Title: Ties that bind
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: One - Her life before.
Rating: NC17 and some.
Pairing: Wendy/George, Wendy/Others, Wendy/Peter.
Content: Incest M/g, non-con, chan, submission, explicit sexual content.
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Author's Note (or the epic within the epic): Please read before proceeding with this story. If you don't you'll be horrible offended and send me rude emails. Of course you may do that anyway; flames toast my marshmallows.
Okay.....well, I'm not entirely sure what the hell this story is or where it sprung from. It was supposed to be a one shot, just to get it out of my system, but once I'd completed the first chapter, I had to write a second, and now that's done, I have to write a third. *sigh* It runs along similar themes as one of my previous stories, "Violation" in which it involves an incestuous relationship between Wendy and her Father at the start, but this takes it a step further, being much, much earthier in dealing with bodily functions and involving the particularly nasty subject (touched on relatively briefly) of child prostitution. Wendy is fourteen, nearly fifteen in this chapter and as yet has not met her destiny in the shape of Peter Pan. It does not follow the storyline line of JM Barrie's Peter Pan, but several of the element will be included and referenced to. The characters and their histories will remain largely the same, just with a darker twist. One major disparity will be the age difference between Wendy and Peter, he being much older by several years, and more importantly, experience than her. As with all my stories, I can't help myself and they all dissolve into a romantic adventures. This one is no different, but there's a lot of gratuitous nastiness to wade through before you get to the lovey dovey stuff. Sorta like real life really. There's a ton of explicit sexual description of various acts between grown men and our young heroine, plus the whole father/daughter thing which would squick most people out. As this story rather took me by surprise and has written itself so readily, as usual I have no idea where it's leading, so don't bother asking. Some would call it a porn fest only fit for Literotica.com, but I can never just write a smut fest and leave it at that *shrugs*...blame my muse, she/he/it sets the pace and suggests the words, I'm just the fingers on the keyboard. There is no violence, as yet, just a ton of sexual manipulation and heartless use of poor Wendy as a sexual toy in this first chapter - yet again. *sigh* If you make it past Chapter one, you should find the rest of the story more palatable....mostly, but still sexually graphic. (Ed:-and turning out to be quite romantic!*sigh*)
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London, 1906
"Oh dear, I'm not ready....oh...oh no."
Hurriedly unpinning her hair, Wendy Darling reached under her skirts and pulled her lace trimmed bloomers down her legs, kicking them off her feet as she hastily pulled the last pin from her hair, wincing as it snagged several strands in the process. She could hear the steady clop of horses hooves coming to a halt outside the house and she quickly glanced out of the bedroom window, confirming what she already knew. Her father was home from work.
Smoothing down her ankle length navy skirt, she hurried out of the room, her loose hair flowing behind her as she flew down the stairs, arriving just as the handle was turning on the front door of number 14. Standing still, she folded her hands in front of her skirt and lowered her head, her hair coming forward to form a curtain, her chest still rising and falling faster than was normal because of her hectic dash.
George Darling was an under manager at the local branch of Quiddich, Cooch and Simpkin, Savings and Loans. He had started as a clerk and risen to under-manager in a gratifyingly short time, his self effacing attitude and attention to detail making him amply qualified for the position of banker. At home he was a despot and ruled his household with a rod of iron. He was also a hedonist and studied the art of pleasure with unalloyed zeal, his stiff and starched outward appearance cast to the four winds as soon as he stepped over his front door lintel and shut the door behind him.
His daughter had been tutored at an early age to provide what his wife could not, the girl child educated in all manner of amoral acts so that now, at the age of fourteen, she could satisfy her fathers needs in every respect within the confines of their domestic environment.
Which is why Wendy now knelt on the floor and one by one lifted her father's leather shod feet, unlaced and removed the shoes and socks, replacing them with the soft kid slipper put by the door for just that purpose.
As she bent to her duty, George Darling felt his body quicken in response to her ministrations, her small hands easing his feet into their slippers before she rose, glossy head still bent, and waited for her father to instruct her.
"The Study." George spoke the short phrase quietly, setting down his briefcase on the floor before hanging up his hat and umbrella. Wendy turned and walked way, heading down the hallway to the small room at the back of the house, a frequently used room for activities that had nothing to do with the perusal of books or writing of letters.
As Wendy passed from sight, George looked up as his two sons clattered down the stairs, John, the eldest at twelve arriving at the bottom of the stairs first and standing at attention, his younger sibling, Michael, only five almost falling at the last step, George putting out a hand to catch him and swing him up before setting him on his feet.
"And how are my boys today?"
"We're fine father....how was your day?"
"Very productive my lambs...but I have to do something before I can sit down and eat, so run along to your mother and tell her I'll be along shortly with your sister. Shoo now."
John looked as if he was about to speak, then thought better of it, shrugging his narrow shoulders and following his brother through the door to the front parlour.
George waited for the door to close before walking unhurriedly along the passageway to the portal leading to the study, his hand lifting to push his small round glasses back up his nose.
Without knocking he entered the room and closed the door behind him, turning the key in the lock in the process. Wendy had her back to him, standing by the window pulling the curtains closed against the late afternoon sun streaming into the small room. She jumped when her father's hands reached around from behind and encased her small breasts through her blouse, his thumbs brushing across her nipples and making them peak like hard buttons through the thin fabric.
She finished pulling the curtains closed while her father nuzzled her hair, his fingers stroking and tweaking her breasts through her blouse. His body was hard up against her back, his hips grinding against her bottom as he fondled her chest.
"The chair." George commanded hoarsely, releasing his hold on her body so she could turn and make her way to the armless padded chair standing clear of the desk in the middle of the room. As she walked she started to unbutton her blouse, carefully pushing each shiny shell through the button-holes, exposing a wedge of creamy flesh as each fastening was released. Behind her George was undoing his trouser fastenings, unbuttoning his fly and fumbling inside to release his hardening flesh. With his prick held firmly in his hand, George sat down on the padded chair, his legs parting as he stroked himself, his eyes behind their glinting windows sweeping over Wendy as she pulled her blouse out of her waistband.
"Hurry." George grated, his teeth clenched as his body responded to his stimulus. Approaching her father, Wendy hitched up her skirts and straddled his legs, her father holding himself until she was positioned over him, her breasts on a level with his face. Slowly she lowered herself until she was impaled on his cock, her hands resting on his shoulders as her father buried himself inside her, his mouth latching on to her immature breast, his fingers fondling the other as he suckled.
Wendy's face remained impassive as her father bucked under her, jerking his hips to ease the ache in his balls.
"Oh yes....mmmmph!" His mouth firmly attached to her breast, George wrapped his arms about her back and held her against his chest, her torso arching back as her father mouthed her breast, his teeth nipping sharply at her nipple. Wendy winced but kept her lips pressed together as her father bucked upwards, mashing his pelvis into hers, the fabric of his trousers rubbing against her thighs. A final thrust upwards and her father started to shake, his seed pumping into her body as he climaxed, his mouth still clamped to her breast, his chest heaving as he drew air in through his nose, his thin nostrils flaring.
With a popping release of suction he let go of her breast and collapsed backwards against the chair, his arms letting Wendy go while she continued to balance herself with her hands on his shoulders.
"Oh that is so much better.......been thinking of this all afternoon."
Raising his head, George looked up at his daughter, his oiled hair flopping forward as he breathed, open mouthed, his body in a blissful state of lassitude. His cock was softening as Wendy eased herself off him, tucking her skirts between her legs to catch the fluid leaking from her body, her hair falling forward as she turned away to see to her blouse.
"Cloth." George ordered and Wendy held out the soft cloth kept in a drawer for that purpose. She continued buttoning her blouse as her father wiped himself clean, tossing the cloth into the wastebasket when finished.
Sweeping his hair off his forehead, he shakily rose to his feet, tucking himself back into his trousers before adjusting his other clothing and pushing his glasses back into place.
"I'll see you in the dining room.....after." He said, seeing Wendy nod before he let himself out of the study and made his way to the front parlour.
With the snick of the door, Wendy paused in redressing herself, a sigh escaping between her lips as her fingers brushed over her sore nipple, her budding breasts tender from her fathers hard fingers. Buttoning her blouse she tucked it back into her skirt and shook out the folds of her petticoat from between her legs. Letting herself out of the study she quickly made her way up the stairs to the bathroom, her fingers turning the key to lock the door.
Taking off her skirt she ran the tap, filling the sink with warm water. Using a soft flannel she cleaned herself thoroughly from front to back, the warm water soothing her tender entrance and washing away the evidence of her fathers lust. Drying herself on one of the towels, she put her skirt back on after donning a clean petticoat. Finally she brushed out her long hair and twisted it into a chignon, patting it into place with a brief glance in the mirror, her eyes never making contact with their reflection, before leaving the bathroom and making her way down the stairs.
Passing the front parlour she opened the door to the dining room and went in, seating herself at the table, the door from the parlour opening almost at once and disgorging the rest of her family. John and Michael noisily found their seats on the other side of the table from Wendy, John grinning at Wendy who smiled back with something akin to relief. If her brothers were there, there was not likely to be a need for her father to call on her services. As her mother took her place at the end of the table, her father seated himself on her left, at the head. While they waited for their maid to serve the meal they chattered about their day, the boys telling of their time spent at Mister Copelands School for Young Gentlemen, while Mary Darling espoused on her time spent with her latest fund raising efforts through a local women's charity group. Wendy remained silent, her head bent over her plate, her ears listening to the chatter, but her thoughts far away from the table.
"Wendy?" Her father's voice jerked her out of her revery and she looked up, the maid already clearing the main course from the table.
"I'm sorry, did you want me?"
She saw her father's eyes soften fractionally, a smile tilting his thin lips as he lifted his glass of wine. "Always dearest. But I was asking if everything was alright with you?"
"Fine."
"Good. Sleeping well?"
"Yes, thank you father."
"Well, it's Friday, so I'm glad to hear you're well rested."
Wendy froze, staring at the table top as their maid laid dessert on the table, placing a dish in front of her. Drawing in a breath, she picked up her spoon and started to eat. From the end of the table her mother spoke.
"What time have you invited them for?"
"Seven. Is that convenient?"
"Completely, I will be out until nine, will you be finished by then?"
"If not, we'll endeavor not to keep you from your sleep."
"Thank you George."
Wendy's fingers clenched on the stem of her spoon, almost bending it as she hesitated over her next mouthful. How could she have forgotten it was Friday?
"H-h-ho-ow many?" Wendy asked, unable to prevent a tremor shaking her voice.
"Just three.....an evening of cards."
Wendy finished her fruit and lay her spoon down, her mouth suddenly dry.
"If you'll excuse me..." She rose to her feet, feeling nauseous.
"Until later then." Her father drawled, lifting his spoon to his lips.
Nodding to her mother, Wendy left the dining room and ran up the stairs, careful not to thump the door as she shut it. Leaning her back against the wood she let her fear wash over her, her hand reaching up to press over her trembling lips.
"Three....oh God."
Pushing away from the door she stumbled over to her bed and fell face first on the covers. She had known that her father had plans to invite his cronies over for an evening, but she had tried to ignore the days, the dates in the vain hope that the evening would be called off. But her hopes had been fruitless. A tap sounded at her door and she sat up, brushing at her face to remove the tears.
"Come in."
Her father entered and closed the door behind him, once again turning the key in the lock to avoid interruptions.
Wendy sat on the side of her bed with her hands folded in her lap and her head down bent.
"I get the impression that you are not happy with my plans for this weekend. Am I correct Wendy?"
"I don't know what you mean."
Placing his hands behind his back, George paced to the window.
"I think you know very well. We talked about this weekend. You knew I was going to be inviting some people over and that I expected you to help me entertain them."
"Please father....."
"I said....entertain them, as you do me. Now why are you suddenly all shy and missive?"
"I just.....I can't..."
"Can't?"
"Please father...."
Turning away from the window, George stared at his daughter, his brows drawing together in a heavy frown. "I suggest you reconcile yourself to the inevitable my dear." Approaching the bed, he felt a familiar stirring in his loins. "I think I need an after dinner relaxant. Strip."
Realizing the futility of arguing, Wendy stood up and started to unbutton her blouse, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. George watched her for a few moments before slapping her hands away and all but ripping the blouse from her shoulders, buttons flying in all directions.
"Father!"
Spun around by the force of having her blouse torn away, Wendy could only put up a token resistance when her father toppled her onto the bed, her skirts and petticoats rudely bunched around her hips. Face down on the coverlet she could only pant and gasp as fingers found her bodies entrance and thrust inside, causing her to cry out.
"Easy...relax. You know that I love you Wendy. Love you so much I just want to have you all to myself, but after this weekend I'm up for promotion and you're going to be my ticket into the boardroom."
As she gasped against the satin bed cover the fingers were removed and replaced with her father's prick, the hot fleshy head pushing into her body with little finesse, fingers digging into her hip as George thrust himself into her body, just as suddenly withdrawing only to plunge back in again, bouncing his daughter on the side of the bed and making it squeak in protest.
"You've only ever known me," George grunted, bracing his feet on the carpet and leaning over Wendy's back. "They say a little variety is the spice of life," Burying himself to the hilt, he pushed his hands under Wendy's torso and lifted her upright, wrapping his arms around her middle to hold her against his chest. With her feet barely touching the ground she found herself impaled on his manhood, her father ramming himself into her, almost lifting her off the ground with each thrust.
"Yes....yes...oh yes...a whole new experience for you my darling...you'll learn so many things...I can't wait to show you off...."
Bounced around, Wendy could do nothing but hang on to her fathers arms gripping her so tightly under her breasts, her breath leaving her lungs in harsh gasps as her father gave a final lunge and shuddered against her, his body expelling its seed once more inside her.
Withdrawing his support, Wendy fell face forward on the bed, her legs splayed and her skirts still bunched around her waist.
"That...should keep me...until tomorrow." George panted, hastily tucking himself back into his trousers and staggering away, once more sweeping his errant hair back onto his head and jerking his waistcoat back into place along with his skewed glasses before unlocking the door and stepping outside.
Pushing her hair off her face, Wendy slid off the bed and sat on the carpet, leaning her face against the cool satin of the bed cover.
After staring off into the distance for several long minutes she wearily clambered to her feet and stripped off her remaining clothes, tossing the skirt and petticoat into the corner. Nude, she opened her bedside drawer and found a soft cloth, cleaning herself up sufficiently before searching in her chest of drawers for a nighty. As she stood bent over her open drawer, she thought she saw a movement at the window, her father having not drawn the drapes fully. She had already started to turn away, but looked again, this time seeing nothing untowards. Shrugging, she rummaged until she found the one she wanted and pulled it hurriedly over her head. Shutting the drawer she went to her bedroom door and pulled it open, heading for the bathroom once more.
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Wendy was a bundle of nerves by the time the clock in the hall struck the half hour before seven. Her mother was out, as was expected and the boys had been sent to a friends house to stay the night, only herself and her father remained.
George had left his daughter alone for the day, wanting his own appetite to be keen when his influential friends arrived. He'd brought her a special outfit for the evening and it was the sight of her reflection in the dressing table mirror that set up the butterflies in her stomach. She'd brushed her hair until it shone, the tawny mane hanging down her back in thick, caramel coloured waves almost brushing her bottom. She'd bathed thoroughly, using some bath salts her father provided, careful to clean herself under her father's critical eye. When dry she'd found the dress, if it could be called that, laid out on her bed for her to put on when she was ready. When she finally pulled the flimsy garment over her head she figured she might well not have bothered, it covered so little of her body. The sheer white gauze bodice was so transparent her nipples were clearly visible, as was her lower body through the sheer folds of fabric that fell from the gathering below her breasts, falling to the floor to brush her bare toes. For all intent and purposes she was naked, just as her father planned.
On the stroke of seven she heard the doorbell ring and their maid hurrying to answer it followed by the rumble of male voices, her father's raised in welcome. Wendy sat tense and nervous on the side of her bed, repeating her father's instructions over and over, her eyes darting repeatedly to the clock beside her bed.
She heard doors opening and shutting then the house was quiet, only occasionally hearing the sudden burst of loud male laughter coming from the front parlour as the minutes ticked away. A movement at her window brought her head swinging around but there was nothing there when she looked, the curtains billowing slightly as a breeze pushed them into the room then back again, the smells of the street wafting in with the currents of air. The hands of the clock finally reached the half hour and she rose to her feet, her fingers plucking at the sheer gown as if they could make it any less outrageous. Drawing in a steadying breath, she padded across the carpet to the door and opened it. Walking through she made her slow way to the head of the stairs, looking down the steps to find that father waited for her at the bottom, as planned with three other men flanking him, all of them staring up at her as she stood poised on the top step. Except for her father, each of the men looked astonished, bordering on shocked as Wendy started to descend, her eyes modestly lowered, her hand brushing the bannister rail to steady herself as she took each step carefully.
"My God George....you weren't having us on after all!"
"She's a beauty for sure....you lucky dog!"
"She's never your daughter.....is she?"
When Wendy reached the bottom step her father held out his hand and she laid hers, now trembling violently, into it.
"Come my friends.......the evening awaits." Leading his open mouthed friends back into the front parlour, George smiled smugly, his promotion all but assured.
Wendy refused to look at the three finely dressed gentlemen that jostled behind her, each suddenly eager to be the first in the room, the smell of expensive cologne and cigar smoke stinging her nostrils as she held tightly to her father's hand.
"She's so tiny, George.....so fragile, are you sure she's up for this?"
"Oh yes Cyril, Wendy has been well taught."
"How long have you been.....herumph....you know?"
"I've been tutoring her since she was a child, but only orally from age eleven, and full intercourse since age thirteen....so don't be put off by her innocent appearance, Wendy is well versed in the duties required of her."
"My God. I never would have thought it of you George.....you dog!"
George continued to beam smugly as his cronies circled his daughter like wolves scenting a deer, their hot eyes stripping her of her flimsy gown, their mouths already drooling in anticipation of sampling the morsel on display.
"Who get's to go first?" One man asked, his fingers reaching for his neck tie and loosening it.
"I think a period of appreciation, a sampling of what's on offer would be a good idea, don't you think? Then we can decide how to proceed if you are satisfied?" He raised his eyebrows to each man, receiving a nod from each as they settled themselves in the chairs and settees cluttering the room, some of them adjusting themselves within their trousers as their bodies responded to the promise of sex before too long.
"I'll introduce you to my friends, Wendy." Still holding her hand, he led her over to the first man, the man's hot eyes burning holes in her body as she stood before him. "This gentleman is Mister Cyril Campton, one of the board members at the bank I work for, why don't I leave you with him for a moment to get acquainted."
For a second Wendy clutched at her father's hand but it was quickly snatched away, leaving her standing in front of Cyril, a man in his mid forties with mouse brown hair and piercing green eyes. He held out his hand as if to shakes hers, grabbing her fingers and holding tightly when she finally gave him her hand. "Now, my beauty...let's see what we have." Dragging her forward he snaked his hand around her back, his large palm clamping onto her bottom through the dress and squeezing. Pulling her forward he let go of her hand and held her with both of his around her waist, his face now pressed between the rise of her breasts, his lips hot against her cleavage as he planted a kiss between them.
"You smell delicious my dear." He commented, his hand now running up and down her sides, his thumbs brushing over her breasts with each stroke. "And so soft, do you taste as good as you smell?"
Not waiting for an answer he opened his mouth wide and engulfed one of her breasts, dress and all, his tongue sweeping over her flesh through the thin fabric as he mumbled against her chest. Wendy arched away, her hands resting on the mans shoulders as he suckled on her flesh. Seeing his other guest positively salivating for their turn, George approached.
"Cyril...leave some for the others!" He laughed, the others joining in as Cyril lifted his head, grinning in triumph but letting Wendy go all the same. George brought her to the next man and introduced her.
"This is Mister William Cartwright, another board member...." Wendy found herself standing in front of a distinguished man with a large grey moustache covering his upper lip, his pale blue eyes twinkling at her under a thatch of nearly white hair that was smoothed over his head with oil.
"Hello Wendy D-a-rling," Bill drawled her name, rolling the vowels on his tongue like a caress. "You are a toothsome baggage, and well taught, if your father is to believed. Turn around dear and let me inspect that delightfully fuckable arse."
Turning her back on him, Wendy felt herself pulled back to stand between the man's knees, his hands running up her legs on each side, bunching up her flimsy dress until her legs and backside were completely exposed. "Bend over dear and show me your treasures."
Resting her hands on her knees, Wendy complied, her hair falling forward to hide her burning cheeks as she felt the man's hands smooth over her cool bottom, gliding over the flesh of her thighs before delving between her cheeks, parting the fleshy globes to better see what he wanted.
"Good lord George....she's as fresh as a peach, and so smooth." Wendy could feel her flesh being stretched wider apart then jumped when a wet tongue connected with her bottom, sweeping wetly down her crack to her front opening, then back up to her anus, circling the puckered hole before lapping upwards again. "She's so sweet I could eat her for hours!" Bill exclaimed, licking his lips before burying his face once more between Wendy's nether cheeks. It felt like someone was sweeping her bottom with a wet brush as the man behind her lapped and sucked on her genitals, his hard tongue poking at her holes and coating her bottom with saliva.
"Times up Bill....pass her along the cart." Her father's voice broke into the chorus of uneven breathing filling the air in the front parlour, each man feeling the urgent need to bury himself in one or other of the girls apparently willing orifices. Giving up his brief session of cunnilingus, Bill lowered Wendy's gown with an affectionate pat on her bottom as she straightened up.
George led her over to the next man, the last of the guests and Wendy had to control the violent shudder that swept over her when she met the man's dark eyes. Where as the other two were for the most part ordinary men both in build and looks, this man bordered on ugly and grotesque, his figure overblown and tightly encased in an expensive suit, rings on two of his fingers as well as a gold fob chain around his neck. His hair was almost gone, only a few grey wisps covering his pate as he leant forward to peer at Wendy with lust burning in his bulging blue eyes.
"So pretty George, who would suspect you of hiding such a treasure all for yourself...I've a mind to buy her off you!"
Taken aback at the man vehemence, George tittered and swallowed hard. "Sorry sir, she's...er...not for sale."
"Pity....I'm in need of a new mistress, and I like 'em young."
Reaching out a pudgy hand he snagged Wendy's gown and pulled her forward, almost ripping the thin fabric in his haste. Once more she found her tender breasts ravaged by a male mouth, her nipples hardening as her ravisher sucked hard on the tiny nubs. While one hand gripped her waist to hold her still, the other hand lifted her skirt and delved between her legs, forcing her thighs apart to allow him to fumble with the soft folds of her sex, his thick fingers spreading the moisture gathered there around the entrance before plunging into her body.
"She's ripe for a fucking George.....age before beauty, I'll go first!"
Not heeding the token cries of protest from the other two guests, the man withdrew his fingers from Wendy's body, sucking on them briefly then fumbling to free himself from his suit trousers. Releasing his engorged flesh, he lifted both hands and grasped Wendy's gown, ripping the thin material in two so that is fell off her body to flutter to the ground behind her. Naked, she balanced herself on his wide shoulders as he tugged her forward, his mouth once more latching on to her breast as he placed a hand on her shoulder to force her downwards. With her legs either side of his thighs, Wendy felt the man force his cock into her body, his prick not as long as her fathers, but twice the girth.
With Wendy firmly seated on his erection the man started to grunt, lifting her off his lap only to slam her down again, all the while feasting on her flesh, his thick lips slobbering from one breast to the other as they bobbed in front of his face, the other men egging him on as he picked up the pace, his fingers leaving marks on Wendy's flesh as they dug into her waist. Within a minute the man was sweating and purple in the face, grunting loudly as he stiffened in his climax, his cock releasing his sperm in hot spurts, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grimace of lust as he expelled himself. Panting he suddenly pushed Wendy off his lap, the girl falling onto the carpet before her father could catch her, the man flopping back against the sofa as he struggled to regain his breath.
"So...goddamn...tight!" The man wheezed, mopping his brow with a white handkerchief, his sex laying spent and lax outside the fly of his trousers.
Helping Wendy up, George handed her a towel which she used to wipe between her legs. The other two guests already had their cocks out, one with his trousers around his ankles in readiness for his turn.
"Mine now I think." Cried Cyril, snagging Wendy's hand and pulling her over to his chair. Bill scowled, his moustache twitching as he watched his cohort spin Wendy around so that she faced the room, her back to him. Spreading her legs he pulled her back so she straddled his legs before pulling her down and impaling her on his straining sex. Once fully seated inside her, he reached around and cupped her breasts, fingers pinching the nipples, Wendy bracing her hands on the wide armrests of the chair as Cyril started to bounce her on his lap.
Not content to just watch, Bill slip off the couch and walked on his knees over to Cyril's chair, his eyes now at crotch level with Wendy, his hands resting on Cyril's knees as he watched his friends cock piston in and out of the girl, her pubic curls glistening with the juices being pumped out of her body from her previous fuck. Looking up, Bill grinned at the sight of Cyril's hands cupping Wendy's bouncing breasts, the nipples quite pink and hard as the mans hands brushed over them with each pass.
"Lean her back a bit Cyril...I want to eat her out while you fuck her."
Not surprised to find Bill in front of him and so close, Cyril leant backwards, drawing Wendy with him so that her hips angled outward, exposing her core and his cock to his friends avid gaze.
"Perfect!" Bill exclaimed, leaning forward and fastening his mouth on Wendy's mons, his tongue sweeping down and back over her clitoris as his friend continued to thrust into her. Wendy head was now resting on Cyril's shoulder, her hair cascading down over his head and chest, his hands still fondling her breasts as his hips pistoned upwards into her body. Bill feasted on her body, his tongue darting out to lap at Wendy's clitoris, his eyes flicking up her body to gauge the effect. Cyril was reaching his peak, his body bucking under her, almost lifting her off her feet as he cried out, Bill's tongue the final catalyst as he darted it against Cyril's cock when he thrust one last time, exploding his seed into Wendy, his hands gripping her tightly as he shuddered and jerked, Bill's mouth still clamped to Wendy's mons as she rode out Cyril's climax.
For a long moment Wendy hung suspended, her chest heaving as the man below her tried to catch his breath, his own breath leaving his lungs in harsh pants as he continued to twitch and shudder. At last he propped her upright, his sex softening and slipping out of her to flop between his thighs. Bill was sitting back on his heels, his own cock as stiff as a flagstaff as he eyed Wendy's body hungrily.
"At last.....George, pass me that towel." While Wendy still straddled Cyril's lap, Bill cleaned her up, keeping the towel between her legs even when she managed to get to her feet, albeit a trifle unsteadily.
"My turn now....enough of this chair business, I prefer a more earthy approach. Lay on your back my dear....I so want to plunder your treasures. George, pass me a cushion or two please."
Wendy lay down on the thick carpeting and stared up at the mustachioed man looming over her. Her flesh felt tender between her legs after her two bouts of intercourse and she really didn't feel up to another, but a speaking glance from her father dispelled any thoughts of complaint as Bill positioned the cushions beneath her buttocks to raise her pelvis.
"Relax my dear, I know you'll enjoy this as much as I will." Bill assured her, spreading her legs wide apart before getting to his feet and taking his trouser off along with his under garments. Naked from the waist down he once more sank to his knees, his sex bobbing beneath the edge of his untucked shirt as he leant forward to rest on his elbows between Wendy's spread legs.
In front of the three men watching, Bill started to noisily eat out the girl spread eagle on the carpet.
"Go for it Bill....chew that fanny!" The fat man called out, laughing at his coarse wit, the other man joining in the laughter when Bill paused in his pleasure to raise a rude gesture with one finger.
George watched his daughter being debauched with his blood thumping in his veins, his heart racing as he stared in rapt attention. His own sex was painfully hard and he ached to touch himself but knew that he'd climax before he could clear his clothes, his hands shaking with the effort of keeping his calm exterior in the face of unbearable sexual tension. Bill had finally eaten his fill, his daughters thighs soaked and glistening with saliva as he pulled back, shuffling forward on his knees while he pulled Wendy's hips towards him. Draping her legs over his thighs, Bill positioned himself at her bodies entrance, resting a moment before jerking Wendy forward to impale her on his sex, sinking deeply within her body to the hilt. His move prompted the other men to cheer him on as his body started to move, buttocks clenched, thrusting in and out of the girls body, his arms hooked around her legs to hold her close. It didn't take him long to reach his peak, throwing back his head and groaning long and loud as he jerked himself against and into her body.
As Bill climbed to his feet they heard the front door open and shut, the men exchanging worried glances between themselves before swiveling to pin George with their hard stares.
"Don't worry yourself my friends, it's just my wife......she'll be going straight up to bed and won't disturb us."
"Damn if you don't have the most perfect arrangement." Cyril crowed, his head slumping back on the chair, his legs sprawled in front of him.
Throwing another towel to his daughter, George went to the parlour door and slipped out, leaving Wendy alone with the three men. Keeping her face averted, she cleaned herself as best as possible, her genitals swollen and pink, tender to the touch as she carefully wiped the towel back and forth between her legs.
The three men watched her avidly, drinking in her peachy skin and flushed colour, her breast quite red from their mauling, the nipples swollen and stiff.
"I'm damn thirsty....anything to drink girl?"
"Yes sir." Getting to her feet Wendy padded over to the drinks cabinet and opened it. Filling three glasses with her father's best sherry, she carefully carried the tray over and offered the alcohol to the men in turn. They ogled her flesh as she bent forward until she finished dispensing the drinks, returning the tray to the cabinet. As the men sipped, her father returned, slipping into the parlour and shutting the door firmly behind him.
"Ah good....I see Wendy has kept you supplied with refreshments."
Rubbing his hands together he bent down and picked up the remains of the gown she'd worn at the start, the fragile material weighing almost nothing in his hands. Lifting it briefly to his nose he inhaled her scent, his body instantly responding to the allure of her perfume.
"Excellent sherry George.....but you haven't taken care of your own needs, dear chap....don't mind us." The fat man waved his hand negligently.
"I can slake my thirst at any time Jerome....tonight is purely for my guests." George replied expansively, bowing to the three men who chortled back at him with leering smiles, ogling the bulge tenting his trousers.
"I'll say this for her George...she don't say much!" Snorting at his jest, Cyril almost choked on his sherry, Bill thumping him on the back as he coughed and bent double in his chair.
"Wendy is a good girl and knows her place....personally I can't abide chattering women, they grate on the nerves and distract from their purpose...." George explained, pouring himself a sherry.
"Oh I agree entirely George, should just gag the lot of 'em." Jerome agreed, snorting into his sherry.
"Does she have her own room?" Cyril asked, tipping the last of the smooth liquor down his throat.
"Oh yes...." George assured him, licking his lips and tasting the sweet sherry coating them.
"Send her up there....I've a mind to sample her charms in a more...comfortable setting." Jerome demanded, holding out his glass for a refill.
"Capitol notion Jerome....we can take turns and not have to suffer carpet burn." They all laughed together, the object of their mirth keeping her head bowed as she stood off to the side, her body throbbing from it's use, liquid still leaving her body in sticky trickles down the inside of her thighs.
"Get yourself cleaned up and go to your room." George ordered, his voice hard as he watched his daughter walk submissively over to the door and leave the room, her debauchers watching her slim body until she disappeared from their view. Closing the door behind her, she listened and heard several crude jokes tossed back and forth, the air rent with raucous laughter before she turned and fled up the stairs to the bathroom.
Standing in the bath she squatted on her haunches and used a soft rubber tube attached to one of the taps to douche her body both inside and out, the water as hot as she could stand as she washed away the evidence of her ravishment. After drying her legs off she patted herself dry before padding down the hallway to her bedroom, welcoming the pitch black of her room when she shut the door behind her. Dropping the damp towel to the carpet she slowly made her way to her dressing table, barely able to make out the outline of her figure in the mirror, only faint starlight visible through the gap in her thick curtains to rim her reflected image. She felt drained, a bone cracking weariness that pulled at her eyelids and made her legs tremble. Before she could do more than imagine the softness of her bed, warm hands reached around her and fastened onto her tender breasts, trapping her arms as a body plastering itself to her naked back, a warm breath bathing the nape of her neck.
Disorientated, Wendy froze, wondering how the men had reached her room before her. "Please....I'm so tired...."
Her whispered plea received no reply, the faceless male behind her moving his hands down her chest, stroking her trembling flesh as he progressed lower, combing through the hairs at the apex of her thighs briefly before sweeping back up to rest below her breasts.
She could feel heat where his body touched her all down her spine, his hips snugly pressed against her bottom, his sex hot and hard against her as he shifted. With a start she realised that the man behind her was as naked as she was, his skin smooth and hairless, his arms well muscled but lightly furred which ruled out two of the men from the parlour below, both having a quantity of hair on both chest and arm. Cautiously she sniffed, inhaling the air around her, again she found herself surprised as she registered the smells of earth and rain overridden by a clean male scent, unadorned by cologne or perfume.
Her second discovery ruled out the remaining two men she'd left behind, both of whom wore colognes, in the case of her father that was distinctive and in the case of the other man, overpowering.
"Who are you?" She asked, still whispering into the darkness.
Instead of replying the intruder behind her moved, his arms spinning her around so that she faced him, his broad hands splayed over her back to keep her still as his mouth covered hers, her gasp of shock cut off as warm lips moved against her own, her breasts crushed against a hard chest.
In the sudden move her arms had become freed of his embrace, her hands finding smooth skin in the darkness, her fingers feeling the shift of muscle under flesh, the shoulders broad and an inch or two taller than her own.
Kissing was a new sensation for her, her mouth rarely used for its usual purpose by her father, and the men that had used her that evening had been more interested in other parts of her body. This new assailant was plundering her mouth as if parched, his mouth moving over hers, forcing her lips apart to dart his hot moist tongue inwards, sweeping over teeth and gums and tangling with her own hesitant appendage. It was a heady and wondrous experience that melted all resistance in one devastating move. A thump from the floor poured icy reality over her swamped senses, a reminder that below her feet four men waited to assail her body some time soon. Wrenching her lips away from their pleasurable occupation she gasped and pushed against the arms still imprisoning her.
"Please...stop....they'll be coming up here....you have to go..."
"Who?" Her unknown assailants voice was a low growl against her neck, his hands now exploring the dips and hollows of her lower back and bottom.
"Oh...oh....my-my father....his guests.....you must....oh...go."
Where the touch of the men below had left her trembling with disgust in herself and them, whoever this male was that was storming her body was creating a whole slew of new sensations in her body, the twinges and aches of only moments before turning to a burning lassitude that melted her bones and left her pulsating with want.
His mouth found hers again and she drank him in, his taste like honeyed nectar as he dipped again and again between her lips, her body melting against his hardness as his hands pressed her closer, molding her to his contours, her softness giving in to his harness.
When they next parted she sagged against him, his body turning as his arm caught her behind her legs and hoisted her into his arms. Wendy felt dizzy, her skin tingling, a throbbing pounding between her legs as she wrapped her arms around her invisible seducer. As he stood, legs braced apart, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest, his heart pounding against her breast as the silence between them stretched.
"Do you want to stay here?" He whispered, his breath fanning the hair on her face.
Lifting her heavy head, Wendy stared at the dark features to faintly visible scant inches from hers.
"What did you ask me?"
"I can take you away from all this...to a place where you won't be bothered by your father ever again."
"I-I don't know....."
"Hurry....I can hear them coming up the stairs."
Instantly Wendy tensed in his arms, her body rigid with fear and loathing.
"Decide." His whisper washed over her, raising goose bumps as she cowered in his arms.
"Please....I can't.." Wendy whimpered, unequal to the task of deciding her own fate, her submission too strong to overcome.
"Decide.....what you have endured tonight, repeated every night until you break and take your own life....or escape."
"But I don't know you...where would you take me?"
Sensing her capitulation her mystery assailant grinned wolfishly, his arms tightening like iron bands around her trembling body.
"Trust me.....you can go to sleep now."
She felt something fall on her face like sand, her mouth instantly opening to yawn, her eyelids impossibly heavy as her head fell heavily onto his shoulder. Satisfied that his captive was unconscious, her would be rescuer carried her to the bed, laying her down and wrapping the satin coverlet around her in a few quick moves. As if able to see quite clearly in the darkened room, he donned his discarded clothes before gathering the inert girl into his arms and heading towards the window. He heard the men approaching and hurriedly pushed his way past the curtains and sat on the edge of the open window, his feet dangling over the ledge.
As the door opened he stood up on the narrow ledge, his satin wrapped bundle safely trapped within his arms. Before the door had swung wide enough to admit the first man the figure on the ledge had stepped off into space, his body swooping down then up, arcing over the blackened roof tops and off into the starlit sky, heading for the brightest light in the heavens.
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Chapter: Two - His Life After
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The stars turned to streaks around him as he flew at speed through the gateway, exploding out the other side, spiraling down towards the glassy ocean, the black sky reflected like a mirror in its surface.
He shifted the bundle in his arms, his fingers gripping the satin coverlet tightly as he lowered his head to bury his nose in the silky hair spilling out of the folds around her head. The Neverland sun was rising quickly into the sky, the thickly forested island appearing from its deep shadow like a jewel, the abundant flowers blooming instantly when the sun's warm rays hit their closed petals, all welcoming back their prince, spring arriving each time he returned. This time he wasn't alone.
As he approached Neverland's shore he saw a tiny ball of bright light appear from the canopy of tree's edging the beach, the sprite at it's center setting up a shrill call before streaking towards him, fairy dust glittering behind her in a sparkling trail. Reaching him, she darted about his head, her tinkling voice strident as she took him to task for being so long. Ignoring her, he flew above the trees heading for his current hideout, the fairy struggling to keep up and persist with her tirade as she followed him.
Slowing down, he floated feet first into a clearing, his bare feet touching down on the thick mat of fallen leaves, his toes digging into the rich loam as he staggered slightly, over balanced from the girl in his arms. Above his head the fairy continued her chittering, buzzing around his head like a wasp, her wings a blur as she darted overhead.
"If you don't stop bitchin' I'll swat you like a bug!"
Abruptly the tinkling tirade halted, the fairy's colour changing from pale yellow to an angry orange. She hovered for a moment, watching him crouch down and lay his burden on the soft leaves, his long brown fingers peeling back the folds of shiny pink ruffles to reveal the girls face. Curious, the fairy flew down to peer at the still features surrounded by tousled hair. He crouched beside her and just stared, his eyes roaming over the girls face, noting the thick lashes laying against her cheek, her full red lips slightly parted, the hint of pearly teeth behind them. After a few minutes the fairy grew bored and took herself off to sit on a branch, chittering to herself and leaving him to look his fill.
Reaching out, he picked up a strand of hair laying across her brow, smoothing it back into place, but he found that it wasn't enough just to touch her hair, he wanted to touch her skin, memory supplying the feel of her flesh under his hands and against his chest, her ribs expanding under his fingers as she breathed, the rise of goose bumps on her arms as she'd trembled against him. Turning his hand over he trailed the back of his fingers down her temple and over her cheek, feeling the slight fuzz of hair as he buffed his knuckle back and forth before drawing back so that only his finger tips touched her. These he drew across her cheek to the corner of her mouth, tracing the outline again and again as he remembered how it felt to kiss her, his tongue darting out to wet his own lips as memory supplied the texture and taste of her mouth against his, the heat and wetness of her tongue against his own.
Abruptly he pulled his hand away and rested his arm on his knee, frowning down at the girl laying at his feet. In all his life he'd never wanted anything as much as he'd wanted her. He'd never thought that his life was missing anything until he'd spied on her through her half drawn curtain, at first his attention caught by her face and form, then by the expression on her face, part melancholy, part submissive acceptance of her life, such as it was. He'd wanted to take her away at once, rip her from the man she called her Father, and spirit her away to his world, there to explore at his leisure the reasons why this girl, one of many hundreds he's seen in his lifetime, affected him the way she did.
It had been sheer chance that he'd stopped to peer into her room just as she entered, her face full of fear and apprehension, barely pausing before throwing herself face first onto the bed, her shoulders heaving with emotion. He'd only left Neverland because he'd felt so restless and bored, the usual diversions leaving him frustrated with desires for something more to occupy his thoughts and actions. As in the past he flew beyond the boundaries of his world and visited the mortal realm, flying above the small lives of the people who lived in the sooty houses, their minds as tightly encased as their bodies, unable to comprehend that there was a world beyond their narrow lives, a world unfettered by convention and rules, a world that revolved entirely around, and for, one existence.
Their world always served to remind him how good it was to return to Neverland with its clean air and clear water, his body always needing to be scrubbed clean whenever he returned from one of his visits, the smell of the city choking him for days afterwards.
This time was no different except that he'd felt an urge to peep into as many of the second floor windows as he could, a sort of game to see flashes of peoples lives through their windows as he flew past, some of them getting ready to go to bed, some of them getting ready to go out, often children, always the men buttoned up tightly in their dark suits, always the women constricted in their fashionable clothes, the children small copies of the adults. Sometimes he found a family that allowed themselves and their children more freedom, their laughter ringing out above the noise of the city, drawing him to investigate the cause of their mirth. Other times the very fact that the house was quiet and withdrawn drew his attention, his curiosity begging to be satisfied as to why. Which is how he had ended up flying past her window, the half pulled curtains giving him a glimpse into a world he had no part of, and a girl he hadn't realised he'd been looking for.
Hovering outside her window he stared into her room and wondered how best to get himself inside it, the window sash only opened a little way, the curtains only partly drawn. As he'd puzzled over his next move the door had opened and the girls father had entered the room, marching over to the window so that he'd had to dart to the side to avoid being seen. He'd listened to the man pontificate to the girl and could only guess what he meant from the fragmented words he heard through the glass. When it went quiet he approached the window again and saw the Father standing close to the girl beside the bed. She had been undoing the buttons of her blouse, her fingers shaking too much to do the job quickly, which irritated the man into ripping the garment from her shoulders. He'd wanted to leap into the room at that moment and tear the Father's throat out but what happened next stopped him in his tracks, the blood pounding in his head as he watched the man have sex with his daughter as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Afterwards he watched as the girl slid down beside her bed, her skirts bunched around her waist, her hair covering her naked torso as she sagged against the pink coverlet for several minutes. All this he watched with a dry mouth and a painful throbbing in his groin, made worse when the girl rose eventually to her feet and stripped of the remainder of her clothes, baring herself to his eyes, as yet unaware of him watching her through the window. It was almost as exciting watching her get dressed in one of her pretty lawn nighties as it was to see her with nothing on at all, his eagerness to get closer almost causing her to see him, only his quick actions preventing her from discovering him.
With only that tantalizing glimpse to go on, he had to find out more, remaining near to her window until dawn when he found himself a tree to hide him during the day, his perch sufficient to give him several hours sleep. That evening he'd been back outside her room once it was dark, his patience rewarded with the pulse thumping exhibition of the girl getting ready for the evening by donning a garment that did nothing to hide her body from his greedy eyes and did everything to heighten his desire for her. When she eventually left the room he flew to all the other windows in the house to find her, frustration building until he found a chink in the front parlor curtains and was able to see nearly everything that went one for the next hour. What he saw was both a revelation and fuel for the rage building up inside him. He had seen many things in his life, many cruelties and many hurts committed by man against man, as well as his wife and children, but the calculated callousness of the Father to give his daughter to the men in that parlor left him breathless with outrage and his plan was born.
He was shaking as he forced the sash of her bedroom window, his ear hearing her soft footfall as she padded along the corridor to the bedroom. He still hadn't decided exactly what he wanted to do, but suddenly his clothes seemed to constrict him and he threw them off, shedding them like a snake skin leaving him bare to the night air, the insistent throbbing between his legs ameliorated slightly. When she'd opened the bedroom door he'd hidden in the corner, sure that the shadows hid him, ready to spring once she switched on the light, but she confounded him but not turning it on, her body only faintly visible in the gloom as she approached the dressing table and stood before the mirror, her back to him. He heard her sigh, the sound so deep with emotion he was moving without conscious volition, his arms going around her to hold her in a blind effort to comfort her. It was his first mistake. He found his hands full of her, roaming over her warm flesh as he breathed in her scented hair, his fingers finger the soft down of her nether hairs, combing them before sweeping his hand back up her body, his own pressed hard against her rounded bottom. He hadn't heard her speak at first, not registering her words of her first question, but when she asked who he was he spun her around to face him, cursing the dark when he couldn't see her face or eyes. Then she touched him, her hands fluttering to his shoulders as she tried to push away, the electric shock of her fingers pressing against his flesh made his breath leave his chest, his mouth unerringly finding hers in the darkness, their fusion of lips feeling like a homecoming. For a split second he thought she'd fight him but she didn't sagging against him and giving up her lips for his plunder, her soft breasts crushed against his chest as he tangled his tongue with hers, his body clamouring with need. She did pull away eventually but only to try and warn him that the men were coming for her, his mouth shutting off her protests as he drank deeply, his hands molding her body to his, two halves joined as a whole.
He knew the moment she capitulated, her body melting against him, a sigh leaving her lips, accepting the inevitable, her arms going around him and holding on tight. It was then that he decided she had to come back with him, that he couldn't let her stay a minute longer in that house. Despite offering her a choice, there had never really been one, his use of the sleep dust a guarantee if she'd fought him over the decision, but her body had already told him her answer so he didn't wait to argue with her, the sound of the men climbing the stairs galvanizing him into action. Hurriedly he'd placed her on the bed and wrapped her in the coverlet before pulling on his discarded clothes and weapons, the stamp of approaching feet making him move faster, almost throwing himself and his precious burden out of the window just as the first man entered the room, their shout of alarm lost in the rush of air past his ears as he swooped and dived above the rooftops and on to Neverland.
"It was well named....for never shall you return to that place, never will you belong to anyone but me....and never shall you leave me!" His resolve firmly stated, he gathered the girl up once more in his arms and carried her towards the center of the clearing, lifting into the air a foot off the ground before letting himself drop, disappearing into a hole in the ground and out of sight of any curious creatures, the only one to notice his passing too intent on inspecting her reflection in a dew drop of water thereby missing his departure.
When she did finally look up, she stamped her foot and turned a bright orange again, her wings carrying her over the glade until she reached the spot she knew concealed the opening, the trap door once more in place. Angrily she scuffed the inoffensive grass before taking herself off to find another entrance to the underground hideout.
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With the girl settled on his bed, he set about putting his den to rights. With only himself to worry about he rarely bothered to do more than gather up the larger scraps and chuck them somewhere beyond the hideout. As he stared around the large, low room he saw it as it would look through her eyes and he scowled. Not wanting to get his traveling clothes filthy, he stripped them off before attacking the accumulated muck, sweeping it into a pile then into a bucket. It took several trips to clear the floor completely, and another handful before all the rubbish was removed from all the surfaces. Then he set to and used his knife to trim back the hanging roots that snaked down through the earth. After despatching them, he gathered together the roots, plus any broken pottery and bone shards, into a pile on an old Indian blanket that was in dire need of a wash. Gathering up the corners he heaved it over his shoulder and flew outside with it, disposing of it the same way as the other rubbish. Returning, he looked at the blanket with disgust, sniffing it and wrinkling his nose. Checking all the other pieces of material used for various purposes, including his wardrobe, he found them all in need of a wash, only his leaves, which had to be renewed when they died, were fit to be worn. For a moment he thought of burning the lot, but to replace them would need some serious bartering with the natives, and he didn't have the time or inclination to do it, plus it would mean leaving the girl alone for some time, another point to consider. Gathering up the linen to be washed, he stuffed it all into a large wicker basket, which he'd been given precisely for that purpose but never used, and carried the malodious pile to the stream. Where it curved around a huge boulder a pool had formed which he usually used for bathing, but today would be used for housekeeping instead. Vigorously he beat the blankets and clothes on the flat rocks at the side of the pool, the air full of the sounds of wet material and flying water, the workout making him sweat in the midday sun, the washing wrung and hung out to dry on the surrounding bushes before he took the time to wash himself. Diving under the surface he emerged dripping, his short plait slapping him on the back as he shook himself free of the water, his fringe falling into his eyes before he flicked it out of the way with a practiced move. Running his hand over his face he felt the rasp of soft bristles against his finger, making a note when he returned to the den to take care of that.
Hauling himself out he basked in the sun like a golden seal until his skin dried, then left the washing where it was and returned to the underground hideout. Entering the earthy cave he sniffed, his nose encountering nothing but the clean tang of fresh dirt and vegetation, the rank odour of old food quite vanished. Picking up one of the buckets he flew quickly to the stream and filled it, hurrying back after a quick glance up at the sky confirmed that the Neverland day was drawing to a close and he still had a lot to do. Arriving back he set the bucket on the wooden table and rummaged for his tiny collection of soap berries, scowling again as he realised he'd have to replenish his small stock or start growing a beard. Testing his blades, he found the sharpest one and sat himself down at the table. Picking up a soap berry he held it in his cupped hand and squashed it with his thumb, the slippery juice pooling against his skin. Squeezing the skin he was about to discard the husk then thought again, placing it on the table top for disposal later. Dipping his free hand in the bucket he dripped some water onto the juice and watched as it bubbled and turned white. Carefully bringing his two hands together he rubbed, the liquid turning into a foaming white froth which he quickly lathered about his face and chin. Taking up his knife he positioned the tiny triangle of mirror so that he could see himself in its spotted depths and started to scrape his whiskers off. The blade rasped in steady strokes over his cheeks and around his chin, the line following his jaw and back up to his ears leaving stripes of the foam behind. He checked with his fingers and, satisfied that he'd got most of the whiskers, he washed the blade before washing the remains of the soap berry juice off his skin, which tingled pleasantly in the aftermath of his shave.
Peering into the tiny mirror he scowled at his image, his ragged fringe once more flopping into his face. Taking the blade he started to hack at the over hanging hair, squibs of damp strands falling to the table top as he cut his own hair away from his eye brows, the shorter remains instantly curling in defiance of any attempts to smooth them flat. Satisfied that he'd no longer have to worry about impairing his vision, he spent a few minutes peering intently at his features, the straight nose, full bottom lip and thickly lashed eyes, and wondered if the girl would find him pleasing. If the reactions of the Indian women and girls at the natives home grounds was anything to judge by, his looks were more than pleasing, his visits to the Indian's always an occasion for the females to pet him and coo over him in a way that before had been rather alarming, the braves nudging each other in amusement as he darted out of the reach of grasping hands that seemed to only want to investigate what he hid behind his leaves. Many a dark eye had sent him signals that his attentions would not be repulsed if he cared to take advantage, but with the except of one torrid affair with the vastly experience daughter of the chief, he'd managed to avoid being lured into any entanglements, his departure often punctuated with heavy sighs and disappointed glances.
