Peter was at the clearing standing next to the pond. When had he come here? He wanted to call out for TinkerBell, but grasped at his throat when no sound came as it should. Only a raspy wheeze. He didn't have a voice. The boy fell to his knees and sunk his hands into the mud. It was then that he saw the sickening reflection in the pond. It was himself, he knew. But his face was marred with a layer of leathery wrinkles and a long winding white beard growing from his pointed chin.
NO!
He tried to take his hands from the mud, get far away from this awful place. Back to Wendy, back to the boys. He couldn't move. He was stuck. And when a claw-fingered shadowy hand squeezed his shoulder, he couldn't let anything out except a terrified moan. His lips were sealed.
"You can't escape your fate, Peter." The voice came from the shadow, but was his own. Hollower and colder. "Look in the pond and see what you will become! Old and weak. The Lost Boys won't want you anymore. You'll be sent away, just as you were before..."
Before?! Before what?! Before when?!
Peter woke with a jolt, panting ridiculously hard. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to slow his shuddering breaths and relishing in the fact that it was only a nightmare. He frantically groped at his chin. No beard. Phewph. The boy blinked away the bleariness in his eyes, trying to figure out exactly where he was. The room he was in didn't have the familiarity of his own bedroom. So, then where-
He flinched when he noticed Wendy beside him, wrapped in a cocoon of fur covers. Her chest rose and dropped steadily. Her chestnut curls fell around her face. Above him, the stars were shining in the inky night sky. The roof of the treehouse was still open. Peter placed his head in his hands, racking his brain as to how he could've ended up falling asleep in this spot. Ah yes, now he remembered...
Peter yawned as he pressed his palm to the entrance of the hideout and pushed the wooden slab inwards and proceeded to crawl in. The top half of his body was already disappeared inside when he heard Wendy call for him.
"Peter, is that you?"
Almost too eagerly, Peter turned, which caused him to hit his head on the top of the entrance frame. He fell out onto the ground, cupping his forehead. He grunted.
"Oh! I didn't mean to startle you. I can't sleep. I wanted to know if you wouldn't mind coming up here with me."
"I'll be there. Give me a minute." He answered, still dazed from his injury. Peter massaged his temple.
Wendy retreated back into the treehouse, away from the doorway. It wasn't long after that that Peter was clambering up the rickety ladder, for he was much too exhausted to fly at the moment. But all weariness was wiped away as soon as he laid eyes on Wendy. He still wasn't able to shoo the flittering fairy wings in his stomach since that particular moment earlier this evening, and now they were becoming much more apparent.
Wendy sat on the end of her bed, brushing her hair in the white moonlight. She was wearing a nightgown, shorter than the ones Peter had seen her in before (only two, but still a considerable amount for not being someone who lived with Wendy), and as pink as the roses they picked for their flower crowns in the clearing. The color of the sky during a setting sun. There was also the way the nightgown hugged her body...and the lace embroidered collar that plunged significantly low. A warmth bloomed throughout Peter, tingling everywhere from the tips of his fingers to his toes. He clenched his jaw, hoisting himself up into the treehouse.
He wished the warmth would fade away. Really, first at the picnic and now this? Once more, he asked himself, why was he acting like this all of a sudden? Wendy'd been here before and he was perfectly fine. That was right. Girls didn't affect Peter Pan. This was probably all having to do with his little "growing spell", and if that was the case, Peter was going to work even harder to push these feelings down. Nothing, not even these silly thoughts about Wendy, was going to make him grow ever again.
Peter 'hmphed' reassuringly at reasonings.
Wendy stuffed her brush back into her satchel which was leaning against the side of her bed. She scooted back against the pillows and patted the place next to her. "Sit by me?" She asked, sweetly.
Peter crept up beside her, making sure there was a safe distance between him and the girl. He settled himself on his back and clasped his hands on his stomach. Wendy followed suit. They lay there, side by side in a comfortable silence, the stars twinkling down on the two young people. He was sure he heard Wendy whisper, "Goodnight, Peter." as the weight of his eyelids became too great for him to keep them open.
