Waves lazily rolled across the Neverland Sea's surface and licked at the sand as the blazing orange sun began to dip under the horizon. The sky was painted with an ombre of deep violet, blue, crimson and medallion yellow. Stars blinked behind the cottony clouds. A sweet flowery smell wafted through the air. There could be no better evening for a picnic.
After a meal of tangy island fruits and fish roasted over the fire, Wendy sat contentedly on the woolen blanket next to the crackling fire, relishing in the cool current of air brushing through her curls. She grinned at Peter and the rest of the boys splashing in the shallow water, their shoes discarded on various piles of sand. She ran her fingers through her hair, inhaling the pleasant scent that was Neverland. She'd never been so relaxed and carefree as she was now.
Wendy observed, amused, TinkerBell dodge the flying water droplets and flutter over to a conch shell. The little pixie sat on the shell, her face exasperated as she blew her fluffy blonde bangs out of her face and caught her breath. Of course, the pixie's rest didn't last long. TinkerBell raised her eyebrows when the shell began to move, only to discover, as she leaned over, that a beady eyed crab had made its residence in this particular object. The pixie sighed, but didn't bother to get up as the crab meandered its way across the beach.
Wendy chuckled, her focus drifting back to the rambunctious children in the water. She couldn't help especially staring at Peter. His green tunic was suctioned to his chest, damp with the salty sea, revealing his lithe and slight muscular frame. His face was bright and his dark eyes were flecked with gold. Wendy pulled her knees to her chest, trying to repress the flitter in her chest. There was something so different about Peter from the London boys beyond this magical island. He was not refined, to say the least. He did not wear a suit or own any fine watches or cuff links. He had no need for them (or money to buy them with). Peter was brazen and adventurous.
And shamelessly handsome, Wendy thought, her face reddening, as if he might hear. Not that she'd never thought that before. She recalled many a night after her time in Neverland thinking about Peter. He was the first boy she'd ever fancied. But now that he was older, as was she, Wendy felt rather rebellious finding a boy like Peter so attractive. Especially since she was practically already engaged to an awfully dull and practical man back home.
It took her a moment to realize her name was being called in an alarming fashion.
"Wendy!" It was Joey. But Wendy didn't have clear sight of him. The boys were gathered around little Joey. Worried that he'd injured himself, Wendy kicked off her bedroom shoes and scrambled to her feet. The sand was soft and warm. She jogged over to the group, which parted to make way for her. Joey sniffled, tightly holding onto his foot with both hands.
Wendy crouched. "Oh, Joey. What happened?" To her astonishment, Joey shouted, "Now, Mr. Pan!".
A stream of lukewarm water came pouring over Wendy's head, soaking her hair and nightdress. Her mouth hung open in pure speechlessness, the water dripping from her lips as the boys around her burst into snickers. She blinked, her vision still blurry from the water, and looked up to see Peter floating above her, holding a large half of an oyster shell. His smirk was annoyingly sheepish and satisfied all at once. He merely shrugged.
Wendy frowned, angrily placing her fists on her hips. "Peter, that wasn't very nice at all."
Peter dropped the shell and threw his hands up in a feigned innocence. "It wasn't my idea!"
Wendy could've lectured him, but instead, she took a deep breath and bent down to scoop up some of the sea water. The girl flung the water, drenching Peter's shocked face.
The boy spit out the water and wiped a hand down his face as he slowly touched down to the ground, The Lost Boys and Michael howling with laughter. Wendy batted her eyelashes, deciding that two could play at the innocent game.
"So that's how it's gonna be?" Peter asked, a devilish grin playing on his lips as he coolly sauntered towards the girl and then shook his hair out, sending a spattering of cold water droplets onto a giggling Wendy.
Needless to say, a splashing free-for-all was imminent.
A half hour later, Peter and the others sat around the flickering fire, watching the glittering sparks float up into the sky and disappear. Peter idly poked at the fire with a thin stick, sending another flurry of sparks into the air. Beside him, Joey and Tootles were snoozing against eachother, and next to them, Nibs, Cubby, Slightly and the Twins lay on their stomachs, observing a little crab dig a hole into the sand. TinkerBell was curled up in a deep slumber on his shoulder, and across from him, Michael rested his head on Wendy's lap, tiredly blinking.
Peter didn't notice his staring. He didn't notice that he'd looked up seven times in the last two minutes alone. Behind the flames of the fire sat Wendy, twisting the water out her wet hair, her legs tucked up under herself. Her nightdress stuck to her body, revealing those pretty curves of hers. Peter sighed in a very frustrated manner, tending to the fire once again. He didn't understand it. The mermaids never affected him this way, and Wendy was just as beautiful as them...maybe more so, he admitted. But it didn't make any sense. He shook his head, waving away the tugging clench in his chest. He was being dense. He hadn't been this way the last time Wendy was here...had he?
Peter threw the stick down and crossed his arms. Anyway, it didn't matter. Peter Pan didn't have time for girls in the first place. Girls were silly.
"Is everything alright, Peter?" asked Wendy, lovingly stroking the top of Michael's head.
"I'm fine." He felt scattered as he tried his best to come up with some reason for his recent silence. "It's just...a shame that the boys fell asleep before you could tell a story."
"A story?" Asked Michael, immediately sitting up at full attention. The rest of them did too, including the dozing ones, their wide eyes all falling to Wendy.
Wendy shyly smiled, placing her hands in her lap.
"Yes, tell us a story, Miss Wendy!" Joey begged. The other boys nodded their agreement.
"But not one about Peter." Slightly added, gesturing to the slightly offended young man. "We've heard all of those."
Wendy's smile grew as she noticed Peter's glare towards an oblivious Slightly.