Carefully wrapping his shard of mirror, he snorted at his own vanity, resolving to not worry whether she thought him pleasing or not. She would take him as he was and be glad, after all she no longer had to perform for men like those that had used her the night before, her Father the worst of them all. She would look on him as her hero, her savior and be deliriously grateful to have been taken away from her drear life and brought to Neverland. For a moment he pictured a scene that involved the girl at his feet, eyes adoring as he allowed her to feed him choice morsels before covering her with kisses, her cries of gratitude swallowed by his mouth.
The sharp call of the Night Bird jolted him out of his daydreams and he tidied away the stuff cluttering the table before going in search of clean clothes. His choices were rather limited. With one hand on his hip and the other at his mouth, he stared down at the ancient chest in which he tended to cram his clothes. Crouching down beside it, he pulled out a pair of soft deer skin leggings, shaking them before laying them to one side. There were several shirts and trousers, attire he'd only wore when he went to visit with the community of retired pirates that lived on the coast near the Black Cliffs. Unfortunately shirts didn't store well when thrown in all higgledy piggeldy, the sleeves sadly crushed and creased, as were the trousers. Dumping them out he rummaged further and produced a fringed waistcoat covered with pretty beading that matched the leggings. He fingered the beads and smiled as he remembered the wedding feast he'd gone to some time back, the Chief's daughter dragging him into her tepee and ripping his leaves off, leaving him nothing to wear when, some time later, he wanted to rejoin the feast. She'd offered him the leggings and waistcoat, taking inordinate pleasure in dressing him, complete with beaded armbands and a head band, plaiting feathers into his hair and giggling frequently. He hoped the girl didn't giggle, it always got on his nerves, part of the reason he'd ended the affair with the Princess Tiger Lily and avoided being left with the women and girls of the village for any length of time, it always seemed to provoke a high pitched chorus of giggles.
Of course he could just fashion himself another leaf suit, but that took some time and he couldn't be bothered. Picking up the leggings he pulled them on, the fine leather hugging his thighs and sitting low on his hips, the front opening needing to be laced before securing the woven belt that held them up and which he'd modified so he could carry his sword and daggers, along with other weapons as he chose. For the moment he left the weapons where they were and pulled on the waistcoat instead, adding the wrist guards and arm bands but leaving the headband off. The bleached deer skin was the colour of wild honey and highlighted his deeply tanned skin, his colour not exactly swarthy but certainly evidence of his time spent in the sun as apposed to the white skin of the men he'd watched perform that night, their colour reminding him of dead fish bones drying on the sand.
Finished at last with his appearance he made a final sweep of the room, grunting in satisfaction at the changes wrought, before making his way over to his sleeping bench, the vivid pink of the satin coverlet looking rather incongruous against the darker animal skins, the smooth material glistening in the glow of the lamps, like wet skin against the rough wolf skins and furred deer pelts forming the mattress beneath her.
She was still blissfully asleep, a victim of the fairy sleep dust he'd sprinkled in her eyes, the lashes already starting to flutter as she dreamed, the effect of the dust starting to wear off even as he watched her struggle to return to consciousness.
Feeling an overwhelming desire to be the first thing she saw on awakening, he clambered onto the wide bed and gathered her close, keeping her wrapped in the coverlet in case she panicked, giving him time to calm her before she could hurt herself or him with her struggles.
Unknown to him, his preparations were unnecessary.
He saw her eyelids start to lift, the lashes fluttering briefly before revealing the blue circles of her irises, tiny flecks of gold amid the vivid blue, their gaze unfocused at first, then blinking up at him without recognition or, surprisingly, fear.
For a long time she just stared at him, her brow eventually furrowing as she tried to place him.
"Do I know you?"
He shook his head, keeping a firm grip on the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Her lashes swept down again as she moistened her mouth, the tip of her pink tongue gliding over the fullness of her lips and giving a tantalizing glimpse of her pearly teeth.
"Have I been.....kidnapped?"
Again he shook his head, his lips pressed together to stop them twitching. She looked so adorably confused he wanted to blurt out everything, but resisted the temptation and just waited.
"Then I must be dreaming...but such an odd dream." She sighed and turned her head away from him to stare about the underground room, her gaze roaming over the earth roof and crude furniture before swiveling back to look at him again.
"Are we in a cave?"
"No." He spoke for the first time and she visible jumped.
"You were the one in the dark...behind me.....you-you..kissed me."
"So you do remember, I wondered if the dust would addle your brains. Yes it was me, and now you're here."
"But where is here?"
"My den....underground."
He could see the confusion and questions piling up behind her eyes, her head twisting again to look at the dimly lit room around her, her fingers clutching at the edge of the pink coverlet in her agitation.
"Where is my Father? Is he here with us...me?"
"No. Just me....and you. No one else."
"But.....he'll be worried, I was supposed to wait.....in my room..."
"You didn't want to wait...you didn't want to see those men again. You asked me to take you away."
"I did?"
He nodded.
"You must have misheard me...Father will be so cross....I must get back home as soon as possible...."
"No."
"No? What do you mean, no. You can't hold me here, wherever here is, I have to go home....Father..."
"So he can use you again!" Feeling angry that she didn't seem to appreciate all he'd done for her, he rose up on to his knees and scowled down at her. He saw her shrink back, her gaze skittering away from his, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she wriggled a little away from him.
"I have to go home...." She said again, almost to herself. Before he could stop her she had swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat, still wrapped in the satin coverlet, staring out at the room, her hair in a tangled mass about her shoulders.
"How far is it to London?" She asked, her shoulders shaking as she struggled to understand what was happening.
"A million miles." He told her, anger making his voice sharp as he scooted off the bed and stood, his arm folded, in front of her.
"So far? How can you have taken me so far away? This is madness."
Freeing one arm from the enveloping satin she pushed agitatedly at the mass of her hair falling over her face, her eyes darting back and forth as if looking for a way out. At once her arm was grabbed between hard fingers. He was staring at the bruises standing out on her flesh, the livid purple hue in the exact shape of a man's fingers.
"You want to go back to this?" He flung her arm away and she hurriedly tucked it back into the coverlet.
"I have to....he'll be so cross..."
She made to stand up but her feet became entangled in the ruffles of the cover and she fell back onto the bed.
Angry beyond reason at her persistence in wanting to leave him, he leaned forward, forcing her to lean back to get away, leading to her overbalancing and fall on her back across the bed. In a flash he was on top of her, pinning her down as she started to flail at him, his hands encasing her wrists as she thrashed, his legs holding hers as she kicked. In the process the satin cover became dislodged and fell away from her body, leaving her bared to his eyes, her breast heaving as she fought him. The sight of her flesh inflamed him and he lowered his head to fasten his mouth on her breast, ignoring her cry of pain as he sucked on her already bruised nipple. Abruptly her struggles ceased and she lay panting beneath him, her head turned away as he continued to lick and suckle her breast, her stillness finally registering and making him lift his head to stare up at her features. Her face was turned away, half covered by her hair, her lips pulled back from her teeth in a pain filled grimace, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Looking back down at her body he saw other bruises, more evidence of the men's and her Father's use of her, his fingers instantly loosening their grip on her wrists, their imprint making him wince at his own brutality as he lifted himself off of her.
He stood and looked down at her, noting the finger bruises on her thighs and belly, the puffy red nipples and taut muscles of her neck.
She lay as he'd left her, not moving for fear he'd attack her again. Disgusted at his lack of control, he stepped back and ran an unsteady hand through his hair. Sensing his withdrawal she turned her head only far enough to look at him from the corner of her eye. Slowly she eased her arms down and rolled on to her side, drawing her legs up as if to protect her vital organs.
She whimpered and buried her face against the coverlet, shaking in reaction.
"Pl-ple-ease...I want to go home."
"You can't." He told her grimly. "You're mine and I won't let you go."
As his cruel words lashed her she cried out again and flinched as if he'd struck her. Disgusted as much at himself as her, he left her curled up on the bed, all his daydreams shattered by what he saw as her unreasonable attitude and complete lack of gratitude for him saving her, his face pulled into a scowl of frustration as he sat with his back to her at the table, his shoulders rigid.
Tentatively she put out a hand and dragged the coverlet over her exposed body, curling herself up as tightly as a hedgehog in an effort to make herself as small as possible. She didn't understand any of it and wished heartily that she was tucked up in her bed back home. Instead she was at the mercy of a hard eyed stranger who apparently lusted after her as much, if not more so than the men who had taken her the night before. Exhausted emotionally, she pulled a corner of cloth over her head and tried to imagine herself invisible.
As the silence lengthened she lifted the corner and peeped out, seeing the young man's back still turned to her as he sat at the table. Gathering her courage in both hands she opened her mouth to speak.
"Wh-wh-a-at is your na-name?"
Jerking in surprise, he turned around on the bench and looked at her.
"Peter."
"Peter...." She repeated his name in a whisper before retreating once more beneath the coverlet and blocking him from her line of sight.
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Chapter: Three - Her life after
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It had to be a nightmare. Laying curled up under her own coverlet on a bed covered in furs, in a strange cave with an equally strange young man called Peter. As carefully as possible, Wendy pinched a finger full of skin, biting her lip to muffle the yelp before rubbing it better. So she wasn't dreaming, it was all distressingly real, but that was not possible. Cautiously she lifted the corner of the coverlet and peeped out, expecting to see the angry young man sitting as he had been with his back to her at the rickety looking table. To her consternation he was not there any more. Lifting the cover higher she looked about as far as she could but he was nowhere. Feeling a spike of panic cramp her stomach she raised her head and threw off the cover altogether, finding herself quite alone in the burrow, the empty room mocking her caution. Pushing herself upright she let her legs swing over the side of the bed and sat staring out at the strange, earthen room with its peculiar furniture, the flickering flames in half a dozen sconces providing just enough light to see by. Unfortunately what she saw was not encouraging.
Above her head was a low roof, a tall man would have had to stoop, made of earth, a few tendrils of roots poking through to hang like ragged hair from the ceiling. The walls were also of dirt, alcoves dug out of them to hold pots and bric-a-brac at various levels, some high, some low, several used to hold the lanterns that flickered fitfully. Ranged around the walls were also hung trophies, she assumed had been garnered from hunting, an impressive pair of antlers, plus several smaller horns from a variety of animals alongside strings of barbaric teeth, some of them so huge as to make her shake to think what they'd once belonged to. Animal skins of an amazing variety also decorated the walls, inviting her to run her fingers over their thick pelts if they hadn't already been buried in the thick fur covering the bed she was sitting on. Looking down she marveled at how thick the fur was and surprisingly course, the dark hue reminding her of a dog she'd once known. Surveying the room again she saw that the floor appeared to be recently swept, the corners clear of refuse or rubbish, the table apparently scraped clean leaving a collection of candles at its center, the wax in various stages of use, from nearly untouched to almost melted to the table top. Apart from the table, three chairs and a small wooden bench there were several chests ranged against the walls, looking very battered and well used, alongside a motley collection of wooden buckets with rope handles. Hanging above them on wooden pegs were what looked like leather bags, which she assumed could also carry water, and woven baskets over several shapes and sizes. There was no evidence of a fire place or anyway to cook anything so she assumed that was done elsewhere, her gaze not finding any cooking pots or piles of crockery, which struck her as unusual. There was also no windows or an obvious door. She was trapped in an underground burrow with no means to get out and no way of knowing when her kidnapper would return.
Shivering, she tugged the pink satin tightly around her and tentatively stood up, her bare feet recoiling from the cool earth at first.
"H-h-hello?" She called out, her voice sounding odd in the confined space. "P-Peter?" She tried again after clearing her throat.
There was no reply so she stepped forward and approached the table, all the while listening for any sound to indicate her captors return. Turning, she looked back at the bed and gasped. The wall behind and the ceiling above were covered in an assortment of weapons, some rusted, all of them wickedly curved and sharply honed, adorned with beads and feathers, bones and shells like some barbaric display, the weapons mounted on bones and branches to keep them from contact with the earth. Wendy had a vivid mental picture of them all falling on to the bed at once and impaling the person sleeping there. She shuddered and turned away. Whoever the young man was he had a strange idea about decorating a room. Still cautious, she made her way over to the closest leather bound chest and lifted the lid. Inside were an assortment of clothes and she breathed a sigh of relief, glad to dispense with the coverlet in favor of more normal attire. Unfortunately as the place belonged to a young man, there were no feminine clothes to be found, despite her searching through two more chest. The best she could find was a plain, long sleeved shirt which hung almost to her knees, over which she tied a square of fabric, knotting it at her hip so that it made a snug skirt that exposed only a small amount of her legs and reached to her ankles. She's looked at the various breeches and trousers but they had seemed to strange to try and wear, so finding one of the trunks held a quantity of un-used fabric, she found a square that could be used as a skirt.
Now, decently clothed given the circumstances, she sat down on the small bench beside the table and tried to sort out the tangle mess that was her hair. As she performed the familiar and soothing ritual she turned her thoughts to the frightening young man that had carried her off.
Pushing aside her initial feeling of panic and surprise, she tried to view him dispassionately. He was tall, but not above average height, his body lean but well muscled, his arms certainly showing evidence of a life spent in a very physical way, his skin very dark compared to the men she knew, apparently coloured by spending a great deal of time in the sun, like a farmer she supposed, but then laughed. Anyone less like a farmer it would be hard to find. Combing her fingers through her hair she continued her musing. His hair was long at the back, caught in a pony tail that appeared bound in leather strips, the front quite short and curling, bleached light by the sun at the tips, around a face that could only be described as very beautiful for a youth. She put his age at several years older than herself but by no means yet a full grown man. She tried to imagine his darkly lashed eyes under their straight brows not scowling, the full sculptured lips not pressed into a harsh line and thought he must be quite captivating when not angry. A sudden flash of memory recalled the feel of those lips on hers, their warmth and pressure leaving her breathless and limp. Blushing hotly, she renewed her efforts to disentangle her hair, tugging at a knot quite viciously to dispell the memory, reminding herself that he only wanted her the same as the horrid men her Father had given her to, as a body to gratify their lusts. With her blush fading she returned to her thoughts, her minds eye supplying his face and form, her memory letting her down as to the colour of his eyes. With his strange clothes and half naked body she supposed him to be quite a savage, given the primitive surrounding he appeared to live in. But that didn't explain how he had been in her bedroom, almost in the heart of London, and how he carried her off so far, for she could hardly believe that this underground hideout could be within one of the great parks within the city, surely not.
Thinking of London brought her back to her Father and she shuddered to think what he would do when he found her gone, and what he would do when she was finally returned. Veering away from that future unpleasantness, she ran her fingers through her hair, finding it free at last of its tangles and now hanging over her shoulder as it should, in glossy waves of honey coloured silk.
One of the lanterns abruptly went out, making her give a little scream, quickly stifled by her hand over her mouth. That left only three to illuminate the gloom and she suddenly felt very alone, having no idea how long she was to be left or how she was to take care of a pressing, basic need that she'd been trying to ignore for the past half hour or more.
She wriggled for a few minutes more then decided that there was nothing for it but to seek relief. She appropriated one of the buckets and retreated to the far corner of the room, half shielded by a rampart of earth beside the raised bed. There she hitched up her makeshift skirt and thankfully relieved herself. Her most pressing need taken care of, she walked another circuit of the burrow before sitting back on the bed of furs and contemplating her next move. She was dressed and clean, her body's need sorted, her thirst quenched by the water she'd found in a bucket under the table, the only remaining need not satisfied being her hunger. And of course her freedom.
Another of the lamps spluttered and died and she gazed fearfully at the remaining two, praying very hard that the young man, she must call him Peter, would return before too long. Laying down on the luxurious furs she tucked her hand under her cheek and stared off into the distance, her eyes unfocused as she wondered what was happening within her home back in Bloomsbury.
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Unknown to Wendy, some time had passed since her abduction from number 14, the passage of normal time warped during the trip through the gateway to Neverland. When her Father had first discovered her missing, it was assumed she'd run away, a search instigated both publicly and privately, his promotion deferred until her return. Enraged beyond reason, George Darling could do nothing but smile and accept the ruling despite its unjust nature, in his estimation. Mary Darling viewed the event of her daughter running away as both a blessing and a curse. She now had to bear the brunt of her husband displeasure and was seriously considering leaving him and taking the boys, only the very real threat that George would take the boys from her, as was hit right, kept her under his roof. For her daughter she felt only relief that she no longer had to bear the indignity of having her husband prefer her offspring to herself. It also got rid of a potential embarrassment if the truth of the shocking events that had taken place in that house over the years ever came to light.
John and Michael were only told that Wendy had gone away and they mourned her sincerely, having no real knowledge or understanding of her duel role within the household.
Wendy's disappearance caused no more disturbance to the society at large than a flower dropping from its stem.
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A hand on her shoulder shook her roughly and her eyes flew open. Peter stood beside the bed, his hands on his hips, regarding her with a scowl marring his handsome face.
"I brought you food. It's time to eat."
Not waiting for an answer he spun on his heel and made his way to the table, the room much brighter than before with several lamps lit around the walls and the candles on the table providing extra light. As she sat up she saw that the table surface was almost covered in an array of food that took her breath away. In anticipation her stomach growled loudly and she blushed, standing up and fussing with her skirt to hide her embarrassment. Peter appeared not to notice and was busy filling a misshapen jug with water before finding a space for it on the crowded table and setting it down. He glanced up and saw her still standing beside the bed, her head down bent.
"What are you waiting for, get over here?"
Nervously she walked slowly over to the table and pulled out one of the chairs as Peter took another at the head of the table. He was still dressed in the clothes he'd worn before and she stared in fascination at the play of his sun brown skin over well defined arm muscles, the armbands accentuating every flex and pull. She was quite lost in her fascination and didn't see the smugly satisfied look that crossed Peter's face before he hid it behind a mouthful of melon, the juice dripping down his chin in sticky trails. Seeing her still staring rather blankly at him, he deliberately banged his knife hilt on the wooden table top, making her jump and focus her attention on him.
"Eat!" He commanded and was pleased to see her reach for a piece of fruit, her fingers closing over it, testing it for ripeness. Satisfied that it was ready to eat, she looked around for something to cut it open and was surprised when Peter held out his knife, hilt first, for her to use. She took it and held it in her hand a moment, looking up at him shyly and with a little consternation.
"Aren't you afraid I might use this....against you?"
Peter almost choked and let go a bark of laughter. "You can try."
Slightly miffed at his instant dismissal of her as a threat, she pared the peach with delicate precision before slicing it into neat wedges. Peter watched her with curiosity and a hint of amusement, discarding the melon skin over his shoulder before leaning across to grab the same fruit that Wendy had. With blatant disregard, he bit into it with a will, juice spurting as he munched the tender flesh. Wendy ignored his boorish behavior and picked up each of her fruit wedges and ate them in a ladylike fashion, careful not to drip juice on her shirt.
"If that's how you eat everything, its no wonder you're so skinny!"
"And it's plain to see you, from the way you eat, that you have never moved in civilized society."
"From what I saw, your society is about as civilized as a pack of wolves devouring a fawn." Peter retorted, throwing a pip over his shoulder.
Wendy trembled inwardly, sure that her pert answer would result in a blow or some other retribution. To her surprise Peter just kept eating, his eyes watching her, like a cat watching a mouse, unnerving her.
"From the way you dress, I supposed you to be a native of the America's...a red skin I think they're called. But you're the wrong colour, according to the pictures I've seen in the Strand Magazine."
"I'm not a redskin....but these were a gift from one." He glanced down at the beaded waistcoat before reaching for another fruit, this time an apple. He put his hand out, asking for the knife, and after a brief hesitation, Wendy placed it on his palm.
"Are we in America then?"
"No." He answered unhelpfully, biting deeply into the apple.
"And we're not in London?"
"No." He saw her frown and had to fight to suppress the smile begging to be released.
"Am I a prisoner?"
"No."
"So I can go home?" Wendy's face lit up for a brief moment, but then she saw the frown pulling his brows together.
"No." Peter told her unequivocally. "You can never go home again."
Wendy felt tears well up and she turned her face away. "Why can't I go home? Am I to be kept here in this...burrow forever?" She closed her eyes as the tears started to fall, her chest tight with suppressed sobs.
She didn't hear him move but he was suddenly there, crouched beside her chair, his hands on her arms pulling her around to face him, his eyes staring fiercely into her own. She noted that they were a bluey green, the lashes as dark as his brows.
"You are here because I wanted you here and because you couldn't stay where you were."
"You-you kidnapped me...and took me away without any consideration for my family or....or me...." She suddenly found herself shaken hard until she thought her teeth would come loose.
"Your family couldn't care less about you...if they did, would they have let him do what he was doing to you?"
"What do you know? He's my Father, he loves me...."
"He used you! He gave you to those men to use...that's not love!"
"And you are any better? You look like a savage....dressed in your barbaric skins! You're just the same....you want to use me too...don't you!" She found herself suddenly released, Peter standing up to tower over her, his fists clenched at his side as he seethed. She thought him a savage, well so be it.
"You think me a savage." He ground out, reaching for her and pulling her out of her chair. "Then I'll treat you like the savage you expect."
Dragging her behind him he made for the bed, Wendy hanging back, too shocked at first to resist. When it became clear what he intended she started to claw at his hand, raking his arm with her nails. Spinning back he bent over and caught her in the middle with his hard shoulder, Wendy bending over him in surprise as he straightened up. With his arm around her thrashing legs he turned once more and headed for the bed, Wendy beating at his back with her fists as she hung head down over his shoulder.
Before she had time to catch her breath he had flipped over and laid her none too gently on the bed, her hair covering her face as she lay panting. She felt his fingers at her hip, undoing the knot that secured her skirt. Realizing his intent she kicked out, connecting with a some part of his body making him grunt, her ankle caught in iron fingers that held it still as she thrashed.
"Hell cat!" Peter swore, capturing the other leg and dragging her towards him, imprisoning her legs between his own. With his hands free he pinned her wrists to the bed and stared down at her as she lay panting against the wolf skins. His anger couldn't dull his admiration for the way she fought, her spirit unbroken by the men who had used her so selfishly. Holding her two hands with one of his, he returned to attack the knot holding the fabric together about her waist. Easily undoing it, he pulled the cloth from under her and tossed it away, now just faced with the ridiculously long shirt.
"I'll never forgive you if you rape me..." Wendy gasped, her body as taut as a bowstring as he shifted her further up on the bed, her legs suddenly free. Twisting she tried to free herself but instead only allowed the shirt to ride up her thighs almost exposing herself. Frantic she twisted her head to clear the hair almost blinding her, her view of Peter obscured by the thick strands. She could feel his fingers gripping her wrists, but she wasn't sure of what else he was doing, his thighs no longer trapping her legs, his weight lifted off her. Before she could deduce his purpose his body was once more pinning her to the bed, her legs either side of his hips, his free hand sliding between her thighs and delving among her soft folds, a finger finding its way inside her and making her gasp, her heels scrabbling against the furs to push herself away from the intruding digit. Uselessly she twisted her head, arching her back to retreat, his fingers stroking her relentlessly, both inside and outside. Her senses, so focused on what he had been doing, suddenly registered that her thighs were wrapped around his hips and that they were touching skin to skin, Peter having got rid of the legging.
"Oh God....you're naked!" She gasped, still fighting to free her vision from her smothering hair.
"You only just noticed that....not very observant are you?" The fingers between her legs were suddenly withdrawn and she almost groaned in frustration.
His mocking voice made her blush hotly, her mouth opening on a retort just as his body invaded hers, his hot flesh filling her and stretching her and setting tremors rippling down her thighs and across her belly.
Abruptly he let go of her wrists but she remained as she was, her hands above her head, her legs wrapped around his waist, his sex firmly seated to the hilt inside her, heat blossoming outward from where they were joined. As she lay panting, her body pulsating in time with her heart, she felt his fingers gently pulling the hair away from her face, the strands tugging at her eyelashes as she kept her eyes closed until the last tickling thread was smoothed away. Apart from seating his hot hardness inside her, he hadn't moved, his body braced on one hand over her as his other started to unbutton the shirt, making short work of the small impediments and pushing the white cotton out of the way to fully expose her body to his gaze.
As he continued to remain still, she risked peeping at him through her lashes, her eyes opening fully when she realised he was waiting for her to look at him.
"There you are...I wondered how long you'd last before giving in to temptation."
Unable to tear her eyes away, she stared up at him in bemused wonder as he started to move within her, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, equally slowly, teasing her with each stroke, their bodies only touching where they were joined, his eyes holding hers, looking for something, waiting for something. The tension started to leech out of her body, her arms and shoulders sinking into the furs, her legs losing their hardness as she unconsciously started to move with him, melding them more closely as he thrust slowly into and out of her body. Her breathing started to become uneven as a previously unknown sensation started to coil in her belly, tingles running up and down her legs making her grip his sides, pulling him in more tightly with each inward stroke. Suddenly he stopped moving and she almost moaned at the loss of sensation, her inner walls clenching around him, willing him to move.
"Patience....there's no hurry." He murmured, bending his elbows to lower his head to her torso. As if knowing that any roughness on his behalf would break the unbearably sweet tension holding her in thrall, he slowly lowered his head and just licked the hard pebbled nipple of one breast, his eyes flicking up to gauge her reaction. Seeing her half closed eyes watching him, her lips parted, he stretched out his tongue and licked her again, swirling the tip around the darkened skin surrounding the nipple. Keeping the pressure light, he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin and kissed it, his lips brushing over the tiny blue veins visible beneath the surface, a sudden indrawn breath raising the soft mound to press against his lips. Moving to the left he placed a kiss on the skin between, the faint pulse of her heartbeat plainly visible, his lips warm against her skin, raising goose bumps.
He started to move within her again and she couldn't suppress a moan, her eyes shutting as all her sense focused on the heat coiling in her womb, the muscles of her belly trembling as she wrapped her legs around his hips again and held him close.
His restraint was being tested to the limits, his brow beading with sweat as he tried to prolong her pleasure, sure in the knowledge that no one had ever truly made love to her before him, her body only ever used for sex with no feelings engaged on either side. His muscles bunched as he drove himself repeatedly into her heated core, her muscles clenching around him, her heels digging into his buttocks as she urged him on, the air filled with the wet slap of flesh against flesh, of urgent gasps and frantic panting. Wendy's fingers were digging into the wolf pelts beside her head, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a grimace as she strived to reach her peak, her muscles as tight as bow strings, coiling and clenching until suddenly she was there, shuddering beneath him, her mouth wide open, keening as her body convulsed, her inner muscles clamping down on his sex as she rode out her climax, her back arching upwards and then relaxing. Panting, she blinked open her eyes and stared languidly up at him, her soft mouth curving into the hint of a smile as he remained buried in her, his body thrumming with its need to complete the race, vibrating like a bow string as he braced himself above her.
Fiercely resisting the urge to slam himself into her, he lowered himself until he was resting on his elbows either side of her head, practically nose to nose with her.
"I'm going to kiss you now." He whispered, seeing her eyes widen a second before his mouth fastened on her, his tongue sweeping past her lips to dive into the softness beyond, tangling with her own, inviting it to dance with his, his body moving as his tongue mimicked his lower body, thrusting into her mouth again and again.
He had been near to the brink before he stopped so it didn't take him long to reach his own climax, his mouth still on hers as his buttocks bucked forward, burying himself inside her and releasing his seed deep within her body. He shook against her, breath leaving his mouth in sharp grunts as he shuddered and jerked, sweat plastering the curls to his forehead as his head dropped to lay beside hers on the furs.
With his heart thumping in his chest he raised his heavy head to look down at Wendy, her own eyes closed.
"Do you forgive me now?"
"Forgive you?" Wendy's voice was a mere thread, her internal muscles still spasming intermittently around his softening sex.
"For raping you."
He almost laughed out loud at her puzzled expression, her eyes flying open to stare up at him. "Rape?"
"I didn't think so." With a small grunt he drew himself out of her, Wendy moaning faintly at the loss of his heat and weight. Lifting himself off, he rolled to the side and lay gratefully on his back, boneless with satisfaction. She had been all he'd ever expected and more.
For Wendy it had been a revelation, her body responding in ways she'd never known before, all apprehension at the start washed away as he slowly built up the excitement, the tension almost unbearable as she strived for something just beyond her reach, and then she was there, splintering into quivering shards, stars igniting behind her closed eyes as she floated weightless before plummeting to earth again to lay trembling and breathless.
Turning her head she stared at Peter's profile, the strong line of his jaw, a single bead of sweat snaking into his hair line, his chest rising and falling, the skin stretched tight over his ribs, a pulse beating strongly in his neck. Before she could look away he turned his head and caught her staring.
"Still want to go back to the way it was before?" Almost at once he wished the question unasked, Wendy's eyes turning a deeper blue with pain before she turned her head away.
Not prepared to let her retreat into herself again he rolled onto his side and propped himself on his elbow, his free hand darting out to grip her chin and force her head back so that she faced him again.
"Don't run away....face what you know to be true. I can give you everything you've ever wanted, make you forget the hurts of the past and give you a chance to start again...with me."
"As your bed mate." Wendy spat, her voice shaking. "How does that make it any different?"
"Because I can make you enjoy it, despite your best intentions. You did, didn't you?"
Wendy stared up at him mutinously for a second before lowering her lashes, missing the look of triumph that crossed his face.
"Yes."
"And you will every time....." Lowering his head he pressed his lips to hers, not using his tongue but just moving over them, willing her to respond. At first she remained still, her lips firm but unyielding, resisting his invitation. But Peter persisted and he was rewarded with her mouth opening without him forcing it, her lips softening and moving against his, his fingers able to release her chin and Wendy staying still, returning his kiss of her own free will. Keeping the kiss soft, he let her take the initiative, her tentative exploration sweeter for her giving it freely. As the kiss progressed he felt a hesitant touch against the side of his face, her hand brushing lightly against his cheek.
Raising his head he broke the kiss and gazed down at her wide blue eyes.
"That wasn't so hard." He felt her fingers fall away from his face, missing their touch at once. "Touch me again." He ordered, seeing her eyes flicker for second in indecision before her hand once more reached up and laid itself against his cheek, the pads of her fingertips brushing over the soft bristles starting to emerge from his skin. Feeling a surge of triumph he suddenly smiled, the look transforming his features, revealing the dimples beside the corners of his mouth, his eyes crinkling at the corners and making him even more irresistible, Wendy falling under his spell harder with each passing moment.
"How would you like to see outside this gloomy burrow...see the world you now are a part of, my world?"
Slowly Wendy nodded her head, still in awe at the power of his smile, her fingers falling away from his face as he pulled back, rolling off the bed and starting to pull on his leggings. Wendy quickly sat up and did up the buttons of her shirt, sliding off the bed once she was done and finding the length of fabric she was using for a skirt. With that knotted tightly around her waist she stood ready, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear as Peter rummaged in one of the chests. As she waited she wondered at her sudden complaisancy, all her anger and despair melted away in the heat of their coming together, his tenderness and forbearance undermining her will to fight him, to demand to be taken home. His smile had rocked her foundations, sending her heart spinning as an unknown force spread warmth all through her, spreading from her core, radiating out to her toes and finger tips like fire. Having never felt it before she had no name for it, except to associate it with that devastating smile and hope that sometime he'll bestow its gift on her again.
Peter was beckoning to her to stand near the center of the room. "Come...time we did some exploring."
Unsure of what to expect, she was surprised when Peter put his arm about her and held her close to his side.
"Ready?" He asked, sending her a carefree grin which she answered with a tentative curving of her lips.
"I suppose so...."
"Then hold on tight." With an explosion of bunched muscles, Peter shot straight up, Wendy shrieking and clutching him tightly about the neck as they rocketed through the concealed trapdoor and into the air outside, the change from dark to light making them both blink for a few seconds while Peter slowed their ascent then let them hover among the canopy of trees bordering the grassy glade hiding his home.
"Welcome to Neverland."
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Chapter: Four - Their Life Together
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Wendy sat in the shade and let the sand run through her fingers, its cool silk tickling her skin as she lifted another handful and let it drift out of her grip. She was sitting in the shade of a palm tree, its broad fronds casting stripes over the beach, the light breeze barely stirring her hair as she stared out at the water lapping the sloping shore, the hiss and rattled of the waves a sound she was rapidly becoming accustomed to. The sun sparkled off the surface and dazzled her eyes, her hand coming up to shade them before trying to spot any disturbance in the water. Peter was out there somewhere and she hadn't seen him surface in some time. Dusting off her hands she rose to her feet, digging her toes into the sand, hesitating before leaving her shady spot to go in search of him.
His world was proving to be both bewildering and delightful. Nothing in her life in London had prepared her for the jungle paradise she now found herself in. Sooty streets and noisome alleyways couldn't hope to compare with verdant green jungle and clean, sunlit infused air populated with exotic bird life together with deserted stretches of untouched beaches. Peter had tried to give her an aerial view of his island home until he realised that Wendy had shut her eyes soon after they flew above the tree tops, her body rigid with fear, her fingers so tightly attached to his shirt he had to prise her free when they finally landed. When he brought them back to earth she was trembling uncontrollably, her teeth chattering in a body grown cold with terror. He'd forgotten that Wendy had been unconscious for her trip to Neverland, that his precipitous expulsion from the underground burrow, done more to impress than for any consideration of her feelings, was her first experience of what he took for granted. The thought that she might have a fear of heights had never once crossed his mind, her reactions filling him with a brief sense of shame for frightening her so badly.
But Wendy was resilient and she soon recovered, Peter keeping their exploration of the island to those attractions found within walking distance of the burrow, the beach being one of those.
Once he'd set her on her feet he hadn't touched her again, leading the way to the beach, telling her about places they would visit, but not taking her hand or attempting to kiss her again.
They had reached the sandy shore and Peter had instantly started to shed his clothes, one foot lifted before he noticed that Wendy was not doing the same.
"Don't you want to have a swim?"
Not looking at him, Wendy stared up the beach. "I don't know how to swim."
"Oh.....well I do....don't wander off."
Hopping on one leg he pulled off his leggings, the beaded waistcoat already laying in a crumpled heap on the hot sand. Tugging his leg free he tossed the trousers down and loped off towards the water's edge. Wendy walked over towards a shady spot and watched as Peter dived into the water, his long golden body slicing through the waves until he ducked out of sight underwater.
She had studiously ignored the sight of his body, fixing her gaze on the headland rising to her left while he stripped then watching him from the corner of her eye as his suntanned back was turned to her and he left for his swim. Admiring the play of muscles as he flexed his arms, she made her way to the palm tree and sat down, tucking her legs underneath her and trying to sort out her conflicted emotions without the distraction of his physical presence.
For a distraction he certainly was. Admittedly her knowledge of men was limited to her father and brothers and more recently the men her father had given her to. But none of them could she imagine let loose in this tropical paradise and look so at home. Peter's barbaric splendor was created for this island, making her wonder how she fitted into the picture. Was she just a temporary diversion? A passing fancy to be discarded, returned to her own world when he grew bored with her? Could she return to her own world after tasting paradise? Peter seemed so sure that she would never return to London and her family, and if she was completely honest, she didn't want to return. But once he grew tired of her, as he surely would in time, where would she go? Could she live on this strange island for the rest of her life? Would he let her stay?
All these thoughts whirled through her head at a dizzying rate, the sand running through her fingers as she lost herself in her thoughts.
Now she stood, her eyes shaded, staring out at the breaking waves and wondering where Peter had disappeared to.
She suddenly saw what she thought was a head appear out of the water, followed in quick succession by several more, all of them too far away to make out features. As she strained to see better another head joined them and she saw the sun glint of golden hair, the newcomer obviously Peter. The darker heads instantly converged on him, surrounding him and circling, dark arms lifting out of the water, reaching for him before swinging away to swirl around him again. It was as if they were dancing.
Slowly she made her way down to the waters edge for a closer view, the sun reflecting off the ocean making her squint as she tried to see what was happening. One of the darker heads was suddenly very close to Peter's, long arms appearing out of the water and wrapping around his neck in what was obviously an embrace. The other heads continued to circle the pair at their center and then they all disappeared from view, leaving just the dark and light head still close together. Suddenly bodies were leaping out of the water, arcing gracefully, skin glistening with water, tails slapping the water noisily before they sand below the surface.
Even from the shore it was easy to make out the long dark hair above the blatantly female forms gambolling in and out of the water, their fish scale tails flashing as they danced among the waves. And still the dark head and light head remained locked together.
Feeling as if she was in a dream, Wendy back away from the water's edge and turned her back on the scene, her mind struggling to grasp the fact she had just seen what appeared to be mermaids cavorting in the water, alongside the unmistakable fact that one of them appeared to be embracing Peter with some enthusiasm.
Unable to sort out the conflicting emotions of hurt, embarrassment and shock at finding mythical creatures suddenly very much alive, Wendy retreated to her shady haven and drew her knees up, staring out at the blue water stretching endlessly to the horizon, studiously avoiding the area of water that had previously claimed her attention.
She stared so hard she must have gone into a trance, because when Peter emerged from the water she didn't notice until he stood over her, his shadow adding to the palm trees, water dripping off him and splattering the pristine sand.
With a start Wendy felt a drop of water land on her arm, sliding down her skin leaving a cool trail behind.
"You should have come in.....the water's very refreshing."
Not raising her eyes above his knees, Wendy swallowed before speaking.
"Did you enjoy your swim?"
Peter stared down at her, his eyes narrowing at her strangely disinterested tone.
"Very much.....what's the matter with you?"
Turning her head away to stare down the beach Wendy only shrugged and didn't answer.
"Come on....come and have a paddle at least...it'll cool you down."
He held out his hand but Wendy ignored it, tucking her skirt more tightly about her knees, not meeting his eyes.
"No thank you." She tugged over his leggings and held them out to him. "Don't you think you should get dressed."
"No." Snatching the deerskins out of her hands he dropped them back on the sand. "I like being naked."
"So I noticed." Wendy affected a bored voice and continued her perusal of the view.
Irritated by her manner, Peter stood with his hands on his hips and glowered down at her. Water dripped into his eyes and he shook himself, water showering in all directions, liberally coating Wendy who held up her hands to shield her face and snorted in disgust.
"Good grief, you're worse than a dog!"
"Better get out of those wet clothes then!" Peter retorted, bending down to grab her by the arms and haul her to her feet. Wendy instantly froze before struggling to free herself from his iron grip.
"Let me go!"
"No....get out of those clothes and come for a swim."
"I told you, cloth ears, I can't swim!" Wendy continued to struggle, sweat starting to bead her forehead as Peter remained unmoved.
"I'll teach you."
"I don't want you to teach me anything....leave me alone!" Fighting in earnest, Wendy kicked at him with her bare feet, leaving little impression on his shins. Angry now, Peter spun her around so that her back was to his front, one arm pinning her arms as his free hand worried the knot of her skirt. With that undone he let it fall to the sand before starting on the buttons. Wendy tried to bat his hands away but couldn't move, her feet unable to kick him as they shuffled in the sand, his fingers inexorably undoing the shirt. With the buttons undone Peter let her go, grabbing one sleeve and tugging hard, spinning Wendy around and pulling the shirt off at the same time, flinging it away to land near his own clothes. Now she stood as naked as he, her long hair doing an inadequate job of covering her.
"That's better.....now stop being silly and let me teach you to swim."
Feeling incredibly vulnerable, naked and outside, Wendy tried to cover herself with her hands. "Leave me alone...I don't want to swim...I don't want you to touch me!" She screamed.
Ignoring her protests, Peter scooped her into his arms and turned to walk down the beach towards the water. Wendy wriggled in his arms like an eel, half blinded by her hair and the tears just starting to flood her eyes at her humiliation.
"I'll touch you if and when I damn well want to...and you'll learn what I damn well want to teach you!" Peter told her, reaching the water and starting to wade in, the waves splashing against his legs and soaking Wendy's back and bottom, making her shriek at the feel of the cool water on her heated body.
Wendy tried to scramble up him to get out of the reach of the waves but Peter instead dropped her legs so she found herself immersed to the top of her thighs in the sea but still held tightly against his body. She put out a hand against his chest and almost cried out as the heat from his skin seared her. He was pulling her further out and she couldn't stop him, the water reaching her waist and then her ribs, her hair starting to float on the surface with each wave that rolled past.
Panic made her continue to struggle, Peter's hand clamped around her wrist like manacle, the water now up to her breasts, gooseflesh starting out on her skin as she felt her feet start to lose their grip on the sandy bottom as her buoyancy fought with her need to stay grounded.
"Please....please let me go......please!" Scrabbling at his fingers encasing her wrist, Wendy tugged and pulled, glancing urgently over her shoulder at receding shoreline, water starting to splash up into her face making her splutter.
Satisfied at last with the depth of the water, Peter gathered her against him, their bodies pressed close together. Peter could feel the hard points of her breasts against his chest and the silky feel of her body and limbs brushing against his body, the sensations bringing parts of his body to rigid attention, his hard flesh trapped against her soft belly when he pulled her close.
Wendy clutched at his arms, the action of the waves pushing and pulling them together then apart, rubbing them up against each other, distracting her from her fear. She could feel the hard jut of his cock against her stomach, the heat radiating outwards and filling her with an urgency she had no idea how to fulfill.
"Look at me...." Peter ordered her, her wide eyed skittering gaze finally coming to rest as she focused on his face. "That's better...there's nothing to fear...I've got you..just relax and let the water support you."
His hands were splayed across her back, one on her shoulder blades the other cupping her bottom, holding her firmly against his arousal as the water moved them against each other.
"Put your hands on my shoulders...." Peter instructed her thickly, his heart starting to pound as she complied, her breasts moving against his chest and teasing his own nipples against her skin.
"I'm afraid..." Wendy whispered, her eyes pinned by his as his hands positioned themselves on her buttocks, shifting her against him.
"Don't be." He murmured back, dipping his head to find her mouth, at the same time using his hands to lift her thighs and wrap her legs around his hips. "Just let the water hold you.....let me hold you..."
With her legs now holding her on his hips, Peter used a hand to free himself from between their bodies, positioning himself hot and hard against her entrance. Returning to grip her bottom , he pulled her in and speared himself inside her, Wendy's gasp of possession swallowed by his mouth as he seated himself fulling, filling her body with hardness and heat in direct contrast with the cool water surrounding them.
The waves jostled them, providing a delightful friction as Wendy rose up only to sink back down, Peter braced against the sandy bottom as he thrust upwards to meet each movement.
With the sun warming her back Wendy wrapped her arms about his neck and rode the waves, forgetting her fear of water, forgetting the mermaid's she'd seen before, forgetting everything in the feel of him inside her, moving against her with the rhythm of the water.
It was very pleasant holding a wet, naked girl in his arms, but he couldn't get any leverage and the teasing was driving him mad. Turning towards the shore he started to wade in, all thought of swimming lessons forgotten, Wendy still firmly seated upon his flesh, the taste of salt on his tongue as he swept his lips over her neck and shoulders, his arms wrapped tightly around her middle.
As the water receded, gravity started to pull, Wendy tightening her grip with her legs about his waist, Peter holding her plastered to his chest. Unable to move either in or out, Peter gritted his teeth and told Wendy to lower her legs. Slowly she did so, Peter slipping out of her as she pulled away. Not releasing her entirely, he started to wade out of the water, running when it got shallow enough, dragging Wendy behind him. At the top of the beach he spun them both around and tumbled to the grassy bank above the high water mark, Wendy finding herself wrapped in his arms and legs, his still proud sex stabbing her insistently.
Impatiently he turned them both on their sides, hooking Wendy's leg up and over his hip, his own thrusting forward to bury himself back inside her, rolling so that she now sat straddling his pelvis, impaled on him to the hilt.
Wendy braced herself with her hands on his chest and stared down into his face, her body prickling with awareness as he shifted beneath her, bucking upwards and forcing her to rise on her knees. Biting her bottom lip she lowered herself on to him, seeing a look of bliss pull the grin over his lips, his eyes half closing as he let her do the work, her knees lifting her up almost until he left her, then lowering herself once more, encasing him in her body with tormenting slowness.
"You're a witch to torture me so...but what sweet torture!" Peter groaned, his hands resting only lightly on her hips as she continued to ride him, her back arching so that her wet hair swept his legs as she flexed her pelvis, grinding herself against him. Peter endured several pleasurable minutes of the torment, liking the view of her supple body swaying above him, her breasts high and proud, rosy tipped. Heat started to coil in his belly so he reared up, tipping Wendy on to her side before rolling her onto her back, his sex still seated within her. Braced on his hands on the short turf beside her head he started thrust more vigorously, Wendy moaning faintly as he strained against her. Her hands wrapped around his wrists to stop her body being jolting, giving her leverage against him, both of them racing the other, faces tense with lips pulled back as the pleasure grew, spiraling ever upwards, dragging them both towards the inevitable.
"Forget them Wendy......forget them all......." Peter's guttural whisper was all she needed to push her over, her body shuddering in her release, Peter's shout following her over the edge, his last forceful penetration melding them together with sweat and sea salt.
Boneless, Peter rested on one elbow, his head bowed to Wendy's breast, his heart hammering in his chest as he recovered. Below him Wendy lay relaxed and limp, her chest heaving as she slowly relaxed her thighs and released her grip on his hips.
Feeling himself soften, he pulled out and flopped onto the grass on his back, the short blades prickling his sweaty skin as he shifted. Wendy lay splayed beside him, uncaring now of her naked state or wanton exposure.
"I'm surprised you had the energy for that...you are remarkable." Wendy panted, easing herself onto her side, her back turned to him.
At first he didn't react, still recovering from his exertions, then her words penetrated and he turned his head to frown at her.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that I am impressed by your stamina.....not many men could perform after so short a respite. It's a compliment."
Feeling drained, Wendy pulled herself upright and sat on the sand, staring out at the waves, her arms wrapped around her knees. Peter looked at her back and wondered what maggot was turning in her brain.
"I have no idea what you think you're alluding to...if you have something to say, spit it out."
"I saw you....out there.......with those.....creatures."
"The mermaids? So what."
"Nothing...nothing at all....I'm tired, I want to go home."
Getting to her feet she walked over to the discarded clothes and pulled on the shirt. She had only fastened two of the buttons when she felt Peter behind her, his hands fastening on her shoulders to turn her about. Keeping her eyes downcast she waited for him to speak, a faint tremor shaking her body. Peter regarded her submissive attitude with some irritation, his body still pleasantly buzzing from their vigorous love making.
"What is this about?"
"Nothing......can I go home now?"
"Not until you tell me what's making you sulk."
Glaring up at him, Wendy shrugged his hands off her shoulders and stepped back. "I'm not sulking.....I just didn't realise that I'd be sharing your services with a host of mythical mermaids...are there other creatures I should know about? I'd hate to walk in on you taking your pleasure with a unicorn or maybe a dragon!"
"I don't fuck animals...." Peter retorted, amused by her childish anger.
"What's a mermaid then? A fish?"
"This is ridiculous.....you have no need to be jealous....." He reached for her again but she twisted out of his reach, her face flushed with indignation.
"Jealous! Of a fish? I don't care who or what you choose to have....sex with...!"
"I think you do, you silly chit....otherwise you wouldn't be so jealous!" Peter laughed, snagging his clothes and pulling on his leggings.
Incensed, Wendy waited for Peter to lift one leg up to pull on his pants before lunging at him, knocking him flat on his back in the sand. Horrified at her own audacity, Wendy snatched up her skirt and darted across the green sward and into the dark shadows of the jungle bordering the beach. Fearful of punishment she ran on, leaping over fallen trees and dodging around tree trunks, her wet hair slapping at her shoulders as she sprinted further into the thick vegetation. After only a few minutes she had to slow, a stitch creasing her side, her lungs heaving as she tried to draw breath. Seeing a thicket off to the side she limped towards it, clutching at her sore side, and sank down into the leafy loam, crawling under the overhanging branches and laying on her side. Hidden within the greenery she recovered her breath, the stitch slowly loosening its painful grip as she started to relax. Her heart had finally slowed its hammering pace when she saw movement beyond the curtain of leaves sheltering her hiding place. Peter had entered the tiny, his head lifting to sniff the air like a wolf after its prey. He crouched down on his haunches, the long ponytail at his back falling forward, checking the ground for signs of her passage. Holding her breath, Wendy remained motionless, invisible behind the screen of shrubbery, she watched as he rose to his full height, his head turning as he searched the undergrowth. A noise off to his right drew his attention and he instantly tensed, drawing the knife from his belt and advancing beyond her line of sight into the surrounding jungle.
As quietly as possible she let go the breath she'd been holding, her body relaxing back into the mattress of leaves, content for the moment to remain hidden.
She dozed, overcome by her exertions, the sound of insects lulling her into a deep sleep that lasted for most of the afternoon, her eyes opening to find long shadows covering the forest floor, the sun no longer high enough to penetrate the dense canopy. The distant call of a bird jerked her fully awake, its shrill scream making her tremble as she contemplated what she was going to do next. She wondered briefly if Peter was still looking for her, a chill running down her back as she thought of how angry he'd be when he finally found her, which she knew was all too possible. This was his world, his island, she had no idea where to go or where to hide, her capture inevitable.
