched her lift off from the ground, her movements graceful as she cast a longing glance over her shoulder before turning and heading for home. Home, where he wanted to be, sharing each dawn with her, sleeping next to her, loving her. Groaning, Peter buried his face in his arms, his self imposed exile causing him nothing but torment.
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A month had past since wendy had learned from the Fairy Queen that she carried Peter's child, a month that seemed to pass in a blur as she started to make preparations to find somewhere new to live in Neverland. As much as she loved the king of trees, it was hardly the best place for a small child, especially as wendy couldn't be entirely sure that the child would be able to fly like its parents, and even if it could, how old it would have to be. Knowing from her experience with her brothers just how active and hazardous really small children can be when they get mobile, wendy decided to find somewhere on the ground to make into a home for herself and her baby.
Of Peter she had seen nothing, but of late, small tokens had appeared on her pillow when she awoke, sometimes a sweetly scented flower, sometimes a beautifully marked sea-shell. She knew that it meant that Peter was visiting the tree at night, his presence unknown to her as she slept. Apart from the small gifts she had not seen Peter in weeks, her longing to see him a constant ache despite her consuming happiness. Now he was visiting her without her knowledge or consent and she fumed at the unfairness of his behaviour. It added to her desire to make her home elsewhere than the king of trees, which held so many memories of their short time together. TinkerBell had spoken to her of a place in the forest that the fairy thought was ideal, so wendy had asked her to show her the next morning.
Tucking Peter's latest flower gift into the hair behind her ear, Wendy flew off the tree and met TinkerBell outside, the fairy positively hopping about in her excitement.
"Lead on Tink......I can't wait to see what you've found."
Speeding away, the fairy was only a streak of sparkles in the sky, Wendy hard pressed to keep up.
"Slow down Tink......I'm going to lose you otherwise!" Wendy called after her guide, laughing when Tink stopped suddenly, dancing in the air in her agitation.
More slowly, they proceeded onwards, reaching the outskirts of the forest and diving down among the tree trunks. Tink led the way, weaving between the trees, wendy flying more leisurely in her wake. Tink finally stopped in the middle of broad glade, bordered by tall trees that had very open canopies, letting in sunshine to shine on the rich grass and scattering of wild flowers that filled the mostly circular meadow. To one side of the glade a narrow stream gurgled over a small stone weir, the sound soothing and a delight to hear, the water cool and clear as wendy bent down to scoop a handful and quench her thirst. Standing up she looked around, her eyes finding something she was not expecting. A small cabin sat nestled among the grass, its log walls glowing in the sunlight, its wooden shingles like dragon scales draped over the roof, golden and shiny with newness.
"TinkerBell......where did that come from?"
The fairy only laughed, darting around Wendy, chivvying her towards to cabin. Wendy stared in wonderment at the small house, her eyes drinking in the perfectly proportioned walls, a window in each, a door at the front. The windows had no glass, but they did have shutters and the door frame was empty but Wendy didn't mind. Walking slowly towards it she marvelled as to its origins.
"Who made this? Does it belong to anyone?"
"It was made for you, Wendy. You could say its a present from Neverland to you."
"Tell me who made it Tink.....please."
"Peter.....with help from the Indian Chief and his braves."
"The Indians are back? Why didn't you tell me?"
"You didn't ask..." came Tinks reply, the fairy shrugging her tiny shoulders. She flew on ahead, darting into the doorway as Wendy approached.
"Peter made this....for me?"
"Of course.....I told him you were looking for another home....so he made this for you."
Wendy felt a prickle of tears and blinked rapidly, drawing in a shuddering breath as she reached out a hand to touch the smoothly dressed logs, the colour of honeycomb. Biting her lip, she stepped into the shadowy interior, her feet feeling the smoothness of wood beneath her toes. Sunlight poured through the windows set in each wall and she stared around the room, standing just inside the doorway. In the middle of the room stood a table, its surface smooth and polished, with two chairs at each end, on the table was a bowl filled with fruit. Walking forward Wendy touched the surface, running her fingers along as she walked. TinkerBell strutted along beside her, tapping along the table top.
"When did you tell Peter I wanted a new home TinkerBell?"
The fairy looked up at Wendy, suddenly cautious, finding her self pinned by an accusing pair of blue eyes. Shaking her head, Tink leapt into the air only to find herself gripped by the wings and brought abruptly to a halt in mid flight.
