Peter Pan and the War of Evils

Chapter Seventeen

A/N: Violence/gore

Chapter Seventeen

As Peter followed Hook up the stairs, Kaytee's eyes never left Jude's. He swung his sword around once and smiled.

"So you drew the short straw fighting me, eh?" He started, shifting his weight.

"Actually," Kaytee replied, "I volunteered for the job."

"Huh," Jude, his smile grew wider, "Should I feel honored?"

"You should feel scared." She sneered, her thumb brushing up and down the cinched leather of her sword's hilt, "You should regret the moment you touched me."

"I'll consider that," Jude said sarcastically, and then began to circle with a single step to the left, which Kaytee mirrored, "It wasn't really worth the effort, anyway. You're not my type."

"That's odd," Kaytee tilted her head, "I thought blonde and unwilling was completely your type."

Jude paused at that, frowning fully, his eyes tightening into a glare and Kaytee beamed at him joyously, delighted she had finally irked him.

"What does one do for two centuries of exile, Jude?" Kaytee asked as their circling continued, "It must get awfully dull, after betraying your family and trying to kill the best friend you were in love with."

"Did he tell you that?" Jude chirped, the frown turning even more sour.

She shrugged, "Maybe. Either way, I've seen the scar. Quite a piece of work. Looks exactly like the kind of butchery made by a coward."

"The only coward was him." Jude hissed, anger seeping into his words. "We could've been kings- kings! The most powerful-"

"The most powerful pirates, most powerful to ever sail the seas, yeah, yeah," Kaytee rolled her eyes, waving her hand dismissively, "I've heard it. Was it worth it, though?"

She glanced up at Peter and Hook, who she could only just saw the tops of. They appeared to be in deep conversation, a sneer on Peter's face, his shoulders strong and squared.

"If I had to go hundreds of years without seeing him..." She whispered and then looked back to Jude, who had peered up just the same. He wasn't able to hide the longing in his eyes quite fast enough for her to miss. "I'd go insane."

"Maybe those were the options," Jude shrugged, the confidence somewhat deflated from his chest, "Go insane or seek revenge. I'd like to think I'm strictly the latter."

"Jude, dear," Kaytee tsked, shaking her head, "I think you've done both."

He lunged first, hoping to catch her off guard, but Peter had trained her specifically on this. Her sword met his with a sharp clang and he stumbled back, not surprised, but with a tense set to his mouth. She matched his distance and swiped at his hip, which he easily parried, but she slipped her blade around and clipped him on the forearm.

He hissed and pulled back. Before he had finished, he spun and caught her just above the knee before she could back away in time. This was how Jude fought: he feigned, pretended to limp or be off balance, when in fact he was calculating his next move and was primed to strike. Peter warned her of this. So on they continued, taking little swipes at each other, not making great ground, no major injuries. A cut on the arm. A slash to the gut or knee.

Then, he began to grow frustrated. He would yell with each thrust, or grunt when he missed, his pale cheeks flaring red. Kaytee began to feel fatigue in her own arm, but she had trained for this. She forced the tension into her legs and drew strength from her core. She would outlast; she would endure.

It became a game of blocking his blows, and landing her own small cuts. He was riddled with them after a short amount of time, blood dripping onto the deck. The wind had picked up again, blowing his hair into his eyes, which he swiped at just as angrily with his free hand. It was one of these instances, when his hair blinded him, he made the mistake of going for Kaytee's shoulder. In a wide arch, she landed the bell of her sword against his and shoved downward. Jude's sword left his grip in a great clatter. He gasped, falling to his hands and knees, panting.

Kaytee, also out of breath, regarded him. Then, feeling the weight of the moment, slowly stepped up and placed the middle of her blade onto the back of his neck.

"According to the stories, this is where I ask you for any last words." Kaytee panted, her hands tingling on her handle, anticipating the way she'd decapitate him. The force needed would be astronomical, and she was already tired, but she'd be damned if she didn't provide a clean execution.

"And it's at this point that I would say," He began and in a movement so fast, she barely caught the glint of silver that flashed in his hand as it made contact with her gut. His gray eyes met hers, brimmed with tears, as he whispered, "I loved him first."

She pierced him through the heart at the same time she felt his cold blade enter her stomach, just in the space before her ribs met in the middle. Pain, gruesome pain. The feeling in her hands immediately left, numbed, cold, the blood rushing to where it was needed most. Then, she couldn't feel her feet.

Jude's dead body collapsed to the deck, his blood mixing with Kaytee's as it seeped out from her shirt. Shocked, she pulled the blade from her skin and watched as more blood left her. She gasped and dropped the dagger.

Her eyes met Peter's, and she felt relief at the same time the edges of her vision darkened and grew fuzzy. He was alive. And if he was alive and able to look at her so plainly, he must have succeeded. Both of them did. Neverland was free of the evil it had once again been threatened with. Their job was done. They won.

And with this final thought, she collapsed.