Crawling out of the bush, she stood up and secured the skirt around her waist, knotting it tightly. Looking around she saw a narrow path leading off in the direction directly opposite to the one Peter had taken. Tilting her chin, she started along the faint track, not allowing herself to give in to fear, her bare feet noiseless on the soft earth. The path wound around and through the forest of trees, the shafts of sunlight becoming fainter and fainter as the sun sank lower in the sky, casting the shadows below the canopy into a greenish gloom. Feeling chilled she wrapped her arms about her body and tried to hurry, jogging along the rabbit track between the trees, racing the sun to find somewhere to spend the night. Her stomach was starting to rumble, her last meal several hours before, and her mouth was dry with fear and lack of water. As if conjured from her desires, a small stream cut across the path she was following, Wendy falling to her knees to scoop the clear water into her mouth. Her thirst relieved, she scrambled to her feet and jumped the stream, still following the path that seemed to be getting wider the further she traveled. On one side of the path she saw some bushes that seemed laden with berries, her mouth watering as she sniffed the plump fruit, plucking it off the stalks and tentatively tasting a small amount. Finding it very sweet and juicy, she picked a handful, cramming them into her mouth and munching happily. After eating a couple of handfuls she used the edge of her shirt to gather another handful to take with her. Her hunger and thirst satisfied, Wendy almost skipped along the darkening trail, a smile lifting her lips as she dodged around a tree. Suddenly the ground erupted around her and a net sprung up, smothering her in its folds and gathering her up, suspending her high above the trail, dirt, leaves and berries raining down as she struggled against the enveloping ropes.
Slowly the net swung and twisted, Wendy trapped as securely as a codfish, her body folded at the waist with her feet almost above her head. Wriggling and squirming she managed to get her feet under herself and sat up, the coarse rope rough against her legs. She hung, swinging back and forth, from a rope tied to a stout branch twenty feet off the ground. Every time she tried to stand the net swung wildly and she lost her footing, almost crying in her frustration when she failed, the sun finally setting and plunging the forest into darkness.
Tired from struggling, Wendy settled herself as comfortably as she could and tried not to think about who had set the net, or what they expected to catch in it.
She dozed, starting awake whenever a night creature screamed in the darkness, her nerves jumping with each cry and rustle from the undergrowth around the tree. One time when she awoke she thought she was dreaming, pin points of light darting among the branches above her, the fireflies dancing among the leaves before swooping down and around her prison. She watched them through the thick rope of the net and marveled as they fluttered around her, their wings glowing brightly in the night air. Never having seen a firefly, Wendy didn't realise that she was actually watching a cloud of fairies, the tiny creatures keeping well away from the net and its occupant, flitting about the trap warily before gathering together and flying away, leaving Wendy once more in darkness.
Closing her eyes she drifted into another doze, the swaying of the net lulling her to sleep. Jerking awake some hours later she heard voices and could see lights bobbing among the trees. At once hopeful, and fearful, Wendy remained mute, watching the torches get closer by the second, the mens voices loud in the stillness of the night.
"What th' feckin' 'ell are we doing out here Cowley?"
"Ya know the answer to that....checking the trap."
"It's a feckin' joke...Pan wouldn't let 'imself get caught in that ol' chestnut."
"Maybe, maybe not...but what the Captain wants, the Captain gets."
"Feckin' 'ell these damn bugs are biting hard tonight."
"Should have listened to me then, shouldn't ya? Told you to slap some of that crap on your skin to stop the skeeters from bitin'"
"Smart shit ain't you?"
"At least I ain't getting bitten...hah!"
Wendy stared wide eyed as the men approached the swinging net, her head twisting to keep them in sight. As they emerged from the trees she saw that the two men appeared to be dressed in an odd assortment of clothes, their faces course and scared, one sporting an eye patch. Both wore an range of weapons about their bodies, a cutlass hanging from their belts and pistols across their chests.
"What the hell?" One of the men shouted, seeing the net suspended in the air. "We've caught something."
"Is it the Pan?" The other asked, waving the torch around as if expecting something to leap out of the undergrowth.
The man with the patch approached and swung the torch upwards to shine of the net. Wendy shrank back, her hand up to ward off the bright light.
"Blimey....it's a mort."
"A mort? What's a mort doing here?"
"'Ow the heck would I know....but she's hanging up there, so wondering where she came from is kinda daft."
The two men circled the net, thrusting the torches up to shed light over Wendy, their faces leering up at her.
"Pretty piece..whoever she is. Cut the rope and lets get her down."
Drawing a knife from his belt, the other man approached the tree, the net shuddering as the man cut through the rope, then Wendy was plummeting to the ground, a scream torn from her as she fell, landing heavily still entangled in the netting.
The man with the eye patch had stuck his torch in the dirt and came over to pull the netting away, his hand fastening on Wendy's arm, preventing her from struggling as her head and shoulders came free, her hair catching the torchlight with golden gleams.
"Christ Almighty, she's a right pretty piece!" The other man exclaimed, holding his torch high and staring greedily at Wendy.
Sticking his torch in the ground like his mate, the man pulled the rest of the net away from Wendy's legs, tripping her so that she sprawled at their feet, her arm still held in the grip of the man with the patch.
"What do we do with 'er now Cowley?"
"You don't ask some stupid questions. She b'aint the Pan, but I reckons the Captain will still want to talk to her."
"Talk you say.....I reckon he'll have more than talking on his mind when he gets a gander at her!" The two men laughed loudly, Wendy wincing as the man with the patch squeezed her arm.
"Reckon he'd notice if we had some fun first?" Asked the more heavily scared man, his eyes gleaming in the fitful torch light as he stared at Wendy.
"We can't leave a mark....so no rough stuff." Cowley cautioned, exchanging a look with his crew mate before they both laughed again.
"What's ya name mort?" Scar face asked, leaning forward and breathing foul fumes at Wendy who drew back in disgust.
A hand wound itself in her hair and yanked her head back, bringing tears to her eyes. "He asked you a question...what's your name?"
Mutely, Wendy shook her head, reaching up to pull at the fingers holding her hair.
"She's a mute....better and better!" The man holding her hair crowed, letting go and pushing Wendy's head down to the ground.
"But I heard her scream before, when the net dropped."
"So....she's not talking, so she must be mute...maybe someone cut out 'er tongue!" Yanking Wendy's head back, the men peered into her face, a grubby finger and thumb forcing her mouth open, making them tut in disappointment to see her healthy pink tongue still intact.
"Must be simple or sumuch. Well her body be fine and dandy, and that's all we need, ain't that right?"
Again they laughed, Cowley grinning down at Wendy, his one good eye roving over her face and body.
Scar face was already divesting himself of his weapons, dropping them carelessly to the ground in his haste, fumbling to free his belt buckle with shaking fingers.
The man holding her hair pulled Wendy up onto her knees. "Take off that shirt, let's see the good." He ordered, twisting his fist and making her yelp in pain. Unable to free herself, Wendy started to undo the buttons of her shirt, her eyes watching the man in front of her as he pulled out the belt from his trousers, slapping it against his hand and leering at Wendy.
"Shame we can't mark you....another time, me thinks."
Wendy finished unbuttoning her shirt and let her hands fall, the man behind her roughly pulling the garment off her shoulders and letting it fall down her arms, held at her wrists by the cuffs. For a moment both men just stared at her breasts, almost salivating. Finally Scarface had his trousers undone and they fell to his knees, his aroused sex bobbing as he shuffled forward, prodding his cock against Wendy's face as she turned away feeling sick.
"Open ya gob and suck it." Scarface growled, reaching down to turn Wendy's face back to the front, "and keep those sharp little teeth behind ya gums or I'll knock them down ya throat."
Behind her, Cowley grabbed her chin and held her face in place, his thumb at the corner of her mouth to hold it open as Scarface forced his stiff member into her mouth. Gagging at his rank smell, Wendy tried to force the mass out of her mouth with the tongue, twisting her head to escape but the men held her head, forcing her to accept the mans cock in her mouth, pain and terror keeping her from begging for her life. Some inate sense told her that these men would want her to beg, adding spice to their rape of her, so she remained mute, enduring the horror of her situation by blanking her mind, her eyes becoming empty as her thoughts carried her away to a place the men couldn't reach. Scarface continued to hump her face, forcing his cock past her slack lips, uncaring that his victim was not longer aware of his violation. Cowley, feeling his own need pressing against his trousers, knelt down behind Wendy, his hand still holding her head in place even as his other hand groped her breasts, squeezing the tender flesh as he kissed and slobbered over her neck and shoulders, nipping the pale flesh with his teeth while his fingers pinched and tweaked the hard nipples cresting her breasts. Wendy had her hands braced against the man in front, her fingers splayed over his thighs to stop him forcing all of his sex into her throat, choking her. Behind her, the man with one eye was tearing at the cloth covering her bottom, ripping the makeshift skirt away. Abandoning his hold on her head he used both hands to fondle her bottom, forcing her legs apart to dip his hand between her thighs.
"Oh my gawd she's wet!" He hissed, his crew mate grunting above him as he forced his cock past Wendy's lips.
Fumbling at his own trousers, Eye-patch freed his erection and shuffled forward on his knees, poking at the white flesh exposed to his gaze in the flickering light of the torches. After several abortive attempts to get his cock inside her, the man savagely pulled her off of his crew mate and threw her on her back.
"What the bloody 'ell!" Scarface shouted, finding himself exposed to the cooler night air, his ardor wilting. On the ground Cowley was forcing Wendy's legs apart, laying over her and humping his hips, forcing himself into her body with little preamble or help from his victim. Wendy lay as if dead, her eyes blank and wide, uncaring of the man grunting above her, his body hot and hard inside her, sweat dripping off his hair to splatter over her chest and face. His partner, resigned to having to wait his turn, stood next to her head, his hand fondling his sex as he watched, a leer distorting his features in the flare of the torchlight.
"Git a move on Cowley....I want's me turn...you didn't let me finish." Scarface whined, his hand moving faster as Cowley grunted and heaved, shaking Wendy's body like a terrier with a rat.
"Nearly there....nearly there..." Cowley puffed, his backside working as he strained to finish.
A sound distracted Cowley from his exertions, glancing up to see the hilt of a knife protruding from his friends chest, blood blossoming across his shirt, his eyes staring down at the blade in disbelief before rolling up into his head as he fell backwards, his cock obscenely erect but wilting even as Cowley looked on in shock. Realizing his own peril he rolled off Wendy and scrambled to his feet, tugging his trousers up while freeing a pistol and aiming at the trees beyond the torch light.
"Come out ya devil....show yaself!"
Before his horrified gaze a figure stepped out from the jungle and stood poised and lethal within the light of the torches, his bronze skin gleaming in the golden glow, his white teeth bared, death in his dark eyes.
Ignoring Wendy's pale body sprawled at his feet, Peter walked towards the one eyed pirate holding the pistol, his knuckles showing white around the hilt of his sword, the muscles of his arm flexing as he clenched his fist.
"You'd better fire that weapon, I'll not give you another chance." Peter told the pirate, advancing on the man, his sword lifting with each step.
His hand shaking, Cowley squeezed the trigger and the pistol discharged, smoke obscuring his good eye as his arm absorbed the recoil. A sharp pain in his chest made him look down to see a length of steel buried in his flesh, the smoke clearing to reveal the Pan standing an arms length away, his eyes gleaming darkly as he watched the pirate die. With a whimper the one eyed man fell backwards, sliding wetly off the blade to the ground below, the smoking pistol still clutched in his hand.
For a long moment Peter stared down at the man at his feet, blood dripping off his blade. A noise behind him made him spin about, expecting another pirate, but it was only Wendy, crawling on her belly away from the scene, retching weakly when she paused in her bid for freedom.
Dropping his sword Peter threw himself down beside her, gathering her up and into his arms. At first Wendy fought him, screaming and crying out, her nails raking his shoulders and neck until his voice seemed to penetrate her nightmare and she slumped senseless against him.
In the trees around the small scene of carnage, pin points of light started to appear, hovering in clusters as they watched Peter gently pull the remains of Wendy's shirt about her body. Laying her back down on the ground, he went to check the two men, finding them dead and cold. Stripping them of their weapons, he then stripped them of their clothes, dragging them over to the where the net lay tangled on the ground. Before bundling them into it, he cut off the pirates' genitals and stuffed them between their respective teeth, grinning to himself as he imagined Hook's reaction when he found his men trussed and stuffed.
Hoisting the net back up and tying it off, he watched it swing for a few seconds before turning his back on the dead men and kneeling down beside Wendy. He signaled to the fairies who fluttered down and gathered up all the discarded weaponry and wrapped them in a bundle using the pirates clothing. Peter knelt on the ground and stroked Wendy's hair off her face, staring at her face until the fairies approached, their task completed. Gathering up Wendy in his arms he lifted off from the ground and slowly spiraled into the dark sky, the fairies following, leaving behind an empty trail, two flaring torches still sending sparks into the night and two dead pirates swinging slowly in their own trap.
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Chapter: Five - Dealing with It
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Peter stared down at the girl on the bed and wondered at the depth of emotions coursing through him. The rage he'd felt on finding her being raped by the pirates was still burning brightly, his hand in their deaths only going part way to redress the anger seething in him. Most of his anger was directed at himself for letting her be caught in the first place, his inability to find her placing her in mortal danger. If the fairies hadn't chanced upon her in the net, she would have ended up a prisoner of Hook, her life worth no more than her ability to service him along with the rest of the crew.
He'd been blinded by anger at her tricking him, letting her get a head start on him, letting her think she had a chance to escape in the arrogant assumption that he'd find her easily. But she's eluded him somehow, disappearing without trace, his frustration growing as the hours passed and she remained missing.
When his fairy friends had found him, they'd told him of a girl caught in a net and he'd grabbed his sword and followed, thinking all the time of what he'd say to her, how he'd make the most of her humiliation. When he arrived, all those spurious thoughts were abandoned, rage burning brightly as he advanced on the men despoiling his Wendy.
If he was truthful, he'd wanted them to live a little longer so that they could be put through the pain and degradation they'd submitted their victim to, but he didn't have the time to waste on them. They were vermin, to be killed without conscience and without pity, a lesson to those that followed to tread warily in Neverland.
Shaking his head he blinked, the red mist clearing from his vision and leaving only the pitiably girl tossing restlessly on the bed before him. She had awakened briefly when they'd returned to the burrow, her fist flailing at him, her mouth open on a silent scream as she fought off her imagined attackers, quickly expending her energy and lapsing once more into oblivion. With the fairies providing light, Peter stripped her of the stained and torn shirt, bathing her pale limbs with perfumed water containing a herbal infusion to heal the small cuts and abrasions scattered over her skin. Nowhere on her body was left untouched, arnica applied to her bruises and soothing ointment applied between her legs to heal the torn skin and grazes. Her hurts attended to, he wrapped her in the softest furs before tucking her into his bed. A chittering of fairy alarm drew his attention finally to his own injury, blood darkly congealed on his arm where the bullet from the pistol had scored his skin, gouging a furrow that had bled down his arm. He acknowledged the wound with surprise having not felt it occur or notice the blood loss. Cleaning and binding it, he washed the sweat from his body, the fairies anointing his skin with a magic balm to heal him quickly.
As he lit a couple of candles the fairies started to leave, Peter glad to be left alone with his patient and his unquiet thoughts.
Wendy was stirring again and he carried a mug of Neverland's version of tea over to the bed, blowing at the steam coming off the liquid. Sitting sideways on the edge of the bed, he placed it on a side table before leaning over the girl and stroking the hair off her brow.
Wendy moaned, the cry turning into a whimper as she squirmed within the furs, fighting the confining skins, her eyes flying open to stare at nothing as she fought her dream.
"Wendy....you're safe now....wake up and see me." Peter urged her, freeing her hands but holding them safe within his own. "They can't hurt you any more....look at me...please, just look at me."
Unable to fight more than a few seconds, Wendy quickly slumped back on to the bed, her breathing labored. Her blank eyes closed and Peter thought she'd retreated once more into her dream world, but a few minutes later she once more opened her eyes and blinked at him sleepily.
"P-P-eter....where am I?"
"You're safe....safe here with me."
A winsome smile curved her generous mouth and sent a pain shooting through his chest unexpectedly.
"Did you find me then?"
Peter frowned, not sure what she was asking. "Find you?"
"The beach....I ran away and hid. But obviously you found me."
"I-I did find you....you play the game very well. It took me a long time to find your hiding place."
"I think I fell asleep.....did you carry me home?"
"Yes.....you've been asleep quite a long time."
"Are you're not cross with me for pushing you over?"
A line formed between her eyes but Peter leant down and placed a kiss there, smoothing the line out with his lips.
"Not cross....surprised that you managed to catch me off guard...but not cross."
Reaching for the mug he held it to her lips and she drank without arguing, her eyes never leaving his face as if expecting him to disappear if she once dropped her gaze from his.
"Is it night time now?"
"Yes....are you tired?"
Wendy nodded, the frown returning when she shifted under the furs.
"I feel.....sore." She announced, Peter not reacting, holding the beaker to her mouth for her to take another drink.
"Your not accustomed to running about bare foot or swimming in the sea, you're bound to be using muscles you haven't used before."
"I don't remember doing much swimming, even if you did take me into the water."
A blush suddenly surged into her face, relieving briefly the whiteness of her complexion before receding and leaving it as before.
Peter smiled down at her, thanking whatever mental process had blanked the rape from her memory.
"I'll have to teach you properly another day."
Wendy lifted her hand to stifle a yawn, her eyes already drooping. "Do you mind if I just sleep tonight...I can't remember when I last had an undisturbed night."
Peter winced inwardly, cursing her father and cursing himself for even now, wanting to deny her even one night without possessing her body and soul. Instead he smiled and put the cup on the side table. "Of course you can sleep, I won't....bother you tonight. No one will bother you."
Leaning down he pressed a chaste kiss on her lips before making to leave the bed. To his surprise a small hand clutched at his arm, stilling his move away.
"Will you....can you....stay with me....just until I go to sleep?"
For a moment he thought about refusing, unsure whether he was capable of sleeping in the same bed with her and not wanting to have her. But he only had to remember what she could not and all desire left him, his face hiding his thoughts as he turned back and stretched out beside her, pulling her, furs and all, into his arms to rest her head on his shoulder.
"Sleep, my Wendy....I'll keep you safe."
With a sigh, Wendy did just that, only the grip of her fingers on his betraying the inner turmoil of her ordeal conveniently forgotten by her traumatized memory.
As he stared at the flickering light of the candles he wondered if her memory would ever return, and what he would do if, or when it did.
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He awoke the next day to find her still cuddled into his side, her arm draped over his chest, curled trustingly against his ribs. The burrow was dark but he knew it was morning, his body urging him to get up. Easing himself out from under her arm, he went to the pot in the corner and relieved himself. That done he padded across the room to light one of the candles, the rasp of the tinderbox loud as the flint struck.
Wendy heard the sound and opened her eyes, seeing Peter's outline against the candle flame, her fingers curling into the furs still warm from his body. As Peter lit more of the lanterns she sat up, the soft wrap falling to her waist as she struggled to free herself from their enveloping folds. So intent was she on her efforts she didn't realise Peter had returned to the bed until his hands joined hers in unraveling the cover, pulling it away to expose her fully. Blushing she made to snatch a corner back to cover herself but he held them down, his eyes sweeping over her, gleaming in the half light of the lamps. Wendy held her breath, half fearful and half hopeful that he would kiss her, hoping it would be on her mouth, but not really caring as long as he touched her. Peter stared at her, one swift glance over her body showing him the shadow of bruises on her white skin, his eyes flickering before coming back to stare into hers. She looked uncertain, and something else, possibly apprehensive. Cursing inwardly he slowly backed away, letting go of the furs so that she could pull up a corner and hold it to her chest.
Wendy relaxed when he moved back, disappointment warring with relief when he turned his back and walked to the table, his shoulders tense.
"We moving house today." He announced without preamble, glancing back at her over his shoulder before moving to one of the chests and throwing back the lid.
"Moving?" Wendy repeated.
"This place isn't suitable.....not now."
"It isn't?"
He tilted his head to indicate the hidden doorway. "You can hardly expect to climb through that every time, you can't even reach it."
Wendy fiddled with the edge of the fur. She couldn't understand why he'd moved away. It was obvious from the erection clearly evident through the thin leggings that his body was more than eager to share the bed with her again, but for some reason he'd pulled away, not even kissing her despite staring at her so strangely.
"Is it because I ran away from you yesterday?" She asked, not looking up.
"No...why do you ask?"
"Then why don't you want to.....you know....with me?" She looked pointedly at his groin, before looking up into his face.
Peter looked down and felt a blush sweep over his face. He was clearly outlined underneath the deer skin, her regard making him even more prominent. In truth he wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her, to wipe out what had gone before and replace the horrible with more enjoyable memories of how it could be between them.
Unaware of his turmoil Wendy, tilted her head and smiled trustingly at him.
"I wouldn't mind......I much prefer it when we fuck, than.....those....other times....before." She lapsed into incoherence, suddenly embarrassed to refer to her former life and what she did then.
For Peter it was the last straw, his blood was thumping in his veins, his body wound as tight as a spring after holding her all night and doing nothing to alleviate the ache. She seemed to be willing, even enticing him and his own desires were rampantly agreeing with her.
Before Wendy could do more than squeak, Peter was on her, his mouth latching on hers, drawing out her soul with his ravishing lips, his fingers ripping the fur from her hands before laying her back down. His control finally snapped when her small hand crept between their bodies and cupped him through his breeches, squeezing and measuring him, making the blood surge into his sex almost painfully.
Growling, he batted her hand away and almost ripped the legging off in his haste, his hand finding her soft folds before replacing them with his hardened flesh, Wendy squirming against him, driving him wild.
The coupling was hasty but not without tenderness, Peter not entirely so lost in his passion not to remember her more recent experience. His thrusts tempered with kisses against her breasts and mouth, his hands stroking and molding her sweet flesh, bringing her quickly to her peak before tumbling over with her, shuddering and moaning together in an ecstasy of fulfillment.
Panting he lifted his head and gazed down at her flushed face, her eyes bright and adoring, her mouth swollen with his kisses.
"If I didn't know better....I'd say you wanted that as badly as I did."
"I did....I-I've decided that I think I'd like to stay here....not go home after all."
"I don't remember giving you a choice baggage?" Peter raised an eyebrow but amusement softened the words and Wendy smiled up at him.
"I can't pretend that my life.....a-at home was....was all it should have been. I knew no other....but I-I think I will not mind being you-your....." She stopped, swallowing hard.
"My what?" Peter urged, amused at her honest speech.
"Your....harlot or whore or whatever you call them." Wendy whispered, as shocked at the words as her ability to say them. Peter was silent above her and she risked looking up at him, surprising a look of pure rage in his eyes before his tamped the emotion down.
"Where did you hear those....words? Did someone call you that?"
Peter's soft question belied the force behind them. Wendy took his question at face value and answered.
"It's what you call a girl....a woman who gives herself to a man outside of marriage...isn't it?"
"Who told you that?" Peter insisted, keeping his voice low.
"My-my Father."
Lowering his head, Peter kissed her, a soft, simple embrace without the heat of passion behind it. " You are not a harlot, or a whore or any other name....you are my Wendy, my lover and Mistress of my heart. There is no other name for you." He kissed her again, this time letting some of the passion seep in. "You are mine and no body else'....this body, these lips, this heart," He kissed her between her breasts. "They all belong to me... for now and forever."
He cupped her face and fixed his fierce gaze on her. "Whatever you were before or since, you are mine now.....never think that you can run away, I will find you. If you think to share your favors with another, I will kill him and still you will be mine." He was starting to shake with the force of the words proclaiming his possession of her. Wendy stared up at him wide eyed, overwhelmed with his declaration. That he'd not mentioned love didn't unduly perturb her. She considered herself unlovable and therefore didn't expect it, but Peter's declaration of his desire for her, his intent of total possession of her, thrilled her and made her glow.
Peter hadn't realised he'd closed his eyes until the soft touch of her hand on his face jerked them open. Wendy was smiling sweetly up at him, her fingers stroking his face.
"I'll be whatever you want me to be......for as long as you want me." She declared solemnly, staring unflinchingly into his eyes.
For a moment neither moved, then Peter groaned and gathered her against him, burying his face in her neck, his formerly quiescent flesh once more hot and hard inside her. This time it was slow and sweet, both giving and receiving the tender touches and gentle strokes interspersed with ardent kisses until both shuddered and splintered before coming back down to earth. They slept then awoke, making love again and again, the morning passing into the afternoon until Peter announced that he was hungry enough to eat a whale and they decided to finally leave the bed and start finding something to make into a meal.
"I think we'll have to leave our move until tomorrow." Peter told her, grinning lopsidedly as he pulled on a fresh pair of trousers, the previous legging needing a good wash along with her shirt. Wendy had found another and pulled it on, with no little help from Peter who kept pulling up the hem to kiss and fondle parts of her body, sometimes her bottom, sometimes a rosy nipple.
"We won't ever get a meal if you don't stop this." Wendy admonished, slapping his wandering hand away again before turning back to rummage in the chest.
Peter waited for her to find a piece of material to use for a skirt before grabbing her hand and tugging her over to the stand beneath the doorway to the surface. Wendy looked up and bit her bottom lip in apprehension.
"I suppose we have to fly again?"
"I promise not to go too high this time, just enough to get us out of here."
Wrapping her arms about his neck, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited tensely for the explosion of movement that had presaged their last exit from the burrow.
She felt Peter sigh and opened her eyes one at a time. "Aren't you going to fly?"
"With you clutching me like a crab and grimacing?"
"I'm sorry......but last time...."
"Last time.....never mind last time. You can keep your eyes open and stop trying to strangle me. Relax, I promise you'll enjoy it."
Still dubious, Wendy complied, Peter looping his arm about her waist and drawing her against his side before slowly lifting off from the ground as softly as a thistle down. Apart from an initial squeak of surprise, Wendy remained relaxed in his grip, her chest heaving a little as she fought to keep herself calm.
"See, isn't this better?" Peter asked, grinning at her as they rose towards the ceiling. Lifting his arm he pushed back the trap door and they rose out of the burrow, flying up a few feet before settling down on the grass, Wendy reluctantly stepping away.
"That wasn't......frightening." She announced, blushing under his amused scrutiny.
"Do you think you could trust me to take you flying now?"
"Will you go up above the trees?" Wendy asked, glancing fearfully up at the towering canopy above their heads.
"Not at first.....come here."
Gathering her against his side again, he lifted off from the ground a few feet, letting Wendy get used to the sensation before gently flying around the glade, spiraling upwards in small degrees. At first she remained tense, not entirely trusting him not to drop her. But as time passed she found that his arm didn't tire and that the strange perspective from floating several feet of the ground had enough novelty to quell her urge to panic.
Slowly Peter increased the height until they were spiraling up above the tree tops, skimming the leaves with their feet. Wendy clutched a little tighter around his neck but, apart from a pale face, she didn't protest when Peter flew with her across the gently waving surface of the forest, the panic easing out of her the further they went.
"You'll be flying by yourself before you know it!" Peter announced, laughing when Wendy clutched at him in a sudden panic.
"Me fly? You must be joking?"
"You will.....you see."
Not giving her a chance to reply he flew onwards, taking her on a long overdue trip around his island, stopping along the way to eat, and drink and make love whenever the fancy took them.
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Chapter: Six - Living with the consequences.
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Wendy retched again into the long grass then sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She had little enough to bring up, having had no breakfast to speak of. Getting to her feet she lifted the water bottle she'd brought for the purpose and rinsed out her mouth, spitting the residue onto the grass. Corking the bottle she walked away from the shelter of the large tree and back towards the house, her feet dragging. If the signs were true then she had little time to reach a decision. Lifting her face to the bright morning sun she paused before hanging up the water bottle on a peg and entering the small house. The dwelling hardly qualified as a house compared to London standards, but by Neverland standards it was a palace. It only had two rooms, one more than was ever used by the current occupants, and two more than was wanted by one of the occupants. Wendy was well aware that Peter only lived, if you could call it that, in the house to please her. For him, Neverland was his house, his kitchen his bathroom and bedroom all in the trees and valleys and streams of the island and places underground.
He had no need of walls or windows, and only occasionally the need of a roof when it rained. But for her he'd built what he called his Wendy House, the walls woven from saplings, the roof covered in palm fronds and the floor swept smooth with a birch broom. It nestled in a small glade within a dense patch of forest, the sun beaming down on the slanting roof and making it warm after the cooler night. A small steam gurgled to itself within a short walk from the front door while several trees and bushes provided a ready source of fruit to supplement the game Peter brought to roast over the open fire outside.
It was rough and ready but it was hers, built for her to use and furnished with items she liked. There were curtains hung at the two windows, the fabric chosen by her from Peter's small supply, along with the table cloth used to cover the crude wooden slab they used. The bed was sumptuously covered in a thick layer of furs brought from the burrow, along with the chests nestled against the bedroom walls. There were no weapons, no animal sculls, no antlers, but there were flowers, their heady perfume scenting the glade and the small house and filing the oddly shaped clay pots that Wendy had made to hold them.
Peter had offered to trade with the natives to get some pots for her to use but she refused, after finding a patch of thick clay that lent itself to making into a variety of strange and useful items of pottery. Peter refrained from laughing out loud every time he saw another of her odd, misshapen efforts, and Wendy regarded them with pride, despite their many flaws.
The days had passed quickly once they moved to the new house, the daylight hours spent exploring the local attractions, or harvesting the available food for their meals. Peter would fly away for an hour or two and return with either fish or seafood or a carcass to supplement the fruit Wendy gathered. Wendy would spend the time alone creating her clay pots or cleaning the house or watching the birds and butterflies flit about the glade. When Peter was there they invariably indulged in heated bouts of coupling, both inside and outside the house, at any time of the day or night, the bed in the house as often their couch as the grass of the meadow or the sand on the beach. Wendy blossomed under Peter's tender care, her body filling out with the good, fresh food and clean water, her laughter ringing out more frequently, her skin turning a pale gold from the sunlight, her eyes sparkling with good health.
If at night she cried out in a nightmare, Peter held her and murmured into her hair until she settled, her questing hands burrowing into his flesh, keeping him close until the dreams passed. She never told him the day her memory returned. He had been gone only a little while and Wendy decided to lay down for a nap, slipping easily into a dream filled sleep. Without Peter to sooth her, the dream turned into a nightmare where faceless men pulled and pinched her, pushing her down on the hard ground before filling her body with rough fingers and hard flesh, splitting her open so that her blood flowed over the ground while she clawed at their faces, something hard shoved into her mouth making her gag until she fought for breath. Sobbing she fought her nightmare attackers, thrashing on the bed until she fell off, awakening with the taste of the pirates foul flesh in her mouth while still feeling the throb between her legs of the other's penetration. Sick, she reeled out of the cabin and staggered across the glade, reaching the safety of the trees before throwing up violently, the images supplied by her dream parading past her mind eye with nauseating clarity. She could still smell the rank sweat of the man thrusting into her, the taste of the scarred man's cock filling her mouth and making her choke. Retching again she collapsed against the leaves and sobbed weakly. After a time she realised that Peter would be returning, galvanizing her to get to her feet and make for the stream, dunking her whole head in the water to rid herself of her memories. Peter met her coming back, her hands still ringing the wet from her hair. He'd eyed her red swollen face with concerned, but she didn't tell him what had happened, preferring to make the excuse she'd swallowed a berry down the wrong hole and had a coughing fit.
After several nights of restless dreams, and no reference made to the pirates by either sight or word by either of them, they started to fade, buried under the wealth of new memories created by the man who now possessed her, body and soul. Under his guidance she had discovered that she had a power, that her body could command his and bring him pleasure, her skills among the furs leading her to discover new ways to make him gasp and shudder, her nimble fingers and eager body leaving him shaking with each new discovery. Her father had only taught her to obey and spread her legs, her own pleasure quite forgotten in the need for him to provide his own. With Peter she learned that she could be pleasured as well, that her response heightened his to a degree that almost frightened her. She felt like a harp that had been finally given strings to produce music that left her lover so eager for her touch he came apart in her hands without laying a finger on her himself.
It gave Wendy a sense of worth she'd never known before.
Now, with her new knowledge of what was happening within her, it was about to be shattered into a thousand pieces.
Stepping into the shady interior of her house she shed the shirt she'd thrown on to combat the slight early morning chill. Naked, she padded into the bedroom and stared down at the man sleeping equally naked on top of the furs. Unconsciously she stroked the skin over her still flat belly, grazing over her belly button with her finger tips. Peter slept as a man well satisfied, his loose limbed frame almost too long for the bed, his tawny tousled head turned away from her, his profile etched against the pillows scattered at the head. As she stood looking down at him he stirred, his eyes opening slowly, a smile curving his lips as he saw her standing beside him.
"Come back to bed....it's too early yet."
Already his sex was stirring, Wendy smiling to herself at how easily she aroused him. Crawling over his legs, she wrapped her hand about him and stroked his manhood, the flesh hardening within her fingers, his breathing becoming hectic as she worked his cock.
"You are very good at that.....baggage......"
"I've been well taught.....and I have a new torture to inflict on you this morning."
"A new torture? I thought we'd tried all there was?"
"Not this.....close your eyes."
Wendy waited for him to do so before lowering her head to where her hand still stroked his firm flesh. Bracing herself on the bed she replaced her fingers with her mouth, Peter almost lifting off the bed when her lips closed around his cock.
He had purposely not encouraged her to do that act for him, knowing it might trigger memories of her rape, but Wendy seemed not to mind, her busy mouth making him lay back and groan deeply in his throat as she lapped and lathered his hardness, his thighs trembling as he came close to his climax.
"Wendy....I....ugh....I can't stop...." He moaned and threw back his head, his body convulsing as he emptied himself into her mouth, her hands still wrapped around him as she accepted his bodies offering.
Peter lifted his heavy head off the pillows and stared down his body at her, Wendy sitting up and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, smiling to herself.
"I didn't know you could.....that you would....." He panted, his body still quivering in the aftermath.
"I thought you might like that.....I-I haven't really done that.....before, at least not...willingly."
"I did like it....loved it...but you don't have to...." He let his head drop back down, too overwhelmed to speak.
"I wanted to." Wendy affirmed, crawling up beside him and snuggling into his side. She laid her hand on his chest and felt his heart still pounding, his skin warm and vibrant under her palm.
That she would have to give him up and go away, she accepted as inevitable. It had been hammered into her head at an early age that breeding was to be avoided at all costs, the reason's given that she would grow fat and useless and breed deformed, idiot children. To that end she was given a variety of potions, at first to delay her growth into puberty, and then when her monthly courses started, to disallow any seed to grown within her. Combined with regular herbal washes, she was kept as sterile as modern and ancient medical knowledge could make her. Her father had explained that it was because her mother had become fat when pregnant with her brothers, making her undesirable and unlovable, that had turned her father's attention to his daughter to fulfill what his wife could not. Being a dutiful and obedient daughter, she accepted all he said as the truth, never querying his orders or refusing the potions poured both down her throat and inside her body. She had had described to her at length and in horrifying detail what would happen to her if she did conceive, and what would happen to any child brought to term. Having spent many sleepless nights of her young life terrified at the prospect of breeding, it was no surprise that once she had confirmed the fact for herself, her only recourse was to end her own life, if she could not end the life inside her. She was certain that once she started to grow large with child that Peter would discard her instantly, so she kept her own counsel, hoping that she might lose the child without him knowing, or somehow conceal her condition from him. Never once did she consider that Peter might want the child, or her for having it.
Weeping bitter tears inside for the betrayal of her sex, she nestled into his body and accepted that for the next few weeks she must enjoy what she had, as all too soon it would end.
Peter remained oblivious to her thoughts, only remarking to himself how well Wendy looked, almost blooming, and how much she seemed to need to be near him. Her previous hesitancy was a thing of the past, her need to touch him invariably driving them both to distraction, ending in a bout of hasty coupling wherever the need ambushed them. After one such hasty bout they lay panting and exhausted beside the stream, the late afternoon sun warm on their skin.
"I swear you get more demanding as each day passes wench." Peter gasped, his heart thundering as he turned to stare at her laying beside him. Wendy turned to face him and grinned impudently, not caring that her clothes appeared to have been pulled all about in their precipitous joining.
"Peter?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are we the only people on Neverland?"
"No...there's the Indian's....I should really take you over there to meet the chief...his wife asked me about you the other day."
"Is there anyone else?"
"Well....there are the mermaids....and the fairies.."
"Yes I know, you've told me about them.....but is there anyone else on the island?"
Lifting himself up on his elbow he frowned down at her, trying to read her thoughts. "Why are you asking?"
Not meeting his gaze, Wendy stared up at the trees waving above their heads. "I see strange faces sometimes, in my dreams. They don't fit with what I know of London...and I wondered...." She bit her lip. "Are there pirates in Neverland?"
She saw Peter start from the corner of her eyes, his head turning away from her. "Have you seen anything to suggest there are pirates here?" Peter prevaricated, his voice cautious.
"Not around here....as you well know. But Neverland, from what I've seen of it, seems to be a very large island. Too large to only support you and a few Indians."
"Don't forget the fairies and mermaids....plus there's a tribe of cannibals....somewhere."
"Cannibals?"
"They eat....er....things." Peter hastily changed what he'd been about to say.
"How odd. And the pirates?"
"Who said there were pirates?"
"I can see them clearly in my dreams.....and you have all those weapons at the burrow. They can't have been used against the Indian's if you trade with them, and you've never mentioned the cannibals, if there are such things, as being hostile. So......you must use them to fight pirates."
"Maybe I use them to hunt for food?" Peter answered evasively.
"Maybe....but I don't think so. I don't think a sword, or a cutlass are much use against a deer or a goat."
Peter remained silent.
Rolling onto her side to face him, Wendy reached out and traced the outline of his lips, the usually sensual curve of his bottom lip pulled tight with tension.
"Are there pirates here?" She asked in a whisper, his lashes lifting to meet her eyes, anger and indecision swirling in their depths.
"Yes." Peter answered quietly. Biting the word off and compressing his lips again.
"Are they anywhere near here?"
"NO!" Peter almost shouted, rolling away from her and sitting up. "No...they're on the other side of the island, as far from here as possible."
As he sat hunched, his shoulders rigid, he felt her hand steal over his skin, soothing and kneading the tightly wound muscles, releasing the tension making his jaw ache.
"I'm glad they're away from here...I don't suppose they are very nice people." Wendy said, deliberately naively, her fingers dancing over his chest, distracting him with her hair sliding over his shoulders and down his arms. "Do they ever come looking for you?"
"Sometimes.....I've been fighting them forever, it seems. But I won't allow them to come near you....us."
"So there's nothing to worry about....." Wendy ran her hands up and down his arms, twisting herself around his torso until she ended up in his lap, her arms about his neck. "Let's not talk about horrible pirates....." Reaching up with her lips she kissed him, his own hesitating for a second before his arms came around her and held her tightly, kissing her feverishly until everything was forgotten except the need to become one once more.
Later that night, Wendy persuaded Peter to take her up with him for a night flight over the island. Above their heads the stars shone brightly, the moon not yet risen. Below them Neverland stretched away in each direction, it's jungles and forest dark and impenetrable, the black peaks of the central spine of the island like a curtain drawn across the sky. Wendy could see no lights to indicate that there was anyone on Neverland except them, the sea only visible as an inky ribbon where it met the star filled sky.
When they returned to the small house, they lit every candle they possessed, the rooms blazing with light to chase away the shadows cast by the trees around them. Wendy shivered despite the warm night and lay down on the furs, drawing her legs up. Peter brought in their supper of rabbit and sat beside her, feeding her the choicest cuts.
"Peter?"
"Yes."
"Do the pirates have a leader....a captain?"
"Yes. Captain James Hook. The ship is called the Jolly Roger." Peter told her around a mouthful of meat.
"What's he like?"
"He's a bastard." Peter glanced at her, handing her another piece before biting another mouthful off for himself.
"Is he handsome?"
"What?"
"Well...what little I know about pirates, I always thought they were rather dashing. Like a highwayman or a smuggler."
"What odd notions you have running around in your head. Pirates are scum. Bred in the gutter and hung, more often than not, from the yardarm. They're ruthless, cruel and mercenary. Life, unless it's their own, is worth nothing to them. They live to cause chaos and love nothing but gold. Hook is just the greediest and most ruthless of them all, able to keep his Captaincy only because he's killed anyone who he thinks might stand up to him."
"Oh. Have you fought him a very, many times?"
Licking his fingers, Peter put the plate of meat to one side and turned to stare at her.
"What is this all about Wendy? You've done nothing but quiz me about pirates for days now."
"Nothing really....I'm just curious."
"Then stop this. If a pirate ever got his hands on you, he'd gut you as soon as look at you." Peter told her fiercely, his hands either side of her head as he stared down at her.
"I'm telling you Wendy....you don't ever want to run into a pirate...and you don't want to meet Captain Hook."
"Something happened, didn't it?" Wendy asked him, wanting to see how much he'd tell her about her encounter with the pirates.
"Yes."
"Tell me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Wendy sat up, holding on to Peter's arm when he would have risen. "Tell me!"
"NO!.....you don't remember it....or at least you don't seem to remember anything much....let it be Wendy....you don't want to remember."
"Stop treating me like a child Peter. Tell me what happened."
"Alright!" He flung her off and got to his feet, anger pulling his face into an ugly sneer. "You want to know what happened? You think pirates are romantic?"
Wendy drew herself up and sat at the head of the bed watching him, her arms around her knees. She already knew what happened, the events of that night clear in her head, but she needed Peter to tell her in his own words, as a form of punishment. She needed to hear the ugliness to remind herself how ugly she was, to make it easier when the time came to leave.
"They caught you in a net....a trap supposed to be for me. Two of them came to check the trap and found you in it." Running his hands agitatedly through his hair he paced the floor at the end of the bed. "They.....they raped you. When I got there I was too late. I killed them both and put them in the net, then carried you back to the burrow."
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"You seemed to have lost your memory of the whole thing....and I wasn't about to remind you."
"So those bad dreams I used to have....?"
"Were your memory coming back." Peter confirmed.
"I see...that explains it then." Now that she'd forced him to remember how ugly and horrible she had been, she was content to let him off the hook.
"I'm going to sleep for a little bit." She announced, yawning before laying down, apparently unconcerned with his revelations. Peter looked at her strangely, as if not believing that she was not going to talk about the incident some more.
"You don't seem surprised." He said slowly, coming back to the bed and sitting down. "Why aren't you surprised?"
"I'm tired Peter....."
"You already knew what happened that night." He looked at her as if only seeing her for the first time. "You knew all along. Why did you want me to tell you?"
"I'm really tired..."
"Wendy....?"
"Blow out the candles please...they're giving me a headache."
Baffled and angry, Peter automatically snuffed the candles, leaving her to sleep, his thoughts in a turmoil.
He slowly went around the other room, snuffing all the candles bar one, his fingers burning from the wicks. Absently sucking on one finger he wandered out of the house and stared up at the stars. He couldn't fathom her out. He'd thought he was starting to understand her, her own personality starting to come into its own, the angry, submissive young woman, so hostile when she first arrived, had all but gone. Now he found out that she had known about her rape and not told him she knew, had hidden it from him, kept it inside her. To his mind it wasn't natural not to rage and rail or weep at the very least. She had done none of these things. He didn't know what to do for her, how to understand her. Deeply disturbed he sucked on his bottom lip and stared out at the darkness.
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Chapter: Seven - Accepting the Inevitable.
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More time slipped by, Wendy working out her best plan of escape, Peter watching her like a hawk, their coming together even more torrid as Wendy strove to make the most of the time she had left, and Peter tried his hardest to keep her.
Both were doomed to fail.
A deputation was sent by the tribe of Picanninny Indian's to inform Peter of what had been happening within Neverland during his absence. For although Peter had been keeping a lax eye on the island, the pirates had become bolder and decided to take advantage of his inattention, pillaging several outlying villages and wreaking havoc among the magical denizens of the island.
"They are stealing our crops and our livestock and some of our women have been attacked. The Lost Boys need you to rally a defense, or else all will be ruined."
Peter faced the leader of the deputation with a scowl marring his brow, his eyes like flint as he considered his alternatives.
Wendy remained inside the house, unwilling to take part in the planning, her continuing strange behavior perplexing and worrying Peter.
"Pull in your people to the main village. Bring in the livestock as well. As you say, Hook is taking advantage of my.....preoccupation. He's become too arrogant."
"It would be a fine day if you could rid our island of their scourge once and for all." Rasped the leader, the other braves nodding their heads in agreement.
"That is impossible, as you well know. The best I can do is rein in their excesses and curb their rampaging. Do you know where the ship is berthed?"
"At the Black Castle." One brave spoke up.
"And the Lost Boys?"
"With our Chief to parlay."
"Then I'll go there first. Return to your homes and prepare."
Not waiting to see the Indian's leave the clearing, Peter headed back into the house, pausing in the doorway to the bedroom and worrying his bottom lip.
Wendy lay as he'd left her, on her side, her back to the door. His eyes followed the curve of her back, over the swell of her hips and down her legs. She had filled out and blossomed, her skin looking healthy and flushed, her hair glossy. Physically she was in peak condition, but he was more concerned with her emotional and mental state, well aware that she had been withdrawing from him despite her participation in their physical relationship. He was no where nearer to gaining her heart than before.
As he opened his mouth to speak, Wendy pre-empted him.
"You're leaving."
"Just for a short while...a couple of days at the most."
He walked around to her side of the bed and crouched down on his haunches. Wendy met his stare with eyes slightly unfocused, as if she was in a world of her own and Peter only a shadow passing through it.
"You have everything you could need.....and you're safe here. I'll be back soon...."
Suddenly her eyes focused and he thought he saw a sheen of tears before she blinked to clear them. Lifting her hand she brushed a curl of hair off his forehead.
"Don't get killed.....Neverland needs you."
"I don't intend to....I'd be doubly careful if I thought you needed me too?"
Wendy smiled at him. "Of course I need you."
"I almost believe you......I can arrange for someone to keep you company if you so choose?"
Wendy shook her head, a strange smile tilting her lips.
"No Peter.....I'll be fine. Go, they need you."
"I won't be any longer than I have to be." Leaning forward he kissed her lips, wanting to linger but knowing that responsibility had finally caught up with him. Pulling away he groaned, swallowing hard as he stared into her eyes, willing her to understand.
"Go Peter......" Wendy whispered, pushing her hand against his chest.
Pressing a quick kiss against her mouth, he rose to his feet and left the room, leaping into the air as soon as he cleared the doorway.
It was as if life had suddenly departed with him, Wendy sinking into the pillows as all her lifeforce had drained out of her, leaving her weak and tearful.
"This will achieve nothing." She muttered to herself, dashing away the weakening tears and sitting up. Her hand automatically went to smooth over her belly, the action grounding her, giving her much needed calm. She had discarded her first plan of taking her own life. It was not the child's fault that she had allowed herself to conceive, and it went against everything she still believed in to take it's life. Her own she held cheaply, convinced that if Peter knew of her condition he's want to be rid of her anyway. With that in mind she now had the perfect opportunity to try and disappear somewhere into the wilderness of Neverland. She knew she'd have to travel a long way because of the possibility of the fairies finding her, as they did before. But she knew more about the island now, more of about it's occupants, and she figured she just had to hide until Peter tired of looking for her, then she was safe.
"He'll have his pick of anyone he chooses after I've gone....as he should." Lifting her chin she clambered from the bed and looked about the room. There was little there she needed to take, just a blanket and a change of clothes, little more than she arrived in.
Gathering her meager supplies, in constant fear that Peter would return and find out what she was up to, Wendy bundled them all together within the pink coverlet before stepping out of the small house and tilting her face up to the sun.
Not daring to look behind her, she walked away and didn't look back.
She had noticed during her few trips over the island with Peter, that he almost always headed for the coast, and rarely into the interior. She didn't know why, but it boded well for her chances of escaping if she headed into those jungles and tried to lose herself there.
Her feet had become hardened with the continual tramping about barefoot, so her initial trek was easy and she kept up a fair pace. Nausea still plagued her at odd times and she had to stop only twice to expel what little her stomach could produce. As the hours passed, she concentrated doggedly on putting one foot in front of the other, determined to put as much distance between herself and the house as possible. From above the jungles had appeared impenetrable, but at ground level they were less dense, and easy to travel, the sound of birds accompanying her as she wound a path through the trees.
When the sun, and her stomach, judged it to be the middle of the day, she rested, nibbling at her lunch as she lay curled up under a bush. She listened to the rustle of the leaves around her and the call of the insects, a butterfly, brilliantly coloured, fluttering around her for quite some time before disappearing into the shadows striped with bars of sunlight.
As she prepared to continue her trek, she heard something crashing through the undergrowth and she felt a spurt of panic grip her. Clutching her bundle close to her chest, she edged her way around a broad tree trunk, her eyes darting about the bushes, trying to see what was making the noise. Suddenly a deer burst out of the trees and bounded past her, its eyes staring white at her. She pressed herself against the tree and gulped in air, her pulse hammering in her chest.
"It's a deer...only a deer." Wendy whispered to herself to bolster her courage.
Steeling herself, she pushed away from the tree and stared after the beast, it's crashing progress through the jungle fading into the distance. Feeling a little foolish, she turned to leave her resting place, not seeing the eyes watching her from across the tiny clearing. Not being entirely wise in the ways of the wild, she never stopped to think what had startled the deer and caused it to run, her thoughts turned instead to putting one weary foot in front of the other.
More time passed and she thought she heard water running, stopping to get her bearings and twisting her head to find the source of the sound. Heading off at an angle, she stopped every so often to check, then set off again, eventually pushing her way through a screen of bushes and finding herself staring at a secluded waterfall, cascading over a rock ledge that barely topped her in height. It fell into a rocky pool then spilled into another, wider pool that rippled and reflected the greenery around it. Enchanted, Wendy lay down her bundle and picked her way around the rocks, finding one just the right size to sit on and dangled her hot feet in the cool water.
Sighing blissfully, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back on her shoulders, her arms braced behind her. The sun was not directly overhead but enough shone down on the water to reflect back up on her, illuminating her like a wood nymph.
"How positively delightful.....are you a nymph or a naiad?"
The deep, cultured voice sent shivers running down her spine. Twisting around Wendy saw a man leaning negligently against a tree, his face in shadow. His dress was from another era, his hair long and black, falling in waves to his shoulders about a face that seemed carved from the slanting shadows cast by the leaves above his head.
"I am neither......sir. Are you a pirate?"
His laugh seemed to well up out of his boot, the chuckle rolling around the open space and echoing off the rocks.
"A pirate? Dear lady, I could be whatever you wanted me to be....for such beauty I would play any part you care to name."