"When did you see Peter, Tink?"
Wendy's voice was deceptively quiet, her fingers gripping the fairy and bringing her up and around, face to face.
"Well he.....that is....I....well.....He told me not to tell you!" Tink wailed, covering her face with her hands, drooping limply in Wendy's grip.
"But you have told me Tink.....so tell me the rest. When did you see Peter?"
Putting the fairy back on the table top, Wendy pulled up one of the chairs and sat down, her arms resting on the surface, her eyebrow arched at the tiny sprite. TinkerBell kicked her feet, glancing up at the girl awaiting her answer.
"Simply ages ago......he came to the fairy tree and called me. He wanted to know how you were...." Tink hurriedly flapped her hands at Wendy, "I didn't tell him about......you know.....really, I didn't tell him anything about.....that!"
"Thank you Tink.....I'm very glad to hear that. But I'm hurt you didn't tell me you'd spoken to Peter."
"I'm sorry.....he made me promise..." Tink hung her head, scuffing her feet.
"How is he Tink.....its been so long....is he alright?"
The fairy looked up as a teardrop of water hit the wooden surface, splashing her.
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Asked a familiar deep voice, a shadow appearing in the doorway.
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Chapter: Twenty One - Home is Where the Heart Is
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Wendy froze, her breath stilling in her chest as she stared down at TinkerBell who leaned to the side to peer past Wendy to the doorway beyond. Casting a last glance up at the girl above her, the fairy lifted into the air and flew away at speed, a trail of sparkles leading out of one of the windows.
Her heart thundering in her ears, Wendy forcibly relaxed her clenched hands, drawing in a breath, then another to calm her clamouring nerves. In a gesture that belied her state of turmoil, Wendy raised a slow hand to wipe the remains of the tears from her cheeks, her lips pressed together to still their trembling.
"So....how are you Peter?"
Behind her stiff back, the shadow shifted on the threshold, his hands braced against the door jamb, his face in shadow from the bright sun outside.
"I'm....fine. How are you?"
So formal, so polite, so hateful.
"TinkerBell tells me she's been giving you regular updates on my health, so the question is rather irrelevant, don't you think?"
"I was worried about you."
"Not worried enough to ask me to my face, obviously."
"I......couldn't."
"Couldn't? I must be more of a shrew than I ever thought. Putting Peter Pan to the quake....how novel."
She saw the shadow shift from the corner of her eye, his outline on the floor moving further into the room.
"It had nothing to do with you.....I just couldn't bear to be near you."
Wendy laughed, short and humourless. "Oh this gets better and better. Not only couldn't you face me, you couldn't bear to be near me either. Why are you here Peter ?"
"I didn't mean......you're twisting my words."
"Then explain to me why you've stayed away so long......I thought you wanted me to leave Neverland. You said I had to go back to London, you didn't want me, you wanted to be a pirate again, but without you do guide me, how was I supposed to go...on my own?"
"I changed my mind."
"Nice of you to let me know......so, being a pirate doesn't quite hold the allure it once had?"
"No.....it never did."
"Do you know now what you want..or is that to remain a mystery as well?"
She saw his shadow approach and dropped her eyes to her hands, loosely clasped on the table top. Peter approached the table and snagged the other chair, bringing it around so that he sat opposite her, the table between them.
"Wendy...look at me......please?"
As it was what she'd wanted to do since he'd made his presence known, Wendy slowly raised her eyes, seeing his hands laid flat, palm down on the table before rising to his face, noting the tanned skin of his neck, his firm chin, sensually carved lips, strong nose and finally his thickly lashed, ocean-green eyes, currently trained on her face. If she had to describe his expression, she would have had to say hopeful, but she was too aware of his presence to waste time on deciphering his expressive face, she was caught up in the luxury of drinking in his features, that pleasure so long denied her over the endless days since they'd parted.
Peter was doing the same, his long lonely days spent watching her from a distance, close but too far to make out details of her face or expression, his need becoming an obsession. TinkerBell telling him about Wendy's desire for a new home galvanised him, giving him something to focus on other than his longing and need. He'd thrown himself into the project, selecting the site then, with the help of the Indian's, hewing down the trees and, getting the timber to the site. He'd worked long and hard on the cabin, often into the night, the physical labour giving him an outlet for his boundless energy, only to collapse exhausted in the long grass as the stars shone down their cold light above him. Now it was completed and Wendy had been brought to see it. He felt a little guilty about TinkerBell and her complicity in the surprise, as well as causing the fairy to divide her loyalties, but it was a fleeting guilt if it resulted in Wendy so close to him, even if she still kept herself emotionally distant.