"I supposed I could tell you one story." Said Wendy. "Once upon time," she started, "there was a boy named Jack."
Peter could've gagged at the name, but decided against it.
"Jack and his Mother were very poor. And one day, in a desperate need for money, his Mother ordered him to sell his beloved cow which no longer gave any milk."
The children scooted in closer. Peter rested his chin on his fist.
"So the time came for Jack to sell the cow, but on his way to the market, Jack ran into an elderly peasant man." Wendy got up and took the blanket she'd been sitting on to drape it over her shoulders and head like a hood. "The old man said to Jack," Wendy hunched over and lowered her voice to impersonate that of an old man's. "-'Young fellow, I have three beans. Beans that I will trade for your cow'.".Wendy's scratchy, low voice elicited giggles from the group. Even Peter chuckled.
Wendy straightened her back and took a step to the side, now being Jack, her voice changing to a dramatic cockney accent. "But Sir! Beans? For my cow? It's absurd! My Mother would have my head!"
Another step back to the side. She was the Old Man once more. "Oh, no young Sir. These are magic beans, capable of things you could never dream of. They are worth more than any coins I could give for your cow."
Wendy carried on telling her story, immersed in every word. She made the characters live and breath. The boys could almost hear the rumbling footsteps of the giants, the music of the golden harp. Peter never took his eyes off of Wendy once.
Hook was trembling at his desk. He'd never trembled before. He shakily lifted his porcelain teacup of bitter black coffee to his wind-chapped lips. The revelations he'd had at the cave were still swirling around his mind. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw those awful pointed teeth...and that awful pointed dagger.
There was a creak. Hook jumped in his seat.
"It's only me, Sir!" Smee assured him as he placed another pot of freshly made hot coffee on Hook's desk. Smee immediately backed up after doing so. After the Captain's crazed outburst in the cave, Smee planned on keeping a safe distance from the man he once thought he knew.
"They will be here soon." Hook muttered, refilling his teacup. A drop of coffee spilled onto the wooden desk with a soft hissss and a plume of steam.
"Why must you do this to yourself Cap'n? Who knows if you can trust those...things?" Smee spoke up, hoping he could talk some sense into the last bit of reasonableness left in Hook.
"I shall have to trust them, Smee. This is my last chance at getting rid of that boy." Hook could not even bring himself to say his name. His very blood boiled in his veins. Pan his greatest fear. It was absurd! "And Heaven knows they can be trusted more than you. You should be walking the plank for treason. The only reason you are not guzzling sea water right this moment is because of the kindness in my heart."
Smee wanted to scoff. But Hook was right. One more slip up and he'd be food for the sharks. So he kept his mouth shut.
"But he isn't really a boy anymore, is he?" Hook mused, back on the subject of Peter. He picked at a piece of rotten meat stuck between his teeth with the end of his hook. "And he's brought that girl back to the island. If you asked me, I'd say he fancied her. Like I mentioned before, it seems Wendy is his weakness. The question is, when to snatch her up?"
"At a time when Pan will be distracted of course." The melting candle on the tea tray was snuffed out between a shadowy index finger and thumb. The room darkened as a second shadow came up through the cracks in the floorboards like some sort of thick liquid. Smee pressed his back against the wall as Hook squeaked and climbed into his chair. The shadow morphed into a human sized crocodile beside the faceless, shadow rendition of Peter Pan. Though his voice was the same, it sounded like he was speaking through a tunnel. The hollow voice caused goosebumps to prickle at the back of Hook's neck.
"Y-yes. That makes sense." Hook stuttered, trying his best to settle back into his chair. Hook scratched his chin, thinking. A time when Pan will be distracted from Wendy? That would be difficult considering she was his guest. When is an invited guest not paid attention to? Ah, but this was Peter Pan we were talking about. The boy who couldn't help but wave at the mermaids even as a gun is being pointed at his chest. He didn't give attention, he needed attention. But with Wendy, she gives him all the attention he needs. She's enamored with him. Hook rubbed his temples. The crocodile grew a bit taller. Who else is so completely enamored with...Tigerlilly! Yes! There was no denying that look in her eyes as Peter spoke to her. Hook had seen it plenty of times before. And this year she was turning sixteen if he'd calculated correctly. A Spring celebration would be held at the next full moon. Surely she couldn't resist inviting Peter to that. A big party with many girls fawning over Peter. Wendy would be left behind in seconds. But when is the next full moon?!
"Tell me, when will the next full moon occur?" He asked no one in particular. The Shadow Pan responded in his echoey voice.
"Two weeks from now. Why does that matter?"
Hook stood up, feeling much more confident than he had just moments before. "Tigerlilly's Spring Celebration. There is no denying Peter will be invited. You will take the Wendy girl then."
"Oh, we will?" Shadow Pan asked, running his finger along the blade of his dagger. The Shadow Croc licked its chops. Hook could hear a faint ticking. "What's in it for us, Old Pirate?"
But Hook was prepared for this too. How cunning he was. How intelligent. "No Pan means no going back to your prison. You will have full reign of the island."
Shadow Pan slammed his dagger into the desk. The dagger dissipated into a pile of black sand and was swept away by a breeze. The Shadow held out its hand. Hook grasped it. He held back a choked breath. The hand held no weight, but was at the same time a freezing block of ice. "You have your deal, Hook. We'll be waiting."
The Shadow Croc growled, and then fell back into a puddle of black goop along with Shadow Pan. Both seeped through the floorboards. Gone. Smee held his heaving chest. "But Cap'n, won't we still be on the island while they roam free?"
"You underestimate me, Smee." Hook smirked, raising his cup of now cold coffee to his mouth. His mustache curled upwards in an oily grin. "You have your wish. We are going out to sea."