Stepping forward his face became clear and Wendy felt something cold trickle down her back. He was not ill favored, his features quite even and well formed, a black moustache covering his upper lip while a small goatee followed the contours of his chin. His eyes were thickly lashed under strong brows, their pale blue colour reminder her of forget-me-not's in the rain. Bemused by his appearance, Wendy could only stare as he stepped carefully towards her, as if approaching a wild animal, his eyes pinning her in place, daring her to move.
Somehow his mesmerizing look worked, and she felt unable to move a muscle as he slowly advanced on her, their eyes locked as if mesmerized. When he was but a few feet from her he performed a courtly bow, one white hand shaking itself free of the lace surrounding it to gesture, while the other was hidden behind his coat tails.
"I can see that you are neither a nymph or a naiad. Are you an enchanted princess come to grace up with your presence?" His lips curved up into a mocking smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his manner deliberately charming. Wendy finally tore her gaze away and bowed her head, staring down at her hands.
"I am nothing....sir."
"Oh come now.....that I will not permit. You are young, beautiful and in my company. That makes you many things, but not nothing. Am I to have the pleasure of your name, m'dear?"
"Wendy......Wendy D-D-Darling."
"Wendy Daaaaaaaarling." The man repeated, drawing out her last name like an endearment. "Wendy...what an unusual name. I don't believe I've ever heard it's like before."
"I-I was named for a great Aunt...Gwendolene.....but m-m-y father thought it too....."
"Long?"
"Yes."
"An eminently sensible man. And what, my dear Wendy, are you doing here?"
"Here?"
"Yes here.....on Neverland, for I'm convinced you are not one of the enchanted folk, despite your appearance, and you are certainly not one of the savages. So where did you spring from?"
Wendy stared at him, noting that he kept his right hand out of sight, his smile starting to look more like a wolfish grin as he awaited her answer.
"You're C-Captain Hook...aren't you?"
"How very perceptive of you m'dear...and how unfortunate. Yes, I am Captain Hook, and you are now my......guest." As he finished speaking men started to appear out of the jungle, surrounding the waterfall, their faces grim and leering.
Wendy rose slowly from the rock and stood up, her head turning as she surveyed the encircling pirates with frightened eyes. Turning back to gaze at their Captain, she surprised a look of compassion on his face, as quickly wiped as noticed.
"I must assume I have no choice in being your guest." Wendy whispered, lowering her head again.
"None whatsoever. Will you come peaceably? Or must we get unpleasant?"
Shaking her head, Wendy stepped forward as Hook drew out his right hand to reveal the gleaming hook embedded in the stump of his wrist.
"Sensible as well as lovely. I can see why he kept you a secret."
"He?" Wendy feigned ignorance, her head still lowered.
"Why your abductor of course......the arrogant, brash Peter Pan. But let's not waste time in chit-chat. Come Miss Darling....let us away."
Gesturing to his men to form up around her, Hook led the way out of the clearing, Wendy glancing back only once at the waterfall before it disappeared into the enveloping jungle, lost to sight within seconds. Around her the pirates maintained their silence, only the tramp of their feet relieving the oppressive pall. To Wendy's eyes they looked fierce and quite without pity, their hard eyes raking over her as she followed the commanding figure in front, her spine pricking as if a hundred knife points were already sticking in to her skin.
Within an indecently short time they reached a section of coastline, Wendy very surprised, stopping dead when they emerged from the trees to stand upon the warm sand, the tide lapping at the beach with lazy waves.
"We can't be here already....I was sure.....but..."
"Circles, dear child, you were going in circles.....whatever you planned to do, you only managed to travel a short distance before coming back over your own trail. Did you not notice? Obviously not....easily done when one is unfamiliar with the way this island works."
Wendy stared at Hook with wide eyes. "Whatever do you mean, the way this island works?"
While his men fanned out along the beach, Hook stood beside his captive, his feet planted wide apart, his hand and hook on his hips.
"Stupid wench, has he not even told you that?"
"What...told me what?"
"This is Neverland...no-one can become lost on this island, not deliberately. In fact, if you were to try, which apparently you did, then the reverse if more likely to happen. Instead of becoming lost, you become found....voila!" With a sweeping gesture he indicated the beach and the men ranged along it. "A captive of the very last person I imagine you'd want to be found by....isn't it a merry jest?"
Wendy could only gape at the pirate Captain as he threw back his head and laughed loudly, grinning at her expression.
"But it's just an island." Wendy whispered, looking out over the sea to the horizon, the fluffy clouds above scudding past as if in a hurry to get somewhere. Hook stopped laughing and folded his arms across his chest.
"Neverland is not just an island.......it is hell on earth, and don't let it fool you otherwise. You thought you'd been brought to paradise?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Well think again missy. This is a place of lies and trickery, where nothing is as it should be, and no-one is to be trusted. Least of all that cocky lothario that lured your here. Whatever he told you has been a lie."
"A lie?" Wendy repeated faintly, sinking to the sand, not feeling the grit bite into her knees.
"The grandest lie anyone could ever tell. You're not the first to fall into his trap, enticed by his golden looks and flashing eyes. Many have come before you, and many more when he's forgotten you."
At last Wendy could relate to what the man was talking about.
"I never expected him to remember me......I know I am forgettable. That was the point..."
"The point?"
"Of my leaving....escaping...whatever. He would have forgotten me very soon....I was just making it easy....for everyone."
Hook stared down at her, for once lost for words. He'd made up outrageous lies about Peter and his motives, never once expecting his captive to agree with him.
"Why do you think he'd have grown tired of you?" Hook asked, intrigued by her reasoning. Wendy sighed, her fingers combing through the sand, lifting and sifting the golden grains, her body slumped.
"My father always told me I only had one purpose in life, and if I couldn't do that, there was no point in my existence. Now I'm carrying his child, he won't want me anymore.....so I left before he could tell me to leave."
Hook looked down at Wendy bent head with a strange light in his eyes. "You're carrying Peter Pan's child?"
"Quite possibly...."
"Possibly? You mean you're not sure?"
"Oh no, I know I'm pregnant.....I just don't know if Peter is the father....but I'm pretty sure he is."
Again, Hook found himself dumfounded. He had guessed when he'd seen her that she wasn't yet a full grown woman, her face still carrying the traces of childhood, her figure not fleshed out completely. To find that she had been Pan's paramour, and pregnant put a new complexion on the situation. Now it appeared that Peter might not be the father.
"But m'dear....you're but a child. Who else but Peter could be the father?"
Wendy suddenly looked up as a hot tide of embarrassment swept over her.
"I-I-I..." Hook cut off her halting confession with a slash of his hand.
"Not another word....Cyrus!" He waited for one of the pirate to approach. "I've changed my mind.....we'll deal with this...situation aboard the Jolly Roger. Send Benson up to the headland to signal the ship."
"Aye, Aye sir." Spinning on his heel the man ran off, snagging two more pirates, all of them setting off at a run for the bluff rising up on the left of the bay. The remainder returned from their prearranged sortie to await Hook's instructions. He still stood over the girl, his hook tapping abstractedly at his chin as he pondered what he'd learned.
Wendy sat on the sand, her head once more bowed, her thoughts misty blanks, unable to focus on anything. She heard the lap of the waves, the cry of the gulls and the muttering of the pirates, but it didn't disturb her. As far as she was concerned she might as well be dead. Already the men around her were undressing her with their eyes. When they had her on the ship she would become for them what she'd been for her father and his associates, her life once more at the beck and call of whoever desired her. The sun beat down on her head and she felt sick, her eyes closing as she licked dry lips, her bundle still clutched to her chest, left to her by the pirates.
Hook had walked off a few steps, conferring with another of his crew, his back to Wendy. When he turned back, he found his charge laid out on the sand, quite insensible, the sun starting to turn her fair skin red.
"God's blood...get her out of the sun. Fetch water....and handle her carefully."
While his men scurried to do his bidding, Hook ordered another to find his personal chest. The man produced it and held it open while Hook delved inside. Finding what he was looking for, he closed the chest and locked it. His men had moved Wendy into the shade of a palm, a rug placed under her lax body, a water bottle beside her head. Hook shooed them away and knelt in the sand. Unconscious, she looked fragile and somehow broken. Uncorking the tiny vial with difficulty, Hook waved it under the girls nose. It had the desired effect, Wendy coughing at the noxious fumes, her lashes fluttering as she tried to push his hand away.
"No time for sleeping m'dear...you need to drink. Can't let you harm that precious burden...drink up, the boat will be here soon."
A water bottle was thrust into her hands and she drank gratefully, her parched throat working as she downed the cool liquid. Hook watched her unblinkingly, taking the bottle from her after a few minutes.
"That's better.....can't let anything happen to so precious a cargo, now can we?" He cajoled, passing the bottle to a henchman to refill.
Wendy felt better, the sickness leaving her as she stared at the men milling about the beach. Two of the men were hauling a sizable piece of driftwood up the sand, placing it down to act as a seat for their Captain. Fastidiously, Hook swept the log with a scrap of lace before sitting down in the shade beside Wendy.
"Won't be long now.....ah see." He pointed towards the bluff, a puff of smoke appearing in the clear blue sky above the point, a tiny figure waving down to the men still on the beach. Hook shaded his eyes as one of the pirates on the beach waved back. "Soon have you aboard and safely stowed."
"What are you going to do with me?" Wendy asked listlessly, some imp pressing her to find out her fate before times.
"Why nothing...at least, not what I originally planned."
"Oh...what did you originally plan?" Wendy asked imprudently.
Hook laughed. "Nosy as all your breed, ain'tcha girl!"
Wendy remained silent, staring down at her hands. Hook turned back to his contemplation of the sea. "A life for a life...that's my credo. Two of my men were found hanging in a net with their bodies desecrated. Someone has to pay for the outrage."
Wendy felt as if someone had poured a freezing bucket of water over her, her body starting to shake. "Was that what you are going to do with me?"
"Not you specifically." Hook told her, "preferably Pan, or one of his Lost Boys...I didn't know about you then. I suppose my men were killed in retribution for something they did......" He tapped his lip thoughtfully. "Do you know anything about it Wendy?"
"N-n-no." She whispered, ducking her head even more. Hook stared at her crown and smiled thinly.
"I see. Well we can't change the past..and fate has chosen to smile on me this day. What you carry within you is worth more than a chest full of precious gems."
"Because it might be Peter's?"
"Because I think you are mistaken if you think the Pan is ready to forget about you so soon. Did you tell him you were....expecting?"
Wendy remained silent. Hook just grinned. "I see. Well he's going to be in for a surprise then. Whoever would have thought of Peter Pan as a father. He always had such a regrettably foul opinion of fathers in general, it will be amusing to see his face when he learns he's to join their ranks."
"It might not be his!" Wendy cried, lifting her head to stare up at Hook.
"Then for your sake I suggest you hope it is, and keep your thoughts otherwise to yourself. This ravening horde would be quite happy to get rid of it for you, along with your life blood. Don't be in quite such a hurry to disclaim the association, it might just save your pretty neck."
"I don't understand." Wendy gasped, white faced. "You're their Captain. Don't they do what you say?"
"To a degree. They respect this." He held up his hook. "And no one else is prepared to challenge me for leadership...yet. But it would only take a pigeon like you to upset the balance and set pirate against pirate."
"Then why not kill me now and be done with it."
"So willing to end it all? I always thought women were so protective of their offspring. Would you kill his child before it has a chance to live?"
Confused, Wendy turned her face away, colour flaring in her pale cheeks.
"For the time being, Wendy Darling, no man will have you. You are booty, and each member of the crew is entitled to his share. As it is not easy to divide a life, I will claim the right of ownership, until someone decides to challenge me. But I don't expect it to come to that. I'm sure your flying lover will be making his way hot foot to the ship long before the crew have a chance to start fighting over you."
Wendy didn't reply, too aware that what he said was the truth. Without knowing why she'd gone, Peter would assume she'd been kidnapped or worse. He was unlikely to just ignore the fact. All that she had achieved in running away was to put Peter's life in jeopardy.
Unable to bear the guilt, she covered her face with her hands and wept bitterly.
Before the men returned from the headland a ship was sailing into the broad bay, her dark sails billowing in the stiffening breeze, the men on the beach standing just beyond the reach of the incoming tide watching intently.
Hook shaded his eyes and stood up, glancing down at Wendy before staring once more out to sea. "Here she comes, a sight for sore eyes."
When Wendy remained silent he shrugged and started down the beach to the water's edge. Two men were left behind to guard her, their presence unnecessary as Wendy was too far sunk in despondency to think any more about escaping.
Hook watched with a satisfied grin as his crew aboard the Jolly Roger reefed the sails and anchored, lowering the two longboats to be rowed ashore. After a short passage of time the boats were crunching aground on the sand, eager hands pulling them up the beach.
Hook ordered his men to provide a rear guard, ever mindful that Peter could still ambush them on the beach. His fears were groundless, the boats pulling from the shore heavily laden but unmolested, Wendy stowed in Hook's boat, sitting between the rowing benches as the men pulled for the ship. Being fresh, it took no time at all to reach the looming side of the Jolly Roger, her gun port shutters closed and a rope ladder lowered over the black timbers. Hook climbed nimbly up the side, leaning back over the rail once aboard and encouraging Wendy as she negotiated the rope ladder, a sailor close behind to prevent her falling. She found herself hauled over the railing when she was close enough, landing unsteadily and staggering until Hook clasped her arm in his hand, holding her upright and against his side. She didn't look up, starting to shake now that she was faced with enormity of her predicament. Her fate was now held in the grip of the man beside him, and by all reports he was the worst of the lot.
"Listen up brutes!" A small rotund man waddled forward, pushing and shoving the crew back as the milled around the Captain. "Listen up you bloody bastards...the Captain's to speak."
Hook waited for his cutthroats to settle, lifting his hook until they were silent. Once he had their attention he lifted Wendy in his grip, drawing all eyes to her.
"This is the Pan's slut! She's carrying the cur's bastard which makes her very valuable in more ways than I'm going to waste my time telling you about. She's not booty....she's my prisoner."
The crew started to mutter, their voices like a roll of thunder until Hook raised his appendage again for silence.
"I intend to use the baggage as a lure to draw Pan into a trap. We need time to prepare so move your arses and get this ship out to sea!"
The rotund man, his tiny glasses flashing as he turned to face the crew, also raised his hands. "You heard the Captain mates. Time to get the Roger out to sea....move your lazy carcasses!"
For a moment no one moved then, as a man, the crew turned their backs and went about the business of getting the ship ready to lift anchor. Hook released the breath he'd not realised he'd been holding. Wendy sagged like a ragdoll in his grip, her face hidden behind her curtain of hair.
"Thank you Mister Smee....once we're underway see about something to revive our captive....some good flemish wine would be a good start."
"Right your are Captain." Saluting loosely, Mister Smee hurried away, bawling orders as the crew swarmed up the rigging and worked the capstan to raise the anchor.
Hook let go of Wendy's arm and she would have fallen to the deck, but a pirate still awaiting his orders caught her deftly and hoisted her into his arms. Hook barely glanced at the man, indicating for him to follow him towards the stern of the ship and the cabins below decks. Hook headed straight to his main cabin at the rear of the ship. It occupied two thirds of the stern width with latticed windows, the room partially partitioned by the steerage ropes from the poop deck above to the rudder below. The windows made the room full of light, some of the panes coloured so that rainbow squares of light fell on the rugs covering the floor between the pieces of furniture, some secured to the deck. A large table occupied the center of the cabin, its surface used either as a map table or dining table, depending on the Captains requirements. A spinet, incongruous in so piratical a setting, sat in one corner beside a window, its cover's open. Against a wall stretched a bed, which the sailor carried Wendy too, setting her down before leaving the cabin, receiving orders to help the first mate.
Wendy had swooned shortly after Hook had taken her arm, the events of the day overwhelming her and sending her spinning. The final straw had been the sight of the men facing her, their harsh and brutal faces staring at her as if she was a prize piglet and the pirates starving for their next meal. She'd felt the deck move despite the ship being still anchored, her body suddenly weightless as someone swung her high in the air, then her world went black.
She awoke to the acrid smell of ammonia as smelling salts were waved under her nose.
"Time to awaken my beauty....Mister Smee has excelled himself and prepared a feast in your honor. We don't want it to go cold, do we?"
Wendy blinked up at the pirate Captain and frowned, perplexed at his attitude. By rights she'd expected to wake up in the brig, or whatever the ship used to house it's captives. She didn't expect to find herself laying on a very comfortable bunk in a sumptuously appointed cabin. Carefully she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stared around, noting the ornate furniture, the swaying of the ship only registering when she tried to stand, staggering as the craft dipped into a swell. Hook was walking back to the heavily laden table with the gait of a man well used to the sea. Gripping the edge of the bed Wendy tried again and managed to make her way to the large table and high backed chairs as the pirate Captain waved her forward.
Pulling out one of the chairs he indicated for her to sit and she did, staring at the array of dishes set out before her with some surprise. Hook saw her expression and chuckled, raising a dark eyebrow as she raised her eyes to his.
"It is a bit much, even for me. Somehow he got the idea that you are more of an honored guest than a prisoner." He told her wryly.
"Shouldn't I be in the brig or...or something?" Wendy asked, still staring with some bewilderment at the room about her.
"Hardly sporting to place a delicately reared female behind bars. You ain't a thief or a murderer, and beside you carry his child, hardly the done thing to have you moldering down in the bilge."
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Wendy asked, still unable to comprehend his continuing politeness towards her.
"If I understand your situation....you've been kidnapped from your home and brought here." He waited for Wendy to nod before speaking again. "And then you've been kept holed up and used by Pan as his...concubine for the past month or so. Now you're pregnant with his child and you fear for the future. Am I right so far?"
He looked at her with wide eyes, their clear blue disarming her. "I suppose so."
"Then you are a victim in all this. I have no quarrel with you Miss Darling, just with your paramour. He should be made to pay for abducting you so basely and using you so shamefully, shouldn't he?"
"I don't know..." Wendy protested but stopped when Hook gave her a speaking look before continuing.
"As I said, I have no quarrel with you. When he comes for you it will be a simple matter of exchanging you for him. When it's all over and the Pan is my....guest, you'll be free to decided whether you want to stay here in Neverland or return to the bosom of your family."
He paused, lifting a goblet to his lips and taking a sip of the red wine within. Swallowing he held the glass away from his mouth. "Did'st thou ever consider becoming a pirate?"
"Becoming a pirate?" Wendy blurted in astonishment, her mouth hanging open.
"Well I know small boys are always fancying the life of a pirate, I wondered if girls had similar dreams?" He drank again, not meeting her eyes as he perused the display of dishes before him.
Wendy hastily shut her mouth and stared down at her plate. Hook chose a selection of morsels from the plates on display then rose to his feet and carried it around the table to place it before Wendy.
"I think you should eat m'dear. You've had precious little all day and we have to take extra special care of you." His smooth voiced sympathy went some way to calming her fractured nerves, his continued interest in pleasing her and caring for her needs at odds with what she had expected. Lifting her head she found him still beside her, his gaze politely on her face, awaiting a response from her.
"You're not at all what I was led to expect." She said, twisting the edge of the table cloth between her fingers. "I thought pirates were hateful, horrible people, if the books are to be believed."
For a moment Hook stared at her, then threw back his head and laughed. Turning on his heel he returned to the other side of the table and sat down, facing her. "And not just in books.....I'm sure that Pan has been lavish in his denouncement of me and my crew. Come, I can see it in your face." Hook leant forward, his eyes dancing. "What wicked deeds have I been credited with behind my back?"
Wendy couldn't help responding to his charm, a small smile playing around her lips. "Well he did warn me about you."
"Come, Wendy, only warned you?" Hook crooked an eyebrow. "Whatever. For now my past behavior is neither here, nor there. Let us concern ourselves with the present. You are here, he is there" Hook waved his hand back and forth. "....and we want him, he don't want you...it's all a fair exchange."
Having felt an easing of the tension inside her, Wendy suddenly felt as tightly wound as a watch spring again. She reached for her glass and nearly slopped the contents all over the table top because her fingers were shaking so badly. The ship was still riding the swell and she suddenly felt very ill.
Hook must have seen something in her face because he suddenly lurched to his feet and quickly came around the table, pulling her to her feet and away from the table. The room seemed to be swaying around her as Hook dragged her over to an ornate screen which hid a commode, bucket and wash stand. Wendy sank gratefully to her knees, one hand pulling the bucket forward while the other held her hair out of the way as she gave in to the nausea and emptied her stomach, a hand appearing in her vision holding a glass.
"Drink this, it will help." She took the glass offered and swilled her mouth with the cool water before spitting into the bucket again. Hook helped her to her feet and back to the chair. "Drink some more, you need to get some water into you."
"Thank you." Wendy whispered, feeling drained but better. The ship didn't seem to be rocking as strongly as before and she sipped her glass of water again.
"I think something light." Hook suggested, filling a plate with some simple bread rolls and slices of melon. "Eat....you need to keep your strength up."
Too numb to argue, Wendy crumbled one of the rolls and ate it, Hook digging into his own repast, ignoring her.
As she automatically ate, her thoughts went to Peter and what he might be doing, whether he'd found out that she was missing, if he was worried, or was mounting a rescue. She shied away from thinking what Hook would do if Peter didn't come to rescue her, if in fact he totally ignored the fact she was gone. Wasn't that what she'd wanted? If he did come after her he would be captured by the pirates and suffer the fate she'd been spared, wouldn't he? For all his charm, Wendy was not entirely fooled. Hook was a pirate, using her for his own ends, content to keep her unharmed for the time being. But what if she was no longer of use to him, would he throw her and her unborn child to the crew? Would they kill her outright, or make use of her until her body was too broken, then dispose of her? Piece by piece she ate the contents of her plate, her eyes blank and unfocused as she mechanically fed her mouth, Hook glancing up with a frown on seeing her expression, wondering to himself what thoughts were going through her head to so thoroughly distract her from her surroundings and her situation.
As the ship plowed on, the skies over Neverland started to turn an ominous shade of grey.
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Chapter: Eight-Facing the Inevitable
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Peter paced the defensive wall with a long stride, his mind not at all on what was happening around him. Indian's and Lost Boys scattered before him, his preoccupation such that he barely noticed them. The stock was now all gathered in from the more distant pastures and the majority of the people safely ensconced behind the palisade. The noise was incredible with the animals lowing their discontent from their pens while the people shouted and called for lost children, voices shrill with fear. Despite the tales of rapine and pillage, not a single pirate had been sighted since Peter arrived at the summons of the Chief. Taking the respite offered, he organized his own Lost Boys to reconnoitre the forest around the village while the braves worked to gather their people and secure the wall while building up their weapons. His commanders returned with no information about Hook's men, the forests empty for the moment of any marauding pirates, evidence found there that they had been near, but the ashes long dead. Not prepared to lay them open to another attack, they worked to secure the village, all the time Peter feeling that something was not right, his thoughts constantly returning to the girl he'd left in the house he'd made for her.
Normally he reveled in the games of war, the fights against the pirates a part of his life as much as breathing or eating. He maintained a balance on the island between the forces of good, in this case the Indian's and Lost Boys, against those that would plunder and pillage, namely the pirates led by Hook. If life got too dull he was not against inciting a skirmish to keep his fighting skills in practice. Always he kept the losses on either side to a minimum, the balance maintained until the next battle. That Hook had been encroaching on the island for nothing better than to steal stock and molest the natives meant something more than the usual form of inducement to battle was being waved in his face to get his attention. More than likely Hook was up to no good and wanted to lure Peter into another trap, his endless scheming just another way for the pirates to find employment. Probably it had something to do with the two pirates Peter had despatched not that long ago. With that unsettling thought, Peter continued on his inspection of the fortifications.
His inspection completed after a long night of preparations, it was plain that the village was at least out of any immediate danger. Peter left the Indian's, ordering his Lost Boy's to stay and bolster the redskin's defenses. Taking off into the predawn sky he flew as quickly as he could back to the clearing. As he touched down he knew that all was not as it should be. The door of the hut gaped open, the interior dark and cold. He called, but didn't expect an answer. Despite somehow knowing that she was gone, he went through the motions of searching the small house, heading out to stand amid the tall grass after establishing that Wendy appeared to have taken hardly anything with her. He felt a pain in his chest in the region of his heart and wondered at it, acid eating his stomach as he tried to swallow the hurt of her leaving. He'd known, but he couldn't say how, that she wouldn't be there when he returned. Her strange behavior and almost indifferent feelings towards him, growing colder as the days past, seemed to have indicated her intentions quite clearly. He'd just not wanted to accept what she'd been trying to convey. Again the pain bloomed in his chest and he absently rubbed at his breast bone, cursing under his breath.
Hadn't he made her a fine house to live in? Hadn't he danced attendance on her day and night since he'd brought her to Neverland? Was this her gratitude for his taking her from her abominable family? His anxiety changed to anger as he tried to justify her actions.
He searched outside as the light strengthened for any indication of foul play, but found nothing but his own footprints and those of Wendy's on the ground. Frustrated he stood with his fists on his hips and closed his eyes, the sound of his heart drumming in his ears drowning out any other sound. Breathing deeply he relaxed his fists, his hands hanging loosely at his side as he slowed his heartbeat, sending out a call to those that could hear him. As he stood, as if welded to the ground below his feet, bright lights started to float towards him from the trees, their fluttering wings darting and weaving over the grass to spiral around him.
Opening his eyes he held out his hand and one of the fairies settled on his outstretched fingers. It spoke. "You called....we come...what would you ask of us?"
"She's gone again."
The fairies around his head set up a chorus of tinkling voices at his bald statement, their wings rustling like leaves. The one on his hand stood with her wings lowered, waiting for her sisterhood to settle.
"Gone? Again? You are careless Pan."
"I had hoped....but she is gone and I need to know where."
"You know Neverland as well as we do. She will not be far, the island is unlikely to allow her to wander a great distance." The sprite shrugged. "Why not wait?"
"Something is not right. Hook has a hand in this somehow, I know it."
"Then why not fly to his ship and ask him?" The creature asked with a delicate lift of one shoulder.
"Because I know that it might be a trap. I need you to be my eyes and ears. Find my Wendy, find Hook, find his ship."
"What you ask is easily done Pan. The information you seek if already common knowledge. His ship is currently sailing beyond the northern shore off Hangman's Point. Hook is aboard and your Wendy is with him."
For a moment Peter closed his eyes, relief warring with rage as he absorbed the information. "She is alive?"
"You would know if it was otherwise." The fairy retorted pertly, jerking her wings. "Are you still set on seeking him out?"
"I have to rescue her from him." Peter stated emphatically.
"What if she doesn't want to be rescued?" The fairy fluttered into the air as Peter closed his fist. "We have seen...she is not a prisoner aboard his ship Pan. She walks freely on the deck, which is how we knew she was there. She ran away from here....from you."
"Your jealousy is starting to show Tink. Wendy would no more want pirates for company than a snake in her bed."
In a rage, the fairy called Tink suddenly changed her golden green colour to red and dived at Peter, his swipe knocking her to the side as her sisters twittered and fluttered in the air around them. As she tumbled through the air her colour changed again from red back to gold, her wings a blur as she righted herself. Peter stood facing her, his arms folded across his chest.
"Send your sisters to do my bidding Tink, but stay awhile, I would hear more of what you know."
Slightly mollified, the fairy waved to her brethren and they sped out of the clearing, disappearing into the shadows of the trees. Peter turned his back on the trees and walked to the hut, Tink hovering above him.
"Did you see her yourself Tink?"
"Aye. She paced the deck as I said."
"Was she alone?"
"No."
"Was she well?"
"How am I to judge. She was moving, unchained, about the deck. If one is a prisoner, I would expect them to be cast into the brig, as they did with Curly that time he was imprudent enough to be caught."
"But Curly is not my Wendy. Hook is not a simpleton. He will know by now who she is and who she belongs to."
Swooping down Tink fluttered in Peter's face as he started to strip himself of his sweat soiled clothes, his weapons falling to the ground as he pulled off his shirt and breeches. "Why do you care for the whey-faced wench? She does not smile, or laugh or race you through the air?"
Leaving his clothes and weapons where they dropped, Peter rose leisurely into the air and flew to the creek. "You are right Tink. I wonder myself why she has such a hold on me. I can only tell you that she does, and it is unbreakable." Dunking his head in the cool water he sluiced himself all over, water flying as he washed himself vigorously. Tink hovered just out of reach of the spray, her tiny arms folded over her chest.
"Silly ass." The fairy muttered as Peter flung his head back, his long braid slapping his shoulder as he rubbed his hands over his face and smoothed his hair away. Grinning at the bright sprite, Peter scooped up a handful of water and threw it her way, the fairy darting out of reach at the last moment, her voice shrill as she swore at him.
Satisfied with his ablutions he rose once more into the air, twisting gracefully through the dawn sunshine like an otter through water, his golden body glittering with droplets that streamed from his skin as he wove his way through the trees until he reached a grove of densely packed bushes, Tink still dogging his heels. Without pausing he entered the shrubs, their branches parting like magic around him. Like a dolphin darting among the waves, Peter wove his limbs among the branches of the bushes, weaving among the leaves while Tink sat on a tree branch above and laughed at his antics. Eventually he emerged, clothed from his waist to his knees in a suit of green skeleton leaves, the many shades of green knitted together seamlessly to his skin front and back. Across his chest and wound around his upper arms were supple vines to carry his weapons, a bark belt around his waist to carry his sword. Soft bark also created wrist guards on his forearms and provided a supple ribbon to bind his hair away from his face.
Flying back to the little house nestled in the glade, he set down beside his pile of clothes and once more settled his weapons about his body, even tucking a miniature blade of steel into his braid once he'd re-plaited his hair and tied it with the length of bark. As he finished his preparations a single sprite darted into the clearing and buzzed about his head, Tink flying up to meet with her sister before both flying to Peter and relating what information had been gathered.
Peter sat cross legged in the air, his brows knitted as he listened to the report, the air filled with the tinkle of the fairies voice as she related her observations. After several minutes she stopped and waited for Peter to respond.
"Once more you serve me well. Hook may think he has baited his trap irresistibly, but we have played this game often enough. He thinks I will rush in without care because he holds what is precious to me. I may surprise him yet. Lead on Tink, let's see for ourselves what lies ahead."
With the fairies leading the way, Peter flew speedily behind them, dipping and swooping as they headed for the coast and a rendezvous with the Jolly Roger.
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Wendy stared up at the clouds starting to gather overhead. After her meal at Hook's table she been taken to a tiny cabin adjoining his room and told to rest. Surprisingly, given her agitated state of mind, she'd slept deeply for several hours. It was dark in the room when she awoke, the portly first mate appearing as if summoned and helping her to a light meal in Hook's cabin, the room empty of it's occupier, gone to supervise topside, she was told. After her meal she'd been given the privacy to take care of her needs and also to change her clothes. Somehow the first mate had produced a selection of gowns and laid them on her bunk when she returned to her cabin. Gratefully Wendy shed her sweat and salt stained garb and donned a simple gown that laced at the front over a cotton shift. Her breasts were swelling and being able to loosely lace the front was a great comfort. The skirts were too long and she had to hold them up to walk, but the bliss of wearing clean clothes overcame their shortcomings. Again the first mate appeared as if by magic and this time produced a silver backed brush, ushering Wendy to sit in a chair and allow him to brush it free of tangles. Wendy was surprised but when the rotund man explained that he acted as the Captain's valet as well as first mate, Wendy submitted to his ministrations, content to let someone else take care of her hair and it's myriad knots and snarls.
"The Captain has a lovely head of hair, so fine and wavy, almost like a woman's, but don't you ever tell him I said so mind." Smee twittered, working diligently on Wendy's hair with swift, sure fingers. "I be barber and valet, I shaves his face and cuts his hair and ever so many other things. I sometimes wonder if that's the only reason he keeps me around, I do, but then I remembers how lucky I am and don't worry about the future. I find it's the best not to think too much about what's going to happen in the next hour or even the next minute, sometimes." He burbled on, sweeping the brush down her back. "He's a hard master, is the Captain, a hard master but he'd a right to be, yes siree, a definite right to be a task master."
Wendy listened with half an ear, the soothing sweep of the brush lulling her into a half doze, static making the air crackle as Smee brushed the tangles out of her hair.
"If only that wicked Peter Pan would leave us the hell alone it wouldn't be a bad life, sailing about these oceans. Of course, it gets a mite lonely, just with these salty dogs for company. No wimmin' ya see, no wimmin' at all, a man would do a lot to have a lady wife to pamper him. Even the Captain would welcome some female companionship, if'n you know what I mean."
Wendy had snapped out of her doze on hearing Peter's name, the rest of Smee's rambling mutterings starting to unsettle her. Twisting in her chair she tilted her head away so that Smee had to stop brushing.
"Thank you Mister Smee for doing my hair. I think I'll braid it now. Do you have a ribbon I can use?"
For a second Smee blinked at her from behind his round glasses a little like a confused owl. "If'n that's what you're wanting, here ya go."
Taking the length of satin ribbon, Wendy swiftly braided her long hair and tied off the end securely. Smee tidied up his paraphernalia and bustled out, leaving her alone again. She had barely had time to make a short circuit of her cabin when Smee's head appeared around the door again. "Cap'n says your to go up top and take the air. Nice night it is for sure. Hurry along now, don't want to keep the Cap'n waiting."
Wendy gathered up her long skirts and hurried after the first mate, negotiating the steep steps up on to the deck with some difficulty, but forgetting everything in the welcome brush of a cool breeze over her face. It was drawing in to evening and a smattering of stars twinkled overhead among the swiftly moving clouds. The ship was far out at sea, Neverland a distant smug on the starboard side, her sails partly reefed so that she barely made headway through the wallowing swells. Reaching the rail she held onto a stanchion before turning to face the deck, the loose hair's framing her face whipping around her head and teasing strands out of her plait. Crewmen were scurrying about the decking, swarming up into the rigging as a burly bosun bellowed orders. She could see Captain Hook standing, legs braced, up on the poop deck behind the wheel, a lantern swaying behind him. The feathers on his hat were dancing around the crown in the gathering wind, his hair tossing about his shoulders. Wendy stared up at him and reminded herself that he'd not done anything but treat her with consideration since her capture. Seeing him as something other than a fearsome pirate Captain made things complicated, especially when his crew shot her looks that varied from outright venom to lascivious lechery. Turning away she leant out over the rail and stared down at the water starting to boil past the hull as the ship picked up speed. White foam splashed up the planking as if trying to reach her, the waves streaming past in a froth of bubbles, tiny flecks of white inching up towards her. As she stared she saw something slicing through the water, a dark body appearing to keep pace with the ship. It was hard to make out details as the creature never broke the surface, but it appeared to have a long powerful tail and had no difficulty keeping up with the plunging ship. The wind was now tearing at her clothes and hair, buffeting her as she held on to the shroud lines attached to the rails, her knuckles turning white with the effort. She flipped a length of loosened hair out of her eyes and stared back down at the water once more. The sea was boiling past the dark side of the ship, the water now as grey as the sky making it difficult to see below the surface. Shivering now, Wendy was about to turn away when something appeared on the surface and she gasped. A dark, slick head appeared out of the sea, the body still submerged, but greenish arms and black hair framing a pale face appeared above the waves, the mouth opening to reveal sharp teeth, the eyes dark as coal. Still keeping pace, the mermaid reached upwards towards Wendy and started to sing, the strange sound apparently unheard by the crew around her, her ears hearing the lilting sounds, her eyes fixed on the black below her.
A hand suddenly grasped her upper arm and hauled her back from the rail, breaking her connection with the creature below.
"I think it's time you went below, Wendy dear. It's becoming chill and this storm is getting worse. Don't want to lose you overboard m'dear."
Hook held her close against his body, his bulk shielding her from the cutting wind. She stared up into his face, cast into shadow by the ever darkening clouds and feeble lighting scattered about the deck, unable to make out his expression. The grip on her arm tightened and she went with him without resisting as he pulled her back towards the cabin door, letting her go only when Mister Smee appeared to take charge of her.
"Take her below Smee and keep watch. Sleep well Wendy, we don't want you looking peaky and pale in the morning." Turning on his heel he left them, Smee chivying her along the passageway to her room, not allowing her to talk as they negotiated the rolling deck to her cabin. Once there she found herself bundled inside and the door shut behind her, the click of a key in the lock recalling her to her position as prisoner of the pirates.
Back on deck Hook returned to the rail, his hook digging into the wood as he leant over. The mermaid was still there, staring balefully up at the side of the ship, effortlessly keeping pace with the plunging progress of the Jolly Roger.
"Be gone with you sea witch....tell Pan I have what he wants."
Below him the mermaid bared her fangs and dived back under the water, her tail flicking out to send a flume of water up the side of the ship, barely missing Hook as he leant over the rail.
"Bloody mermaids!" Hook growled before heading for the poop deck and a new direction for the helmsman.
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Wendy awoke early, the sun barely above the horizon and painting the sea a sickly green in the dawn light. She's slept well despite the rough motion of the ship, her dreams unblemished by fear or terror, their images all of waterfalls and butterflies and flying. Swinging her legs around she sat up, the deck appearing to move beneath her feet, but in reality as still as if docked. Reaching for the handle of the cabin door she was surprised to find it unlocked. Listening hard, she pulled it open a crack and peered out into the murky passageway. She saw no-one and opened the door further. It swung wide on noiseless hinges and she sidled into the corridor, shutting the door behind her. She listened again, but apart from the creaks and groans one expects from a ship there were no sounds of the crew. Hook's cabin door was shut tight and she hurried in the opposite direction, scurrying up the steps to the hatch. This was also unlocked and she pushed it upwards only a little, peering through the crack for any sign of the night watchmen. Seeing nothing, she pushed the hatch wide and stepped onto the deck, her bare toes curling as they made contact with the cold decking. The ship appeared to be at anchor off the coast of Neverland, her sails tidily reefed, her decks scrubbed clean and ready for action. The strange greenish light permeated the rigging, casting odd shadows over the deck as Wendy crept to the rail on the landward side and peered over. No shout halted her progress as she gripped the salt roughened wood, the distance to the water seeming to be a immense down the broad side of the ship, but her need to escape quelled her natural fear of heights. As she prepared to climb, a sound behind her made her freeze into immobility, her blood stilling as she tried to identify the scuffing noise. With her hand gripping a wooden belaying pin, she eased it out of its hole and prepared to swing around and hit whatever was behind her. She got no further than raising it towards her shoulder when a brown hand reached out and gripped her wrist with biting strength, numbing her fingers even as she found herself spun around to face her attacker.
"Peter!" Her surprise was such that she forgot everything in the warm rush of relief that flooded through her, euphoric to see him standing in front of her. As quickly as her hope's rose, they plummeted and she struggled to free herself. "Let me go, you have to flee, this is a trap....to catch you."
"What? No loving greeting, no explanation of why you thought it fit to run out on me? For a prisoner of the pirates you have an extraordinary run of the ship. What did you trade for your freedom, and these clothes?" Wendy didn't bother to raise her head, knowing the look of contempt she'd see in his eyes, given the tone of his voice. It dripped sarcasm, his fingers still gripping her wrist, twisting it slightly to force her to release the wooden pin.
"It's a trap...go now before they awake and take you...please..."
Instead of heeding her words, her erstwhile rescuer released her wrist, moving his grip to the hair at the back of her skull, dragging her head up and forcing her to face him. Unable to bear the look of hatred she was sure she'd find in his eyes, she closed hers, moaning softly when his fingers dug into her scalp. She could smell him, almost taste him, her own fingers itching to touch him, but instead she buried them in her skirts, held upright only by his hand in her hair.
"Think you to escape me by giving into oblivion? Think again Wendy."
Suddenly his mouth was on hers, his breath searing her lungs as he kissed her hard, grinding his mouth against hers, bending her back like a bow as he forced his tongue between her lips. She put out her hands and they flattened against his bare chest, her fingertips grazing over satin skin sheathing hard muscle, her breasts soon trapping her hands when his arm pulled her closer against him. Forgetting her surroundings, Wendy gave herself up to him, all her noble intentions of self-sacrifice buried beneath an avalanche of need for the man holding her.
Peter finally broke the kiss and stared down at her, breathing hard as if he'd just run a marathon or fought a hundred pirates, his body alive with electricity as if his heart had only started beating again when he'd touched her. He should be getting them both off the ship before the crew sprung whatever trap they had planned for him, but the need to reassure himself that she hadn't changed towards him had been too strong. His answer had been in that kiss. Gently now he cradled her head against his shoulder and dragged in huge gulps of air, his heart hammering.
"What a tender scene, two lovers reunited...but alas, only briefly." Hook's softly purring voice washed over them, the low growl of mens voices rising as the crew of the Jolly Roger encircled the couple by the rail. "She's a fetching bait, when all's said and done, I can see why you're so hot for the wench. It was what I was banking on, Peter Pan. And you walked neatly into the trap. I must congratulate you, my dear Wendy, you performed your role with admirable aplomb."
Hook's hateful words penetrated Wendy's daze and she jerked as if stung, her eye seeking Peter's, begging him to understand that she had no part in his capture, her body shaking in his arms as he turned to face the pirates.
Placing himself between Wendy and the pirates, Peter drew his sword and knife and went into a defensive crouch, ready to fight. "You stole what was mine and I intend to take her back. Over how many dead bodies, is up to you to decide." Twirling his knife, he grinned at the men facing him in a semi-circle, his eyes sweeping over their faces before coming to rest on the man at their center.
"Brave words for one up against near twenty. And all for the sake of a mere wench. I'm surprised at you Peter, that you'd sacrifice so much for soiled goods. I give you this though, you certainly trained her well....she gave good service last night." Hook let one eyelid fall in an obscene wink, Wendy's gasped denial all but lost as Peter growled an obscenity, a muscle twitching along his jaw.
"It's not true Peter.....he never..." Wendy tried to explain only to have her words drowned out by the rasp of weapons being drawn from twenty scabbards, the crew eyeing up their prey with beady eyes and hungry mouths.
"Nice try Hook...but it matters not to me if you and the entire crew took their pleasure of her, she's mine and I keep what belongs to me against all comers."
Stepping forward suddenly, Peter swept the space in front of him with his blade, the entire crew, as a man, dodging back out of reach as the blade passed them. Only Hook remained as he was, his own sword resting point down on the deck, held lightly in his good hand.
"Cocky whelp, do you honestly think you can defeat my entire crew?"
"With one hand tied behind my back!" Peter laughed, lunging forward directly at Hook, forcing the pirate to lift his blade and defend himself from the slash of Peter's sword.
Forced to step back or be skewered, Hook bellowed at his crew. "What are you waiting for you scurvy dogs!"
Peter dodged backwards just as a cutlass swung at his head, a sudden noise from above alerting him only seconds before a heavy net descended from the rigging. Wendy's scream of warning followed him as he darted to the side in a blur of movement, the net grazing his legs as he catapulted into the air over the heads of the pirates who rushed forward to stab and stamp on the fallen net. Wendy cowed at the railing, driven to her knees with fright, the net a crumpled mess at her side, her face hidden against the planks as the pirates milled around her hunched figure. Peter circled around, looking for a chance to snatch Wendy from the deck, but Hook was ordering his men to fire muskets at him, the shots whistling through the air, one catching him a crease across his arm as he ducked behind the main mast.
"Bring up Long Tom!" Hook bellowed, remaining near the fallen net and Wendy as his men fanned out, hurriedly reloading their guns while searching the rigging for any sign of their quarry.
"Think you can take me on single handed Pan!" Hook shouted, his eyes burning brightly as he scanned the masts for Peter's fleeting figure.
"Who said I came alone," Peter's voice floated back, his body a blur as he dodged behind a spar, cutting the ropes and sending the beam crashing to the deck, the shroud entangling several of the crew and covering the long cannon being readied on the deck.
"Scurvy bloody hell spawn!" Hook swore, cursing his men and the man responsible in one breath. Wendy shrank back against the deck, her hands covering her ears as guns boomed around her, a blunderbuss discharging nearby and peppering the main mast with lead shot. "Stupid oaf!" Hook screamed, wood splinters showering down on the Captain. "Sight ya quarry before you fire that thing again."
Without warning a swarm of bright lights surged up over the rail and over the pirates heads, darting among the crew who started to scream as fairy swords and spears stabbed at eyes and faces and any exposed skin, every cut exploding with tiny sparks of flame. Like virulent firefly the fairies flew around the men's heads, darting to avoid wildly slashing blades as the men tried to swat the creatures, confusion causing many to stab and slash their crew mates by mistake. Howls and curses filled the air, Peter forgotten as the men tried to prevent further injury. Only Hook remained unmoved by the fairy assault, his feet planted firmly against the deck, his back to Wendy, his sword and hook at the ready. Suddenly Peter was there in front of him, the young man's face split with a broad grin, the light of battle in his blue-green eyes.
"Devil's putrid offspring, at last we can face each other, man to man."
"Have at thee Hook!" Lunging forward, Peter's sword clashed with Hooks, the metal ringing out as the two men engaged, Hook forced to step back as Peter rained blows on his blade. Wendy found herself pressed against the wooden planks, squashed by Hook's legs, his hook thudding into the carved rail above her head as he fought to keep his balance. Rallying, he traded blows with Peter, forcing the younger man to retreat. Pushing himself away from the railing Hook parried several slashing blows, his hook catching Peter's blade and forcing it down, Hook's foot darting out to trip his adversary. Like a cat Peter managed to twist away, bringing up his knife to block Hook's downward cut, his arms muscles bulging as he countered the pirates thrust. At his back the fairies continued to attack the crew, their bright dust trails weaving through the air and casting strange shadows over the conflict. One crewman broke away and attacked Peter from the rear, only the younger man's quick reflexes preventing him from being skewered through the back as he twisted around and knocked the cutlass away, his knife catching the pirate in the throat and downing him. Hook took advantage of the diversion and pressed forward, his sword aiming for Peter's heart but finding his side instead, slashing a gash across Peter's ribs before he could dart to the side. Blood started to flow, streaming down and over Peter's leaves, flying out in a spray of droplets as Peter pivoted around to face Hook once more.
"Cowardly cur!" Peter swore, parrying Hook's blows and managing to slip past the Captains guard, slashing Hook's sword arm through his velvet coat. Hook yelled and his arm dropped, Peter's sword instantly coming to rest beneath Hook's stubbled chin.
"Surrender or die!" Peter snarled, pressing the tip forward, forcing Hook to drop to one knee. "Surrender or I'll spit you like a pig!"
The pirates finally noticed their Captain at the mercy of their enemy and abandoned the battle with the fairies.
"Drop your weapons or your Captain will not see another dawn." Peter ordered, pinking Hook's throat with the tip of his sword so that blood trickled down to his white shirt collar. The men remained beyond Peter's reach but didn't lay down their weapons, eyeing the standoff with hate-filled eyes and sporting several injuries from the fairies.
Hook glared up at his enemy and a sly look entered his expression, his lips slowly pulling back from his teeth in a leery grin. "All this for a trollop no more faithful to you than a whore. Did you think you were the only one to sample her charms all this time? I've known about her existence since she arrived on the island."
Peter narrowed his eyes and stared at Hook grimly. "You lie badly."
"Do I? Ask yourself this then....why did she run to me when she left you? Why didn't she tell you she was pregnant, if the child wasn't mine?" Malice dripping from every utterance, Hook watched the words sink in.
He saw Peter's eyes start to widen as the possibility of the truth aligned itself with what he knew. Then Peter narrowed his eyes again and drew his sword across Hook's neck, cutting him a second time.
"Wendy has never left my sight."
"Never?" Hook mocked, one dark eyebrow rising. He saw indecision cloud Peter's eyes and knew he had scored a hit. His men stirred uneasily but didn't interrupt, well aware that Hook was as devious as a snake and playing a treacherous game with his adversary. "She was coming to me when you killed my men."
"No."
"She came to me now because she knew you'd probably kill her if you found out she was pregnant. What use has Peter Pan for a whore who can't even keep herself only for him? She's hardly worth all this effort or bloodshed. I won't hold this against you lad....leave the wench with me and you'll never have to see her again."
Behind them both, Wendy sat against the hard wood of the railing and felt as if her world had gone mad. She wanted to scream and rail at Hook for painting such lies, but in truth, hadn't she wanted to leave Peter before he left her? She could see a rage building in Peter's eyes at her supposed betrayal, would her avowal of innocence mean anything now? Would he ever believe that the child was his, even if he wanted her still? She raised her head and slowly pulled herself to her feet, her face as white as milk, her heart thundering in her ears.
Peter stared at her as if she was a stranger, his thoughts hidden behind narrowed eyes, a muscle jumping in his cheek, every sinew in his body taut. "Is what he says true?"
Wendy swallowed, her throat dry, her tongue suddenly mute. Unable to speak she could only shake her head and silently scream at him to believe her. Peter stared back and then abruptly moved, his blade sliding across Hook's throat as he placed himself behind the pirate Captain and facing the hostile crew, his back to Wendy.
"Know this, there will be no leniency for any pirate caught pillaging or raping on Neverland. There are no rules of combat now, if you choose to continue to sail these waters, you will be regarded as wolfs-heads and your lives forfeit. All hands will be turned against you and no quarter given if we meet in combat. You live now because I allow you to, but know that I will not give you a second chance. Begone from this island and don't return."
Placing his bare foot in the middle of Hook's back he kicked out and sent the pirate sprawling on the deck. At the same time he whirled and pulled Wendy against his bloody side, one arm about her waist like a steel band, the other still holding his sword as he leapt into the air and over the side of the ship. The pirates surged forward as the fairies followed, Hook screaming in impotent rage as his men lifted him to his feet before they all pressed against the railing and watched the fairy host follow their leader back to the shores of the island and beyond their sight. Roaring his frustration, Hook lifted his arm and buried his prosthetic into the timber almost to the hilt, splintering the carved surface like kindling.
"A pox on the cur and a pox on his jade!" Hook railed, his men edging back to give his blade and hook a wide berth. "Get this plaguey ship back into good order, and quick smart about it. We sail on the next tide."
"Sail where Captain?" One brave soul asked, veering back when his Captain lunged forward and grabbed the front of his shirt.
"I won't be driven from this island by some milksop brat." Hook growled, rolling his R's and breathing rapidly. "We sail beyond land's sight and no further. With planning we can plunder this land as we've never done before. No pap is going to tell Captain Hook what he can or cannot do on his own damn ship!"