His eyes roamed over her face, noting its bloom and how she'd filled out, not only her features but her body as well, the slender curves now lush and irresistible, his body responding urgently to her allure.
"You haven't answered my question Peter. Do you know what you want?"
"I think I do......no, I know I do."
"Then would you care to tell me?" Wendy's exasperation at his vague answers was giving a sarcastic edge to her words, her patience at its limits. Peter flinched inwardly at her tone, not entirely sure that his hopes were going to be realised if she was truly as angry as she sounded.
"Before we can talk about anything, you have a right to know why I said....what I said, before. I thought it was for the best...at the time..."
"And now?"
"I don't know....." Peter dropped his eyes to the table top, his fingers spread, still palm down, in unconscious appeal across the warm wood. "I did things......things I'm not proud of, but things with Salema......that if you knew about them, you'd hate me."
"Peter.....what happened with Salema....you weren't yourself, you can't blame yourself for what she did.....she had you under a spell."
"I know that.....but the things I did....I remember them, and I remember how I felt when I did them......" Peter ground to a halt, unable to go into details of what, for him, was a moment of self-revelation, of disgust at his baser instincts.
"Did you love her?" Asked Wendy quietly, her hands clasped white knuckled on the table.
Peter reared back, his eyes wide, as he stared across at Wendy, her eyes once more intent upon the table's surface. "NO!....no....I didn't love her, didn't even like her......its was just......I can't explain...." He hung his head, shame swamping him. "I had sex with her.....and I enjoyed it!"
Wendy felt her eyes burn with the effort of keeping her tears in check, her hands unclenching as she placed them on the edge of the table, bracing herself. "I see....and you'd rather have sex with a deranged, evil fairy, than with me. That explains.....why you kept away, I suppose."
"What? No!....that's not.....I saw the injuries you suffered, rescuing me......and I couldn't bear it that I had been the cause of all that pain. I thought.......I thought that if I sent you away, back to London, you would be safe from having to go through that again.....or worse." His head still bent, Peter raised a hand and ran it through his already untidy hair, Wendy's eyes following his hand, her own fingers itching to run through the gold tinted curls.
"I see.....I think. You wanted to sacrifice me, sacrifice us, send me back, away from you and Neverland......so I wouldn't be hurt anymore."
"Yes....partly."
"So you'd rather I made a loveless marriage back in my world, than stay with you here.....you think I'd be less hurt, shackled to a husband," She saw Peter flinch at the word. "A husband who would keep me safe, secure, untroubled by adventures or excitement, but bored out of my tree, my own dreams and needs subjugated to his."
"Yes.......but..."
"Well damn you, Peter Pan!...Who said you could be the arbiter of my future? Who gave you the right to order my life to suit your own guilt and self-pity?" Wendy had risen, her hands braced on the table, her eyes flashing as Peter rose as well, his eyes locking on her in shock at her vehemence. "You brought me here, now you're damn well stuck with me, whether you like it or not...so don't try and order my life.....I say whether I stay or go.....and I'm staying!!"
Pushing back her chair, she made to leave but an iron hand suddenly gripped her wrist, halting her from leaving the table. With her face turned away from him, Wendy fought to keep her knees from collapsing, his warm fingers sending tingles up her arm and swamping her body with heat.
"Don't go Wendy....I've made a mess of this....I wanted to tell you, I'm sorry for causing all the hurt, I'm sorry for everything."
"And Salema?"
"I wish.......I can't change what happened, I gave into all my baser instincts with her and I hate myself. I didn't tell you because I knew it would give you a disgust of me, to have so little control over myself. My heart didn't want her, but my body did.....and I'll regret that for the rest of my days."
The atmosphere between them was tense, Wendy dragging in a breath, her chest heaving as her emotions started to run rampant.
"Why did you build me this home......am I to live here in Neverland on my own?"
"Not on your own....you'd have the fairies, the Mermaids.....me."
As he spoke he came around the end of the table, his hand still loosely wrapped around her wrist, his thumb stroking the soft skin as he came to stand beside her. Wendy trembled, her teeth biting down hard on her lip, as she felt her senses overwhelmed with his presence.
