"Breathe in and out. Push and pull." Pan's voice spoke to her behind her closed eyes. She was supposed to be concentrating. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't. Her thoughts went back to the night before. How victory felt amazing. She convinced Peter Pan. Of all people in the realm who have tried to, only she succeeded. Why her?
She was standing in the heart of the Dark Jungle. She had been here once before, when Wendy had been running for her life in a game of hide and seek. When the grey wolf with red eyes and nasty fangs lured her to Lost Boys. To Felix. She remembered how deep her hatred for him was. It was ugly and dark as night. Now, all she wanted was forgiveness from him. For him to see her as a friend. Maybe not even that. Maybe just a little less hatred for her would do it.
The jungle was almost completely dark. A few gapes in the trees provided enough light to see what her feet were stepping onto. Apparently the point was to be blind.
"Do what you did a month ago. Make fire." Pan explained easily. She knew with a flick of his wrist he could make fire as easily as breathing. She knew that she had to do it. The problem was again, the guilt. Every time Wendy closed her eyes she saw the camp on fire. She remembered the incredible view of the burning trees behind the cage that held her. She never wanted to remember that day again for the rest of her life.
"But Pan, I don't know if I can do it again. Last time I was-"
"Mad? Angry? Hopeless?" Wendy sighed in frustration. His voice was thick with impatience. He probably thought she was spineless.
"Yes, I was." She said sharply.
"So get mad. That's all you have to do. All you need to do. It shouldn't be so hard, right? Don't you miss little John and Michael?" Wendy blanched. She wasn't mad, sad, or happy. She went blank. More guilt. She had forgotten them. With all that's happened in the last two weeks, she had forgotten her own brothers. She was surprised Pan remembered their names. She actually didn't think she told him. She didn't.
"Did you see them?" She spun around and put her hands on his shoulders. His silence answered everything."When? When did you go there?" London. Even after declaring nothing could hold her there, she still felt the loss as strongly as she did the first day. It wasn't her home, but Neverland didn't feel like home either. People she cared about: John, Michael, Mom...she still loved them.
"Why does it matter?" Before he could changl the subject, Wendy interjected.
"How are they? Are they okay?" She remembered her father. She feared more guilt. What if Father snapped? What if her leaving put them in danger. "He....he didn't hurt them, did he?"
"No. No, he didn't." Wendy nodded thankfully. Her training was in the back of her mind now. She wondered how much time she lost there. A year? Two? Was Michael in middle school now? Did John get himself a girlfriend?
"What's happening now? You know, since I'm gone?" Wendy recoiled from her own sentence. She was talking as if she had died.
"I don't see how this will help with your training. You're the one who wanted to start, so do as I say." He said clearly frustrated. But this wasn't about training anymore. The damage had already been done.
"Tell me. Please." If anything, Wendy needed to know. She had to know they were okay. That they didn't need her. That there really and truly was nothing holding her back in London.
"Why, oh why must you always test my patience, little bird?" The question was obviously supposed to be left unanswered. Although Wendy could not see him, she knew he was staring at her. He was debating telling her about her family or not telling her. Wendy kept as still as possible so to not change his decision from good to bad.
"They moved away from London. Some place far from your father." He said with a bit of confusion in this voice.
"Where did they go?" Wendy was relieved. Her mother was free. Free from harm and safe with her boys.
"Amsterdam." Wendy's jaw almost dropped.
"Really?! I always used to tell her how much I wanted to live there! Why now? Why did she move away from Dad?" She said confused. She remembered the constant arguments she and her mother had gotten into when she was little. She always wanted to go somewhere else. Somewhere new and exciting. Somewhere with mystery and beauty.
"Your parents separated after...." He suddenly stopped himself. She could sense the look of worry in his green eyes. He knew something she didn't.
"What? After what?" She asked eagerly. She was scared of the answer. As she waited for his response for what felt like an eternity to her, she felt Tink's memory creep up on her.
"After your funeral. They separated after the police declared you dead." Wendy breathed in and out. She was happy. John and Michael are okay. She thought maybe something had happened with her brothers. It was okay, they were okay.
But apparently she was not. She had died.
"How did I die?"
"After I took you, your family had torn themselves apart, Wendy. I knew all you wanted was to go home. To play with your younger brothers like you would never grow up. But I knew that I couldn't break your heart all over again." Pan lit a small flame. He held it between them so Wendy could read his sad expression. One full of pity. Wendy then realized she had been wrong in trusting Syrena. She should have never made that deal with her. Because now she knew. Pan could save himself. She could help save him.
"I couldn't let them keep living that life." He sighed, "Your father drank more and more after you were gone. He had to go to the hospital for blacking out once. Your mother couldn't deal with the stress. First, her beloved daughter goes missing and now her husband has become a train wreck. Your brothers were depressed. Michael never stopped crying and John never did. I couldn't let you come back there. So I left it like that for awhile. After you stowed away on Hook's ship, I went back. I don't know what I was expecting; maybe you swam to London," He chuckled darkly, "When I came back, I found out that the police stopped the search for you. Your mother needed to know what happened to you..." Wendy looked at him in shock. She shouldn't have left. She wouldn't of if she would have known what it put her family through.
"I went to their house, your house, in the middle of the night. I went into their rooms and I put memories in their head that didn't really happen." He said this very slowly. Wendy didn't know how to feel. She felt numb all over. Two emotions were trapped in her head: agony and glee.
"What memories did you give them?" She asked softly.
"You never ran away or went missing. Daniel offered you a ride after school. He said he wanted to apologize to you, and being the love struck idiot you are, you accepted." Wendy grimaced at Daniel's name, but was too intrigued in Pan's story to care much about his insult.
"So after I got in the car with Daniel...?" She asked quietly picturing her own face lifeless. Her mother crying over her body. The black color of death everywhere in the little church where her funeral must have been held.
"You both got into an argument in the car. Daniel was yelling and someone ran a red light and they crashed right into the passenger side door." Wendy felt like crying. It was weird; crying for yourself seemed foreign and stupid. If Pan wasn't there staring down at her warily, she probably would have.
"And after?" Wendy wasn't so interested in her death, more like the reaction to it.
"I know it seems like I hurt them more than they already were, but I helped them, Wendy. I took their grieving away. I made it seem like you died a couple years ago. I healed them. I played your fake funeral in their heads'. I made it beautiful..." He paused looking at her face. Wendy didn't know what to do. She was falling apart. She was selfish. She didn't want them to think she was dead. She wanted to be with them. But Pan gave her the next best thing. She gave them what they always deserved. A happy life.
"Now?" She asked.
"Living in an apartment in Amsterdam. Happy. Safe." He used one free hand to cup her face.
"Why did you do it?" She asked unable to look away from his face. She wanted it to be true. She wanted him to be capable of being saved. She knew he could. She knew she could get him to. She wasn't going to let Syrena touch him.
"I may not be the most well behaved boy on the island," Pan chuckled lightly to himself, "But I always keep my promises." Wendy looked at him in surprise.
"What promise?"
"It was more to myself, than to you," He mused. And then Pan put the fire out. "I promise not to ever let anything hurt you ever again." Wendy's stomach did little flips inside her. And then Pan grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. She didn't know what she wanted more: For him to release her so she could keep hating him, or for him to pull her closer. She recognized now what that feeling was in the pit of her stomach. The way she first felt when on Hook's ship fighting for his life.
Pan pulled her closer.
Wendy was falling.
Nothing else mattered.