When Wendy awoke the next morning, stretching from a well-rested sleep, she immediately observed that the right side of the bed was empty. If it weren't for the rumpled covers, she would've thought that Peter being there was all a good dream. A very good dream. Wendy pulled the covers close to her neck. What ever had compelled her to be so bold last night? Calling a young man up to her sleeping quarters. Unfortunately, she hadn't any confidence to do anything once he was up here. If just once, she wished she could be like those rebellious girls from Madame Linden's that would sneak out of the dormitory windows in the chilled midnight to be with their loves waiting below. But Peter wasn't a typical boy on the verge of adulthood. His days consisted of playing games, fighting pirates, and flying through the Neverland skies. Girls didn't seem to be part of his agenda, unfortunately. Wendy couldn't help though, finding a glimmer of hope in the way Peter raked his eyes across her body last night when he reached the top of the ladder. Maybe she was romanticizing it in her mind, but wasn't this the perfect time to romanticize? In a time where she was in a world of fantasy and magic, far away from the blandness and duties of London? Now would be her last chance to entertain a childish crush before she was tied up in a loveless marriage.
"Naw, we've played cowboys too many times. We need somethin' else. Anybody got any ideas?"
The voice was coming from outside, and Wendy recognised it as Slightly's. The boys must all be awake. Her evaluation of last night's events could wait. After shutting her curtains with a swish!, Wendy dug in her satchel for a change of clothes.
The Twins tossed their "horses" (scraggly branches) to the ground simultaneously. "Got our horses out for nothin'." The First Twin crossed his arms. "For nothin'." The second Twin repeated, copying his brother.
Michael exasperatedly removed his cowboy hat and planted himself on a rock. Tootles and Joey wiped off their barhandle mustaches, painted on with thick mud, using the back of their sleeves. Nibs, now an unemployed banker, knocked down his pile of intricately stacked rocks that were going to be used as coins and sent them tumbling. "But I was supposed to get robbed and chase after Cubby!"
Cubby tore off his black bandana that concealed the bottom half of his face. "You chase after me every time, and just because I'm slow! Why can't I be the Sheriff for once?"
"Stop it, all of ya!" Peter waved his hands, silencing the commotion. "And Cubby, you should know better. I'm the Sheriff. You're better off robbin' banks."
"No one cares about poor Cubby, the Robber. Always gettin' chased and thrown in jail. I'm not that slow." Cubby muttered, twisting and untwisting the bandana.
"And you, Slightly. What happened to liking Cowboys?" Peter questioned.
"I liked it until we started playin' it every morning! Cubby robs the bank, Nibs goes after him, Joey and Tootles go get you, The Twins stop to take out their guns, you all have a duel, and so on and so on. And I'm stuck being the dumb old Deputy that watches all the fun happen." Slightly glowered.
"Keep that up and you'll hafta be the damsel
in distress. Secondly, why does everyone here have such a problem with me being the Sheriff? Am I not the leader?"
"Actually, I may have an idea." Michael pipped up, pointing his finger in the air. "I say we play Jack and The Beanstalk. The story that Wendy told us?"
The other boys (excluding Peter) all looked at eachother, nodding and chatting in agreement. "What a swell idea!" "Swell idea!" The Twins said.
"Haha! Peter can be the beanstalk." Slightly shouted. "Or-or maybe the Giant!" The entire group was in stitches by now (excluding Peter once more). They doubled over, holding their stomachs.
Peter shook his head, fuming. Slightly thought he was so smart with his jab at him about getting taller. But Peter would soon show naive Slightly that being taller did have its perks. Clearly, Slightly forgot about the part where the Giant almost eats Jack as his supper. Yes, the giant does crash to his death when the beanstalk is chopped down. But Peter knew Wendy wouldn't mind if he changed the story around a smidge. It would also be very funny to imagine Wendy's Jack as the Jack getting hunted in the tale. Peter could kill two birds with one stone. "Fine then, Slightly. I'll take on the role as the giant. You can be Jack."
The glint in Peter's eyes chilled Slightly's blood.
Luckily, Wendy's presence ceased the start of any games. And she was arriving with her own little plan of revenge in mind. She knew she just had to get back at Peter since that trick with the rats he'd pulled on her the day before. She was determined to show the puckish boy that she'd tricks up her sleeve as well.
"Oh, good! Wendy's here. She can help us." Joey cheered.
"I'd love nothing more." Wendy said. "But first, I really must have a word with Peter."