"Will you forgive me for hurting you....for causing you pain. I love you Wendy....I want to live with you......here, forever and always. I want to be your husband.....I want so much....but mostly....I want you."
A sob, long repressed, rose up and almost choked her, her lips parting, allowing it release as tears overflowed her eyes and slid down her face. Letting go of her wrist, Peter moved to stand in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, as she fought desperately for composure.
"Ah Wendy.....don't cry, I can't bear it when you cry." Peter's whisper proved her undoing, her hands coming up to cover her face as she gave in to her tears, his arms coming around her and encasing her in warm steel, her face pressed against his shirt covered chest as she sobbed. For a long time she cried out her hurt and worry, her fears and long nights alone against the hard wall of his body, her hands falling away to snake around his sides, clutching him to her as he stroked her hair, whispering soothing murmurs to her as he rested his cheek on her head, his other hand running up and down her back lightly.
As her tears subsided, she found that Peter had moved them from standing beside the table in the middle of the room, to the side of a bed where he'd sat down and pulled her onto his lap, his arms holding her securely as he rocked them both. Having cried herself out, Wendy lay quiescent in his arms, her cheek resting against his damp shoulder, her body relaxed and warm in the cradle of his embrace.
"Peter?"
"Hmmmm?"
"I love the house.....and I want to live here......with you."
"Does that mean I'm forgiven?"
"No." Wendy felt him stiffen slightly, "But it does mean that I understand....I love you too much to let one evil, shape-shifting fairy destroy what we have. I don't pretend to like what you did, but I know you weren't yourself, and I trust you, Peter.....I trust you."
"Oh God, Wendy.....I love you." Peter groaned, his arms tightening before releasing her, his hand coming up to tilt her chin up towards him. Melting under the heat of his gaze, Wendy parted her lips as his came down on hers, the touch tentative at first but quickly turning heated as they fused together, Wendy twisting in his lap to entwine her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer, the kiss deepening as their reconnection opened the floodgate to passion too long denied.
Hooking his arm under her legs, Peter rose from the side of the bed and turned around, lowering Wendy to the soft furs that covered the soft mattress. Her arms still around his neck, Peter lowered himself onto the bed beside her, his hands stroking her torso, curling over her hip and pulling her onto her side to face him, his hand sliding down to cup her bottom, snugging her against him. Wendy moaned, her body on fire for him, her leg lifting to drape over his thigh, his hand, still caressing the soft curves of her bottom, hitching her skirt up to expose her smooth skin to his questing fingers.
Their coming together was lacking in finesse and foreplay but what it lacked in gentleness it more than made up for in sheer passion, Wendy crying out as he entered her, his thrusts hard and sure, her body arching to meet him, his mouth devouring her neck as he claimed her for his own, her hands roaming his skin, igniting fires wherever she touched him, his breath hot against her breast as they climbed the heady heights, straining to trip over the edge of heaven, their bodies entwined in the dance of love. With a final thrust Peter emptied himself in her heated body, his arms wrapped around her, unbreakable, as she cried out his name, following him into ecstasy.
For long minutes they lay panting, hearts pounding, limbs entangled, intimately connected both physically and emotionally. Peter levered himself onto his elbows, lifting his head from Wendy's shoulder, his eyes darkened with passion as he gazed down at the woman that owned him, heart and soul. She gazed up at him, her eyes heavy lidded, her lips swollen with his kisses, a smile curving the self-same lips, prompting a answering grin from him. She lifted a languid hand and traced the curve of his lips, caressing his face, her palm flat against his cheek, one finger tracing his brows, Peter raising a brow quite impudently, making her giggle.
Leaning down he kissed her, softly and sweetly, his body still flush with hers.
"I love you, Wendy Darling.......I love your eyes," He kissed her eyelids, "I love your nose." He pressed his lips lightly to her face. "I love your lips." He kissed her again. "I love your indomitable spirit," He nuzzled her neck just under her chin. "I love your luscious body." He moved his pelvis, nudging his still rigid flesh inside her, receiving an answering squeeze as Wendy enveloped him, her hips lifting a fraction to meet him. "I love that you love me....complete me....heal me." He clasped her hand, bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss against her palm. "I want you to marry me."