Thrusting the man away, Hook strode over the deck to the stairs leading to the helm, his men parting like a wave before him. "Get thee about ya business and make my ship seaworthy again."
Like industrious ants, his men leapt to do his bidding, feverishly clearing the decks of the fallen spar and taking care of their wounded. Hook paced over to the big wheel and rested his arms between the pins. Something itched on his neck and he slapped his hand against it, his fingers coming away stained with his own blood. "I'll get you Peter Pan if it's the last thing I do. I'll kill you and take your bitch to be my own. Your child will become my child....your whore my whore....your death and humiliation, my victory and ultimate revenge."
Suddenly he started to laugh, the sound strange among the noises of the men working to clear the deck, many of the crew shivering as they listened to the note of madness coming from their Captains mouth.
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Chapter: Nine - Living in the Aftermath
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Wendy clung to Peter as he flew them over the verdant greenery clothing Neverland. He wasn't returning to the house they'd been living in, bypassing the glade without a glance. They flew on, their fairy detachment falling away quickly and leaving them alone to continue on. Peter still held his sword unsheathed, his knuckles white around the hilt, Wendy's dress was becoming soaked in his blood, clamped as she was to his side by his unyielding arm.
"Peter....we need to stop....you're bleeding..."
Thinking he'd not heard her above the rush of air, she tried again.
"Peter please...we need.."
"I need you to keep quiet. The wound is nothing."
He'd neither turned his head nor slowed his headlong flight, Wendy feeling the bite of tears sting her eyes at his curt, dismissive reply.
Suddenly Peter dipped and swooped towards the ground, Wendy closing her eyes and swallowing hard as her stomach lurched with the unexpected move. They had reached a rocky escarpment near the base of the towering mountain that dominated the center of the island. Peter brought them in to land, releasing Wendy almost as soon as his feet touched the ground, her own feet stumbling helplessly, depositing her in an ungainly sprawl among the trunks of the trees. Once on the ground, Peter sheathed his sword and finally turned his attention to his injury, twisting his torso to peer at his ribs, grimacing when the skin stretched, tearing open the half scabbed wound and making it bleed again. Wendy lay where she'd landed, her lungs heaving to draw in breath even as she struggled to find the strength to climb to her feet.
"Where...where are we?"
"Far enough away that even Tink will have trouble finding us, let alone your lover....Hook!"
"He lied to you....Captain Hook was never my anything."
"You lie as badly as he does." Peter sneered, turning his back on her while he shed his sword belt and removed his hidden weapons, throwing them to the ground haphazardly.
"Fine. Believe what you want. If you think I lied, why didn't you leave me there? Why bring me here?...Wherever here is?"
Striding over to where she lay, Peter crouched down, heedless of the pain in his side. "I told you from the start. You're mine and I don't give up what's mine without a fight."
"Yours, his...what does it matter. You all want to use me for some purpose or other. Kill me now and have done with it, I'm tired."
"Oh no. That would be too easy," Peter laughed, hooking his hand around her arm and flipping her over so she lay on her back staring up at him. "If you carry his spawn, I want see it live....albeit briefly, before I end it's sorry existence."
"And after you kill it, am I to die as well?"
"You really want to die, don't you?" Peter cocked his head to the side, one tawny eyebrow rising in curiosity.
"And you really are just as barbaric as he is." Wendy sighed, turning her head away as the sting of tears threatened again. "For all I know this could be my father's child, or maybe one of the men who had me before you kidnapped me. Wouldn't that be a joke?"
Peter didn't answer her, rising to his feet to stand over her, his mouth clamped shut in an unyielding line. Turning her head back and peering up at him, Wendy started to laugh, the sound thin at the start but building as her hysteria took hold, her whole body shaking as if in a fit. Peter stepped back, unable to comprehend how close to breaking the girl at his feet really was. Still laughing, tears blurring her vision, Wendy rolled her head back and forth against the ground, her chest heaving as she fought to breath, her thoughts obliterated by the sound coming from her mouth.
"Stop it." Peter ordered, his anger gone in the face of her strange reaction. "Stop laughing, you'll make yourself sick."
Unfortunately the words had the opposite effect to their meaning, Wendy rolling on to her gore soaked side and propping herself up on her elbow, still laughing, still crying, her voice now cracking with the strain of her hysterical outburst. " Make...myself...sick. " She gasped, shaking. "I wish I could die, and you're...worried I'll make myself...sick."
Unmindful of his own injuries, Peter became worried that maybe Wendy had sustained a blow to the head in the struggle. Crouching down again, he grasped her by both arms and lifted her into a sitting position, shaking her lightly. "Stop it Wendy....enough!"
Slowly the laughter started to fade away, Wendy hiccuping as she fought the storm that had overtaken her. With the euphoria of the laughter gone, she felt numb all over, her body starting to shake again in reaction, her eyes still drowning in tears.
"I...I'm sorry...P-Peter....I'm so....sorry."
Unable to stop the rush of sympathy engendered by her tears, Peter gathered her against his body, his arms wrapping around her as she broke into sobs, burying her face against his shoulder and clutching his back.
Having her back in his arms felt as natural as breathing to him. "Shhhhh...you're safe now. No-one will find us here." He stroked her hair, breathing in her now familiar scent, drawing her in close despite the sting of the gash in his side. "I won't let him hurt you...shhhhh...don't cry."
Slowly Wendy quieted against him, her body slumping as exhaustion took over and the tears dried up. For a long time they remained on the ground, on their knees, clinging to each other, oblivious to the world around them. Gradually the world intruded, birds calling in the trees above, the splash of water nearby competing with the wind soughing through the branches above their heads.
Wendy pulled away first, ducking her head to wipe her runny nose on her sleeve, her eyes red and swollen, her nose not much better. Peter still held her upper arms, steadying her as she tried to repair some of the ravages wrought by her weeping. He ran one hand down her arm and found her hand, meshing his fingers with hers before getting to his feet and pulling her up beside him.
"Come.....follow me."
Sniffing, Wendy followed, Peter leading them along a path that looked seldom used. Ahead of them rose the sheer rock wall of the escarpment, it's face pockmarked with a plethora of cave openings. Further along the cliff a waterfall had dug a channel in a rock fissure, tumbling down from half way up the face to form a pool at the base before disappearing along a narrow stream into the jungle. Peter led them to a cave opening close by, its entrance masked by an outgrowth of scrubby shrubs, Peter holding them to one side to allow Wendy to pass through before letting go, the bushes forming a close-knit door behind them. Filtered green light through the leaves showed the entrance to be narrow but high, allowing easy passage into the darkness beyond. Just as it became fully dark Peter stopped and dropped Wendy's hand.
"Wait a minute while I light a torch."
A moment later she heard a rasping sound before a flame flared into life, Wendy watching as Peter lit first a torch, then a lantern which he left hanging on a hook to light the rocky passageway. "Follow me, it's not far."
Holding the flaming torch in one hand, he reached for Wendy's hand once more before continuing onwards. A short walk brought them both to the end of the tunnel, an archway opening into a large cave. Peter lit another two torches, letting go of Wendy's hand as he walked further into the cave, leaving her by the entrance. The cave appeared to be furnished in a similar fashion to the underground burrow, with a rough-hewn table accompanied by a selection of benches along its sides. Against one wall appeared to be several makeshift beds, other sleeping couches apparently hewn from the rock wall. All were covered with a combination of animals skins and blankets, rumpled and untidy as if just abandoned by their owners. The sound of water drew her eye towards the back of the cave where a trickle of water fell like a mini waterfall into a raised rock pool as big as a large bath. Wendy watched Peter move around the cave, lighting torches as he went until the cave was filled with golden light from the flickering flames. With the last one ignited, he walked towards the rock pool, collapsing on the rim with an exhausted sigh. Looking up he saw Wendy still standing at the opening to the cave, her eyes darting around while her hands twisted together nervously.
"We used to come here to train sometimes and it made a change from the burrow when the rains came." Peter explained, his voice slightly echoey in the vaulted cave, waving his hand towards the multiple beds. "We used to play hunting games in the caves all around us, kinda like hide and seek."
Wendy stepped further into the cave and approached the table, sitting down on one of the benches, regardless of the layer of dust coating everything. Peter leant over the edge of the pool and scooped up a handful of water, drinking thirstily. His injured side was towards Wendy and she felt a little sick at the sight of all the blood coating his skin, his leaf trousers thickly coated in dark, sticky streaks. She looked away and saw a wooden bucket beside one of the beds. Getting to her feet and picked it up and walked over to the pool, dipping the bucket in to fill it up.
"You need to clean up Peter. That cut looks terrible. We can use my skirt for rags." Not waiting for a reply, Wendy bent down and grasped her hemline, lifting her skirt and pulling at the material to rip it. Pulling the small, hidden knife from his long plait, Peter held it out for her to use. Gratefully Wendy took it and cut a length of clean material from her dress. Dipping it in the bucket she held it out for Peter to use.
"I can't reach it, can you do it?" Keeping his gaze steady, he waited for Wendy to move. For a long moment she hesitated, swallowing visibly before moving to his injured side and starting to dab at the wound.
"You'll need to remove....ah....your.." She stammered to a halt, gesturing to his leaves. Getting to his feet, Peter plucked a single leaf from his ensemble. At once the entire garment disintegrated, the leaves falling to the ground, shriveling on impact with the rock floor. Peter now stood naked, dark streaks of blood covering his side and down his muscular legs. Ignoring Wendy's look of astonishment, he sat down again, wincing as a sharp ridge of rock jabbed his backside.
"That's....er..better." Wendy muttered, dipping the cloth once more into the bucket before wringing it out and once more dabbing at the wound. As carefully as she could she cleaned away the blood, revealing the long, angry looking slash where Hook's blade had attempted to end Peter's life. The edges were clean, the cut straight and no longer oozing blood. Using the small knife, she cut a length of her petticoat and folded it into a large enough pad to cover the wound. With more, narrow strips off her skirts she fashioned a bandage that wrapped around Peter's chest and held the pad in place. Her crude doctoring completed, Wendy sat back on her heels and stared at Peter's torso, noticing, as she'd never really done before, all the scars marring his honey gold skin.
Tentatively she lifted her fingers and ran them over several of the whitish marks, marveling at how close to death Peter had come on many occasions. Peter didn't move, his eyes following hers as they roamed over his body, finding and measuring all his battle scars, cataloging them as if keeping a record of his endeavors.
"Do you always beat him?" She asked finally, getting to her feet and standing before him. "Are you always the victor?"
"If I wasn't do you think Hook would be a lenient conquerer and let me go after defeating me?"
"I don't know."
"If I hadn't vanquished him today, do you think he'd have treated me like an honored guest? Given a banquet in my honor?"
"No." Wendy whispered, hanging her head. Peter sighed.
"Yes, I always beat Hook in the end. But not without him taking every opportunity of ending my existence, given half a chance."
Dumping the bloodstained cloths into the bucket, Wendy made to leave him, Peter's hand around her wrist stopping her when she turned away.
"Why didn't you tell me about the child?"
"I didn't think you'd want me if you knew I was pregnant."
"Why wouldn't I want you?"
"Because I'll get fat and ugly. Because I'll be sick and tired and won't want to have sex with you and you'll grow tired of waiting and find someone else." Wendy gasped in a breath, her confession having taken every mote of oxygen in her lungs.
She had her head turned away, eyes downcast. She heard him sigh but didn't raise her eyes.
"Have I been so cruel, so heartless that you'd think so badly of me?"
Surprised at the wistful note in his voice, Wendy risked a glance at his face. "I-I was always told that men hate women when they're breeding. They get so big they can't see their feet and men don't want to go to bed with a whale."
Again she heard Peter sigh and felt his hand slip down from her wrist to her fingers, entwining his with hers.
"Do you really believe that? Or is it just what your bastard of a father drummed into your head?"
Emboldened by the genuine note of interest in his voice, Wendy lifted her head and let the bucket drop the short distance to the ground.
"Do you really want to know what I think?"
"Yes."
Given courage from the warm pressure of his fingers against her own, Wendy drew in a breath. "I think that a man is equally responsible for a woman bearing a child, and he should look on it as a blessing, not a curse. It's his child as much as hers. And.....and if she does get as big as a whale, it's something the woman can't control, or reverse, and it's only temporary."
For a long moment neither said a word. Then Peter lifted his eyes and looked at her. "As much his, as hers...that's what you said. I don't want you to die, Wendy, I don't want your child to die, whether it's mine or not."
"You don't?"
"And I don't care if you get as big as ten whales, or throw up every five minutes of the day, I still don't want to let you go or stop making love to you."
"You don't?"
In a daze, Wendy felt Peter tug her closer, his free hand coming to rest on her rounded stomach over the remains of her dress briefly, before she found her ragged skirts being bundled up at the front and his palm coming to rest on her skin, warm and rough, his long fingers stroking over her flesh and circling her belly button.
"Turn around." Peter ordered gruffly, withdrawing his hand as she slowly turned her back to him. With unsteady fingers he undid her dress, letting it fall off her shoulders and bunch around her waist before tugging it down over her hips, the petticoat following it down to pool around her ankles. As naked as he, Wendy remained with her back to him as Peter stood up behind her, his chest smooth against her back, the bandage rough against her spine. His hand slipped under her arms around her front, cupping her full breasts gently before brushing over her ribs to rest against her belly, tracing the rounded bump starting to show above her nest of curls.
Shocked at her own wanton acceptance of his handling of her, Wendy let her head fall back on Peter's shoulder while his hands stroked and fondled her quickening body, one warm hand returning to her breast, pinching a dark nipple to a peak while his other hand continued to smooth over her flesh in circles. She could feel his arousal pressing into the small of her back, hot and hard.
"I need you now." Peter's whispered growl against her neck make her shiver in anticipation, her eyes flying open to search the room for a suitable bed for them. Peter was ahead of her, his arms lifting her under her knees and around her waist until she was cradled against his chest.
"Your side!" Wendy protested only to have her mouth covered by his, silencing her effectively until he'd carried her over to one of the sleeping benches. Laying her on the bed he didn't let go of her, kissing her hungrily as he followed her down on to the furs, his hands roaming over her body, between her legs, parting her thighs and delving in between. All the while he never took his lips from hers, his hand spreading her wide as he settled between her legs, parting her nether lips with his hard length, pausing briefly before thrusting inside, burying himself in her heat.
Briefly wrenching his mouth from hers, he stared down into her eyes, his breath coming in harsh pants as he thrust himself repeatedly into her willing body. "I need you....can't live....without you...don't leave me.....ever again..."
Welcoming the powerful movements of his body against and inside her, Wendy gave up any attempt at restraint, wrapping her legs around him, while her hands stroked the bunched muscles in his arms and shoulders, silently urging him on.
"I'll never.....give you up.....I can't....I won't....Wendy!"
His body convulsed against her, his final thrust welding their bodies together in the final culmination, Peter shaking uncontrollably in his release, Wendy holding him against her as every muscle relaxed and his weight covered her like a blanket of damp, warm velvet.
Entwined they slept, the only sounds audible beyond their breathing were the snap and hiss of the flames as the torches maintained their vigil over the exhausted lovers, the passage of the sun and moon forgotten within the timeless womb of the caves.
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Hook peered through the spyglass and swore under his breath. He was laying on his stomach on a rise overlooking the Indian encampment. He could clearly see the new fortifications and increased guards, the glass held to his eye bringing it all into sharp focus. He swore again.
After his crew had worked to clear the wreckage of the damaged spar, he'd set a course away from the island again, attempting as he had done frequently before, to leave the Neverland Sea far behind his rudder. As with previous attempts, they were thwarted in their endeavor by a violent storm that simply blew them back towards Neverland, the peaks and valleys mocking their efforts. The shrill cry of monkeys greeted their ship as they berthed in a sheltered cove not far from the ruins of the Black Castle. Hook didn't doubt Peter Pan's avowal that there would be no second chance if any of his crew were caught on the island, but they needed supplies and to find a way to combat the spell that held them tethered as surely as a goat to the shores of the benighted island before them.
Hook managed to convince the crew that their best hope of escaping the enchantment was to wrest the knowledge from the Indian's. A plan was thrashed out to kidnap the chief's daughter and hold her for ransom until the Chief divulged how the pirates could finally break free of the curse holding them prisoner. To that end they had trekked overland to the Indian village and now waited for an opportunity to put their plan in to action.
The new fortifications and guards put a damper on their original idea, but Hook was not daunted, sure that their chance would come before too long. There had been no sign of Peter Pan either on the ground, in the village, or in the air since he'd flown away from the Jolly Roger with his Wendy in tow. It was assumed that either the cursed brat was holed up somewhere with his trollop and taking a break, as he'd done before. Or else he'd killed the wench and was sulking somewhere on the island. Secretly they hoped the former, as the weather seemed to indicate, the days long and tropical with sunshine and balmy breezes, no hint of a storm brewing anywhere other than far out to sea.
A commotion further down the slope behind Hook drew his attention from the village. Passing the spyglass to his first mate he turned to face the man hurrying up the slope towards him.
"Cap'n Hook, Cap'n Hook....I've got one!"
Hook's eye's narrowed and he rose to his feet, the man stumbling towards him with his hands clasped in front of him, over setting his balance so that he almost fell at his Captain's feet when he finally arrived.
"I caught one of the blighters!" The pirate announced, his rough face split with a triumphant grin.
"Just what is it you have caught, Mister Slight?" Hook asked, one black eyebrow raised interrogatively.
"A fairy Cap'n, a bleedin' fairy!"
"I sincerely hope it isn't....bleedin', as you put it. It's of no use to me dead!"
"Oh no sir....it's all wrapped up, neat and sweet. I just need something to put it in."
Smee was already approaching with a metal and glass storm lantern, the inside cleared of its usual wax occupant, the small door open wide.
"Here ya go Cap'n. Just the ticket." Holding it out to the crewman, Smee helped Mister Slight bundle his captive into the lamp, shutting the door firmly once the pirate had his fingers out of the way. Hook peered closely at the lamp as Smee lifted it high, the grubby cloth inside moving as whatever was caught in the folds tried to fight it's way out.
Soon a slender arm appeared, then a tousled head, and finally a pair of gossamer wings, sadly crumpled. As she raised her head, the watching pirates could see her expression change from apprehension to outright terror, the creature's wings beating erratically as the fairy twisted and turned, finally cowering in one corner of the lantern, as far from Hook as possible.
"There, there, no need to take on so. I don't intend to eat you, I just want to ask you some questions." Hook drawled, waving away the crowding pirates around him and gesturing for Smee to carry the lantern off to the side. Settling himself on a boulder, Hook stroked his goatee with his hook, the sun reflecting off the gleaming metal most effectively, the fairy's gaze never wavering from the curved appendage. "Now, if you just answer honestly, I'm sure we can get this over and done with in an amicable fashion. Then I can let you go." Hook kept his tone nonchalant, not meeting the tiny fairy's pleading gaze, noting that she seemed to accept his words at face value. "I'm sorry my man treated you roughly, it won't happen again."
Fairies, for all their fierce bravery in battle and even fiercer loyalty to Peter pan, were still easily won over if separated from their brethren and soothed with a persuasive tongue. Hook was a master at deception, his oily smoothness easing the creatures fears, her whole demeanor changing as she swallowed his lies without a qualm of caution.
Hook was an old hand at the game and couched his questions carefully.
"There now, you see, we intend no harm to you. All I need to know is where Peter Pan is, at this moment?" Instantly, the fairy shrank back, shaking her head vehemently. Hook held up a placating hand and pursed his lips in a moue of dismay. "Oh no, you misunderstand. You will be aware that Peter ordered us from Neverland, and we tried, really we did. But a storm blew us back to these shores and we are only trying to find a way to overcome the obstacles so we can leave these emerald isles, and you all in peace." Employing his well practiced acting skill, Hook managed to produce a single tear from his eye, lifting his hook to catch the tiny drop most effectively. The fairy was completely taken in, pressing her hand against the glass of the lantern and mewing her distress in sympathy for Hook's sincerity. Smee had to strongly suppress the urge to roll his eyes and sigh gustily. He never understood how the silly creatures, especially females of any species, were so gullible to his Captains charm. Keeping his face devoid of expression Smee watched the pantomime with resignation.
By the time Hook had finished, the fairy was sitting most amiably on Hook's hook, her creased wings still unable to unfold completely, but forgotten as the naive creature drank in Hook's avuncular charm, positively preening under the pirates gleaming eyes and broad smile.
The answers to his questions fell from the fairy's lips like ripe cherries, the sprite giving him the information he asked for with embarrassing ease. If the creature had a tail, Hook was sure it would have been wagging, so eagerly did the fairy impart what she knew.
It was really quite nauseating.
"Thank you my dear, you have really been most helpful." Hook beamed at the tiny creature perched on his hook, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he ended the interview. "Now I believe it is time we ended our little....tete-a-tete." Bringing his hook close to his lips, Hook spoke the words that would end the farce.
"I don't believe in fairies!" His sibilant whisper washed over the creature, her face registering her surprise a second before her body stiffened and turned grey. With a flick of disgust Hook disposed of the lifeless corpse onto the ground, lifting his heel and grinding the tiny body into the dust. "Disgusting vermin!" He hissed.
Turning to his men, he swaggered towards them, a wicked grin splitting his face. "Right brutes, we have all the information we need to put our plan into action. Gather round and pin your ears back."
As Hook passed on what he'd learnt, a breeze picked up, swirling dust around the mens booted ankles, flickering across the ground and picking up leaves as it traveled. Over one patch of trampled earth the breeze lifted the remains of a gossamer wing which twirled and twisted in the swirling zephyr and floated up towards the sky, the last remnant of a foolish creature who trusted a pirate and paid with her life.
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Chapter: Ten - Creating the Ties
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Wendy stirred as a warm breath brushed over her nape, a pair of equally warm lips pressing a kiss on the patch of sensitized skin a second later. The hand splayed over her rounded stomach started to paint lazy circles around her navel while the lips traveled from her neck to her shoulder, making her shiver with anticipation.
"Are you cold?"
"No."
"You shivered."
Twisting around in his embrace, Wendy faced her lover and stared into his eyes. "I'm fine. You should be more worried about your side."
Grinning, Peter flickered a glance down at the bandages still wrapped around his chest. "You fuss too much. I'm still alive, so it must be healing."
Unable to refute his logic, Wendy huffed in annoyance, her fingers toying with the edge of the cloth. "Shouldn't you be checking on what's happening in Neverland? For all you know Hook could have laid siege to the Indian's and leveled the village!"
Peter laughed, flopping onto his back and grinning. "Unlikely. Hook knows that my threat is real. He wouldn't risk an outright battle, there's too much at stake."
"But...." Wendy started only to have Peter give her a look.
"Enough. As you say, it is time we went out and saw what the rest of the world is doing in our absence. Come on lazy bones!"
With an easy grace, Peter got up from the bed and sauntered bare naked over to the pool of water. Dunking his head in fully, he soaked for a few seconds before lifting his head and shaking it like a dog, water spraying out in all directions, the cold droplets landing on Wendy's skin and making her squeal. Still dripping he returned to the bed and shook himself again, this time deliberately over Wendy who shrieked and scrambled away from him.
"You rat, that's cold!"
"But you can warm me up....come here!"
Darting across the cave floor, Wendy ducked behind a rocky outcrop, Peter in hot pursuit. Laughing they played tag around the cave until they fell giggling onto the bed and lay gasping.
"All right, I give up."
"You give in too easily. I'll have to teach you some fighting moves so you can present more of a challenge." He said it to tease her, his eyes glinting mischievously. Wendy however, took it an entirely different way.
"I could never do that." All laughter gone, she rolled on to her side and sat up.
"Never do what? Fight me?"
"It's better not to fight. Fighting just delays the inevitable."
Puzzled, Peter pushed himself up and sat beside her. "I don't understand."
"I don't think I can really explain it properly."
"Try." Stilling her restless fingers, Peter held them in his own.
"It has to do with...with my life before I...you brought me here."
"Your father?"
Avoiding his gaze, Wendy nodded.
"It's like the having babies thing."
"You mean, your not supposed to fight, like your not supposed to get pregnant?"
Again Wendy nodded, swallowing past the lump forming in her throat.
"But he's not here to stop you now. He'll never be here to stop you doing anything."
"I know....really I do. It's just...every time I think of doing something I know I was forbidden to do before....I feel this huge lump settled on my chest, like a rock. I can hear his voice telling me over and over....and he's forcing me...I can't..I can't..do it!"
"Hey, it's alright....you don't have to do anything you don't want to...I promise. You don't need to learn to fight, I'll protect you...I just.."
"I know, and I'm sorry to be such a useless..." She flapped her free hand in frustration.
"You're not a useless anything. Wendy, look at me."
Shaking her head, Wendy found her chin grasped within strong fingers that forced her to tilt her head and meet his eyes.
"You are free of him. He can't touch you, or come near you, or even be on this island with you. You never have to fear him again."
Staring up into his fiercely intent face, Wendy felt the knot of fear start to loosen inside her chest. Hadn't he already proved that he'd do anything for her? Could she really allow herself to let go just a little? She so wanted to believe him.
"Never is a very long time."
Letting go of her chin, Peter stroked her hair back from her face, his gaze searching her face for something.
"Do you trust me Wendy?"
Biting her lip, she hesitated only a second. "Yes."
"What is it you want most in all the world?"
"Me?"
"You...if you could have anything at all, what would it be?"
Almost unable to breath, Wendy stared back at him, her eyes wide.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
The seconds ticked by as Peter waited for her answer. "Wendy?"
"I want.....I want...." Peter had to dip his head to catch her whispered words. "I want to be......loved."
For a second he stared at her blankly, his heart forgetting to beat as he processed her words. Then it started up, thundering so hard he thought she'd hear it for sure. "You want to be loved?"
Already regretting her foolish words, Wendy seemed to shrink into herself, cowering in anticipation of the scorn she was sure he'd shower on her. Instead she found herself wrapped in strong arm, her face pressed to a broad chest, the heart inside hammering against her cheek.
"Foolish, foolish girl......you are loved. Do you really think I go about stealing young girls and having my wicked way with them just for the hell of it? I can assure you I don't......I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, I couldn't help myself. I saw you, I wanted you and now I can't live without you....here with me in Neverland, forever."
Still clasped against Peter's chest, Wendy could only lay limply, unbelievably happy, her heart starting to thump as hard as his.
"You love me?" She whispered against his skin.
"Love you, adore you, can't have enough of you....want you , need you...what more can I say to convince you?"
"You love me?" Wendy said again, this time a little louder.
"Will this convince you?" Lifting her head, Peter held her face cupped in his hands while his lips spoke eloquently against her own, igniting a flame between them that soon roared into a conflagration. "Foolish foolish love...don't run away from me again. I'd fight a hundred pirates if I had to, but I'd rather do this," He kissed her again, briefly. " And this..."
"Oh yes...do that again....."
"And this...do you believe me now?"
"You love me."
"I love you."
"Peter?"
"Mmmmf?"
"I love you too."
"hmmmfph."
"You knew?"
Surfacing, Peter grinned madly down at her, his tousled hair flopping over one brow. "Of course....I just had to wait for you to figure it out for yourself."
"Oh."
All thoughts of leaving the cave to find out what Neverland and its inhabitants were doing flew out of both their minds as they gave themselves over to the delights of the flesh, augmented and enhanced by the blissful knowledge that each loved the other without restraint and that for both, life was starting anew from that moment onwards.
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The ambush took the hunting party by surprise, the ferocity left half of the braves dead with the remainder injured and on the run. The object of the attack stood with her back against a tree, her dark eyes flashing as she fought off another pirate who fell back with a howl as her knife slashed upwards. Her braves lay wounded or dead around her, the survivors already running for aid, which she knew would come too late to save her. The pirates were closing in and she screamed her defiance at them, brandishing her tomahawk above her head, making the nearest man hesitate. A sound behind her made her swing around, the ruse sufficient to give the men in front time to throw a heavy net over the Indian Princess, enveloping her in its odorous folds. She screamed and thrashed, her weapons ineffective against the netting as pirates threw themselves on top of her, stripping her of her knife and hatchet, subduing her movements until she could hardly breath. Rope was wound around her body, confining her arms against her side before she was hoisted onto four brawny shoulders and carried from the scene. The first attempt to carry her away was halted when she screamed for help, the men quickly dumping her on the ground to slit the net around her head and gag her. Even then Tiger Lily was not prepared to give in without a fight, biting two of the sailors before a rough cloth was forced between her snapping teeth and tied behind her head. Subdued once more she was again lifted and carried, her limbs weakly flailing against the confining ropes, her eyes rolling as she fought her captivity. Her efforts were useless against the determination of the pirates, her body carried back to the shore and dumped carelessly into the bottom of a boat, to be rowed out to the Jolly Roger rolling at anchor in the bay. The ship at once set sail, heading out to sea, rounding the headland and disappearing into a thick mist before the first of the surviving braves reached the Indian village.
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"Peter?"
"It's nothing."
"Well for something that's nothing, that's the third sigh in as many minutes."
The fingers drawing circles around her breast halted their delicious tickling and instead cupped the warm flesh, the thumb rubbing absently over the firm bud at the center.
"I feel something is not right. Something's happened."
"You mean out there, in Neverland?"
"Yes. I think it's time we did some visiting."
After hasty ablutions, they dressed in clothes that Peter found tucked away in some of the alcoves. It was a mishmash of styles, incorporating both pirate and Indian clothing. Peter eschewed using leaves again and donned leggings and a sleeveless tunic, over which he belted a scabbard for his sword and a knife. Wendy chose a loose fitting tunic with short sleeves that reached almost to mid thigh, under which she wore a pair of black boys breeches that ended just below her knees, decorated with red piping up the seam. Around her waist she nipped in the shirt with several leather thongs that were then knotted at her side, forming a tassel. Another thong tied back her hair, while soft moccasins covered her feet. Peter wore the same and they padded out of the cave into the blazing glory of an early afternoon, the sun blinding them momentarily as they pushed past the screening greenery shielding the entrance to their cave.
Wendy basked in the golden light, her eyes closed as she drew in several large breaths of sweet air. Peter stretched his arms out above his head, flexing his muscles before dropping his hands to rest them on his hips.
"We'll go to Mermaid Lagoon. It's just around the other side of the mountain and if anything is wrong, the Mermaids will be the first to know."
"I thought the fairies would be the ones to ask?" Wendy queried, placing her hand firmly in Peter's.
"Usually. I just have a feeling...come on, we're wasting time." And just as suddenly as the blinking of an eye, Peter had turned from gentle voiced lover to the protector of Neverland, his tone turning harsh as he gripped Wendy's hand and lifted them both into the clear blue sky. Ignoring the tiny stab of uneasiness pricking her heart, Wendy pinned a confident smile on her lips and worked on relaxing as they flew higher and higher, clearing the trees and soaring over the broad jungle, heading for the coast. Their course took them around the base of the towering mountain, its cap shining white with snow, their passage passing into and out of the shadow cast by the peak until Peter started to descend, bringing them down towards the pleated cliffs lining the Mermaid lagoon. The clear green water was filled with the waving fronds of seaweed just below the surface, the waves lapping softly at the multitude of rocks jutting just above the waterline, their surface sometimes smooth, sometimes covered in slimy weed and barnacles. Peter dropped them both onto the top of one broad boulder, the surface only slightly roughened by sea creatures, its sides coated with colonies of black mussels and Neptune's necklace.
"Stay here." Peter ordered, dropping Wendy's hand and instantly launching into the air again, flying to a rock closer to the center of the sheltered lagoon. Wendy didn't protest, contenting herself with sitting on a small rise and watching the sea birds dart among the rocky ledges on the cliff face. Peter was crouched at the edge of the rock and leaning down close to the water lapping against it. She supposed he was calling to the Mermaids and watched intently, but when nothing happened right away, she grew bored and watched the birds instead. More minutes passed and Wendy shifted her bottom on the hard rock, a breeze ruffling the surface of the calm sea and lifting strands of hair into her eyes. As she brushed them away from her face she saw that Peter's rock was surrounded on all sides by glossy headed Mermaids, their arms resting on the flat edge, their faces lifted up to Peter. He now stood with his hands on his hips, legs apart, unmoving as several of the Mermaids reached out webbed fingers to stroke down his legs, plucking at the fabric of his clothes, lifting themselves out of the water to get higher.
Wendy sat up straight and stared, noting that the creatures seemed to be devoid of any clothing other than their long flowing hair, their skin glistening in the sun as they swayed back and forth, their arms moving like seaweed in a strong current. As if emboldened by Peter's apparent indifference, one of the creatures openly groped him, her long nailed fingers stroking and fondling his crotch, plucking at his leggings as if to rip them from his body. Her sisters allowed this liberty for a few seconds then pushed the creature back into her place, resuming their adulation despite Peter remaining unmoved by their attention. Wendy was anything but unmoved, a sharp spike of indignation and unexpected jealousy rose up in her throat and she let out a sharp noise of irritation.
"Well really!"
At once several dark heads swung about, obsidian eyes fixing on her before their owners pushed themselves away from the rock and started to swim towards her. Alarmed, Wendy scrambled to her feet and stood in the center of her rock, watching the approach of the Mermaids with some trepidation. Two of the creatures disappeared below the surface while the third continued to approach, her eyes fixed on Wendy with glassy intensity. Peter seemed to have not noticed that some of the Mermaids had left, having once more crouched down to hold an intense conversation with one of them while the others swam circles around his rock.
The Mermaid reached Wendy's rock and rose up out of the water, reaching up a languid arm to flip her long hair away from the front of her body, baring her torso. Wendy sucked in a sharp breath, noting that the creature was, in truth, quite naked, formed as a beautiful young woman with high, firm breasts, the skin mottled with strange streaks and discoloration. The Mermaid seemed to hold herself effortlessly out of the water on her tail, her waist dissolving into glistening scales with no evidence of a navel. The creatures face looked entirely human until she opened her mouth to smile and revealed two sharply pointed rows of teeth behind the green lips, the Mermaids eyes also unusual in that there were no whites to be seen. In all, the creature was both beautiful and terrifying.
A splash behind her made her spin around and she saw the other two Mermaids were now resting their arms on the edge of her rock, their appearance identical to the one in front except for differences in skin markings and mottling. Turning back to face the one at the front, Wendy tried to smile, her face stiff with apprehension.
"H-hello..my name is Wendy."
"WWWWWeeeeeeennnnnddddy," The Mermaid drew her name out in one long hiss, barely intelligible.
"That's right....Wendy. I'm a friend of Peter's."
"PPPPaaaaan....friend."
Encouraged, Wendy nodded and smiled. "Yes.....friend."
The ones behind her also hissed, a quietly sibilant sound that sent shiver down Wendy's back. Stepping away from them brought her closer to the one in front. At once she felt a hand slid up her leg, her attempt to pull away halted when the webbed hand closed around her ankle and held her fast.
"Staaaaaaaaay." The Mermaid commanded, her body lifting further out of the water, her free hand reaching out to slide up over Wendy's leg, hip and waist, brushing over her ribs and breast until the hand rested on her shoulder. Wendy remained frozen, mesmerized as the creature rose up out of the water, now facing her almost nose to nose.
"Knnnneeeeeeelll!" The Mermaid commanded and Wendy felt her knees buckle, the creature lowering her down until she knelt on the hard rock, her eyes held by the creatures dark gaze, unable to break the spell. The world had narrowed down to only those dark eyes, Wendy unable to pull away when the Mermaid ran her hands over her body, once more exploring the curves under the shirt. Behind Wendy the other two had lifted themselves out of the water and come forward to stroke their long fingers through Wendy's hair and over her back, trailing fingers down her spin as if counting the vertebrae.
Wendy hardly felt their ministrations, her entire focus on the creature in front of her, her eyes glazing over as the Mermaid loomed closer. Wendy didn't flinch when a pair of cold lips closed over her own, parting her unresisting mouth to allow access to the interior, cold breath flowing over her tongue and down her throat. The pressure of the chill lips increased until Wendy felt herself starting to float, her body no longer her own, the sound of her drumming heart ignored in the rush of sensations flooding her limbs, salty breath filling her lungs and nose.
Abruptly the lips left her and she fell backwards, unaware of the fight taking place as Peter drove the Mermaids away from the rock, the screams and splashes unheard as she lay staring up at the blue sky above.
The sky started to spin and she wondered if she was dead after all, the cliffs falling away below her, the clouds coming closer. Something was holding her but she couldn't figure out who or what it was, content to let her body float until something stung her cheek hard.
"Snap out of it Wendy...wake up!" Another slap stung the other cheek and Wendy flinched away, her body trying to lift her hand to protect her face but only managing to lift it a few inches before letting it flop back onto the ground.
"No you don't," Another slap snapped her head to the side and this time she felt the pain keenly, a fog starting to lift from her brain, the next blow making her yelp and roll onto her side to protect her smarting face.
"Wendy?" Peter voice came to her, full of concern and regret. "I'm sorry I had to slap you but it was the only way."
Hands pulled her around and she found herself on her back looking up into Peter's face, his fingers smoothing over her stinging cheeks, soothing the hurt.
"You slapped me!"
"Yes, I slapped you....you were so sunk in a trance I couldn't get you to wake up."
"A trance?"
"I told you not to look into their eyes,"
"You did?"
"I told you, Mermaids are not as they are portrayed in books. They're dark creatures, in touch with all things mysterious. Not sweet or kind or generous. In fact, they'll sweetly drown you given half a chance."
"I do feel rather odd," Wendy murmured faintly. Satisfied that she appeared to have thrown off the Mermaid's enchantment, Peter gave her a hand up, steadying her when she wobbled.
Looking around Wendy couldn't see any sign of the Mermaid lagoon. They appeared to be back in the jungle.
"Where are we?"
"Safe, for the moment. Which is more than can be said for Princess Tiger Lily," Peter informed her grimly.
"What's happened?"
"According to the Mermaids, Hook launched a raid on a hunting party and took Lily captive. The Indian's are on the warpath, and Hook has sailed out of sight of Neverland with Lily on board."
"What are you going to do?"
"I've already done it." Peter told her bluntly. "I've sent the Mermaids with a message for Hook." He paused, scuffing at the ground for a moment. "I've asked for a parlay."
"Parlay?"
"Hook only wants one thing. Me spitted on his sword. So I've offered him the chance."
"What!" Shocked, Wendy stared at Peter in disbelief.
"The Indian's can't reach Hook while he's out at sea. They know it and Hook knows it. I have to lure them back to Neverland if we're to have any hope of getting Lily back."
"Is she worth losing your life for?" Wendy asked, unable to stop the sharp pang of jealousy leaking into her tone. Peter gave her a sharp look.
"Jealous Wendy?"
"No. I just have no wish to become the property of Hook if you get yourself killed."
"I don't intend to get so much as a scratch. If I can lure Hook to rendezvous with me at Skull Rock, he's bound to bring Lily as his hostage. Once she's off the ship it should be easier to get her away from him. I warned Hook the last time that no quarter would be given if we meet again. It'll be Hook or me this time."
"Oh, of all the conceited, arrogant fools. He'll be planning a trap for sure, and you're going to hand him your head on a plate!"
"Not this time. All I need if for him to bring the Jolly Roger close enough to Neverlands' shores for the exchange. While I'm taking care of Hook, the Indian's will be exacting their revenge on the pirates."
"All this for a dirty savage!!" Wendy cried angrily, her emotions in turmoil. She wanted to wring his neck for taking risks when they had only just settled everything between them.
Peter's knuckle caught her high across her cheekbone, his backhand making her head snap to the left and sending her tumbling to the ground.
"Don't ever speak like that again about Tiger Lily or any of her people." Peter snarled, his fists balled against his side as he bent over her. "I haven't time to worry about your petty jealousy. I have to go."
With tears of pain and shock swimming in her eyes, Wendy blinked up at him, her hand held to her throbbing cheek. "Go? What am I supposed to do while you fly off and rescue your precious Princess?"
"Keep out of trouble!" Peter told her as his parting shot, leaping into the air and flying out of sight before Wendy could get to her feet and call after him.
Unable to comprehend how it had all turned into a disaster in so short a time, Wendy stood staring after him long after he'd gone from view, her hand still held to her burning face. The tears that had been blinding her finally fell, tracing down her face as shame and regret fought with fear and anger, her poor emotions shredded in the face of Peter's rejection.
Heartsore, she walked a few steps over to the shade of a broad leaved tree, its roots softened by a thick carpet of cool greenery. Laying down, Wendy rested her throbbing cheek against the soft sphagnum moss, a sudden tiredness sapping her will to move, sleep claiming her even as she fought the welcoming darkness.
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"Wake up stupid girl!"
A sudden shrill tinkling of bells woke Wendy, a sudden tug on her hair bringing her fully awake.
"Ow!"
"Get up, get up, get up!"
Wendy sat up slowly, her fingers automatically seeking her bruised cheek, the skin tender and swollen. Around her head buzzed a bright creature, sparkling dust flying out in all directions, fluttering wings a blur as the fairy darted about the girls head.
"I'm up....what is it?" Peter had told her about the fairies but this was the first time, other than on the Jolly Roger, that Wendy had seen one of the creatures up close. "Are you Tinkerbell?"
"Stupid great girl!!" Tink shouted, not slowing down as she spun in manic circles around Wendy. "Of course I'm Tinkerbell."
"Oh....good. Pleased to meet you I'm...."
"I know who you are, great lump. Get up, get up, get up!" Tink fairly screamed at Wendy, darting in to grab another hank of hair and pull, making Wendy scream.
"Stop that you wretch, that hurt!"
Wendy managed to find her feet and stood up, jerking her head out of the way as the fairy darted in again.
"Stop attacking me and tell me what you want?....Is it Peter?"
"Of course. Great arrogant brute has gone to meet Hook at Skull Rock, but they're planning to trap him there....hurry, hurry!"
"Trap him? Oh no....but what can I do?"
"Save him, save him you stupid great girl, save him!"
"I would....I will, but what can I do, I don't even know where this...this Skull Rock is?"
"I'll show you....but hurry. Fly, fly." Darting above, Tink hovered over Wendy's head and clapped her hands, flashing dust showering down on the girls hair, gilding her head. After dusting her off, Tink fluttered down and floated in front of Wendy's face. "Think happy thoughts....hurry, hurry."
"Think happy thought? How am I supposed to do that?"
"Stupid fat girl, think of something happy, something that made you laugh.....hurry!"
"That's harder than you might think....stop flapping around me and let me try." Closing her eyes, Wendy tried to conjure up a happy thought, her mind stubbornly refusing to allow her to do so. Suddenly Peter's face came into focus and she felt her lips curve up into a smile. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn't deny that she loved him. Holding on to that feeling, she concentrated on remembering their last bout of tender love making, her body feeling all tingly and weightless.
"You've done it!" Tinkerbell shrieked, fluttering around Wendy's head as the girl rose up into the air, her toes several feet off the ground.
Wendy slowly opened first one eye then both, staring incredulously down at the ground. "I did it?"
"You did it!" Tink crowed, clapping her hands excitedly. "Now come on, we have to hurry."
"Lead on Tink....I'll be right behind you." Keeping Peter's face firmly in her minds eye, Wendy put her hands out in front of her with her arms outstretched. As if doing the breast-stroke, she pulled them back, sweeping them through the air. Immediately she started to move, her body angling in the air to follow the brightly shining fairy waiting for her. After a few trials and errors she found the best method and before too long was managing to keep up with Tink as the fairy led the way through the trees.
"Oh my...I can fly, I can fly," Wendy cried out, turning over in the air in a corkscrew, her arms spread wide, her face alight with the joy of feeling weightless and free. Beside her, Tink stared at the madly grinning girl and shook her head.
"Silly ass."
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Chapter: Eleven - Broken Ties
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Peter crouched on the ledge and peered over the lip, watching as the boat made its laborious way through the narrow opening into the cave. He could see Hook silhouetted against the light as the jolly boat passed under the broken archway, the pirates' jaunty hat sporting a feather that bobbed in the breeze. The boom of the waves hitting the back wall of the hollowed out rock was deafening, echoing around the stones like bullet ricochets, distorting and muddling the sound of the oars. From his vantage point he could see that Hook had brought only his trusted first mate Smee and one other pirate with him, the three men almost filling the small boat to capacity. Of Tiger Lily there was no sign, Peter leaning forward to get a better look. Hook was working the tiller, with one foot raised as if resting on something in the bilge, a sudden movement below his boot made him stamp down on the figure squirming under the canvas.
"Keep still you savage, you're rocking the boat!" Another kick followed the order and the canvas stayed still. Hook directed his men to row the boat to a spur of rock. "We'll tie her up and leave her for the fish. With the tide coming in, she'll have thirty minutes at most."
Callously the three men laughed, the boat scraping against the seaweed slimed rock as they tied it to a rusted metal ring set in the edge for that purpose. Smee and his shipmate got out first, standing on the ledge and waiting for their Captain to lift out the prisoner. Hook deposited the canvas wrapped body none too gently onto the damp jetty, Smee unrolling the salt stiffened fabric to reveal the Indian Princess within its folds.
Tiger Lily was bound hand and foot, a gag around her face. Even in the gloom Peter could see her dark eyes flashing fire at the men manhandling her. Smee took her shoulders while the other man wrapped his brawny arms around the girls' legs, clamping them against his side to prevent her kicking. The two men carried their wriggling bundle further along the ledge to an outcropping which sported a collection of dark chains hammered into the rock edge and dangling above the water. While the crewman knelt on the girls' legs, Smee pulled up the dripping lengths of chain. Together they threaded the barnacle encrusted metal links through the ropes binding the Princess before lowering her into the water where she hung, her head and shoulders just out of the water.
Hook stood on the rock ledge beside the boat, apparently unconcerned by the muffled shrieks coming from his captive, the water churning around the Indian girls' body as she fought to free herself.
"You'll only tire yourself Princess. Save your strength. I've known men be able to keep their heads above water for nearly an hour, hoping to outlast the tide." He paced over to where his henchmen stood looking down at the girl hanging from the chains. "Of course, they weren't trussed up like a chicken, but it's your own fault. We'll just have to hope that your erstwhile champion is not tardy in attempting to rescue you."
Hook chuckled and stepped back from the ledge, his men laughing with him. Tiger Lily merely glared at her tormenters, garbled sounds coming from behind her gag as she swore at them.
"Now Smee....time we prepared for the arrival of our guest. You and Sully get out of sight behind those rocks. Make sure your guns are primed and ready. The Pan is a slippery customer and I don't intend to allow him to win this round."
"Aye, aye Captain."
"I'll signal when I want you to appear...understand?"
"Do I shoot him Cap'n?"
"If you get the opportunity, of course shoot the bastard!"
"Right you are then," Smee doffed his stocking cap and scurried to follow his shipmate, the two pirates collecting the firearms from the boat before hiding themselves among the boulders at the back of the ledge.
Peter grinned in the gloom, noting where the two men were hunkered down out of sight. Turning his head back he watched as Hook checked his own pistols, tucking the weapons into his sash before withdrawing his blade, the metal glinting dully in the light from the cave mouth. Moving stealthily, Peter glided from his hiding place, using the shadows as he worked his way down towards the water. Behind a boulder he stacked his weapons on a ledge, leaving himself only his dagger tucked into his trouser belt. Taking care not to make a splash, he eased himself into the chill water, filling his lungs before ducking under the water and starting to swim strongly to where Tiger Lily struggled to keep her head above water. Surfacing directly behind the Princess, Peter caught his breath before ducking under the water again, finding the ropes tying Lily's legs together and severing them. Instantly the Indian girl used her legs to help keep her head away from the waves threatening to swamp her. Peter popped up beside her and whispered in her ear, keeping one eye on Hook who continued to pace above their heads.
"I can't free you completely...keep your head above water. Won't be long now." Not waiting for the garbled reply, Peter ducked once more under the water and swam swiftly back to where he'd left his weapons. Collecting them, he darted into the shadows and donned them as quickly as possible, running his fingers over his head to slick back his hair before climbing up to his former look out. This time he didn't hide, but stood up, clearly visible to the man pacing below.
"Hook, you old cod fish.....were you expecting me?"
Turning slowly, as if completely unconcerned, Hook rested his sword point on the ground, tilting his head up to stare at Peter. "Late as usual Pan? A few more minutes and your princess would have been gasping her last....rather tardy of you."
"Free the Princess, Hook, and I might let you live."
"I don't think so Pan. She's been a useful bait for my trap, but she's also been a thorn in my side with her hunting parties and ambushes. I think I'll leave her where she is...to ponder her fate a little longer."
"Ponder your own fate Hook. I warned you the last time we crossed swords that there'd be no quarter if we met again."
"And none wanted, you cocky brat. If I could leave Neverland and your accursed vicinity, I assure you I would have done so long since. Now, thanks to one of your fairy friends, I have the information I need to break the curse that holds us here. The Princess will serve a double duty to me. Alive, she provided the bait to bring you to me, dead she will provide the blood I need to finally break us free of the spell keeping us ever circling this poxy island."
"The only one dying today Hook will be you!" Peter shouted, swooping down to land on the ledge a few feet in front of Hook, his sword slicing the air. Hook stepped back to give himself space and held up his blade to fend of Peter's furious attack. The air was filled with the sound of metal on metal, the blades catching sparks of light as the waves crashed against the ledge sending spray over both protagonists.
Several times Peter spied the first mate peering over the rocks, looking for an opening. Using his ability to fly, Peter made sure the pirates had no such opportunity, twisting in the air to avoid a vicious down slash, landing lightly behind the pirate Captain, Hook spinning around to confront him, finding himself blocking a close call from Peter.
Both were so caught up in their parry and thrust that the sound of the second boat approaching was ignored, the platform with the long cannon positioned as instructed without Peter being aware of the new threat to his situation. Hook, knowing full well what was to come, kept Peter with his back to the cave opening, his men working to secure the barge and load the shot into Long Tom. Peter and Hook were evenly matched, only Peter's ability to fly keeping him from being skewered on Hook's blade when his bare foot slipped on the slime coating the rocks. Needing a breather, he leapt into the air, leaving his enemy on the rocky ledge spewing curses after him. Only then did he become aware that something was blocking the entrance to the cave.