Peter didn't have any inkling of what she could want a word about, but he strode over to Wendy nonetheless. The Lost Boys were equally fascinated with what she was going to say.
When Peter reached Wendy, he was astounded when she snatched his hat right off his head and put it on. The Lost Boys couldn't believe it.
"A word I will have with Wendy, right after I, Peter Pan, play a game with my Lost Boys." She placed her hands on her hips, impersonating Peter to the best of her abilities.
Michael was the first to go along. "But Peter, what will we play? We've been having trouble deciding all morning. We were thinking about Jack and The Beanstalk?"
Peter watched the scene with the oddest sense of delight. He floated in the air cross-legged, and then crossed his arms, waiting for the strange affair to go on.
Wendy shot Peter a playful glance, then turned back to the boys. "I think we should play...toss the hat." She threw the hat to Tootles, who put it on his head. It was much too big and covered his eyes. The child pushed the hat up so he could see.
Wendy was dissatisfied to see that Peter was still simply viewing them, so she added, in a loud tone to emphasize, "We shall toss it all day. I hope to never return this hat to its rightful owner. I believe I will keep it."
At this, Peter's ears perked up. Wendy was teasing him! And have his hat back he would. Smirking, the boy jumped at Tootles, but the hat was thrown to Nibs. Nibs jumped into a purpley bunch of foliage. Peter dived in after him. Nibs was quick, and popped up like a gopher in a completely different bush! The hat flew to Slightly. He ran up a tree, Peter flying at his heels. Slightly jumped from a branch, the hat stuffed in a baggy pocket, and clumsily grabbed onto a hanging vine, swung from it, and was flung over the crowd below, all looking up with an envious awe. Slightly dropped flat on his bum and skidded across the ground, spinning as he did so. Even though his sight was clouded with dizziness, Slightly managed to throw the hat to Joey across the way before Peter got to him. Joey nervously fumbled with the hat, but exchanged it with Michael when he came sprinting by. Phrases of encouragement were being shouted, every onlooker fighting to hear themselves over the lively, exuberant chaos.
"Don't let him have it!"
"He's right behind you!"
"WATCH OUT!"
"Go the other way!"
Michael thrust the hat into the hands of one of The Twins. They split off in completely different directions in identical streaks of grey. Peter caught one of the Twins by the tail of his costume and held him up, letting him hang upside down. "Hah! Hand it over."
But the Twin shrugged and held out his empty hands, then yanked out his empty pockets to show it was not he who possessed the hat. Peter whipped his head around. There the other Twin stood, twirling the hat smugly around his finger. Then he slingshotted the hat across to Cubby, going straight over Peter's head.
Cubby hopped from foot to foot, reaching his arms high in the air. "I got it! I got it!" He caught the hat successfully. His victory was short lived. Cubby tripped over one of the stones, previously discarded from Slightly's bank, and rolled in a backwards somersault. Yes! The hat was finally Peter's! He was centimeters-
Wendy saved the day. She seized the hat, dashing into the thick woods. The boys all shouted a great "Hooray!". Wendy never looked back. She ran faster than she had in her whole life, giggling and panting. She'd never felt more alive, running as far as her aching legs could take her. Deeper and deeper into the forest she went. But finally she slowed. The voices of the Lost Boys were distant and unintelligible. Maybe Peter lost her trail. There was an eerie quiet, save for the singing of birds.
Wendy pressed her back against a tree, holding the hat to her breast, chest heaving. Sweat trickled down the side of her face. She was so absorbed in steadying her breathing, that she didn't hear the faint whoosh! that came from the opposite side of the tree. There was no time for Wendy to react when Peter appeared in front of her, trapping the surprised young lady by placing an arm on either side of her, his palms pressed against the bark of the tree. He chuckled, the gold in his dark eyes sparkling. He leaned close to Wendy's ear. "I caught ya, girl." Peter whispered, tone soft and husky. His breath tickled Wendy's neck, sending a shiver down her spine and heat to her cheeks. Peter plucked the hat from her hands and stood back up straight. "I guess we're even, Wendybird." He said, holding out his hand in an offered truce. Wendy dumbly shook it, lingering a tad too long. He situated the hat on his head, its rightful place, and hovered in the air. "Let's get back. I'm famished. And after some breakfast, maybe we can see what that old Codfish is up to. Waddya think?"