Luxuriating in the aftermath of their lovemaking, revelling in his tender words, it took Wendy a second to register his final request. When she did, she could only stare up at him, her love shining out of her eyes as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, down her temple and soaked into her hair.
Dragging in a breath, Wendy smiled broadly up at him, her eyes like stars, Peter happy to dive into their depths and drown in the emotions he saw swirling there, all for him.
"I will marry you, Peter Pan." She breathed, her eyes soft and dreamy. "I'd like to be able to give our child its father's name."
Peter nuzzled her neck, the words only slowly penetrating his emotion soaked awareness. When they did finally sink in, he froze against her, before lifting his head and gazing down at her intently.
"Wendy?"
"Yes Peter?"
"Did you say yes?"
"Yes Peter."
"And did you......did you say something.....about...a...child?"
"Yes Peter."
"Do you mean......are you....."
"I'm pregnant Peter.....I'm carrying your child, our child....."
For a long second he stared down at her, his brows creasing as he digested her words, then as suddenly as he'd frowned, his brow cleared and he grinned, exceedingly smugly Wendy thought, before wrapping her in a bear hug and rolling them over so that Wendy now lay against his chest, her hair falling over his face. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she raised herself up so that she straddled him, their bodies still melded together as she gazed lovingly down at him. Peter stared in awe at her, his hands coming up to rest on her waist, one hand coming to rest just over her belly button, Wendy's hand resting over his as he stroked her softly rounded flesh, a look of wonderment on his face. Peter was still sheathed in her heat and she rose on her knees slightly before lowering herself, grinding her hips as she descended. Peter responded with a groan, his eyes slamming shut as she repeated the move, his hand stroking her belly as she kept up the slow, tantalising rhythm, his body arching under her. Suddenly he froze, his movement stilling, his hands gripping her hips stopping her.
"Should we be doing this.....won't I...um..won't we....could it hurt the baby?"
Finding his concern endearing, Wendy leant over him, her hair falling like a curtain, her body setting up the gently rhythm again, a moan coming from Peter's throat as he gave into her subtle persuasion.
"It won't harm me or the baby......when I get too big, we can take it more slowly, but there's nothing to stop a woman.....unless, of course, you don't want to......?" Wendy arched her brow, twitching her pelvis, wringing another moan from Peter. Licking his lips, he moved his hands up from her waist to stroke her full breasts, pleasure painting his face with rapture as Wendy arched above him, pushing herself into his eager hands.
"I will always want to.....you are a fever in my blood...."
"Then I don't see any problems......" Wendy let out a small scream of surprise as Peter surged up and clasped her to him, flipping her expertly onto her back, his body fitting more snugly into hers as she wrapped her legs around his hips, opening herself to him.
"No problems at all......together we can do anything."
Several pleasurable minutes passed as Peter took his time, his passion banked, igniting flames as he kissed his way from her lips to her swollen peaks and all points inbetween, his steady rhythm bringing her to a fever pitch, her body arching beneath him as she exploded into a million stars, her head thrown back, her neck exposed to his devouring mouth. As she lay relaxed and languid he stepped up his pace, his hands braced on either side of her torso, his upper body lifted from her as he surged within her, her hands playing over his chest as he threw back his head, rearing above her. With a cry, her name on his lips, Peter tumbled over the edge into heaven, his body shuddering as he released his seed into her willing flesh, his head dropping forward to rest against her breast in completion.
They lay, entwined and inseparable, their hearts in unison, their minds adrift with sensation as their bodies cooled in the bright cabin.
Outside their haven the sounds of the breeze could be heard, soughing through the canopy that reached for the blue sky, white clouds scudding past their outstretched branches, combining in a symphony with the birdsong and rustle of grass, the click of insects and gurgling splash of the stream. Harmony swept her lavish cloak over the sea of wildflowers that nodded their heads in agreement, the sun bathing the meadow in warmth and light. The occupants of the cabin were at last content and replete, their future assured together, burgeoning life guaranteeing that their marriage of bodies and souls would never be dull or lacking in adventure. Their love radiating over the length and breadth of the world they lived in, giving all living things hope for a bright a beautiful future.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *happy sigh*.......boy that was nice.....hope you enjoyed the journey. Thanks to everyone for joining me on this odyssey of discovery, its been a blast and I enjoyed every second. Take care and don't ever lose the love of adventure, it makes life worth living. Long Live Peter Pan........and Wendy.