Hook was shouting to his men over the sound of the waves, gesturing to his first mate to shoot at Peter while he hovered in the air above the water. Peter had been watching the men working on the cannon below and hadn't realised his danger until a shot nearly took off his head, creasing him across the top of his arm, drawing blood. Hook had chosen his trap well, Peter having limited space to fly within the cave.
"Do you intend to shoot me with that?" Peter shouted, pointing with his blade at the dark weapon being loaded with shot. "I can easily out fly that crude blunderbuss!"
"Maybe you can....but can the Princess keep her pretty nose above the rising tide? I think not. Give yourself up Pan and I'll release the Princess."
"Never!"
Signaling to his men, Hook raised his sword and brought it down in a slash, the men on the barge lighting the short fuse. Almost immediately the report of the cannon filled the cavern, deafening everyone inside, Peter feeling the shock-waves even as he clapped his hands over his ears. A second later, before he had time to recover from the booming echoes ringing in his head, the net fired from the cannon enveloped him, the weighted ends wrapping themselves around his body like clutching hands, their weight knocking him back so that he hit the wall of the cave hard before plummeting to the dark water below.
Hook stood half bent over, his forearm and hand pressed to his ears, his back to the sea. Recovering quickly he peered into the smoke residue.
"Did we get him?"
"Not sure Cap'n. Did anyone see him fall?" The men all shook their heads, still recovering from the cannon fire.
"Blast ya eyes! Did ya see him fall!" Hook yelled, stepping closer to the edge and scanning the surface of the choppy water.
"The net's not on the surface Cap'n." Smee observed, standing beside Hook and peering at the water.
"Get the boat and find that net. I'll not have him cheat me and drown!" Hook ordered, Smee and his crew mate hurrying forward to push the boat from the ledge, rowing it quickly towards the center of the cave. Smee held the boat steady while his partner used a boat hook to dig below the surface of the water. After a few abortive swipes, he managed to hook something.
"I've snagged a rope Cap'n,"
"Quick Smee pull the beggar up, let's see what Long Tom caught in his net!" Gleefully, Hook almost danced at the edge of the water, his eyes intent as his henchmen labored to drag the heavy net up towards the surface. Princess Tiger Lily, all but forgotten in the fray, trod water to keep her face above the lapping waves, her eyes also searching the water for any sign of her erstwhile rescuer.
Two more pirates had swum over to Smee's boat, aiding him to pull aboard a wrapped bundle, the rock bolero's dangling as they heaved it aboard the boat.
"We got 'im, we got 'im!"
The remaining pirates cheered raggedly, Hook grinning as he waited for his enemy to be delivered, bound and drowned at his feet.
"Is he alive?" Hook shouted.
"He's taken aboard a fair bit of water...but he'd be breavin, I reckon." Came back the report from one of the pirates.
"Close enough. Disarm the brat and bring him to me."
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Wendy scrambled up the steep slope towards a wide crack in the rocky wall. With her fairy companion urging her on, she managed to squeeze through the crack and found herself inside the aptly names Skull Rock, the cry of sea gulls outside drowned out by the boom of the waves swirling in the cavern below. She blinked to make her eyes accustomed to the gloom, ignoring the sharp pinches delivered by her impatient partner, Tink hissing in Wendy's ear to get a move on. She could hear men's voices echoing around her, the words indistinct. Feeling her way along the short rocky ledge she edged around an outcrop of jagged granite and found herself looking down on the drama below.
She coughed as the smell of cordite stung her nostrils, the cloud of smoke still swirling among the upper reaches of the cave. Peering over the edge she tried to hear what was going on below. She could see Hook pacing along a broad ledge, a boat tied to the rock at his feet. Several pirates also milled around, keeping clear of their Captain and acting nervous as they passed something laying on the cold stone of the ledge. Tink rattled something off in Wendy's ear and she flapped her hand at the fairy to make her back off.
"It's no good, I can't hear what he's saying. Can you see Peter anywhere?" Receiving a reply in the negative, Wendy peered further over and saw a hazardous path leading down towards the water. Indicating with a finger against her lips for Tink to remain silent, Wendy started to climb down the rocky face, keeping to shadows as much as possible. A burst of laughter from the men below made her shiver and she paused, leaning forward to see what was happening below. The bundle on the floor was no longer just a discarded net, it had been stripped away to reveal the familiar figure of Peter in an unfamiliar stance. Two pirates were just finishing binding his arms behind his back, Peter forced to kneel on the hard stone, his head bowed, water dripping from his long hair.
"How the mighty are fallen." Hook gloated, using the tip of his sword under Peter's chin to lift his face upwards. "No good glaring at me my lad, I swore one day I've have you bound and begging at my feet and today is that day!"
Wendy stared down in dismay to see Peter in so unlikely a position, her belief that he was invulnerable to Hook's wiles sadly shaken. A feeling of urgency twisted her insides and she hurriedly continued her descent, not at all sure what she could do, but determined to be close in case she a chance presented itself.
Hook was circling his captive, prodding Peter with the point of his rapier, slicing the younger man's shirt into shreds and leaving trailing scratches over the broad shoulders and muscled arms pulled behind Peter's back.
"Not so brash now, are we Peter Pan. I am surprised almost to see you here at all. I half expected you to be far to busy with the prospect of impending fatherhood, to worry about a rescuing a heathen. What does the fair Wendy think of you gallivanting off to rescue another fair maiden?" He waited for a reply but Peter remained silent. Using the flat of his blade he whacked his captive across the back leaving a long weal on the sun browned skin that quickly turned scarlet with blood.
Peter flinched and gritted his teeth but made no sound as Hook stood in front of him, the point of his blade once more digging into Peter's throat. "Look at me when I'm talking to you boy." Hook ordered, flicking his blade and leaving a cut on Peter's face, blood snaking down in a narrow trickle to drip off the point of Peter's chin.
"So much for your noble intentions eh?" Hook taunted, his men laughing as their leader grinned spitefully at his victim. "Peter Pan, all alone and done for. What shall I cut of first me hearties?" Hook swept his arm out wide, encouraging his crew to submit their preferences. Several loud voices suggested various parts of Peter's body to be cut off, Wendy blanching and feeling faint as the descriptions grew more bloodthirsty.
"My, my...my crew are all for relieving you of several parts of your anatomy. If they had their way, you'd lose all your appendages and your manhood." Hook laughed, prodding Peter with the point of his sword, the steel sinking into the flesh before being withdrawn, blood welling immediately.
"I tire of this sport. I want screaming and crying and begging. Not this silent martyrdom. Before I consign you to the deep I want my pound of flesh for all the humiliation and pain you've caused me over the years." Hook signaled for his men to haul Peter to his feet, the men laying brawny hands on their captive, not afraid to inflict their own share of bruises as they dragged him over to a raised boulder and thrust him down to kneel once more. Hook sauntered over, flexing his sword, swishing it through the air. "Not a big enough blade for what I have in mind. Hand over your cutlass, if you please." Holding out his hand, Hook waited for one of his sailors to pass him a wickedly sharp curved blade, the heavy metal a stark contrast with the elegant rapier Hook handed to one of his henchmen.
Wendy had reached a ledge that gave her an excellent view of the drama unfolding below, her eyes straining to see through the mass of pirates around Peter. She could see him struggling against their hold on him, Hook standing to one side, casually swinging the broad blade back and forth as his men fought to place their captive in the position needed.
When some of the men moved back, Wendy had a clear view of the boulder, Peter hand now held outstretched on the grey rock, his other arm twisted behind his back to hold him in place. Other's held his body and legs, preventing him from doing more than breath while Hook approached. One of the pirates wound his grubby hand in Peter's hair and yanked his head back. Hook stalked closer, the blade in his good hand winking evilly in the uncertain light.
"This changes nothing Hook. I will still kill you for returning to Neverland and for your other crimes."
Wendy could hear every word, her heart pounding as she stared fixedly down at the rocky ledge below, the waves splashing high against the edge, splashing water over the rocks.
"I'm not doing this to change anything boy...this is my revenge on you for all those time you made a fool of me. They'll be no flying out of this for you. Hold him tight men."
Wendy could see the cords in Peter's neck grow taut as he strained to free himself. Hook was raising the cutlass high above his head, Peter's right hand held in place on the rock by a leather thong wrapped around his wrist and held by a pirate on the other side of the boulder.
"You are not likely to survive this Pan. Any last words?"
The pirates fell silent, only the boom of the sea daring to break the silence. Hook shrugged and raised the blade higher.
"What you do to me Hook, is meaningless. You cannot hurt me, and I will drive you from these shores once and for all!"
"Brave words from a swab that will be dead in a few minutes." Hook snarled, bringing the sword down in an almighty blow that rung against the rock and brought sparks. The man holding the thong suddenly fell backwards and the men holding struggled to hold the body that jerked and thrashed within their clutches.
Wendy saw the bright spurt of arterial blood and felt sick, her throat making strange moaning noises as an unearthly cry issued from below, the sound rising to a crescendo and echoing off the rocks of the cave. The men holding Peter loosened their grip and their captive slumped to the side, his mutilated arm pumping his life blood onto the wet stones. Still the sound rose, the men falling back to stare down at the young man laying at their feet. Hook waved them back, handing over the bloodied blade and taking back his rapier. Stepping forward, Hook stared down into Peter's face, seeing the wide staring eyes glaring up at him, the face drained of blood and strained with pain and shock but still defiant.
"This is not the end.....never the end." Peter gasped, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a ghastly grin. "Death is only the start of the adventure..." Peter grunted slightly as Hook's blade thrust into his chest, piercing his heart and stilling his breath. With a savage twist Hook rammed the blade through to the rock below, giving it a final turn before lifting it clear, stained crimson with his enemy's life blood.
As Hook stared down at the body at his feet, he saw the light flicker and die in the boys eyes, the sea green glare fading to grey as life drained out of the body.
For a moment no one moved. Stepping over to one of his men, Hook wiped the blade clean on the sailors shirt before returning it to its scabbard at his side. "Time we left this place. What's done is done. Leave the savage to her fate."
Mister Smee shuffled forward and stared nervously from the body to his Captains stony face. "Don't you think we should tip him into the water....or summit?"
"Leave him where he lies. The crabs will feast on him tonight." Hook answered, turning away and walking to the boat moored beside the ledge. His men followed, none of them looking back at the body. "But...don't we need her blood?" Smee cast a last glance at the remains of Peter Pan before shuffling after his Captain.
"Not now....his should be more than sufficient."
No one spared a glance at the Indian Princess, too busy readying their boat and wanting a speedy departure from the cave that smelt so strongly of brine and blood.
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Wendy sat huddled on the rocky ledge, her body shaking with silent sobs. She heard the pirates rowing their boats out of the cave, their raucous voices dwindling into silence as they headed out to sea. She remained frozen in place, unable to lift her head from her arms, the boom of the sea filling her head with a rhythm like the throb of a heart beat. A cry reached her, barely audible above the slap of the waves. It came again and she lifted her head slightly to hear it better. As slowly as a sleepwalker coming awake, Wendy leant out over the edge and stared down at the froth covered water below.
"He-lp me ple-ase..." The voice devolved into a gurgle as its owner found her mouth filled with sea water. With the ebb of the waves, Tiger Lily called again. "Please....do-wn here...hel-p me-me!"
Straining her tear blurred eyes, Wendy saw a feeble movement underneath a rocky spur, her breath catching as she finally identified the dark blob bobbing in the water as a head.
"Hang on," She croaked, willing her stiff limbs to move, her frozen feet to grip the rock wall. When she finally reached the bottom she almost fell, her legs suddenly weak with relief. Biting her lip, Wendy staggered across the slippery surface to the edge of the landing, kneeling down to peer under the outcrop. A white face containing two coal black eyes met her frightened gaze, a wave submerging the Indian Princess for a second before it receded.
"T-t-he ch-a-ain," Tiger Lily's teeth chattered, her eyes rolling up to draw Wendy's attention to the rusted chain looped through her bonds. Wendy reached down and drew out the short knife from her belt and sawed at the sodden ropes holding the Indian girl captive. After several nerve shredding minutes the ropes gave, Tiger Lily disappearing completely beneath the water and out of sight. Wendy reached out a hand but she couldn't see the girl, the waves splashing over the edge and soaking her where she knelt. Suddenly the water erupted and the Indian girl appeared, flopping onto the ledge beside Wendy like a beached seal, her mouth open as she gasped and coughed. With Wendy's help the girl dragged herself further onto to rock floor before rolling on to her back and laying there, chest heaving. As she recovered her breath, she started to shiver, her arms coming up to wrap around her torso.
"S-s-o-o co-old."
"I'm sorry I don't have anything to get you dry."
"Mu-ust kee-eep moving." The Princess whispered, attempting to get to her feet but failing until Wendy helped her up. Together the two girls clutched at each other and moved slowly around in a circle until the Indian girl felt the strength flow into her legs.
"Be-ett-ter bu-t st-ill co-old."
"I need to get you out of here." Wendy said, rubbing the girls arms and looking around the dark cave. Until that moment she had studiously avoided looking at the rounded boulder and the gruesome remains at its base. But now her eyes were inexorably drawn to the body laying on its back, the bright light of the fairy Tinkerbell hovering above its face, bathing it in golden light.
"Peter," Wendy's whisper alerted Tiger Lily to the body laying before them. Wendy appeared carved in marble, unable to move a step further forward, her eyes straining to pierce the gloom, her face white and pinched. Prising herself out of the girls grip, Tiger Lily staggered across to the body and fell to her knees. A keening sound started to fill the cave, the Princess reaching out a shaking hand to touch Peter's lifeless body as she started to sway, the Indian death chant leaving her frozen lips in an ever increasing wail.
Wendy collapsed onto the stony floor and curled up, unable to bear the sight of her love so still and cold. The tears flowed again and she wept unrestrained into her hands, unmindful of the constant spray of sea water sweeping over the ledge.
Neither girl saw or heard the approach of the canoes, too intent on their own grief to be aware of anything. Only when strong hands lifted Wendy off the cold rock did she realise that Tiger Lily's tribe had come to their rescue. Numb, Wendy allowed herself to be placed in a canoe, the small craft pushing away from the ledge and heading out to sea. She looked over her shoulder but could only see a crowd of braves surrounding their Princess and Peter's body. Turning back to face the front, Wendy stared sightlessly out at the grey sea and equally gloomy sky while the paddlers carried her away from Skull Rock and back towards the shores of Neverland.
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Chapter: Twelve - Rebuilding the Ties
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"Here, drink this."
Wendy stared at the hand holding the cup towards her, but couldn't seem to co-ordinate her own hands and fingers to grasp it. The brown hand reached out and folded her cold digits around the warm cup, cradling her hand and pushing it towards her mouth, steam rising and blurring her vision. Like a doll she did as she was bid and drank the fragrant brew, her eyes still blankly staring even as her throat worked and she drained the cup.
"Lay down." The soft voice instructed her and she did, laying her face against the warm furs that covered the ground beneath her. This time the brown hands pulled a coverlet over her, tucking it around her shoulders, the voice crooning a lullaby in a language she didn't understand. Unable to resist, she felt her eyelids slide shut, the world devolving to just the voice which continued to sing as she fell headlong into sleep.
Willow let her voice die down, the breathing of the girl before her telling her that the tea had worked its magic and sent the drinker into oblivion. Satisfied, she patted the fur covered shoulder and rose to her feet, turning to survey the other young woman curled up under the furs on the other side of the tent. Both had been brought back to the village in differing states of shock and exhaustion. The Princess had been unable to stop shivering, her body so chilled that Willow had ordered a seemingly endless supply of hot rocks to be prepared to heat the furs wrapped around the girl once she was stripped of her sodden clothes. The other had sat as if carved from stone while Tiger Lily had been worked on, only rousing sufficiently to lift her arms so that her own salt stained and soaked clothes could be removed. The Princess was quickly warmed, drinking the posset without complaint before wrapping herself in furs and curling up. The other remained in a trance, Willow rubbing the pale girls arms and legs, talking to her, willing the spirit to return the light of life to the girls eyes. Even when dry and warm her skin remained an unhealthy pallor in the gloom of the tepee, worrying Willow.
Now both of her patients were asleep and she could take stock. Both were largely unharmed, both sporting a collection of scrapes and bruises but nothing life threatening. The Princess was strong and resilient and Willow predicted that she would be almost back to her normal self by the morning, given a good nights sleep and another restorative. The other girl was a different matter. Needing to know more of what had happened, Willow left her charges and stepped out of the medicine tent, closing the door tightly behind her.
Outside the village was in a ferment of activity, the overcast sky lending an unusual light to the scene as people scurried about, circling the large group of braves clustered near the Chief's tent. Willow pushed her way through the men to the front of the crowd, her status parting the men like the wind through a field of corn. At the center of the gathering lay the body of a young man. He had been stripped of his clothes and lay naked, his limbs laid straight at his sides, his legs neatly placed together. Willow watched as the High Priest of the village waved an eagle feather over the body, smoke from the small bowl in his other hand wafting slowly over the pale figure. Willow stepped forward and the man paused in his ritual.
"Will they live?"
Willow inclined her head. "The Princess was cold and tired, but basically unharmed. The other was not harmed and her baby still lives. But I am concerned for her spirit."
"Will she live?" The man asked again, more harshly.
"Yes."
Satisfied the man continued with his ritual, ignoring Willow when she stepped up to the bier and stared down at the young man laid upon it. She stared at the handsome features wiped clean by death of any pain or emotion, her eyes sweeping over his chest, noting the dark hole gaping over his heart. As she continued her inspection she noted that the Priest had placed the severed hand back on the wrist so that only a red line marked where it had been cut off. While she stood there, another woman approached with a pot of white paint and started to mark the body with symbols, painting them on the young man's face and torso, highlighting the wound in his chest. Willow turned away and left them to their business, her curiosity partly satisfied. Facing the wall of braves, she questioned them.
"Who can tell me what happened in the sea cave?"
After a pause two men stepped forward. "We were the first into the cave, but by then this," the man indicated the body, "had already happened. The Princess was singing the death song and the girl was crouched on the rock."
"Was anyone else there?"
The other man took up the story. "There was one of the fairy folk hovering over the body. It took off when we approached."
"I see. Thank you." Willow nodded to the two men and left the circle, the crowd once more parting for her as she walked through.
Out in the open once more, she pondered her next move, tapping a slender brown finger against her lips before setting off towards the outskirts of the village and into the tree line.
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In the center of the village, as the night drew in, a huge fire burned. Around the fire the Indian's danced and wailed, their copper skins reflecting the leaping flames, their eyes black and gleaming. Off to one side stood the High Priest, his stern visage staring haughtily at the braves raising the dust around the fire. They had performed all the rituals with just one left to complete. The women were ranged either side of the huge drums beating out the somber rhythm of the mourning song, the women's voices rising and falling in counterpoint to their menfolk's deeper chant. Sparks from the dry wood leapt into the darkening sky, the smoke carrying them up towards the stars starting to appear above the trees.
"It is time."
Raising his hand, the High Priest indicated with his hand and a party of the tribes most decorated braves stepped forward, the bier with the remains of Peter Pan carried forward. The crowd of onlookers parted to let them through, the voices dying down as the braves carried their burden towards the fire, their steps slow and measured. Peter's body had been dressed as befitting a prince of the tribe, his arms and face still wearing the white paint, his hair neatly combed with his long plait laid over one shoulder. He looked asleep, the flames lending life to his still face. The singing stopped and only the sound of the snapping fire filled the sudden silence. Stepping forward, the High Priest started to speak the words needed to send Peter Pan beyond the realm of mortals and on to the land of the dead. Glancing around, the Priest noticed that the medicine woman, Willow was not among the watchers. Disgruntled at her lack of curtesy, he continued with the ritual, signaling for the braves to carry the body around the fire four times while he spoke the prayer of renewal and rebirth.
While the Indian's waited and watched, the braves carried Peter's body the proscribed number of times around the blazing fire, the High Priest's deep voice intoning the words, the prayer ending as the men arrived back where they started from.
With a final waft of the Eagle's feather over the body, the Priest waved the men to continue. The huge fire had been cleverly constructed to allow a space at its heart to be left open, the center glowing like the sun while the huge logs braced around the edge flamed brightly. The braves approached the fire and took a stronger grip on the poles supporting the pallet on which the body rested. Together they started to swing the pallet, a murmured chant starting up as they sweated from the heat of the flames. On the fourth swing they bunched their muscles and heaved the pallet towards the heart of the fire. The force of the throw slid the pallet off the poles and into the heart of the fire, the men quickly backing away from the inferno like heat as the pallet crashed onto the glowing coals. For a long moment it sat there, inviolate from the yellow tongues of fire, the heat waves making Peter's body appear to shimmer and shake. Then smoke roiled over the body and it disappeared from sight, one of the upright beams snapping with an almighty crack, causing several of the watching crowd to cry out and surge backwards. The fire collapsed in on itself, burying the body at its heart and sending up a cascade of sparks into the air as the Indian's once more started to sing and dance, the drums louder than ever, the voices shrill over the roar of the fire.
Satisfied that he'd fulfilled all the requirements of the ritual, the High Priest drew in a deep breath and let it go on a long sigh. The fire was quickly dying, the wood collapsing into the center, the flames gobbling up the remaining fuel. The crowd started to disperse with mothers carrying their children off to bed along with the older generation. Only the adult members of the tribe remained behind to hold a vigil over the fire as it consumed itself and started to shrink.
After an hour the fire had been reduced to a pile of glowing embers, the flames small and barely licking at the half burned timbers left to smoke and die at the edge of the hearth. At it's heart the fire was still red with heat, smoke rising in a narrow spiral into the air as one by one the watchers drifted away until everyone had retired to their beds, satisfied that the fire posed no risk if left unattended.
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Dawn was still some way off when a lone figure slipped from the shadows of the tepees and approached the smouldering pile of ash and blackened wood of the fire.
Wendy had awoken in the half light of the tent and for a second couldn't remember how she'd come to be at the Indian village. Then memory returned and she'd stared hollow-eyed at the tiny lamp left to light the tent. Peter was dead. She'd seen him mutilated and killed by Captain Hook in the sea cave known as Skull Rock.
A soft snuffle warned her that she wasn't alone. She turned her head and saw a dark sweep of hair appear out of the fur on the other side of the tent. Careful not to wake the other sleeper, Wendy crawled out of her bed and across the floor to the door flap. She dragged one of the softer skins with her and draped it over her shoulders as she left the tent, standing upright slowly to survey the darkened village sleeping around her. Off in the distance she saw the glow of a fire, her bare feet carrying her towards the faint gleam even before she realised she was moving. Above her head the heavens blazed with stars, the dark tops of the trees making a jagged frame for the multitude of stars pricking the sky. The encampment was silent as she padded closer to the remains of the fire, her feet scuffing the dust as she approached. Off in the distance she heard the howl of a wolf, the mournful cry echoing her empty heart, her eyes pricking with tears as she paused to listen to the animal. The starlight was sufficient to show her that the fire had been a large one, the circle of ash spread wide over the bare ground.
She could still feel heat coming from the dark ashes, her feet digging into the dirt, the wood ash silky between her toes. Heedless of the black ash coating her feet and legs, Wendy circled the fire, treading on the edges and stepping over the remnants of logs not fully burnt during the conflagration. She could see embers glowing at the very center of the remains of the fire, the flickering glow of red and orange, of yellow gold and in places a bright white light. Still she circled the fire pit, heedless of the hot embers starting to burn her bare feet as she tramped in a ceaseless circle, the prickling behind her eyelids turning into a steady trickle of tears that snaked their way down her face. Through her blurred vision, the glowing embers seemed to dance and writhe, seemingly growing each time one of her tears dripped off her nose or chin to the ash below. As she circled the fire for the fourth time she tripped on a piece of wood and fell to her knees, the fur she'd been clutching about her arms falling away as her hands reached out to break her fall.
The ash rose around her in a choking cloud, coating her in dust and embers, her tunic caked in soot. On her hands and knees, Wendy wept, coughing and sniffling as the tears continued to flow, dripping into the ground, blinding her.
"Why are you crying?"
She barely heard the voice above her own grief, her head hanging down as she remained as she'd fallen.
"I asked, why are you crying?"
Thinking it one of the Indian's, Wendy flapped one of her grubby hands to wave them away. "Wh-y do you th-in-k?"
"If I knew why, I wouldn't have to ask." The voice retorted, somewhat aggrieved. Wendy felt there was something important she was missing, something she should know about the voice.
"Becau-se he-'s d-ea-d." She finally got out, attempting to stem the flow of tears by wiping her face, unaware that she was spreading ash all over her face.
"Who's dead?" The voice asked.
Resigned to the fact that she was on her hands and knees in the dust talking to an imbecile, Wendy let out a huge sigh and a sniff before replying. "Peter Pan - he's dead, as if you didn't know."
Hearing no reply, Wendy decided she'd sat in the dirt long enough. Heaving herself, albeit a trifle ungainly, to her feet she pushed back her hair from her face, adding more dirt, and swayed for a second with her eyes closed.
"Do I look like I'm dead?" The voice asked, quite matter-of-factly.
Feeling drained, Wendy turned her head to snap at whoever was daring to address her so rudely, but the words died on her lips. Beside her stood a figure that appeared to glow as if aflame. Wendy blinked, her vision still blurry from her crying. The figure remained beside her, the outline no longer glowing as brightly as a few second before. Feeling light headed, Wendy reached out a tentative hand, snatching it back as heat scorched her.
"You're burning hot!" She exclaimed, still trying to bring the glowing figure into focus.
The figure lifted his hands and stared at them, turning them around and back as if seeing them for the first time. "Am I? I don't feel hot, but if you say I am, I must be."
Wendy felt the oddest urge to giggle. Staggering back she almost fell again, a burning hand wrapping itself around her forearm to stop her from falling. At once she yelped, the hand releasing her as she snatched her arm away, the skin above her wrist red and tender.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to burn you." The figure reached out again but Wendy flinched away. She noticed that the glowing outline was fading with each passing second, the body now a dull red where before it had been a blazing orange.
"Who are you?" Wendy cried, cradling her burnt arm against her chest and staring wildly at the person standing in front of her. "Are you real or am I just hallucinating?"
"Does your arm hurt?"
"Yes."
"Then you aren't dreaming. Where is this?"
"This? I don't understand you?"
"What is this place? Where are we?"
The glow was fading fast now, the figure beside her almost as dark as she, only a faint light showing in the region of his chest.
"Where are we?" Wendy echoed. "We're in the Indian Camp on the island of Neverland."
"Neverland? I seem to know that name."
"Who are you?" Wendy asked again, fear making her mouth dry. She was standing in the ash of a fire, in the dark, with a madman.
"Do you not know me?" The young man asked.
"You are mad. How could I know you? I don't know anyone here, I'm not even sure how I came to be here." Wendy felt the bubble of hysteria start to rise again, her hands coming up to bunch at her temples. "I can't even see your face and your voice is so strange."
"Does this help?" The young man lifted one of his hands and it suddenly flared into life like a torch, flames licking at the skin but not scorching it, as if his flesh was a living ember. In the sudden flare of light, Wendy winced and shielded her eyes, blinking to accustom them to the brightness. She stared at his hand as he turned it around, as curious as she at its ability to produce light. Unwillingly she felt her eyes drawn to the strangers face. It was a face she knew achingly well.
It was Peter, but a Peter that was the same but different from the one she knew. He was the same height, the same breadth, the same acres of tanned skin. But there the resemblance ended. His hair was shorter than she was used to, the sun bleached blond curls a riot that tumbled over his head to the nape of his neck in tussled profusion, glinting gold in the light. His face was softer, more relaxed, less troubled than she was familiar with and there were no faint scars marring the handsome forehead or lean cheeks. As she stared at his face, she realised that she hadn't recognized his voice because it wasn't at all harsh or angry or gruff as she had become accustomed to in her Peter. As she scrutinized the stranger who wasn't a stranger, Wendy was unaware that she was also being appraised by a pair of keen blue-green eyes, their owner taking in the smears and smudges of ash marring the white skin.
He saw her eyes blaze for a moment as they swept over his features, the blaze quickly dying as if snuffed out.
"You're not him." Wendy stated baldly, turning away as she said the words, her heart heavy in her chest. Whoever the young man was, he had Peter's face and body, but he was not the young man she'd grown to love and who's child she carried in her belly.
Behind her, Peter clenched his fist and the flames went out, plunging the night into darkness once more.
Wendy started to walk away, her footsteps becoming slower and slower as weariness overtook her, her mind and body drained by her grief and false hope. As she staggered and started to crumple strong arms caught her against a lean body, her head falling back against a firm shoulder as the stranger swept her up. Her last thoughts before the blackness became complete was that she's be quite happy if God would take her now please.
The young man stood with the unconscious girl in his arms for several long minutes before looking around the camp. All was still quiet but even as he thought about calling out for help, a figure appeared out of the shadows and approached him.
"She will recover. She just needs time to come to terms with what is."
Peter stared at the Indian woman, the girls body curled against his own, a slight weight in his arms. "What is wrong with her?"
"She is tired, and she carries a babe." Willow told him.
"She was crying."
"She grieved for you. Bring her to my tent and I'll see to her."
Not waiting for a reply, Willow led the way to another tepee, sweeping back the flap to allow Peter and his burden to enter.
"Did I know her....before?"
"You did. Place her here, I will fetch water to clean her." Willow indicated a sleeping pallet and Peter placed Wendy on it. "You'll need something to wear, here, try this." Willow held out a pair of breeches and Peter took them, standing up to stare down at himself as if only just realizing he was naked.
"Thank you. Should I know you?"
"My name is Willow. You would come to me if you had a wound that needed tending, or one of the Lost Boys needed my knowledge. Now turn your back, I need to remove her dress."
Still a bit bemused, Peter did as she bid, waiting while Willow turned up the flame on the lamp before attempting to pull on the leggings she'd handed him. Willow quickly stripped Wendy of her soiled dress, briskly cleaning the dark soot from her arms and face before slipping a clean tunic over the girls limp form. Clad in the buckskins, Peter turned back and watched as Willow wiped the girls legs and feet clean, Wendy oblivious to her attentions.
"Will she be alright?" Peter asked, his gaze searching the Indian woman's for reassurance before being drawn once more to Wendy's face. Willow smiled and nodded.
"She will be, once she accepts that you have been returned to her."
Folding his long legs, Peter sat down Indian fashion, his forehead creasing as he searched his memory for something that was proving elusive. "I feel that she is....important to me."
"As you are to her." Willow acknowledged, sitting back on her heels and regarding the young man with her head on one side. Peter looked up and returned her steady gaze.
"She seems to think I'm dead." He stated suddenly, his hands spread in a gesture of confusion.
"You were. Hook pierced your heart with his sword after cutting off your hand."
Holding up both of his very intact wrists, Peter cocked his eyebrow in wry disbelief. "And I don't appear to have a hole in my chest."
"No. Your body was brought back here and we performed all the rites of renewal. The funeral pyre was made of the trees of life, your body was anointed with the patterns of the Phoenix and cast into the heart of the flames. You are reborn into this life, this island, to once more protect all living things from the evil that threatens it."
Peter regarded Willow with surprising calm for such an astounding statement. As if reading his mind, Willow smiled. "This is not the first time Peter Pan has risen from the ashes of his fallen body. In living memory it has been performed twice before."
"Who is this Hook that killed me?"
"Enough questions. There is precious little of the night left, and you are newly risen from your grave. Rest here, the memories of your previous life will return in time. Always impatient are you." Willow clucked at him, smiling to take the sting out of her words.
"What about her?" Peter indicated Wendy.
"She will awaken when she is ready. Sleep, Peter Pan, sleep."
Indicating the furs beside Wendy's recumbent form, Willow turned away and made herself comfortable on her own bed, pulling a large bear skin up to her shoulders and turning her back on her visitors. The tiny lamp was starting to gutter but it provided enough light for Peter to see Wendy's profile. Laying down beside her, he watched the play of light over her features, his mind teasing him with snatches of images, the girl beside him featuring in many of the glimpses. Resigned to waiting until she woke up to have his questions answered, Peter settled on his side, facing her. The lamp spluttered and finally gave out, plunging the tent into darkness. Despite the strangeness of his situation, Peter felt that sleeping beside this girl was exactly where he was supposed to be.
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Chapter: Thirteen - All As It Was Once More
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Hook sat slumped in his chair, his face pulled into a scowl of frustration. His stump ached appallingly and he absently rubbed the knotted flesh, the leather harness laying tangled on the desk in front of him. Since returning to find his ship under siege from the Indians, the rabble quickly routed with the return of Hook and his men, the pirate ship had sailed sluggishly under a pall of depression. Hook didn't know what he'd expected, but it had to be more than what was currently on offer. The sky stayed a disturbingly clear blue and the sea a flat calm. He'd expected at least a torrent to mark the passing of Peter Pan. It seemed that Neverland was as indifferent to it's protectors death as the commonest seaman. Where was the raging tempest, the icy chill that turned summer in to winter every time Pan left Neverland to travel beyond their realm? Instead, apart from a gathering of cloud over the headland which sheltered the Indian village, the skies had become as untroubled and balmy as the mildest summer day. Hook was disappointed. He wanted a tempest, he craved a storm to take his mind off the scene he'd left within the bowels of Skull Rock. Relieving Pan of his hand had seemed the height of his triumph, but even mortally wounded the infamous brat still mocked him, stirring Hook to a rage where he saw red for an instant, his sword skewing the sun bronzed chest through the heart, rendering the eyes of his enemy briefly ablaze before the light of life died, leaving behind an empty husk.
Where were the mourning denizens of Neverland? Why were the mermaids not wailing their unearthly songs? Why did everything look so bloody normal? He absently rubbed at his stump again, the flesh red and swollen, the pain making him groan in frustration again. The air in his cabin felt close and suffocating, his fingers coming up to tug at the loosened neck of his shirt. The door suddenly opened and his first mate, Mister Smee appeared with a tray in his hands.
"Open these blasted windows Smee, I can't breath in this fetid air."
Setting down his tray on the desk, the portly first mate bustled to the latticed windows and flung them wide, instantly flooding the darkened cabin with sunlight and the smell of flowers.
"Is that better Capt'n?" Smee asked, staying beside the open window and looking back towards Hook.
"It stinks Smee. What is the matter with this blasted place? I kill Peter Pan, and still the flowers send their reeking scent to turn my stomach." Passing his hand over his face Hook changed tack. "Has the landing party returned?"
"A half hour since."
"What did they report?"
"Nothing new Capt'n. Everything is calm and quiet like. No sign of anything stirring at the Indian camp. You routed them fair and square, you did."
"They gave up too easily." Hook spat, cradling his stump and walking over to join his first mate at the window. "It's as if nothing's happened Smee. How is that possible?"
"I don't know, but I'm not complaining. Care for a shave?"
"It's too quiet Smee, too quiet by half. I expected...." Hook paused, staring out over the sparkling sea to the shore clothed in verdant green.
"Expected what?"
"Mayhem, chaos, destruction. Pan is dead and it sits there like some huge green slumbering beast." Hook waved at the island. "As if his death was of no account, it remains recumbent and unconcerned."
"Maybe it doesn't know he's dead yet?" Smee suggested, sidling away from his Captain towards the desk. Hook remained by the window, his expression unfathomable.
"Brought you some vittles for lunch. Will you take a bite?" Smee asked, hovering beside the tray.
"I wonder if she knows yet?" Hook mused.
"She?"
"The wench....his Wendy. I wonder what she's thinking....feeling right now?"
Tutting to himself, Smee busied himself tidying up the cabin, ignoring the dark figure by the window who stood staring out over the water.
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The wench in question rose slowly to consciousness through the clouds of a dream. She'd been running, searching for someone in the jungle, pushing her way through the tangle of vines which tried to hold her back. All the time she called to him, begging him to come back but he ignored her, his back always turned. Then at the last minute, when she was sure she would never reach him, he was suddenly there. She'd reached for him to turn him around and when he did she had screamed because where his hand had been there was a hook.
"Hey, wake up." A voice called to her and she slowly opened her eyes, blinking in the half light of the tepee. Above her swam a familiar face and she brought her hands up to blot out the sight, only to have them stalled at her chest by someone gripping her wrists. "You were dreaming."
"You're dead." Wendy stated, her throat closing up as tears stung her eyes.
"As you can see plainly, I'm not." Peter replied, unable to suppress the smile that curved his lips. Letting go of her hands, he sat up and looped his arms about his knees. "You were calling out my name."
"No I wasn't."
"You were. What were you dreaming about?"
"Nothing."
Peter waited while Wendy slowly sat up, her hair coming forward to hide her face. Her whole body was tense, the muscles poised to launch their owner as far and as fast as possible away from him. Willow had said that she had been grieving for him, which seemed to indicate that she cared for him. But there was nothing in her body language to indicate that she was remotely pleased to see him back in the land of the living.
"Willow said that my memory will return in time. I expect I'll remember you then."
"Don't bother, I'm not worth remembering." Wendy replied shortly, tucking the hem of her tunic about her knees before clambering to her feet. The bulge of her pregnancy was clearly visible and Peter made a move as if to touch her, Wendy flinching away, her own hand coming up to cradle the bump protectively.
"When is the baby due?" Peter asked, his hand withdrawing.
"When it arrives. How should I know?" Absently she stroked the curve of her belly, her body relaxing for a second before she scuttled out of the tepee, her back bent over. Peter let out a sigh and lay back down on the pallet, his arm flung over his eyes.
"Be patient Pan. She is just surprised to see you." Willow's quiet voice reached him from across the tent floor.
"She hates me." Peter stated.
"You are wrong. She is the other half of your heart, as she will come to realise in time. Your death came as a great shock to her and she hasn't had any time to come to terms with that, let alone your rebirth."
"I'm not exactly comfortable with that myself. I don't feel dead, and I don't remember dying."
"You have been born to this world time and again. Each time you have aged, the better to prepare you for the battles you need to fight. When all is made clear to you, you will have one last fight before Neverland can be at peace. In the meantime give the girl, Wendy, some space. She will return to you."
"Wendy.....Wendy..." Peter repeated, the name echoing in his mind, at once familiar and strange.
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Wendy knelt beside the stream and repeatedly splashed the chill water into her face, dashing away any lingering sleep in her eyes. She felt torn in two. Only the previous day she'd seen the love of her life tortured and killed in front of her, his body laid out on the cold stone, her own heart leaden in her chest. It was as if Hook had cut her heart out as well. Now she had him returned to her by some means not yet explained, his body whole, his face and voice as it must have once been before his constant battling against the pirates. She didn't know whether she should be glad or horrified, her emotions sending her confused signals, both to laugh with joy that he was returned and to cry with grief that he'd died in the first place. Too confused to figure out which was the dominant, she sat back on her heels and stared at the water before her.
"Here.....you must be hungry. When did you last eat?" A slender brown hand held out a hunk of bread and Wendy took it gratefully.
"I don't remember...a couple of days ago?"
Willow seated herself beside the girl and clucked her tongue in rebuke. "You have a baby to care for. Eat that bread then come with me; we have to get some flesh on your bones if you want any hope of carrying this child to term."
Chewing the nutty bread, Wendy avoided the Indian woman's knowing gaze.
"Maybe I shouldn't eat, then it will go away and I can go home."
"That is stupid talk. Why are you moping down here? Aren't you glad that Peter has been returned to you?"
"He's not Peter. He's...I don't know what he is, but he's not my Peter."
"Hmmmmm. Soon his memory will return, it always does, then he will remember you and what you have been to each other these months that you have been here. What will you tell him then?"
"Once he does remember, he won't want me anymore."
Willow looked askance at the girl beside her. "What are you talking about? You carry his child, you are the half that makes him whole. You are talking nonsense."
Stung, Wendy rounded on Willow, her eyes blazing. "No you're talking nonsense. He'll remember that I'm nothing but a whore that he stole to satisfy his own base lusts." Jumping to her feet, Wendy took off into the reeds bordering the stream and disappeared from sight. Willow looked after her with a frown creasing her forehead. Shaking her head, the medicine woman sighed deeply and got to her feet, turning away from the stream to return to the village.
Wendy ran until her side ached with a stitch, her lungs heaving as she collapsed onto the ground, gasping. She didn't want him to remember, didn't want him to look at her with disgust when he recalled what she was and what she did back in her home so far away. She still clutched the remains of the bread in her fingers but she flung it away, sobbing brokenly as she lay on the grass beneath the trees.
"Wh-y couldn't he st-ay dead?"
As if to spite her, Wendy's memory suddenly threw up the last time she'd spoken to her Peter. Remembering the bitter words they'd both said, she wept anew, wishing that she'd never said the hurtful words that had so enraged him and sent him away.
"I-I killed hi-im. It's a-all my fault."
Too sunk in her own misery to do more than lay and weep, Wendy stayed where she was as the sun moved ever higher in the sky, her body curled in on itself, protecting the life growing ever stronger inside her.
Peter found her still prone on the grass an hour or so later, his silent approach not disturbing the faint sobs still jerking her shoulders every now and then. At his shoulder hovered a bright light that darted around the clearing, for once not ringing a peal of bells at either of the humans below. She'd arrived at the Indian village in response to a summons from Willow, the fairy not expecting to see Peter again so soon. When she'd left the cave she'd been as distraught as either of the human girls left behind, her fairy sensibilities focussed on the one emotion uppermost. She'd fled back to her nest and indulged in a hearty bout of grief before falling asleep. When she'd been pulled awake by Willow's summons, she'd felt renewed and invigorated, as if the new day was dawning on a new world, untouched by pain or death or fear. When she'd seen Peter's familiar form standing in the Indian camp she'd almost dropped out of the sky with shock, but then it had quickly turned to glee as she danced and tumbled about his head, her voice ringing out with happiness that he'd been reborn and returned to her and Neverland once again. After their reunion, Peter had listened as Tink rattled off all that had happened since she'd last seen him, his face a study of concentration as he fitted her narrative in with the images that his returning memory was supplying. When the fairy had finished, Peter knew what he had to do. But first, he had to find Wendy.
Willow had told him where to look for her, and Tink wasn't about to let him out of her sight for long, so they both headed into the wood to find the girl that was coming to feature very prominently in Peters more recent returning memories.
Staring down at the slight figure at his feet, Peter rested his hands on his hips and considered how best to approach her. A slight hitch of the slender shoulders decided him. Kneeling down he gently grasped her upper arms and, feeling no resistance, pulled Wendy around and up until she lay folded against his chest, his arms supporting her, her face buried against the soft leather waistcoat he wore. Her tangled hair hid her face from him but he could feel her warm breath against his skin and the tug of her fingers as they clutched at his clothes. Tink hovered uncertainly about them both, torn between wishing Wendy to perdition, and too damn glad to have Peter back to care a fig what he did, or with whom.
"You can't run away from me forever." Peter whispered, burying his face in the mass of tangled honey gold, the smell of her hair evoking a rush of memories that reinforced what he was doing. "Do you really want me to be dead again?"
He felt the movement of her head as she shook it in the negative. Keeping her firmly against his chest, Peter slowly lay them both down on the grass, Wendy burrowing into his body as he curled protectively around her.
"I remember you, everything about you, about us."
A sudden hitch in her shoulders and a muffled gasp warned him that she was tensing for flight again. Tightening his grip, Peter shook her slightly. "I remember how I made love to you, how you made love to me. It wasn't hard to remember that, it made me feel wonderful to know you cared as much for me as I did for you."
"You don't love me." Wendy's muffled voice came faintly from her hiding place against his body. "Nobody can love me, I'm to horrible, too dirty....I'm a-a-a dirty...wh-ore."
This time the shudders that wracked her slim framed shook them both. Peter felt a surge of anger at the man that had nurtured such a wealth of self disgust in his daughter.
"You're not horrible, not even nasty, and certainly not remotely close to being a whore. How can the girl I love, the soon-to-be mother of my baby be such a thing?"
Feeling the shudders subside into faint tremors, Peter started to stroke the tangled hair away from Wendy's face. A picture of tragedy emerged, her face blotched and swollen from all the tears, her blue eyes red-rimmed with spiky lashes.
"I'm ugly and fat."
Peter grinned. "Now you're just fishing." A faint scowl was quickly replaced with an even fainter smile at his joke.
"Do you truly remember me?"
"Yup. Everything."
"And you still want me?"
"Didn't I say that? Do you want me to prove it?"
For a long moment Wendy stared up at him, her nose quite red and her lips only just suppressing the tremors that still passed over her body every few seconds.
"Are you really and truly my Peter?"
"Really and truly."
"You look different." Wendy stated, blinking away the persistent moisture blurring her vision.
"How so?"
"I don't know, sort of....new and unmarked, like a doll I had once when I first unwrapped it."
"Did you like the doll?"
"Yes. I loved her. She was my best friend until she was broken."
"Do you think you could love me like you did your doll?" Peter asked, holding his breath as he waited for her answer. Wendy dropped her eyes and shook her head. Peter felt something plummet in his chest.
"I can't love you like that doll. She wasn't real, she was just a toy." Wendy paused and Peter waited, hope rising a little in his heart. "I love you a hundred times more than I ever loved her."
For a second neither of them moved, then a light blazed in Peter's eyes and he gathered her close, his arms like bands of steel around her back. Wendy struggled a little, but quickly gave in to the bliss of feeling his heart beating against her face, the feel of his skin under her finger tips. Above their heads, Tink gave up her vigil in disgust at their behavior, her sniff of contempt unheard by the humans below as she fluttered off to sit on a flower.
Peter finally released Wendy from his arms and lay her gently back on the grass, his body leaning over hers as he traced the outline of her features with a slightly unsteady finger, its path followed closely by his eyes.
"I have an overwhelming urge to kiss you."
Still slightly in awe of the feelings surging through her, Wendy could only nod her head, her eyes huge in her pale face. "If you wish it." She whispered.
Peter lowered his head and barely touched his lips to hers, a butterfly kiss that set their senses tingling. Wendy drew in a ragged breath, her eyes never leaving his as he dipped his head again to take a long sup of her mouth. This time she met him half way, her arms reaching up to twine about his neck as her eyes slid closed and she gave herself up to his caress. Heat flowed between them, lips and tongues tracing familiar patterns against skin as the kiss took on a life of its own, dragging in its willing victims to drown in sensation. Not wanting to frighten her with the power of his body's reaction, Peter pulled away after a few minutes, his own breathing ragged as he fought the lure of temptation.
"No more running away." Peter breathed, his fingers brushing away the tangles hair at her temples. "Don't shut me out Wendy. There is nothing you could have done, or had done to you that will change the way I feel about you."
"I want to believe you, truly I do."
"Believe." He pecked a kiss on her lips, drawing away to prevent taking it any further. Pulling back he sat back on his heels, his hand tugging Wendy upwards as well. Together they rose to their feet, fingers entwined, eyes glowing, both coming to the realization that a minor miracle had somehow righted their worlds. Wendy felt cleansed of her grief and guilt, her tears well and truly banished, burnt away by an up welling of love, her heart healed with a simple kiss. With the release of the tight band of misery, she became aware of how sticky her face felt from her prolonged weeping.
As if reading her mind, Peter lifted her to her feet, his arm kept firmly about her back as he urged her to walk back towards the Indian village.
"Willow is waiting for you to return. She's got a change of clothes for you, and thought you might like a hot bath before we have to leave."
"Leave?" Wendy queried, her mind not really on what Peter was saying.
"Go home, of course."
"Home?" Wendy stared up at him stupidly, her first thought being that Peter was going to take her home to London. She stiffened and Peter stopped walking, his eyebrows showing his surprise as Wendy turned to stone in his arms. Comprehension quickly followed and he shook her gently.
"Home to the cave. London doesn't exist for you any more, haven't I made that clear enough? This is your home, our home."
Instantly Wendy slumped with relief, her legs wobbly as they resumed walking towards the village.
"I'm sorry. I just....."
"Leave it. There's Willow." They had reached the outskirts of the village where the medicine woman stood waiting, a smile curving her lips. She directed Peter to take Wendy to one of the tents, larger than the others with steam rising out of the roof. Willow shooed Peter away and opened the flap for Wendy to enter.
"Go talk to the Chief or something."
Taking his dismissal with a grin, Peter waited for the flap to close before turning away. Across the way, he saw a young woman step out of a tent and stand for a moment, her face upraised to the afternoon sun.
"Tiger Lily!"
The Princess turned to stare as Peter walked across to her, her luminous eyes drinking him in. When he was close enough, she threw herself into his arms, kissing him repeatedly on his face and neck, her hands busy roaming over his arms and torso as if to convince herself he was truly flesh and bone. Peter gently but firmly held her away after the first few seconds, noticing from the corners of his eyes the stares of the people around them. Tiger Lily didn't care who saw her and reached for him again.
"You're alive....really alive!" She plucked at his fringed waistcoat, her busy fingers smoothing over his chest. "I sang over your dead body." She snatched at his arm, lifting it up to inspect the unscarred wrist which she had seen brutally severed. "Not a mark, not a scar. You are truly magical."
"I'm glad you managed to escape alright. Sorry I wasn't more help." Peter tried to tell her, but Lily wasn't about to let him off the hook.
"You cut my bonds, I was able to tread water and keep my head clear. You saved me. Without you I would have drowned. After Hook had killed you, they just left without looking at me again. It was as if I didn't exist anymore. If that girl hadn't arrived and cut the ropes I'd still be tied to that death rock and be food for the crabs."
"Wendy freed you?" Peter suddenly noticed the strips of linen binding each wrist. "Did Hook hurt you?"
"Pah, it was nothing. A little rope burn, nothing more. He had some mad scheme that if he killed me, it would free him from the island. I told him it was madness, and I think I convinced him. When he got your message about a parlay, he changed his mind and decided to use me as bait to capture you. I never dreamed he would actually kill you."
"Did the braves take the ship?"
"No. My father countermanded your orders at the last moment, according to what I found out from Running Water. The braves only acted as a diversion, leaving as soon as Hook was sighted returning to the ship. I haven't spoken to him yet, but I suspect my father had some foreknowledge of what was going to happen."
"I'm glad you're not harmed Princess."
"You've changed. You're different from before." Tiger Lily cocked her head, staring accessingly at Peter, noting the physical differences.
"Is that a surprise. I'm still coming to terms with it myself."
"No, it's more than that." Tiger Lily shot a glance around the village. "Where is the girl?"
"If you mean Wendy, she's with Willow." Peter answered, watching the Princess warily. Despite the beautiful Indian girl being his former lover, he also knew of her reputation for taking revenge on rivals for the latest object of her attention. Tiger Lily seemed to sense this and smiled serenely at him.
"Don't worry Peter. I won't be scratching her eyes out any time soon. Unless she decides to take a fancy to my latest lover, Iron Claw. She's safe enough." Lily stretched her sinewy arms above her head like a cat. "I think I need to get the smell of seaweed out of my hair. I'll talk to you later Peter." Blowing the young man a kiss, Lily sauntered over towards the bath tent, her hips swinging. Peter watched her go before turning away, his attention immediately caught by a tall brave standing rigidly beside a fire a little way off. For a long moment the two young men clashed eye to eye, the brave dropping his gaze first, an ugly blush creeping over the copper skin. Peter just raised an eyebrow and turned away, already thinking over what to do about the pirates and their blood thirsty Captain. As he walked over the well trodden grass, he clenched his fist. A sudden warmth made him look down, surprised to see yellow flames flickering over his clenched knuckles, his skin glowing orange briefly when he tightened his fist. As soon as he relaxed his hand the glow and the flames disappeared. Bemused at his unexpected new ability, Peter continued on towards the large and imposing tent of the Chief of the Tribe.
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Wendy sat in the steaming water and sighed blissfully. The strange bath she sat in was just large enough for one, the water deep enough to cover her up to her armpits. It was made of animal hide stretched over a wooden frame, suspended off the floor by a couple of inches. The sides were soft and yielding as she moved about, repeatedly dunking her head to soak the salt from her hair. Willow sat on a stool and tended the small fire that heated the metal cauldron of water, a large barrel off to the side for refilling the pot. Willow had handed her some rough soap scented with herbs, the astringent smell like the scent of pine sap and leaving her skin squeaky clean. Just as she felt the need to get out, the flap of the tent opened and another woman entered. The newcomer rose to her full height and surveyed the tent. Wendy had cringed in embarrassment at first, wrapping her arms over her chest and sinking back under the water. Willow rose to her feet in welcome.
"You are better this morning Princess. You will feel even better for a bath."
"My idea exactly. I just saw Peter, he was looking very healthy for a dead man." The Princess sauntered closer to the bath, looking over the girl sitting in the water. To Lily's eyes she looked thin and pale, her long hair flat against her scull, her blue eyes enormous in her face. "I believe I have you to thank for my life. I didn't have a chance yesterday to thank you properly."
"It was the least that I could do Princess. I'm glad that you are no worse for your capture by the pirates."
"Without Peter, it would have been fatal." Lily retorted, seating herself on Willow's stool as the older woman prepared to help Wendy out of the bath. She watched as the pale skinned girl rose up out of the water, steam curling off her limbs and hair as Willow handed her over the steep side of the bath to a thick fur on the floor. Before Willow swaddled the girl in a towel, Lily saw the bulge of her belly, more evident because of the girls slender body.
"You risked much coming to Skull Rock." Lily blurted out, surprising herself as much as her audience. "You could have lost your life and that of your child."
"Instead she saved yours." Willow replied, rubbing Wendy's arms vigorously to dry them.
"But I lost Peter's." Wendy whispered. Willow clucked in annoyance and wrapped her more firmly in the towels.
"Now that's a piece of nonsense. You've seen him yourself, touched him. He is alive and well so no more misery over what happened yesterday. You must believe in the magic of Neverland, his magic. Anything is possible here, as you are finding out."
Bundling the girl over to the fire, Willow waved Tiger Lily off the stool to allow Wendy to sit down. Picking up the kettle, Willow emptied it into the bath, steam rising in billowing clouds. Tiger Lily pulled off her tunic and shook out her hair, unbraiding the two long plaits either side of her face. Wendy looked on and marveled at the expanse of curvaceous copper skin, the ripple of muscle under firm flesh only enhancing the dark beauty of the Indian Princess. Turning away to stare at the flames of the fire, Wendy heard the splash of water as the girl climbed into the bath. Willow returned and rubbed Wendy's hair with another towel, burnishing it dry although the steam in the air kept it damp. Producing a clean tunic for Wendy to wear, Willow tugged away the towels, leaving Wendy naked for a moment, the medicine woman appraising the girls figure, especially her bump.
"You need to eat more. Your baby needs you to eat more. You still have some growing to do, here.." She pointed to Wendy's small breasts, "and here." She held a hand over her head to indicate height. "To grow you need to eat. Lots of fresh fruit, green stuff....eat, eat and eat."
Frowning comically, Willow held up the tunic and Wendy dutifully lifted her arms, the soft material sliding over her body like a second skin. Wendy felt wonderfully clean and invigorated, her appetite keen as Willow waved her out of the bath tent and into the warm sunshine outside.
She stared around the camp for a few minutes, but saw no sign of Peter. A campfire not far away held a cauldron suspended over the flames, the contents bubbling and filling the air with the tantalizing smell of herbs and meat. The large woman stirring the contents saw Wendy's intent regard and waved the hesitant girl over.
"Willow said you'd have an appetite when you were done. Here, try this, it is my own special recipe." The woman ladled some of the thick stew into a bowl and handed it to Wendy along with a carved spoon. Sniffing at the steam rising, Wendy heard her stomach growl appreciatively. Blushing, Wendy glanced at the woman shyly, lifting a spoonful of the stew to her mouth and cautiously tasting it.
"Good for you, full of good things....eat up," the woman extolled, grinning as Wendy's eyes widened as her tongue rolled the savory soup around her mouth before swallowing.
"This is wonderful." Wendy agreed, spooning the contents of the bowl rapidly into her mouth as it cooled. When she'd finished she handed the bowl back to the Indian cook and it was refilled. She was just finishing this second bowl when Peter squatted down beside her.
"That looks good Little Rabbit." He address the beaming Indian woman, who quickly ladled out another bowl and handed it to Peter. Sitting cross legged, he downed the bowl in a few gulps, not bothering with a spoon. Handing it back it was refilled and Peter found himself under scrutiny from a pair of amused blue eyes.
"Did you even taste it?" Wendy asked, her own bowl once more empty.
"This dying and being alive again is hungry work." Peter retorted, grinning as he lifted the second bowl to his mouth. Little Rabbit threw her hands up and laughed out loud, offering to fill Wendy's bowl again only to have the girl shake her head.
"That was truly delicious, thank you."
"You are most welcome. You look like you need feeding up, and you have another to take care of now. Little Rabbit always has something on the go, so come and see me if you get hungry again."
Peter had finished his second bowl and handed it back to the woman. "Time we were leaving Wendy." He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. Little Rabbit waved as they left her campfire. Together they walked to the edge of the village, Wendy's hair now dry and falling down her back like a wave of honey gold silk. Tinkerbell appeared behind them, streaking to catch up as they entered the shadows of the trees bordering the camp. The fairy hovered over their heads, her wings a blur of motion.
"Are you ready to go home now?" Peter asked, gathering Wendy against his side with one arm, his other still holding her hand.
"Do you remember how to fly?" Wendy asked, feeling wonderfully content with a full stomach and a clean body.
"Just think of a happy thought," Peter replied, grinning down at her seconds before the both rose into the air, Tinkerbell circling around them like an anxious parent. For good measure the fairy showered them both with a liberal coating of golden dust, the grains shimmering in the air as they rose higher. Wendy felt as light as a feather, her heart free of the terror and fear of the day before.
"Take me home Peter."
"As you wish it."
With no need to rush, Peter flew them both at a leisurely pace over the tops of the trees, Tinkerbell still following, until the tips of the Indian's tepee's disappeared from view, leaving just the glorious expanse of Neverland spread out before them.
"It really is magic, isn't it?" Wendy asked, gripping Peter's hand tightly as if still unsure of his solid reality.
"It's Neverland. Anything, and everything is possible."
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Chapter: Fourteen - Loose Ends
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Wendy watched Peter as he moved around the cave lighting the torches from the one he'd brought from the entrance. She felt unaccountably shy as the lights flared, her nerves stretched tight with a mixture of apprehension and almost fear. The latter baffled her, this was her Peter, what had she to fear from him? He'd not leapt on her as soon as they'd arrived, or done anything to cause her anxiety, but still she felt nervous and unsettled. Peter had finished with the torches and was filling a water skin from the pool at the back of the cave. He turned to carry it back to the raised bed, a smile on his face.
"I thought you might be thirsty." Pouring the cool water into a beaker, he handed one to Wendy before filling one for himself. Wendy sipped at hers while watching him warily over the brim. Peter caught her gaze before she could lower her lashes.
"What is it?" He asked, putting down his own cup and sitting down on the side of the bed. Unable to stop herself, Wendy flinched away, flushing in embarrassment as she did so. "Are you afraid of me?"
"I don't know what's the matter with me. I know it's really you." She tapped her chest over her heart. "In here I know that you're really here with me, as you were before."
"But?"
Wendy struggled to put her confused feelings into words. "I don't know you...the you you are now. It doesn't make any sense, but it's as if you're his twin brother. You look like him, talk like him, everything like him....." She looked down at her hands. "But you're not him." She whispered.
Peter shifted uncomfortably, not looking at her. " I think I know what you mean. I have all these memories," he tapped his head. "Up here, they play across my minds eye like a dream, almost too fantastic to believe. I know they all happened to me, or at least to the me I was before, but I don't seem to...recognize them as me." He laughed softly, "It sounds mad, I know, but I think I understand how you feel." He touched his own chest, as Wendy had done. "I feel so much for you, in here, but I also feel as if we've only just met."
"That's it. That's how I feel." Wendy agreed, her fingers twisting in the covers on the bed. The both looked down, avoiding each other's gaze for a moment.
"What if...." Peter started, only to stop, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.
"What if??" Wendy repeated encouragingly.
"What if...we pretended that we'd only just met. That what happened before, in both our lives, hadn't happened. That we'd just met by accident...kind of."
"Oh. I suppose we could." Wendy looked doubtful, her free hand instantly going to the bump beneath her tunic. "How do we explain this?"
Peter laughed, "I don't mean we have to forget entirely, I just mean that we start off slowly, as if we'd only met today. Take it a day at a time, not rush anything." Peter smiled to himself. "I mean I'd like to do some of the things we did before, but not if you feel you can't."
"We did an awful lot of things before Peter," Wendy blushed brightly, not meeting his eyes as she waved her hand in a flustered manner. "But I think it might help to get us over this."
"Do you want me to go?" Peter asked, only for Wendy to almost shriek her answer.
"NO!" She swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. "I mean, no I don't want you to go. Couldn't we...um..play house, together, for a few days, see how that goes?"
"Kind of like Mothers and Fathers. I used to play that with the Lost Boys when we were little. Tiger Lily used to be the Mother, but not very often, she thought it was a silly game."
"Mother and Father. I suppose we could try. I've never played that before. Just until we feel more comfortable." Wendy handed her beaker to Peter who put it to one side.
"Yeah...comfortable." Peter echoed. Tentatively he reached for her hand and this time Wendy didn't flinch, their fingers entwining as they smiled at each other. "Do you think you'd be comfortable with me giving you a kiss?" Peter asked wistfully.
"I don't think I'd be...uncomfortable." Wendy replied, still smiling.
Peter leant forward and Wendy did the same, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss. They parted after a few seconds and stared at each other, their breathing a little erratic. "I'd like to do that again." Peter rasped.
"I'd like that." Wendy agreed, leaning forward again. Their lips met once more but this time it was no chaste peck but a gentle exploration, Peter moving closer to support Wendy as she relaxed into the kiss. After several prolonged and pleasurable minutes they parted, both breathing heavily, eyes bright with anticipation. Wendy felt poised on a precipice, her heart telling her to give in to the rising passion between them and let Peter make love to her. Her head cautioned her that nothing had changed, the young man so ardently kissing her was still a virtual stranger.
"Peter....please..." Wendy gasped, even as she arched her neck for him to trace tingling nibbles against her skin. Peter stopped his assault on her flesh and rested his forehead against her shoulder, his lungs heaving as he strove for control over his tumultuous feelings.
"Sorry...got carried away...you taste so good." He muttered against her neck, pulling away slowly and moving back to sit with his body turned away from her on the side of the bed. Perversely Wendy missed him and wanted him back. She put out her hand and lay it palm flat against his broad back. This time it was Peter who flinched, his raw nerves screaming at him to turn back and ravage Wendy until they were both insensible with passion. Getting to his feet he ran his fingers through his tousled curls and walked a few steps away from the bed.
"We need something to eat, and I need wood for a fire. You rest, I won't be long." Not looking back, he all but ran out of the cave, leaving Wendy on the bed still held in the thrall of frustrated sexual awareness, her breasts and body aching for him to come back.
Exhausted from weathering a storm of conflicting emotions in so short a time, Wendy did as he bid and settled back on the covers of the bed, her face burrowing into the soft furs, her heavy sigh swallowed up by the stone walls that loomed around and above her.
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Tinkerbell caught up with Peter as he sat weaving a basket out of the long strappy leaves of the flax bushes that grew in profusion in a rocky gully further along the base of the mountain. He worked the long strands of fiber with dexterous fingers, plaiting the flax until he'd created a serviceable basket. The fairy alighted on a rock not far from where Peter sat, her wings glimmering in the sunlight as she watched him work. Peter had seen her arrive but chose to ignore her for the moment, his mind concentrated on the job in hand. He'd been taught well by one of the Indian woman how to weave a basket, the skill very useful whenever he went out to gather food, or went fishing. Tinkerbell watched him a little while then grew bored, coming to sit on his shoulder.
"How long are you going to stay stuck up here with her?"
"As long as I want to."
Tinkerbell huffed and crossed her arms over her tiny chest.
"What are you going to do about Hook?"
"When I've decided, I'll let you know." Peter gritted out, finishing off the top edge of the basket with a flourish.
"You haven't even told the Lost Boys you're back." Tinkerbell sniped, jumping into the air when Peter rose from the ground and inspected his basket from all angles.
"They don't need to know. The pirates won't be going anywhere, and I doubt Hook is keen to incite the Indian's again so soon. He'll be sitting in his ship licking his wounds and wondering why nothing is happening. I prefer he think I'm dead for the time being."
"Do you want me to tell the boys that you're not?" Tink persisted, flying after Peter as he tramped down the slope towards the edge of the jungle.
"Tell them to keep their heads down and not to look for trouble." Peter answered, choosing a faint path into the thick jungle that rapidly swallowed him up in the shadows. Tink stamped her foot in the air and scowled horribly, her tiny tongue coming out to point at Peter as he sauntered off without looking back.
"Pan's back for sure." Tinkerbell grumped, annoyed that he seemed unchanged despite dying and being brought back to life. She always hoped that one of those times he'd awaken to the realization that there was no-one in Neverland or the universe as deserving of his love as Tink, the fairy he took entirely too much for granted. Angry at herself for being maudlin, Tink decided to take herself off and find the Lost Boys. They at least would be more fun to be around than a lust struck Peter Pan and his ugly lump of a lover.
Catching an updraft, Tink quickly flew out of sight over the tops of the trees, her tinkling laughter lost in the rustle of the leaves.
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Peter set about collecting food with a brooding intensity that Wendy would certainly have recognized as the young man she'd known before. After gathering an assortment of foodstuffs, he trudged back towards the cave, the basket heavy on his shoulder. He welcomed the stretch and pull of the muscles in his legs and back, suppressing the urge to fly in favor of physical exertion. As he tramped he thought, his memories of his life and behavior before he'd been dispatched by Hook coming back in ever increasing clarity, and in some cases, sickening brutality. Worst, to his new way of seeing things, was his treatment of the girl he'd left waiting for him in the cave. She was quite right when she claimed he wasn't the man she'd known before. Peter was very glad he wasn't either. He cringed when he reviewed how he'd blown hot and cold with Wendy, treating her with kindness one moment, only to back hand her the next, her bewilderment plain at his change from considerate lover to barbarian with little explanation as to why. She had been through hell, both in her own world and in his, her own opinion of herself little changed from the abused girl he'd first rescued from London. That was largely his fault, as he saw it. He had treated her as little more than a chattel, no better than her father had done. Sure, he'd professed his love for her just before his demise, but in his mind it had been too little, too late. He had thought at the time it was a good idea to keep her secluded with him in the jungle, his fears that she'd be attracted to someone else if he let her out of his sight, both ridiculous and groundless. But at the time it had seemed the best plan, not realizing that Wendy had been more deeply traumatized by her experience in London than he could possibly understand. Then her brutal treatment and rape by the pirates had only compounded her fears, his own feeble attempts to ameliorate the aftermath, not surprisingly, ending up with her fleeing as soon as the opportunity arose, throwing her unwittingly into Hook's clutches. Filled with self disgust, Peter cursed volubly at the trees and shrubs as he followed the faint path back to the cave. So it should not come as a surprise that now he was behaving in a manner suitably unlike his old self, Wendy mistrusted him, even if her words said one thing, her expressive blue eyes told the truth. She enjoyed his kisses, and professed to love him, but could her feelings be trusted? They needed time, time together to forge a new bond, new ties, this time with tenderness and gentleness and due regard for her fragile state. Hook would have to be taken care of, his fate decided once and for all, but for the time being Neverland and its troubles would have to get on with it without Peter Pan's assistance. He planned on remaining dead to his world for as long as possible.
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Trouble was brewing for Captain Hook aboard his ship. The crew were often to be found huddles in corners or under stairways, their voices hushed to avoid being overheard as they plotted to overthrow their captain. Unlike Captain's of the Navy, pirates voted their Captain's into the office, and had the right to vote them out as well. Hook had remained as Captain for such a long time only because no-one else had wanted to go up against him, life sailing Neverland's waters was not so bad for most of them. There was only one thing they really feared and that was the Captain himself, his ruthless metal hook butchering anyone who dared to gainsay an order or sometimes nothing worse than look the wrong way at the wrong time. The pirate crew accepted it as the life they led and kept their muttered curses at Hook's brutality to themselves. Those few that had tried to remonstrate against the continued futile campaign against Peter Pan usually ended up feeding the fish, their bloody remains cast overboard and forgotten. But now the object of their pointless pursuit was at last dead, as witnessed by all those that were at Skull Rock, yet still the Jolly Roger wallowed like a fat whale in the shallow waters of a lagoon, her Captain secluded in his cabin with no orders to sail away forthcoming.
If Hook noticed the sidelong glances and surly sneers on the few times he ventured onto the deck, he chose to ignore the warning signs. If truth be known, Hook was in as much of a quandary as his crew. He felt like a man who had been too long incarcerated, unable to bear the thought of leaving his cell for fear of the unknown.
"I've been too long away from the world Smee." Hook muttered, his first mate pausing as he swept the cabin, his rheumy eyes narrowing as he stared at the broad shoulders of his Captain. "With Pan gone what is our raison d'etre? Do we just sail away from this island never to see it again? Throw ourselves out among the sharks and rivals out there on the wide ocean, is that our lot Smee?"
"A decision needs to be made, and soon." Smee replied, leaning on the broom and taking off his glasses to clean them. "It ain't healthy to stay here any more. The men need action, and soon."
"Mutiny in the air, is it Smee?" Hook chuckled and turned away from the window, his eyes gleaming in the half light of the cabin. "So the dogs think they can do a better job than me. Scurvy swabs, I should..."Hook raised his arm and buried his metal hook in the surface of the desk, adding to its already scarred surface. "But no....maybe they have the right of it. Pan is dead. We have no purpose here, it is time we left."
"Just what we were thinking." Hook spun around to see his cabin doorway crowded with members of his crew. Several were sporting pistols aimed unerringly at his heart. "We've a mind to leave these shores for good."
Smee sidled towards the bulkhead wall, his broom discarded on the floor. "Now come along mates, we don't need to go this far. The Capt'n already stated his intention to leave Neverland...ain't that enough for ya?"
"Shut ya trap Smee." Growled one of the men, swiveling his pistol around to cover the first mate.
"You have the floor Mister Sinks." Hook drawled, moving to the front of his desk and leaving again the edge, folding his arms slowly across his chest. "Would you have me walk the plank? Hung from the yardarm?"
"We wants ya off the bally ship." Shouted one man, the cry taken up by others, filling the cabin with noise. The men entered the cabin and spread out, some gawking at the richly appointed walls and floors as they got their first look at Hook's living quarters. Three of the men stepped forward, their pistols still cocked and aimed at Hook.
"We demand you hand over the ship."
"You think you can control this rabble Sinks?" Hook asked, his eyes meeting the narrowed gaze of the crew's leader.
"The crew wants you off, so off you go." Sinks waved the pistol at Hook, the mans yellow teeth bared in a grimace. "We'll appoint a new captain according to the creed. Then we're sailing away from this cursed island once and for all."
"Try your luck on the high seas eh?" Hook asked, smiling thinly, ever mindful of the men starting to edge their way past his desk and behind him. "And so say you all?"
"Aye." Chorused several of the crew, their greedy eyes already dividing up the spoils of Hook's possessions.
"Then you leave me no choice. I concede. Will you allow me to pack my things or are you just going to dump me overboard?"
Having Hook capitulate without a fight seemed to leave the men at a loss for a moment, their eyes turning to stare at each other, looking for reassurance and agreement among themselves. Hook watched them with thinly disguised disgust. After a silent conference Sinks turned back to Hook and waved his pistol again.
"You can take the necessaries, but you leave the booty. No tricks or we will toss you overboard, and your lapdog with you." Sinks sneered, shooting a hateful glare at Smee who still cowered against the wall.
"Generous to a fault." Hook murmured, easing himself upright, the sound of several pistols being cocked suddenly loud in the cabin. Hook unfolded his arms and held up his hand and hook in surrender. After a few seconds when nobody moved, Sink's finally waved the men to stand back and let Hook through. Approaching his cowering first mate, Hook spoke quietly to him, the pirates still absorbed in ransacking the cabin. "Get what you can Smee. Is the boat still stocked?" He acknowledged the first mates small nod with a feeling of satisfaction. "Good. Then do your best." Turning around, Hook provided a screen to allow Smee to leave the cabin unmolested. "Well gentlemen, I hope you enjoy your voyage back to the real world. I can't say I'll be sorry to see the back of the scurvy lot of ya."
Drawing himself up to his full height, Hook tilted his chin and looked down his nose at the men crowding the doorway to his cabin. They melted back to allow him free passage, their hard eyes watching his every move until he had walked out of the room, leaving them to their prize. More still thronged the passageway but Hook passed them as if they were invisible, his mind already turned to what stocks he'd need to get aboard the jollyboat before the rabble he'd left behind him decided to have their fun with him, instead of just with his belongings. He already hear his former crew starting to celebrate their victory, his lip curling in disgust as whoops and holler's rent the air along with pistol shots as more of the crew hurried to join their mutinous compatriots. Left to his own devices, Hook gathered what he could and conveyed it to the boat that Smee was already starting to lower over the side of the ship. Together they got the boat down into the water, the supplies dropped into the small craft before both men started to climb over the side of the ship. Hook cast a last glance over the deck, his blue eyes glittering like fire as he imprinted the image of his ship firmly on his minds eye.
"Time we was gone Captain, before that lot wants more than a few trinkets." Smee called, jerking Hook into action. Scrambling down the boarding net, Hook stepped into the bobbing boat and sat down, Smee already working the oars to pull them away from the towering side of the ship.
Hook kept his back to the Jolly Roger as his aging first mate strained to put as much distance between them and the ship as possible. A sea mist started to curl it's smoky tendrils around the headland and across the waves, quickly overtaking the tiny boat and its two occupants and effectively hiding it from view of both the Jolly Roger and Neverland. Concealed in the fog, Hook pulled out a compass and checked the reading.
"We'll keep heading due north Smee, around this next headland."
"Aye, aye Captain." Puffed Smee, his brawny arms working the oars with practiced ease. "Would you like to tell me how ya plan to take back the Jolly Roger?"
"No. I can't tell you my plan Smee because I don't have one. I've decided to give up the sea and settle on land."
Smee's stroke faltered and the boat listed for a moment. Then Smee started to chortle to himself. "Oh a merry jest. Captain Hook give up the sea, that's a good un."
Ignoring his first mates disorderly conduct, Hook stared straight ahead, the compass held in his hand as the little boat cleaved a path through the fog shrouded sea towards an uncertain future.
In his minds eye he brought up an image of tragic blue eyes and trembling red lips, their owner possessing a lush young body that tempted and teased Hook to the edge of madness. He had to find out if she was still on the island.
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Wendy considered herself to be in paradise. She currently sat bathed in sunshine, her face tip-tilted to the warm rays while her toes dabbled in the cool water of a secluded pond, the click and whirr of insects lulling her into a doze. The past two months had gone by in a blur of contented bliss, such as she'd never known before. Peter had remained true to his word and Neverland had had to make do without its protector for several weeks before they'd ventured beyond their little world of the cave and the surrounding jungle to make a visit to the Indian village. Wendy glowed both inside and out, a direct result of Peter tender care of her since the terrible day of his death and rebirth. When he'd returned, that first day back at the cave, from his gathering of food, she'd still been a little wary of him, expecting his mood to change as it always had done. But he surprised her, gently drawing her out, teasing her and cajoling her so that they spent long hours talking about everything from a pin to an elephant until the sun rose with a glorious dawn. From then on it was if he was wooing her like a prospective husband, his manner that of a considerate lover, never pushing her, never demanding, always bringing little gifts to please her, his lips tempting her to paradise but always drawing back, allowing her to lead the way. Gradually she relaxed and blossomed, like a flower opening to the sun, she succumbed to his natural charm and loving attention, their coming together as inevitable as the dawn each morning. Her laugh rang out frequently, as did his, her body becoming lush with her pregnancy as they explored the immediate area around the cave. Peter showed her everything there was to see, their days spent in discovery of the natural world that was Neverland, the nights spent cooking and eating the spoils they'd gathered before retiring to their bed, sometimes just to cuddle and talk, other times to make sweet love before sleeping contentedly together. It was an idyllic time, a honeymoon to treasure, wiping away, temporarily, all memory of life before his return.
It couldn't last forever. Tink visited when it suited her, carrying the news of happenings around Neverland. She passed on the information that the Jolly Roger had sailed from the islands shores soon after Peter and Wendy had left the Indians, the ship followed by the mermaids until she disappeared beyond the horizon. It was assumed by all that it had gone for good, but several weeks later Tink returned to report that wreckage of a ship had been found floating near to the island, the mermaids pushing it to shore to have the Indian's confirm it's origins. One of the pieces of scarred timber was identified by Tink as the top of the desk that had been in Hook's cabin. As other pieces of flotsam started to be found by the mermaids, it was agreed by all that the Jolly Roger must have foundered in a storm and been wrecked with all hands lost. No bodies were reported by the mermaids and it was assumed that Hook had been lost along with his crew. That night Peter and Wendy decided it was time for them to return to the world and flew to the Indian village, finding the natives celebrating the apparent demise of the pirates and their threat to the peace of Neverland. Peter was reunited with the Lost Boys who accepted his return from the dead with boisterous enthusiasm, his deputy quite willing to hand over the sword of authority, only to have Peter allow him to keep it which provoked another round of wrestling and mock fighting in celebration of their independence. The celebrations carried on far into the night, Peter happy to leave Wendy in the care of the Indian woman, who fussed and mothered the girl as if she was one of their own. Wendy took it all in good humor, glad to have the chance to ask some questions that had been bothering her about her body and it's changes. Willow was able to put her mind at rest about a great many things to do with birthing babies and when it came time to leave, Wendy felt more confident about herself and what was to happen when the baby was due.
With the knowledge that there was no longer a threat from the pirates, the varied populations of Neverland, magical, animal and human all relaxed for the first time in a long while. The palisade around the village was dismantled, and the Indian's were free to roam the jungle without needing an armed escort to pick berries. The Lost Boys started to camp above ground and light fires with impunity, not fearing an ambush anymore. The mermaids went back to sunning themselves like exotic seals on the rocks around the coastline, no longer fearing being hunted by the pirates, while the fairies once again held their celebrations at night, clearly visible above the trees as they danced in bright confusion under the moon.
Wendy decided one day to ask Peter if they could build a house somewhere close to the Indian village, so that when it came time for Wendy to give birth, she was close to Willow. Wendy loved the cave and the privacy of it, but it was hardly practical. They spent the long days planning their new Wendy house, as Peter called it, drawing ideas in the sand on the beach before borrowing a piece of deerskin leather and a charcoal to draw a plan.
There was much laughter and kissing involved, until the plan was put to one side and the kissing took over, both of them shedding their clothes before going swimming in the pond close to the cave, the cool water bathing their sun warmed flesh like a caress. Peter had an endless fascination with Wendy's rounded belly and full breasts, his fingers continually stroking over the soft contours, bringing Wendy to a peak of soft pleading before joining their bodies in the act of love, the water cooling their heated skin even as they rent the air with their cries of release.
Now in the aftermath Wendy sat on a sun warmed rock and wondered at how her life had changed in both substance and outlook. As she absently smoothed her hand over her swollen skin, she mused on how she'd ever contemplated ending her life and that of the child within her. She couldn't comprehend how anyone could consider not cherishing and nurturing the life growing inside, despite not knowing the origins of the father for certainty. Everything was wondrous and new and exciting.
For Wendy, life had become synonymous with love. She loved, she was loved and she lived in paradise. There was nothing and nobody to spoil it now.
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Hidden safely away from prying eyes, James Hook, former Pirate Captain of the now wrecked Jolly Roger, watched the small flames that flickered about the pieces of wood that constituted his fire. Smee was tunelessly whistling a little way off as he gutted and dressed the fish for their supper. The boom and thud of waves continually pounding the rocks of the Black Castle seemed distant as he huddled nearer to the faint warmth of the fire. Smee threaded the fish onto a stick and propped them up to cook over the embers, sitting himself down Indian style on the hard floor across from his former Captain.
Smee glanced at the silent man opposite and mentally tutted to himself.
"Won't be long now. The fish will taste all the better to waiting, don'tcha think?" Smee gushed, rubbing his hands together.
"What I think Smee, is that I am heartily sick of fish."
They lapsed into silence, both watching their meal start to blacken and spit on the sticks.
"What do ya think they were celebrating?" Smee ventured, picking at one of the fish to test it's readiness.
"Who knows what the heathen have cause to celebrate. Anyway, that was weeks ago. The only thing we learned from watching them cavort about like animals is that she is alive and well and living somewhere nearby."
"Don'tcha think you should forget about her?" Smee suggested, picking up one of the sticks and starting to strip it of fish.
"No. She will not have forgotten me, and I certainly have not forgotten her. She grows riper each time I see her. It won't be long before some filthy native decides to have her for his own. You saw her at that feast thing, or whatever it was. Already the Indian's accept her as one of their own, and I'm sure I saw a brave being more than just friendly with her. No, I won't be forgetting her any time soon Smee. I will be renewing my acquaintance with Miss Wendy Darling when the opportunity presents itself."
Keeping his opinions to himself, Smee glumly handed Hook one of the fish before reaching for another himself.
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Chapter: Fifteen - Tying Up Loose Ends
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Wendy's new house was starting to take shape. They had spent considerable time drawing the outline of the plan and now she could see their ideas taking shape before her. Peter had drawn on the expertise of the Indian's who, despite choosing to live in hide covered tepee's, were quite adept at creating more permanent structures when the need arose. The framework of trimmed logs was up and braced, the logs held together with a clever use of wooden pegs, tongue-and-groove and notching. Wendy's hadn't wanted a heavy log cabin, and suggested that they use woven panels for the walls, allowing as much light into the rooms as possible. There were no doors or shutters and the whole constructions was completely indefensible, but as Wendy reasoned, there was no longer any threat to them on Neverland so why build a fortress? It did have a rough hewn plank floor rather than dirt, which Wendy was grateful for, and this was covered with more woven matting to provide a soft carpet under her bare feet. The roof was steeply sloped and covered in palm fronds nearly a foot deep to keep off the rain that swept over the lowland slopes of the island, the tropical downpours heavy but brief in the late afternoons during the wet season. Within the cleared area around the house, Peter had used some of the large branches trimmed off the tree trunks to create a fence to keep out the larger grazing animals that appeared from the jungle to watch the activity disturbing their peace. Wendy knew little about tending a garden, so one of the Indian women arranged a working party and a selection of cuttings from her own vegetable plot to share with them, the women spending an afternoon planting up the seedlings in the freshly hoed ground around the new house. At the end of three months the house was finished and a huge bonfire was created from the offcut's and rubbish that a building site inevitably produces. Wendy and Peter had been living in the house even while it was being built, the bedroom the first room to be made livable, but with the last panel secured to the posts, a great cheer went up from the men who had been helping, the women who had taken time off from their chores to watch also crying out in celebration, singing and clapping to mark the occasion. A day or so later they held a party, inviting everyone from the village to come and see the new Wendy House and marvel at the handiwork of their friends and relatives. Each of the upright posts had been carved by the village artist before it was put into place, the carvings still visible and adding to the charm of the bungalow as people drifted in and out and adding their comments to the general consensus. Wendy, now heavily pregnant at nearly seven months, sat on a well padded wooden seat, her feet supported on an upturned wooden bucket, surveying the steady stream of curious Indian's trooping in and out of her new house.
"And how are you today, Wendy Lady?"
Resting one hand on her distended stomach, Wendy shaded her face with the other and peered up into the face of the Medicine Woman.
"I'm fat." Wendy stated, her smiling remark producing an answering laugh in Willow.
"You are all baby. I am glad to see you have your feet up."
"Oh don't you start." Wendy grumped, wiggling her toes and scowling at her puffy ankles. "Do all women swell up like balloons?"
"Some are worse than others. Yours are not so bad, as long as you keep off them." Willow scolded, Wendy rolling her eyes having heard the lecture before many times. She suddenly felt a shiver go down her spine, the sensation of eyes watching her making her sit up and swivel her head around. "What is it Wendy?" Willow queried.
Chewing her lip, she subsided. "I don't know. I sometimes feel..." She paused, feeling silly, but Willow told her to go on. "I sometimes think that someone it watching me, someone out there." Wendy pointed to the dense jungle edging the clearing, a flock of birds rising up from one of the trees to wheel and dive before flapping away. Willow stared for a moment in the direction Wendy pointed before turning back to the girl beside her.
"I think you see ghosts maybe. There is nothing out there, just birds and butterflies."
"You're right, I know. Just sometimes....even at night, I think I feel eyes watching me, it's eerie."
"Have you told Peter of this?" Willow asked, her own eyes narrowing as she surreptitiously scanned the people milling around the house.
"No. He's been so...." Wendy paused, as if struggling for the right word. "....careful of me."
Willow smiled ruefully and chuckled. "Men are often worse than the mothers when it comes to worrying about their children. Even before that child it born."
"Are they? It's not anything he does specifically, and I love that he's so attentive. It's just...."
"He hovers." Willow finished for her, the two exchanging a glance before both dissolved into laughter.
"In more ways than one!" Wendy grinned, rubbing her hand over her belly, a strong kick from the baby within making her jerk in surprise. "Goodness this baby is active, here feel." Reaching for Willow's hand, Wendy placed it on her rounded stomach, the two woman waiting expectantly, to be rewarded a few second later by another strong kick from the life within Wendy.
"He is strong like his father." Willow pronounced, withdrawing her hand.
"It could be a she." Wendy argued, both hands rubbing circles over her extended belly. "I think I'd like a daughter."
"What would you call her?" Willow asked, seeing Peter approaching with a party of young braves.
"I can't make up my mind. I thought one of my own names might be suitable, like Moira or Angela."
"What does Peter suggest?"
"Oh he doesn't seem to care what it's called, at least not before it's born."
Peter hailed the two women when he got close, Wendy's head snapping up at the sound of his voice, her face breaking out into a smile of welcome as he leant down over her body and gave her a quick kiss, his warm hand coming to rest over hers on the bump. The young men who had accompanied him, stood a little way off and shuffled their feet. Peter stood up and gestured for them to come closer.
"We're making up a hunting party to go bag some meat for the feast tonight." Peter explained, standing with his back to the sun so that Wendy could look up at him without being blinded by the sunlight.
"Isn't it a little late to be going off hunting?" Wendy asked, unexpectedly nervous at the thought of Peter going away.
"Not really, the game isn't far away. Just this morning we saw the deer that came to the fence, and I know there's a family of pigs that live just beyond the creek." Peter glanced at the braves who all nodded their agreement.
"This is just an excuse to get away from all the clacking women, isn't it?" Willow remarked, her arms crossed over her chest. Peter had the grace to look a little abashed, although he grinned at the medicine woman and winked at Wendy.
"Perish the thought. We just want to contribute our share to the feast tonight." Peter replied, grinning cheekily. Wendy couldn't stop a trill of giggles escaping as Peter performed a roughish bow to the two women before turning away, the young braves clustering around him and talking excitedly.
"You will be careful?" Wendy called out as the group started to drift away. Peter turned back and waved his hunters to carry on without him. Jogging back to Wendy he squatted down on his haunches and snagged one of her hands, carrying it to his lips. "I'm always careful, but for you I'll take extra special care. Don't worry, I've done this a hundred times before, there's nothing to it." Releasing her hand, he leant forward and pressed his cheek to her stomach, feeling the press of a foot or hand against his face as he rested it there. Turning his face, he addressed the baby inside. "You take good care of your mother while I'm gone. " Pressing a kiss on the bump Peter rose to his feet and waved goodbye to Willow and Wendy and trotted off to rejoin the braves waiting for him. Wendy let out a sigh.
"I am lucky, aren't I Willow?"
The Indian gave Wendy a sharp glance before patting the girl on the shoulder. "You have everything you could ever want, don't you?"
"I guess." Wendy sighed again, dragging her eyes from the departing hunting party back to the house before her. "Of course I do." She stated more firmly, once more cradling her stomach protectively.
They stood watching the people milling about the house for a few more minutes then Wendy made to get up and Willow placed a hand under her elbow to help her.
"I think I need to take another walk. And I've hardly taken more than a sip of that juice in the last hour." Wendy complained, easing herself upright with a wry smile for Willow.
"The baby sits heavily on your insides. There is little room for anything else." Willow chided. "Do you need my help?"
Wendy waved her away. "No. I'll be fine. I only have to walk over there." She pointed to the small hut that acted as their outhouse. "Won't be long."
Willow watched the girl walk slowly over the flattened grass towards the hut before turning her attention back to the people around the house. She saw who she was looking for and headed towards him. Maybe the High Priest, Glowing Eagle, would know what to say to the girl to arrest her fears about someone watching her. She knew that strange fancies took women over in the late stages of their pregnancies, and that their senses were often heightened, allowing them to sense things that other's simply didn't see. With this in mind, Willow set off to talk to the High Priest about her concerns.
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She was coming closer with every step that she took. Eyes red rimmed with fatigue watched the heavily pregnant girl approach the small hut and go inside. Relaxing his vigil, the man ran a grimy hand over his face and felt the harsh rasp of days old stubble prick his skin. None of his former crew would have recognized the man that crouched so stealthily in the undergrowth as the infamous pirate Captain known as James Hook. In the months he'd been hiding and watching, Hook had allowed his formerly immaculate habits to slide, his clothes becoming little more than rags on his back and his personal habits flung to the four winds. He now resembled more closely one of his crewman, his hair hanging down in ragged strands, the length hacked off unevenly when it got in the way and currently tied back from his face with a piece of rag. Only the eyes remained the same, forget-me-not blue and as piercingly cold as an iceberg. His obsession with the girl had gone beyond the norm and bordered on madness, her every waking moment watched and pored over by the man who shadowed her. It was as if, to his eyes, she was the only living thing on Neverland. Even when she was in a crowd of people she seemed to glow and stand out from them, casting the people around her into shadows and blurs, his focus not wavering from her face and form, all else ignored. He knew she had a new lover because he'd noted a male presence keeping close beside her, even sleeping in the house with her at night which infuriated him, tantalizing Hook with images of them making love while he sat at the fringes of the jungle and watched and waited, hungrily.
But today that was going to change. From his position, well hidden at the edge of the clearing, Hook could see the people milling in and around the new house, the girl, as usual, not left alone for more than a minute. Now she was mere feet away from where he crouched, inside the latrine and no-one close enough to thwart what happened next. He heard a sound and came instantly alert, the door of the hut swung open and the girl stepped out into the sunshine once more. He watched her lean backwards with her hands supporting her lower back as she stretched out her aching muscles. Now it was time for him to move quickly. Keeping low to the ground with the hut providing cover, Hook scuttled across the grass and flattened himself against the wall of the outhouse. Glancing quickly across to the house to assure himself that no-one was looking, he advanced on the girl, taking her by surprise as he gathered her up in his arms, his one hand clamped firmly over her mouth to prevent any scream from alerting the Indians. He had carefully wrapped his hook with sacking to keep it from digging into her flesh and allow him to drag the girl backwards without injuring her. Despite her flailing legs and the fingers digging into his arms, Hook succeeded in pulling Wendy's heavy form to the edge of the jungle, the greenery parting then closing around them like a curtain. Pinning Wendy to the ground, Hook twisted her arms behind her back while keeping her head held to the ground with his knee on the nape of her neck. Rapidly binding her hands, he then gagged her mouth with a length of grubby cloth before rolling her over, both of them breathing heavily, panicked blue meeting calculating ice as they eyes clashed. Not wasting his breath on words, Hook hauled the girl to her feet and started to march her deeper into the jungle, his hook arm around her thickened waist while his free hand held her steady as they stumbled onwards, each step taking them further and further away from the chance of discovery and rescue.
Wendy was in a state of abject fear, her eyes wild as she fought back the blackness that threatened to engulf her, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in air to keep herself conscious. Her kidnappers grip on her never lessened, his arm like a steel bar around her back, his hand steadying her whenever she tripped. Spots started to dance in front of her eyes as they traveled further into the dense forest of greenery, all sense of direction long gone as her abductor followed a course only he knew, their progress silent except for the snap of branches underfoot and the call of birds above their heads. After what seemed like an eternity, the man dragged her towards a thicket that seemed more impenetrable than the rest, her reeling senses registering that the trees seemed closer together than in other parts of the jungle, the air darker and denser than the area nearer to her home. The man used his hand to part the curtain of concealing vines and pushed Wendy inside the hide. She fell to her knees then on to her side, her lungs heaving as she fought for air. Her last conscious thought was the hope that her headlong abduction hadn't hurt the child within her, her last view before her eyes closed and she gave in to the darkness, being a wild looking man looming over her, his lips stretched wide in a triumphant leer, his eyes gleaming red behind thick dark lashes that somehow seemed familiar.
Hook stared down at the insensible girl and felt like screaming his victory to the skies, his mouth stretched wide as he silently congratulated himself on the success of his abduction. A sound made him freeze, voices coming to him on the breeze, the calling of Wendy's name over and over. They were already on his trail. Checking that the girl was still trussed and gagged securely, Hook carefully peered out through the branches of his cleverly disguised hide, his movements slow and cautious. Even as he parted the few branches needed to clear a view for his narrowed eyes, an Indian appeared from the curtain of jungle greenery, the man's face turning back and forth as if scenting the wind for any clues. As Hook watched, the man crouched down and searched the ground, inspecting the thick leaf mulch for evidence of a trail. Hook had to forcibly stop himself from giggling out loud when the Indian lifted a hand to his mouth and called, several more Indian's joining him before the whole group moved off, past where Hook was hiding and on deeper into the forest undergrowth. Only when the men had passed beyond sight did he allow a tiny sound of satisfaction pass his lips. The false trail he'd left was working like a charm, it would take the Indian's some time to figure out that the trail was leading them nowhere. Satisfied that his plan was working like clockwork, Hook turned back to his captive, laying himself down beside her and staring at her lax features, his hand coming up to smooth her hair away from her face.
"Safe and sound, my beauty. Hook has you now. No one will find us, not ever."
Fortunately for Wendy's sanity she remained oblivious to his presence, her body unconsciously curled protectively around her stomach. For the remainder of the day Hook heard many voices calling for the girl beside him, his hand continually stroking over her hair, his eyes drawn to the curves of her body but always returning to her face. As the sun dipped below the trees Wendy came awake with a start, her eyes snapping open, startling her captor who reared back, his face a picture before he brought himself back under control. Wendy's breath started to quicken behind the gag, her eyes swiveling from side to side as she tried to figure out where she was.
"Hush my beauty....you're safe with Ol' Hook..."
Wendy's reaction to his name was one of undisguised panic and horror, her eyes rolling as she strained to get away from his hand, muffled grunts coming from her throat as she tried to move her heavy body away from him. Hook ignored her efforts and continued to croon to her, his filthy fingers tugging the trapped golden strands out from behind the rag that covered her mouth. "No need to struggle, you'll only hurt yourself and the precious babe." He smiled down at the stricken girl. "I've waited so long for you to come to me my darling. So long, and now I have you. No more heathen protector for you, no more pretending to be friends with those savages. You safe now, I'll look after you." Glancing down her body, he made to stroke the bulge of Wendy's stomach but she managed to flinch away, Hook's eyebrow lifting as he surveyed her cringing body. "I so look forward to seeing our beautiful baby, not long now I wager." He ignored Wendy's violent head shaking, his eyes losing their focus as he pictured himself dangling the baby on his knee. "Oh yes precious, we'll be such a happy family, you and I."
Wendy's eyes seemed to plead with him, her throat still working to force out words as she fought to reason with him. Suddenly the small space was invaded with the strong smell of urine, a wet patch appearing from beneath her as she lost control of her bladder, unable to help herself or prevent it.
"What the hell?" Hook peered down at her dress, seeing the darkening fabric and wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Dirty bitch, why didn't you say something?" Ignoring the fact that his captive was gagged, Hook pulled away from Wendy and scuttled as far back as he could. "Now I'll have to find somewhere else to hide you until they stop looking for you."
Scowling furiously, Hook once more peered between the vines and checked the area for any sign that the Indian's were still around. Hearing and seeing nothing, he clambered to his feet and dragged Wendy upright, curling his lip at the astringent smell filling the hide. Pushing his way through the tangle of vegetation, Hook hauled Wendy alongside him, taking care not to disturb the false trail before plunging into the shadowy jungle.
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The bonfire had been lit and blazed brightly, but there was no dancing around it, the people gathered in front of the house silent for the most part, huddled together as they awaited the outcome of the meeting taking place inside.
Peter had returned with the young braves to find the village and his house in an uproar. Willow was the first to reach him, her brown face stricken with worry and tears. Dropping the carcass draped over his shoulders, Peter strode forward and gripped the Medicine woman's arms in a painful grip.
"Where is she?" He demanded, not waiting for Willow to speak.
"We don't know. She's disappeared."
"She can't have gone far." Peter shook Willow then let her go, the woman stumbling as she regained her balance.
"We searched everywhere Peter. Some of the men are still out there." Willow sobbed, pointing to the inky blackness barely visible beyond the reach of the bonfire's light. Peter followed the line of her arm and his heart lurched painfully. "Who has done this?" He ground out, turning around and surveying the huddled Indians. Willow grabbed his arm and drew his attention back to her.
"It is none of our doing Peter. Everyone is accounted for, the Chief ordered a head count as soon as we realised she was missing. We sent a runner for the Lost Boys, they are with the men out searching even as we speak."
"What about the fairies?"
"The runner hasn't returned and have your forgot? They are swarming."
"Damn!" Peter swore under his breath, belatedly remembering that the fairy host was indeed performing the ritual of the swarm, a time when all the fairies gathered to renew their allegiance to the Queen and chose their partners for the year to come. "Where is the Chief?"
"Waiting for you." Willow pointed to the house and Peter took off, his group of hunters following at a run.
Now they waited for the outcome. The searchers had returned and immediately gone in to the house to report to the Chief and Peter.
Willow and the other women sat in a circle on the trampled grass, the children gathered close as they waited for news. Above their heads the sky had started to cloud over, the stars winking out of sight as tendrils of cloud started to swell and expand. The bonfire was starting to sink into itself, the bigger timbers crashing into the heart in a shower of sparks as the first drops of rain started to fall, making the fire hiss in protest at natures attempt to put it out. The women quickly gathered up the mats and rugs scattered over the ground, most scurrying towards the village with their belongings and the children for shelter before the rain started in earnest. The men who remained outside after the women had left fed the fire and made sure the wood used to make torches was kept dry in the lee of the house under some thick hides, using the same skins to protect themselves when it started to rain more heavily.
Inside the new house, the patter of rain on the palm frond roof was ignored by the men gathered around the table in the living room. Spread out on the top was a detailed map drawn on a fine deer skin by the Indian's best artist. It showed all the features of Neverland and had been updated with as much information on the inhabitants of the island as possible. Even the new house was drawn in delicate detail on the map. Peter leant over the table and drew a circle with his finger with the house at the center.
"Show me where you've looked." He commanded, raising his head to stare at the leader of the search party. The man came forward and used the tip of an arrow to indicate the areas covered so far. "Do we know anything about the direction she took?" Peter asked, scanning the copper faces gathered in the room. The High Priest stepped forward. "Willow was the last to see your woman. She was going to use your little house," the man pointed in the direction of the outhouse."That was the last time anyone saw her."
"And no one else noticed anyone or anything?" Peter asked.
All the men shook their heads in the negative. Peter looked grim.
"Then we have to assume that afterwards she either went for a walk in the jungle on her own, which is unlikely....or she was taken by someone, or something into the jungle."
"There was no blood found," one man offered, "which means it wasn't an animal."
Several of the braves nodded in agreement. Peter kept his face averted, swallowing down the rush of bile that rose to his throat at the thought of Wendy's body torn to bloody shreds by one of the predators that roamed the island. "Have there been any sightings of wolves or bears near here?" Peter asked, keeping his eyes on the map.
"None." One of the hunters affirmed, several others agreeing with him.
"What about the crocodile?"
"It keeps to the swamp. It hasn't been near the village in years." The Chief spoke up, waving his hand to dismiss the idea of the large reptile venturing out of its home.
"Then that only leaves two options." Peter asserted, folding his arms across his chest and raising his head. "Either she wandered off and got lost, which I find hard to believe given her condition. Or there is someone or something on this island that we know nothing about."
The gathering exchanged uneasy glances before fixing their attention back on Peter.
"It is too dark to see anything more tonight and the rain...." Glowing Eagle started to say. Peter cut him off.
"And Wendy is out there still. Possibly ill, maybe injured, probably a captive of someone or something." He shouted, glaring at the High Priest. Glowing Eagle held his hand up as if to ward Peter off.
"That is all true and no-one disputes it. But we could spend all night searching in the dark and not find each other, let alone someone wishing to be hidden from us. Without the help of the fairies, how are we to find anything?"
"Fine." Peter snapped, slapping his hand on the table top. "You stay here and stay dry. I'm going out there to find her. She won't be able to travel far in her condition, so unless there's more than one..." He paused and cocked an eyebrow at the leader of the search party.
"We only ever saw one set of tracks leading towards the little house, then two tracks leading away, one of them your woman's." The man confirmed.
"Then we are dealing with only one abductor, whoever he is. They still won't have gone far. If you had a heavily pregnant woman with you, where would you seek shelter?" Peter asked, all eyes turning to the map before them. Several suggestions were made and Peter divided the men into groups to search each one.
"You all have your bows. If anyone finds a trail or finds Wendy, fire into the air with a flaming arrow. Keep firing until you see an answering arrow from another group, understood?"
The men all murmured their agreement. Peter led them out of the house after equipping himself with an armory of weapons. Outside the waiting men clustered around the leaders to learn what had been decided. Willow appeared beside Peter and tugged at his arm to get his attention.
"Wendy will have need of a woman if....when she is found."
"We'll have to move fast Willow, I can't afford to be held back." Peter told her harshly, his hands dancing over his weapons, his mind already on the hunt.
Willow drew herself up and traded Peter glare for glare. "I am a woman of the Piccaninny Tribe. We are as strong as our men and can endure as much as they. I will not hold you back."
"So be it." Peter turned away and shouted to the men to light the torches. Soon the area was ablaze with flaring flames as each group carried half a dozen torches with them, splitting up into their search parties and leaving the area around the house at a run, heading towards the dark and dripping jungle. Peter was the last to leave, his men waiting expectantly while he returned to the house, appearing shortly with a bundle tucked under his arm. He handed it to Willow who tied it to her medicine bag. Grimly Peter nodded to his men and they set off, jogging past the out house to enter the jungle and follow the trail the search party had found earlier in the day. The ground underfoot was soft and soggy, their feet silent as they tramped along the trail marked by broken branches and trampled leaves. In the flare of the torches, Peter searched for any sign of Wendy apart from the evidence of her abductors passage through the jungle. They reached a small clearing and one of the men pointed off to the side to indicate where the trail led, but Peter paused, staring at the thicket that bordered the faint path. One of the torches flared and Peter was rewarded by a glint of something hanging from one of the vines. Darting forward he held his torch high, his fingers finding the golden thread of hair in the flickering light. The others clustered around, pulling at the vines, revealing the hidden space within.
"This is where he hid her." Peter announced, tucking the strand of hair inside his shirt before following the searchers into the small, cleverly concealed hide. Willow was crouched on the ground, her fingers digging into the loam and holding it to her nose.
"Wendy was here." She stated emphatically. "Her water is here." Willow held up the leaves and Peter leant forward, catching a whiff of musky scent.
"How do you know it's not someone else's piss or even an animals?" He asked. Willow shook her head and threw the leaves to the ground before rubbing her hands clean on her leggings.
"Not animals, like men's piss very strong, women's piss different. Wendy was here."
Peter ignored the flash of anger that welled up in his chest at the thought of Wendy being so scared she'd wet herself in terror. Leaving the hiding place he stood on the trail and stared at the dark jungle surrounding them. Willow darted about the ground picking up clumps of leaves, eventually crying out and waving the men forward. "This way." Pointing excitedly to a gap between the trees, Willow allowed the men to overtake her, Peter shooting her a quick smile before surging ahead, the torches bobbing above the men's heads as they searched for more clues. The kidnapper had been less fussy about covering his tracks and they quickly found evidence of his passage with his captive through the undergrowth. Peter felt the blood thump in his veins, his tongue tasting its metallic tang as he clamped his teeth on his tongue to keep himself from screaming out a battle roar of rage at his enemy. He wanted Wendy to know that help was on the way, that she didn't have to fear for her life any more, that he was coming for her.
Instead he held back and tamped down his urge to rip and tear and concentrated on making sure they didn't miss any clues in the dripping darkness that would show where her abductor had taken his Wendy.
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Chapter: Sixteen - Arrivals and departures
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Hook peered out at the water still falling from the sky and cursed his luck that Neverland chose that night to start it's rainy season early. His only consolation was that his enemy would have even greater difficulty tracking him through the mud and muck of the jungle. Behind him he heard the girl grunt behind her gag, her body curled around itself, the muffled grunts coming regularly.
"You sound like a tame piglet back there girl." Straining his eyes to pierce the gloom of the shallow cave, Hook shuffled over to the prone body and used the toe of his scuffed boot to prod her. Wendy responded by curling herself up tighter, like a hedgehog, her throat working to produce another soft grunt, Hook clearly hearing her breath wheezing past the gag. Reaching down with his hand he felt a shudder go through her, the movement not disguising that the girl was trembling from head to foot, heat coming off her body in waves. Whether the reaction was in fear or pain, Hook couldn't discern in the darkness. Cursing the lack of light, Hook sat down beside her and contemplated his options. His original plan had been to take the girl back to the Black Castle and hide her there, but with the change in the weather he'd decided to seek shelter instead, finding the shallow cave in a steep slope almost by chance as he negotiated the banks of a shallow stream.
Now the stream was swollen to three times it's depth from the continuing rain and Hook feared that before too long they'd have to leave their shelter or get flooded out. A new sound intruded on his thoughts, the girl now producing a high pitched whine to her regular grunts, her feet scuffing on the dirt as she fought to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground.
"Stop that noise bitch!" Hook hissed, turning his back on the entrance to their hideaway to once more approach the girl, her body only a shade lighter than the gloom. This time when he lay his hand on her body he chanced to rest his palm on her belly, the flesh underneath as hard as iron before he felt it relax. Snatching his hand away he put his hand down to steady himself and found the dirt beneath her body soaked and sticky.
"What the bloody hell....you've wet yourself again! God was a body every plagued by such a dirty slut!" Wiping his grubby hand down his equally disgusting trousers, Hook backed away and hunkered down, his lip curled in contempt. The rain seemed to be slackening and he poked his head out to gauge the force of the drops, the leaves from further up the bank suddenly releasing their load of water, drenching Hook in an unexpected shower. As he spluttered and attempted to wipe the water from his face a light flared hot and yellow almost in front of his eyes, making him rear back and yell. The Indian brave holding the torch also shouted, stumbling backwards in his surprise and ending up knee deep in the stream, the torch held high. Voices started to call out and Hook quickly found himself surrounded by more Indians and torches, the shallow cave now illuminated brighter than daylight. Someone was pushing his way through the crowd of natives, torchlight glinting off the damp golden curls plastered to his forehead. Hook, who had scuttled towards the back of the cave and had his long knife out in defense, gaped open mouthed as the one person he was sure he'd never see again, stepped into the circle of light.
"You're dead!" The pirate shrieked, "I killed you."
Peter gave vent to a short laugh, his white teeth biting off the sound. "Not as dead as you'd have me Hook." Signaling to the braves, Peter stood back as they advanced into the shallow depression, Hook fending them off with wild swings of his tarnished hook, the men backing off when the pirate suddenly lunged forward across Wendy's body, his knife held to the girls chest. The Indians fell back leaving Peter standing in the mouth of the cave, Hook crouched over Wendy, the whole scene painted in flickering gold from the torches all around.
"Harm her and you're dead." Peter snarled, his handsome face contorted with barely restrained rage. Hook saw the flames flickering in his eyes and felt a spurt of fear clutch at his heart. Strengthening his resolve, Hook stayed where he was and bared his own teeth at the ghost staring at him with death in his eyes.
"You can't kill me, I'm Hook, scourge of the seven seas, a name to make grown men gibber. I'm not afraid of a ghost or spirit or whatever you are, for I know I stabbed Peter Pan through the heart, so you cannot be he!"
Lifting his hands, Peter wrenched open his soaked shirt, baring his chest. In the light of the torches it was plain to see that a scar marred the smooth, golden skin, an ugly jagged tear leaving behind a purple slash, a permanent reminder of Peter's demise. Hook stared and his eyes widened until the white's showed all the way around.
"What are you?" Hook whispered, his hand holding the knife starting to tremble. Peter slowly lowered his hands from his shirt and held them loosely by his hips, flexing his fingers.
"I am Peter Pan, Guardian of Neverland, Protector of All and Dealer of Death to those that would harm what is mine." As he spoke, flames started to spark from the ends of his fingers, licking around his hands and growing brighter with each second.
Peter watched Hook closely and saw the moment the man lost his reason, his eyes turning a dull red in the torch light as he raised his arm above the girls body ready to strike. In that instant, Peter extended his arm with a quick flick, a fire ball leaping from the tips of his fingers to hit Hook, still with his arm upraised, square on the chest, sending the pirate Captain flying backwards to hit the rear wall of the cave. Flames started to lick about Hook's ragged clothing and he shrieked, the knife thrown away as he batted at the burning heat consuming him.
"Help me....it burns..IT BURNS!!"
The Indian's remained frozen behind Peter, the rain finally starting to ease as they watched Hook try to put the fires out. Enraged by pain and terror, Hook blundered forward and hurled himself past Peter to throw himself in the creek, thrashing about in the swirling water to douse the flames.
Peter ignored him, rushing forward to kneel beside Wendy, his knife flashing out to sever the bindings on her hands and the gag smothering her mouth. Behind him another figure rushed forward, Willow, throwing herself down beside the girl just as Peter lifted her partially off the floor and cradled her in his arms. Wendy appeared unaware of them, her closed eyes opening only a slit as she gasped and groaned, her numb arms slack at her side.
Willow ran her hands over the girls body, feeling the tight abdomen and listening to her breathing. She raised worried eyes to meet Peter's over Wendy's head.
"We must get her dry and warm as quickly as possible. She is having the baby now."
Wendy remained unresponsive as Peter eased her on to her feet with Willows help. Heedless of the state of her dress, Peter lifted her easily into his arms and carried her out of the cave. Hook sat on the bank of the creek, his body bound by many ropes, his head bowed.
Peter didn't even look at the man, his attention all on the girl in his arms. "Take a hold of my belt Willow. We'll return to the village at once." Willow nodded, trusting Peter implicitly as she threaded her fingers through his sword belt. One of the braves stepped forward and Peter turned to address him. "Take him out to Skull Rock. You know what to do." Receiving a nod in reply, Peter checked on Willow before lifting off the ground and slowly spiraling into the air, the Indian woman dangling off his belt as he rose up into the night sky.
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Wendy could see people moving about around her, but they were as insubstantial as shadows, her mind entirely focused on her body as it strained and squeezed itself in preparation for delivering her baby. She lay propped up on a mound of furs covered by a soft sheet, her knees drawn up. Her filthy dress had been removed and her body washed clean, her attendants handling her as if she was a doll, moving her arms and legs as they bathed her and took care of her. Through it all Wendy remained uncommunicative, her breathing and strained groans the only indication that a contraction was gripping her belly in a vice like grip, her jaw clenching until the muscles relaxed and she breathed more easily. Peter had tried to rouse her from her stupor, but Willow had told him to be patient and let Wendy concentrate on her bodies demands, Willow as concerned for Wendy's mental state but more concerned for the safe delivery of her baby.
Wendy was vaguely aware that Peter was with her, her hand held firmly within his, her fingers clenching with each contraction, turning his knuckles white until she relaxed again. They hadn't bothered to dress her after bathing her and she could feel the waves of warmth against her exposed skin from the brazier shedding light and heat within the room. Briefly she focused her eyes and realised that they were all within her new house, the window in the side wall showing the early colour of the dawn, stars still twinkling in the dark blue sky, clear of the clouds that had so smothered it during the night. Another contraction, stronger than all the others clamped down on her belly and Wendy whimpered, her fingers digging into the sheet on one side, while her hand grabbed at Peter's as she arched her back.
"Scream girl if you feel you must, it is a woman's lot to suffer the pain of childbirth....scream and let Neverland know it is about to welcome a new life to it's embrace."
As if suddenly released from her vow of silence, Wendy screamed long and loud, her head thrown back against the mound behind her as she writhed with the pain gripping her abdomen. As the muscles relaxed she slumped against the sheet and panted, loosening her grip on both Peter and the sheet.
Willow glanced up from her position at the end of the bed and felt some sympathy for Peter, his face a white mask, the tendons in his wrist flexing as he fought Wendy's death grip on his hand. He looked up and saw Willows amused glance, his lips peeling back on a sickly grin while he swallowed hard.
"How much longer?"
"As long as it takes Pan. Her body is young and healthy, it won't be much longer now. Talk to her, let her know you are there, how you feel, anchor her to this world so that she is less likely to want to leave it."
Peter turned back to do just that but Willow's words made him glance back at the medicine woman sharply. "You think she might die?"
"Birthing is always a risk. She has come far in her life, I do not think she is ready to leave it all behind quite yet."
Only slightly reassured, Peter turned back and started to talk to Wendy who lay with her eyes closed, breathing shallowly.
"I love you Wendy Darling. Don't you think of giving up now, I need you here with me, here in Neverland. I've never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you to stay here with me. Don't leave me, come back to me, you're safe in your home, the home we built for you. Wendy I love you...." Keeping up his murmured litany, Peter pushed back the sweat soaked hair from her face, stroking his long fingers down her cheek, watching her chest rise and fall, the pulse in her neck strong and steady. He saw the flesh over her belly start to tighten as her hand clenched on his, her eyes opening and swiveling to meet his, fear darkening them from sky blue to sapphire as she sought relief from the steel band squeezing her mercilessly. Willow was between her legs, a pad of material catching the birth fluid as it continued to trickle out, presaging the baby's' head.
"You are close now Wendy.....push hard then rest." Willow looked up. "Peter, get behind her and hold her more upright. Nature needs a hand getting the child out."
Wendy felt Peter lift her and position himself as her support behind her, his hands finding and gripping both of hers as she strained to pushed her baby out of her body. Another woman drifted into view, the midwife carrying a bowl and cloths along with a sharp knife to cut the cord. Together the two women worked at the end of the bed, Wendy using what was left of her strength for one final push, her child expelled into the waiting hands of Willow, the midwife tying off and cutting the pulsing cord before Willow wrapped the child, cleaning the mucous and fluids from its nose and mouth. Both women stood back slightly, but Wendy hadn't relaxed. Peter felt the tension roiling off her body and called to the Medicine woman.
"Willow, what's happening?"
Wendy writhed on the bed, her neck arched as she felt the urge to push again, her belly almost undulating as another life fought it's way out of her body, a second child catching everyone by surprise. Placing the first baby on the bed, the midwife hastily prepared another cloth as Willow eased the child out of its mother's body, the infant instantly squalling it's outrage to the world at being expelled from it's warm haven. With the birth of her second baby Wendy finally relaxed, slumping against Peter in a faint, the new father staring down the bed in shocked amazement as both newborns set up a chorus of wails that left no one in any doubt that they were both hale and hearty. The midwife called in a nurse and set about cleaning the babes of their birthing, leaving them in her care to attend to the afterbirth. Willow was pressing on Wendy's abdomen to aid in its delivery, the midwife wrapping the bloody placenta in a square of soft leather when it was finally expelled, to be disposed of later. Blood still trickled from Wendy's body and Willow pressed a towel there to stem the flow. Still in a state of shock, Peter eased himself out from behind Wendy, lowering her down, his eyes drawn to the two squalling bundles currently enduring their first baths.
"Twins?" Peter asked faintly, finally letting go of Wendy's hand to lay it down on the bed.
"Neverland is double blessed by the great spirit. Leave her to sleep, she will need to regain her strength to be able to satisfy those two lusty babes." Willow chuckled, turning away to wash her hands in the basin left for that purpose.
Peter went over to where the midwife and her helper were drying and swaddling the babies, their tiny arms tucked firmly into the winding cloths until only their faces were visible. The midwife lifted the first up for Peter to take, the young father only hesitating a moment before gingerly taking the child into the crook of his arm. The other woman lifted the second child and stood beside him, rocking it gently. Both had quieted down and were content to rest after their noisy entrance to the world. While Peter stared entranced at the tiny creature in his arms, the midwife and Willow cleaned up the girl on the bed, checking on the pad before removing the soiled bottom sheet, replacing it with another along with a cover which they tucked around and over Wendy without once rousing from her exhausted slumber.
The Indian women worked quietly around the room, removing all evidence of the birthing, until at last they were free to come over and make their own observations about the babies while Peter continued to hold the first born in his arms.
"Of course they are small, because they are twins and early, but there is nothing to indicate they are sickly and no reason to suppose they won't survive." The midwife remarked, peering at the children with a satisfied smile. Willow shot the woman a scathing glance.
"Of course they will survive, they are the children of Pan, blessed and beloved by the Spirit. Wouldn't you agree Peter?"
"Huh?" Absorbed in his silent communion with the babe in his arms, Peter raised his head and looked blankly at the Indian women, who laughed indulgently.
"You'll get no sense out of him now," chortled the midwife, grinning.
"Have you thought of a name for your son?" Willow asked, shooing the other woman away. Peter again lifted his head, his brow furrowed.
"I have a son?"
"You hold him in your arms." Willow pointed out, amused to see Peter's eyebrows climb to his hairline as he once more stared down at the babe.
"You're my son?" The baby thus addressed merely opened its rosebud mouth and yawned, settling down again with a tiny mew of sound. Peter looked up at Willow, a smile curling his lips. "I have a son!"
"A son, and a daughter." Willow told him, taking the other baby from the nurse and holding her out to Peter. For a moment the young man looked nonplussed, almost wary as Willow approached with the second bundle and placed it in the crook of his free arm. Standing back, Willow folded her arms over her chest and looked remarkably pleased with herself.
"As it should be Pan. Neverland was due for a change, and these two will certainly shake things up around here."
Laughing softly to herself, Willow went over to the bed to check on the sleeping mother, leaving Peter to stare in wonder at the two tiny creatures safely held against his heart.
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Wendy awoke with a start, her eyes flying open at the sounds coming from the end of the bed. Someone was crooning very quietly, the words unintelligible, but the intent obviously to sooth someone or something. Their efforts were upset when a loud wail split the quiet room.
"Hey, hey quiet now....your poor mother has had a rough time." Again a wail pierced the air and Wendy rolled over, wincing as muscles protested the movement. Her breasts felt heavy, moisture starting to leak from the nipples. Another cry made her feel a wrench somewhere around her chest and she felt an uneasy restlessness.
"Peter?" Pushing her tousled hair away from her face, Wendy saw Peter turn around, his arms full of squirming bundles, their tiny fists waving in the air.
"I think their hungry." Peter remarked, sitting himself down beside her, Wendy's eye opening very wide when it registered that there were two babies, not just one.
"I had twins?"
"A boy and a girl." One of the babies wailed again and Wendy reached for him, holding him close to her cheek, her lips placing a soft kiss against a downy head.
"Oh Peter he's beautiful." Staring down into the angry, red, wrinkly face, Wendy felt her eyes well up and a lump form in her throat. "Is he really mine?"
"Ours." Said Peter, cradling the other baby against his shoulder. Willow had heard Wendy's voice, but hung back to allow the new family to get to know their latest additions. When the baby cried again, Willow entered the bedroom and came to sit on the other side of the bed.
"You need to feed your child. Lay on your side and put the baby to your breast."
A little clumsily, Wendy juggled the baby until it lay on the bed beside her, her engorged breast supported by the pillow.
"Now place the nipple at the corner of his mouth, he'll find it."
Wendy followed Willow's instruction and cried out when the baby found the nipple and latched on greedily. Willow reached over and pushed more of the breast into the baby mouth and Wendy felt it tug at her flesh, sucking vigorously. Peter watched enthralled, his daughter, sensing that her turn was soon, starting to mew against his neck.
"Patience little one, you turn will come," he whispered, stroking his fingers up and down her tiny back.
"Let him have his fill of this breast, then give your daughter the other." Willow instructed, smiling at the young couple before leaving them alone. Wendy looked up shyly at Peter, her face glowing with a mixture of pride and love.
"You rescued me again....thank you." She ducked her head to stare down at her feeding baby. "It was Hook, wasn't it?" When Peter nodded, she drew in a shuddering breath. "Is he dead?"
"Yes."
A tear spilled over and trailed down her cheek to her nose. "I was so scared he'd hurt my baby."
"He won't hurt anyone, ever again." Peter avowed gruffly, his own eyes moist. He reached out and caught the tear before it dripped off her face, carrying the tiny droplet to his lips. "You won't have to shed another tear over him, you're safe now."
"I thought we were safe before."
"We all assumed he went down with his ship. Apparently he and Mister Smee escaped a mutiny and have been living at the Black Castle all these months."
"How do you know all this Peter?"
"We figured he wasn't alone and searched those places no-one goes. At the Black Castle we found Smee. He was dying and felt the need to confess all before he joined his crew mates who perished in the storm that sunk the Jolly Roger."
"Is he dead now?"
"Actually no...the braves brought him back to the village and he's making a recovery. Who'd have thought the old pirate was so tough."
The baby at her breast had fallen asleep so Wendy gently detached his mouth, the rosy lips still moving despite the child being asleep. "I think it's time for the other one."
Rolling over, Wendy settled herself comfortably before accepting her daughter from Peter, the baby taking a few seconds to latch on because her mouth was so much smaller than her twins'. Peter cuddled his sleeping son, finding himself rocking on his heels automatically despite the child being fast asleep.
Wendy was absorbed in watching her tiny daughter suck at her breast, the child's miniature hand clutching rhythmically at the yielding flesh beside its' mouth, its' eyes tightly closed in concentration. She felt a warm rush of tenderness fill her chest, her aches and pains forgotten for the time being along with her half remembered terror.
"Isn't she beautiful," Wendy breathed, nestling her finger inside the baby's grip, marveling at the pearl-like finger nails adorning the slender digits of her child.
"Almost as beautiful as her mother," Peter replied, his eyes dancing as a blush crept up Wendy's chest and neck, making her duck her head.
"I must look a fright," she muttered, concentrating on the child at her breast.
"Not to me. I thought the first time I saw you, you were the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on."
"Then you can't have seen much of the world to think that," Wendy retorted, a warmth spreading through her despite refuting his claim.
The child had finished feeding, her mouth detaching with a faint pop, Wendy cuddling her close and placing a kiss on her head before handing her over to Peter. Willow once more entered the room and came over to Wendy at once.
"You need to get up and get dressed." Willow ordered, then addressed Peter. "Take the babes into the other room, I need to help Wendy get dressed."
Waggling his eyebrows at Wendy, which raised a smile, Peter did as requested, Willow shooing him out before returning to help the new mother to sit up and swing her legs around.
"What is this about Willow?"
"You'll see. Now let's check that pad."
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With the medicine woman's help, Wendy made her way slowly out of the bedroom and out the front door, her hair brushed until it shone and her body clothed in a clean, loose fitting shift. A chair had been set up for her to sit on and Peter stood ready to help her in to it.
"Where are the babies?" Wendy asked, looking around. Peter handed her into the chair and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"They're sleeping safe and sound. Here, have something to drink." Pressing a beaker of fruit juice into her hand, Peter grinned and settled himself on the ground beside her, his legs crossed Indian fashion. Willow came out and handed both Peter and Wendy bowls of food, as well a an earthen ware jug of more juice. Without a word, she left the two young people alone to enjoy their meal.
"I can't believe I gave birth to twins." Wendy mused, sore but happy to be safe in her own home. "I suppose we should think of names for them."
"Do you have any preferences?" Peter asked, biting into an apple.
"Goodness....I don't know. I had wondered if I should name the child, if she was a girl, with one of my own names but now I'm not so sure."
"We could do what the Piccaninny's do."
Wendy turned her head and raised an eyebrow at Peter. "And that would be?"
"Well....the father takes the child up to the top of a hill and waits for a sign to tell him what the child should be called. Like, Sleeping Dog or Beetle Berry."
Wendy looked shocked, not realizing that Peter was only teasing.
"I'm not calling my son after a bug! Or my daughter after some - some beast!"
"Hey, I was only joking," Peter ducked as Wendy swiped her hand at him intending to cuff him. "What about naming them after someone you knew in the past - a relative or something?"
"I don't...." Wendy paused, biting her lip. "I don't want to think about the people in my past. They never thought about me except to use me." She drew in a deep breath and turned her head to look at Peter. "Isn't there anyone you'd like to name them after, someone you knew in your past?"
"I can't remember back that far." Peter replied carelessly, not seeing the look of surprise on Wendy's face.
"How old are you Peter?"
"What? Hell, I don't know, it's not important anyway." He dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. "Come on, we have to think about names."
"Why all this urgency? They don't mind not having names, after all."
Peter sighed. "Because there is going to be a naming ceremony this evening and it would help if we had names for the babies other than him and her."
"Oh. A naming ceremony. Will that be something like a christening?"
"What's a christening?"
"Well, I suppose it's....well, it's a naming ceremony." Wendy finished, feeling a little foolish.
"Then yes, it's a christening." Peter agreed smugly, tossing the core of his apple out of sight. "So, thought of any names?"
"Good grief, you're like a dog with a bone." Wendy laughed, wincing when the sudden movement sent a spike of pain through her middle. "Ouch, that hurt, don't make me laugh."
In an instant Peter was on his feet and leaning over her. "Where does it hurt? I knew this was too soon for you to get up - Willow!!" His bellow for the medicine woman made Wendy flinch.
"Peter I'm fine, just a little sore." She looked up into his concerned face and found herself pinned in place by a pair of worried green eyes.
The moment remained suspended in time, tired blue meeting fierce green in a battle that had no purpose. As his heart rate slowed, Peter's expression softened and he tilted his lips in a crooked smile, Wendy echoing the smile as the muscles under her fingers released their iron tension, his arms falling away as he stepped back.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bully you, I was just so - I've been so worried....."
"I'm safe now Peter, you found me, rescued me - us."
Collapsing back on the grass, Peter let out a lungful of air.
They remained quiet for a few moments, listening to the birds and insects and the occasional sound of the women moving about the house behind them. Peter raised himself up on an elbow and plucked a blade of grass to chew.
"Did you ever have a favourite character in a book which you liked?"
Wendy thought for a moment. "I used to get books from the circulating library. Ivanhoe was a favourite, Wilfrid of Ivanhoe and his Lady Rowena."
Peter screwed up his nose. "Wilfrid?"
"It is a very old Saxon name - we could shorten it to Will."
Peter said the name a few time to himself as if testing it for taste. "That's not a bad name - Will. What about the girls' name, Rowena sounds rather grand."
"We could shorten that as well, if you like it." Wendy suggested.
"You want to call your daughter Row?"
Wendy giggled. "No silly.....Wena."
"Hmmmm - Will and Wena." Peter seemed to think for a moment. "What about Will and Wisp. She's only a little scrap of a thing, like a wisp of fog or a tiny beam of sunlight."
"Wisp?" Wendy seemed to consider for a moment before smiling. "Wisp - I like that."
"Good, that's settled then. Look, I have to go and do something." Peter clambered to his feet, his expression closed. "Rest and take care of our babies, I'll be back before tonight."
"Peter!" Wendy called out, suddenly fearful. "Where are you going?"
"There's something I have to do. I'll be back, don't worry." Before Wendy had another chance to remonstrate, Peter was launching himself into the air and had gone from her sight before she had a chance to call him back. As Wendy sat in her chair, her hand slowly lowering to rest on her lap, Willow appeared in the doorway of the house, having heard enough to deduce what and where Peter had to go. Clicking her tongue, she bustled down the few steps to where Wendy sat.
"There now, have you decided on names for those babies?"
Pulled out of her introspection, Wendy made to stand up, Willow supporting her arm as the girl rose slowly to her feet. "Yes we did, Will, for the boy and Wisp for the girl." She glanced up at the Indian woman's face to gauge her reaction. Willow merely smiled enigmatically and helped Wendy back towards the house.
"They are fine names. Let's get you settled and check on things down there, we don't want you too tired for tonight."
As they passed through the doorway, Wendy glanced back over her shoulder, squinting into the bright sunlight, wondering all the time where and what Peter had to do so urgently, and so secretively.
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Chapter: Seventeen - Tying the Knot.
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Peter alighted on the top of Skull Rock and contemplated his next move. He was still feeling euphoric after the birth of the twins, his face almost incapable of doing anything but smile as he recalled the image of his beautiful Wendy feeding her babies, his heart so full of love for his new family he felt fit to burst. Tamping down those happy thoughts, Peter turned his mind to the decision he was about to make. In the bowels of the rock beneath his feet waited a man who's only purpose in live seemed to be to blight the happiness Peter craved. The Indian's had returned Hook to the cave, leaving the pirate chained on the rock ledge where he'd cold bloodedly murdered Peter Pan, his arch enemy. Instead that self same enemy now stood, reborn and reinvested in life and living, his body stronger, his heart more determined to create and maintain something better within his own world. Wendy had been the catalyst, the source of that creation and now the center of his new world. Hook had no part or place in that world and Peter had to now make a decision as to the man's fate, alongside the fate of his own soul. Would he damn Hook to perdition, and damn himself in the process, or find an alternative that allowed him to keep what had been so hard to win, so desperately fought for, while dealing with the one thing stopping everything from being perfect.
Staring out over the ocean spread at his feet, Peter lapsed into a brooding contemplation of his choices. Like a figure carved from marble, Peter remained unmoving as sea gulls wheeled around his head, their mournful cries the only sound above the pounding of the waves against the rocks below. A breeze ruffled his hair and he blinked slowly, as if awakening from a deep sleep, his body breaking its frozen stiffness, his arms stretched upwards as he flexed and tested his muscles, his fingers reaching outwards as if to embrace his world. Throwing back his head he shut his eyes and just let himself hang in the moment, his body thrumming with forces building rapidly to a crescendo, fire leaping hot and gold from his fingertips, his body remaining anchored to the rock even as the fire leap in twin arcs around his head, dissipating as he closed his fist and relaxed his arms. Opening his eyes fully he stared at the distant horizon his mind clear, his purpose set. Turning away from the view, Peter ran a few steps then launched himself into the air, swooping down and flying like an arrow through one of the eye-like cave's that gave the odd-shaped island its name.
Inside the cavern it was dank and dark, water dripping continually as the waves tried vainly to batter the ledges and boulders, the ocean smashing itself against the seaweed and crustaceans coating the walls as if to tear the life from its precarious hold. Among this noisy and destructive force Peter glided down to alight on the slippery ledge that had been the scene of his own death not so long ago. As his bare feet made contact with the cold rock he shivered convulsively, his heart almost freezing in his chest as memory returned with a rush and he felt the slide of Hook's blade enter his flesh again, his life draining away with his blood until nothing remained but the cold. Just as suddenly the memory of his death left him and he lifted his head to stare at the man huddled at the back of the ledge. In the half light and shadows of the cave Peter could only make out a pile of rags, the faintest clink of a chain moving the only indication that anyone or anything was alive beside himself. Walking forward, Peter approached the former Captain of the Jolly Roger with caution, not prepared to take the other remotely for granted despite their long history together, Peter gifting Hook the respect of an old adversary by treating him as if he was still in his prime and a force to be reckoned with.
From his position crouched against the hard rock wall, Hook watched the approach of the ghostly apparition with poorly disguised dread. Hog-tied and hauled away to be chained inside the gruesomely named island, Hook had wrung no answers from his Indian guards, the men silent as they followed their orders, ignoring him and leaving Hook alone with only the sea and his thoughts for company. In the hours since he'd been left Hook had felt his sanity draining away, as day followed night and still no-one came, his thirst and hunger made him scream and cry out, railing at the men that couldn't come and rescue him, his former crew long since consigned to Davy Jones Locker, only the memory of them left to haunt him. Now a ghost had finally deigned to remember him, the vengeful wraith of his former enemy come to gloat over his downfall, creeping ever closer, his face in shadow.
"So you come at last to kill old Captain Hook, boy." Hook rasped, his voice cracking as fear squeezed his throat closed.
Peter stepped silently closer, like a great cat stalking it's prey. Hook pressed himself backwards, the movement futile as his spine was already molded to the jagged rocks at his back.
"Is this to be the end of James Hook? Chained like a dog waiting for the killing blow? Am I not to have the dignity of dying with a sword in my hand?" Hook cried out, his eyes rolling in anguish.
Still Peter remained silent, his shadow touching Hook's rags, the man instantly drawing away, scrabbling along the wall to the limit of the chains.
"Stay Away!" Hook screamed, his eyes wild in his face, his mouth wide in terror as the supposed ghost reached out for him.
Seeing the wretched wreck that his former adversary had become, Peter felt an unaccustomed twinge of sympathy for the pirate, his mouth twisting in an ironic smile as he faced the fact that he could no more kill the man in cold blood than he could change his sex. Crouching down on his haunches, Peter stayed just beyond the reach of the chains, his face inscrutable in the shadows. Finally he spoke.
"What am I to do with you old man?"
As tense as a bow string, Hook stared in bewildered fascination at the ghost staring back at him. "Do with me?"
"By all rights and reason I should slit your scrawny throat and have done with this farce, but I find myself unable to do it."
For a second Hook blinked in shocked surprise. "HAH!" His sudden burst of derisive laughter made Peter flinch. "Hah, you can't kill old Captain Hook.....you can't end my life, we are one and the same, Peter Pan can't exist without his Captain Hook!"
"I did before, and I can do so again." Peter said quietly, Hook face falling as he stared at the glittering eyes pinning him to the rock.
"What about the balance?"
"Neverland is choosing another course, your time, and the time of the pirates is past and gone. You are no longer.....required."
"You can't just cast me out...I'm Captain James Hook!"
"...and Captain of nothing." Peter reminded him, seeing Hook slump back against the wall as he gave in to despair.
"My beautiful ship.....my crew....gone, all gone." Moaning to himself, Hook turned his face away and closed his eyes, as if the sight of Peter was painful.
A silence stretched between them, the pounding of the waves filling the air, the strong smell of brine and seaweed filling their nostrils. Finally Hook stirred, turning his head slowly, his eyes open and clear as he regarded Peter in front of him.
"Kill me boy. I have nothing left to live for, as you so rightly remind me. I have no ship, no crew, no purpose.....I am alone and done for. End it now....."
Peter remained silent, staring at his old adversary. Seeing the truth written in every weary line of the pirates' body, Peter rose to his feet and stood over the captive man. Hook lifted his head and tilted his head back, exposing his neck for Peter's blow.
"Make it quick boy, a clean cut....don't make me suffer any more."
"As you wish." Lifting one hand, Peter clenched it into a fist as if closing it around the hilt of a sword. Flames started to lick at his fingers, shedding brilliant gold light over the scene as the flames extended from his hand, stretching out to form a sword like blade, Peter holding the blazing hilt. To Hook he looked like an avenging Angel sent down to reap retribution for all of Hook's wicked crimes. Feeling the heat of the flames on his face, he closed his eyes, welcoming the coming darkness, for once at peace with himself and his fate.
Peter lifted the flame sword above his head, a smile of understanding on his face, as if he could see into Hook's soul and know all that there was to know. As he brought the fiery blade down, it changed colour from gold to white, the flames slicing through Hook's body as if to cleave it in two. Instead the white flames engulfed the pirates' form, Peter stepping back to allow the magic room to work.
Against the rock wall, the white flames had totally enveloped Hook, the chains suddenly falling back to the wall with loud clangs as they became removed from Hook's wrists and ankles, the metal hook also falling to the ground, the leather harness following it, cast away by the magic working on the pirate.
With a sudden flare of brilliance the white flames dissipated, plunging the cavern into darkness. As Peter stood, blinking to dispel the shadows, he looked down and smiled.
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It was getting dark and Wendy was getting worried. Peter had been gone so long, for hours, and no-one would tell her where or why. The Indian's had been preparing the ground around the house for the naming feast to come, the women preparing a mountain of food to be consumed once the High Priest had performed the ceremony. Willow had explained it all and Wendy was too tired to worry at first, intent on feeding, changing and simply cuddling her new babies to think too hard about Peter and where he'd gone. Now it was nearly full dark and Peter still hadn't returned.
Willow had presented Wendy with a new tunic to wear, the hem and neckline beautifully beaded and decorated, the soft fabric gliding over her skin like silk as she slipped it over her head. Her body was only slowly returning to it's pre-baby shape and she still felt ungainly and sore, but the dress went a long way to restoring her well being. After a bath and having her hair washed and brushed, Willow added feathers and beading, weaving it into her hair with delicate braids, leaving the rest loose for the most part to flow down her back all glossy and sweet smelling.
Outside the house several Indian's were tuning their instruments in readiness to play, the fluting sounds of the pipes and the different tones of the drums starting to be heard over the constant buzz of voices and children laughing. One of her babies was crying, the sound making her breasts ache as she went into the next room, her hands reaching to pick up the infant, it's tiny fists waving in the air. Cradling her daughter against her shoulder, Wendy waited for Willow to pick up the other twin before turning to leave the house. Almost all of the Indian village was gathered on the grass outside her home, the smell of cooking strong alongside the smell of the small fires burning around the perimeter. Torches flared at regular intervals and cast a golden glow over everyone. Wendy immediately started searching the sea of faces for Peter, hoping to see his golden head among all the dark ones milling about.
"He's not here Willow.....where is he?"
Before Willow could answer, Wendy saw him weaving his way through the crowd, the Indian's reaching out to touch him as he passed, their fingertips brushing over his hands and arms which he held away from his body for that purpose. As he drew closer to where she stood, the crowd grew quiet, even the children, until there was nothing but the snap and crackle of the fires and the sigh of the breeze when Peter finally reached her. To her eyes he looked even more strong and handsome than ever, his face alight with a broad smile, his hair a halo of tousled gold, his eyes bright and fathomless. Wendy stared entranced, her fears all forgotten, a warm glow lighting up her own features as they stared at each other.
"I was worried...."
"I know, but that's in the past now. There's nothing to worry any of us now."He turned slightly. "Wendy,there's someone I'd like you to meet."
Wendy blinked, her focus so centered on Peter that she'd not realised there was someone standing a little way behind him. As Peter took a step to the side a young man with dark curly hair came forward, his eyes wide as he stared at her and at the baby still held in her arms. Wendy shot Peter a questioning look, but he just smiled enigmatically and waved to the boy to speak.
"Ur....hello."
"Hello," said Wendy, "I don't think I've seen you before...are you one of the Lost Boys?"
The boy stared in confusion at Peter before returning his eyes to Wendy. "I...ur..don't know." He looked over at Peter for help.
"Wendy, this is James, and yes, he's a new Lost Boy." Peter had folded his arms loosely over his chest, watching the lad closely. Wendy smiled at the obviously nervous boy, noting that he was possibly not much older than ten or eleven. "Then welcome to Neverland James, I'm sure you will enjoy being a Lost Boy and have lots of adventures here."
"Thank you....ur...Wendy. Peter told me a little about you on our way here. Is that your baby?"
"This is our daughter, Wisp," She carefully lowered the child for James to look at her. "And I have a son as well, Will, over there." Wendy turned her head to indicate the baby held by Willow. James gaped and swallowed. "You had twins?" Wendy nodded, her expression full of pride in her children. Peter looked on smugly, lowering his arms and laying a hand on James' shoulder.
"We're having a very special ceremony tonight. Come with me and I'll introduce you to the other Lost Boys, you can sit with them."
Wendy watched as Peter led the child over to the group of young men standing off to the side, their faces intent upon their leader as he approached with the new addition to their tribe. As if released from a spell, the Indians went back to what they'd been doing before Peter arrived, the noise of chattering and singing once more filling the air as Wendy turned away to confer with Willow about the babies.
A minute later Peter was by her side, his arm finding its place around her waist, his lips warm and wonderful against her own. Wendy wanted to ask him a whole host of questions about his absence and the new boy, but she had to wait as the musicians suddenly burst into life, the beating of drums calling everyone to attention.
Glowing Eagle had come forward and stood in the center of the wide circle formed by all the Indian's and the Lost Boys. A passageway had been left which led to the front of the house to allow Peter and Wendy and their helpers to walk into the circle and face the High Priest. Willow held Wisp, and another woman held Will, the two babies quite content, waving their arms about and staring out from the safety of their shawls at the flames and people gathered around them. The High Priest was decked out in all his magnificence, his right hand holding a slender staff richly carved and decorated. He thumped the ground three times for silence as Peter and Wendy approached him.
"We are gathered here, free peoples of Neverland, to witness the bonding of this man and this woman and the naming of their children."
Peter and Wendy were already holding hands so that when Wendy tensed, Peter squeezed her fingers, meeting her startled gaze as she turned to face him, forestalling any questions with a small shake of his head. Glowing Eagle continued.
"Do you, Peter Pan, Protector of Neverland, Prince of this Tribe, Leader of the Lost Boys accept this woman as your one true mate, to care for and protect her, to be responsible for her welfare and her life, to be a father to her children and be the one true heart and soul forever?"
Keeping his eyes firmly locked with Wendy's, Peter replied simply, "Yes."
"Do you, Wendy of the old world, keeper of his heart, promise to be his one true love, the mother of his children, and remain true to him body and soul forever?"
Drowning in his eyes, Wendy had only one answer to give. "Yes."
"Do you, as the lawful and natural parents of the children here presented, promise to love and care for them, protect and die for them, shelter and feed them, raise them in the ways and secrets of Neverland for however long you may live?"
Both Wendy and Peter answered together. "Yes."
"Bring them forward." The babies were brought in front of Glowing Eagle who wafted a feather over the two children, intoning a prayer in his own language at the same time. "What names are these to be known by?"
"Will and Wisp." Wendy told him breathlessly, so filled with happiness she hardly new what was going on. Peter had drawn her against his side and they watched as Glowing Eagle bestowed the names on their children, the babies gurgling and trying to catch the large white feather as it passed over their heads repeatedly.
"May the blessings of the Great Spirit and the protection of Neverland keep you all in safety and harmony." The High Priest intoned, a smile suddenly transforming his usually stern face as he lifted his staff and thumped it on the ground three times, signaling the end of the ceremony. A loud cheer rose up from the watching crowd, everyone whistling and calling, clapping and stamping, the noise making the babies howl before their carers whisked them away. In the center of the circle Peter and Wendy were unaware of the cacophony, their arms entwined, their bodies pressed so close, one against the other that no light showed between them. Before the last thump of the staff, Peter had pulled Wendy against him and their lips had met, igniting a flame of desire that was as consuming as any fire made by man, their absorption in each other heartily endorsed by the host of witnesses around them, their embrace expected and approved of by all and sundry.
Sometime later, Wendy emerged from Peter embrace pink faced and breathing heavily. Her eyes glowing as brightly as her face, a smile as incandescent as the sun burning away all doubts, leaving Peter basking in her love and happiness.
"I love you, my Wendy...." He murmured against her ear, his hands still plastering her to his body.
"Oh Peter...I'm so happy...why ever didn't you tell me we were going to be joined at the same time?"
"Would you change anything if you'd known?"
"No." Wendy replied emphatically, her grin still in place. "But I might have looked a little less like a codfish when it was sprung on me."
"You make an adorable codfish." Peter teased, kissing her again, but this time lightly. "I think I hear our son calling for you."
"Goodness, I can't hear a thing over this noise."
"Come on." Keeping her firmly by his side, Peter started to wend his way through the crowd, accepting congratulations on all side as they passed among the people, steadily making their way towards the house. Willow stood in the doorway and waved to them as they approached.
"Sorry to drag you away, but they both need a feed before they will settle." She let Peter and Wendy through before shutting the door on the faces of the eager crowd behind them. Wendy had gone to the cradle holding her son and lifted him into her arms, cooing to him as she walked back into the bedroom. Peter was close behind her and was careful to close the temporary shutters on the bedroom window, giving Wendy some privacy as she stripped off her wedding dress and prepared to breast feed her son. Peter also lay down on the bed, facing Wendy as she lay on her side and put her baby to her breast, the child latching on easily and feeding strongly. A length of her hair had fallen forward and he caught it in his fingers before placing it out of the way over her shoulder. Wendy looked up and caught a look of naked longing on his face. Having felt the evidence of his body's need for her when they'd been kissing outside, Wendy gave him a smug smile and a naughty look.
"I don't think I'm quite up to making love with you.....in the regular way." She lifted her free hand and caressed Peter face, her fingers running over his lips, slipping one finger inside his mouth which he sucked on strongly, his eyes smouldering as they stared hungrily at each other. "But there are other ways...." Wendy whispered, withdrawing her finger only to have her hand caught, Peter pressing a kiss against her palm before releasing it.
"I don't want to rush you," Peter growled huskily, his eyes devouring her exposed skin, lingering on the full breast and rosy nipple currently waiting to be used to feed her daughter. Their son had finished his meal and lay dozing, his fingers spread over her breast like a starfish. Releasing the baby from her breast, Wendy lay on her back while Peter carried her sleeping son into the next room, returning shortly with Wisp in his arms. Turning onto her other side, Wendy accepted her daughter and the child quickly latched onto the waiting breast, tugging greedily at the nipple. Peter had laid down behind Wendy, his hand coming over her shoulder to play with the tiny fingers clutching at Wendy's breast.
"She's strong, like her mother." Peter remarked, the baby's petal-like fingers closing around one of his brown digits and squeezing. "A true survivor."
Detaching himself from the baby's grasp, he trailed his hand over to Wendy's other breast, the one that had so recently provided sustenance to his son. Cupping the warm flesh gently, he brushed his thumb over the distended nipple. "Our son will be a great protector when his time comes."
With Peter curled snugly against her back and her baby suckling at her body, Wendy felt as if she would burst with the love flowing through her, her feelings of contentment and completion full to the brim and overflowing.
"I can't imagine myself anywhere else but here with you. I love you Peter, I love our children and I love Neverland. Promise me it will never change?"
Kissing her smooth shoulder, Peter then laid his lips against her ear. "Forever and beyond, heart of my heart. I was dead before I found you, before I loved you. Now I have everything. You are my everything, my happy thought to end all happy thoughts."
"Oh Peter....I can't believe how happy I am right now. If this is a dream, don't ever wake me up."
Twisting her head, she met Peter's lips with her own, the kiss brief but full of promise. A thump from a tiny fist drew her attention back to her feeding child, both parents watched in fascination as their creation finished her meal.
Much later that night, after the celebrations had ended and the babies were well asleep, the happy couple lay in their bed face to face, a lone cricket, chirping loudly to itself, the only sound outside the house to disturb their peace.
Both lay covered in a sheen of sweat, their chest's heaving almost in unison, Peter's heart thumping heavily under Wendy's fingers as she caressed his chest, toying with a copper coloured nipple standing proudly from his skin. Their lovemaking had been slow and gentle, taking due care of Wendy's still tender state, the steady build up of passion and sensation making the final release that much more intense when only mouths and fingers played their parts, no inch of skin unexplored or unexcited, every tease and tickle heightening the awareness of the other, Peter's final release accepted with alacrity by Wendy's willing lips, her own, only moments, before created by careful strokes and a clever tongue. Peter longed to be able to fuse them as one again, but he knew that he only had to be patient for a few more days and Wendy would be his, body and soul for the rest of his life. The mere thought of what he was going to do with her made him hard again, her teasing fingers finding him, stroking the rigid flesh even as her own body still vibrated from their last bout.
Leaning over, he sealed her lips with his, his busy tongue tangling with hers while her fingers gripped and stroked his body, building the tension anew.
Breaking the kiss, he panted against her mouth, groaning as she pulled and tugged at his flesh. "I can't believe how you do this to me...and so soon...." He gasped, her busy fingers circling the head before gliding downwards, cupping his balls and stroking in all the right places.
Kissing his way down her neck, he tongued her collarbone then down further, over the upper swell of her full breasts down to the dark nipples, their crowns swollen and begging for his attention. When he latched on Wendy gripped him tightly, her body arching towards his mouth, a gush of sweetness coating his tongue as her body yielded it's essence, the same wonder of life that sustained his offspring tasting sweet and warm in his mouth. While he lavished attention on her life-giving flesh, Wendy brought his body to it's peak, his mouth almost engulfing her breast as his manhood released it's burden of seed over her hand, Wendy's free hand clasping his tousled head to her breast as he shuddered against her in his ecstasy.
Some time later they lay sweaty and relaxed on the covers, both on their backs staring up at the ceiling of their house.
Wendy turned her head slightly and looked over at Peter who lay with one arm behind his head, his eyes closed.
"Peter....tell me about James."
"Nothing to tell...he's as I said, a new Lost Boy."
"But where did he come from? Where did you go?"
"It's not important, trust me. He's here because he's been given a new start in life, a chance to make his life over."
"You mean you rescued him....like you did me?"
"You could say that." Peter hedged, his eyes still closed. "You do like your new life, don't you?"
"I have no other life....this is my one and only true life now."
"I'm glad." Opening his eyes, Peter turned his head to meet Wendy's eyes. "I couldn't bear to lose you, not now....not ever."
Smiling at his serious tone, Wendy raised herself up on her elbow and leant over him. "I was lost Peter, lost to everything that was decent and beautiful, but you saved me, brought me here, showed me that I could love and be loved. I'm not lost anymore.....you found me, you made me beautiful. You will never lose me. You taught me that there is such a thing as true love, and that...." She bent down and kissed him. "Can never be broken or lost. We are tied together by invisible ropes....don't you feel them?"
"I never thought I'd be happy to be tied to anything, or anyone....now I wouldn't break them if you handed me a knife to do so. " Reaching up a hand, Peter wound Wendy's hair around his fingers, drawing her down to him. "Not invisible ropes.....but silky strands......." Once more their lips met, the kiss full of faith and trust and the merest hint of pixie dust.
In the room beyond one of the twins stirred, it's tiny fist stuffed more firmly into its petal mouth as it sucked contentedly, its dreams all of warmth and innocence, a life whose adventure was only just beginning.
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The End.