Wendy thought that young men were incredibly oblivious and wished that the giddy beating of her heart, and the merry glee welling in her throat might never go away.
"We'll get ya to fly again, Wendy." Peter said over the roaring wind as they soared through the cottony clouds. Wendy was on Peter's back holding on tightly to his shoulders, squinting against the rushing air. "You just need to think a wonderful thought. And that's easy!"
Wendy blew a strand of hair from her mouth. "Maybe for you!" She moved her arms around his neck. "What is your happy thought?"
Peter smiled, then sharply plummeted. The wind ripped Wendy from Peter, leaving her flailing in the open sky! She screamed, but Peter caught her, taking her higher, higher into the atmosphere. Wendy buried her face in the crook of his neck, gripping fistfuls of his shirt. Then it was still. She tentatively unshielded her eyes. Peter floated weightlessly. "I have lots of good thoughts. For example, thinking of this view. It makes me very happy." The boy made eye contact with her, his lips turning up in a lopsided grin. Maybe she really could fly with that image fresh in her mind. But Peter's expression melted off and he gestured to the world under them. "Th-The island y'know."
"Most certainly." Wendy replied, a little flatly. Even if he wasn't meaning what she thought he was intending, Peter was right. The island was gorgeous. The sapphire ocean was scintillating. The lilac mountains were lush with greenery and exotic plants of all kinds. Birds with sheening feathers glided past them. And the beautiful mermaids bathed and preened under the shimmering waterfall in the lagoon. Wendy still had a stubborn grudge against those vain sirens. Peter clearly was not aware of this. He raised his hand above his eyes to get a better look. The mermaids were tossing their hair, waving at him excitedly. "Huh! I think the mermaids want a visit from us."
"I'm not sure if that's wise. Weren't we going to spy on Hook?"
"Ah, liven up, Wendy." Peter said, already shifting her to his back. "They won't do anything to ya. They get frisky sometimes, but they won't bite. Besides, that old pirate can wait."
Wendy did not feel optimistic about this answer. "They were quite rude the last time I met with them."
"Yep." Peter said, completely ignorant to anything Wendy said. He hadn't seen the mermaids in awhile. They'd be all over the young man- asking him to tell them stories and wanting to talk to him. (Just the fuel Peter needed for his constantly growing ego.)
So with a blind trust, Wendy shut her eyes as Peter took off towards the lagoon.
"Peter!" "Peter, it's been too long!" "Dontcha like us anymore?" The mermaids cried when Peter flew into view.
Peter deposited Wendy on one of the boulders jutting out from the water and jumped to another rock close by before Wendy'd even got her footing. She wobbled terribly. Wendy stumbled to the edge of the boulder, but caught her balance. She breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, relief was turned to burning irritation when she saw the mermaids swarming the rock Peter hopped onto.
He flashed them all a cool smile, causing the mermaids to squeal. "Hello, ladies. I trust each of ya are well on this fine day?" He laughed, bending to greet them.
Wendy scoffed. How did she go from flying partner to chopped liver in such little time?
"Peter, you've been gone for so long." A blonde mermaid chirped.
"I heard you flew to London." Another remarked.
"I did! And I brought Wendy back with me. You remember Wendy, right girls?" Peter pointed to the less than impressed young woman.
It turns out the mermaids were sharing a similar grudge against Wendy. They scowled. A long, crimson haired mermaid spoke up. "Why'd you bring her back? She's a grownup." The mermaid did not try to hide her distaste. "I bet she can't even swim."
"Wendy's about to get married and-"
"Married?!" A raven haired beauty sneered. "She'll get old and wrinkled. You won't like her much then."
Wendy should have been angry at this, but a thought bugged her too much to care. Weren't there five mermaids at the rock? Now there were only four...
And then, seemingly out of the blue, someone grabbed the collar of her shirt and jerked her into the sea! Her anguished shout was silenced by watery gurgling.
"Haha! That's what I told...Wendy?" She was gone from her spot. Tiny bubbles popped at the surface of the water next to the rock where she stood merely a second ago.
"Go on." One of the mermaids urged. Her request went unfulfilled. Peter cursed under his breath, stuffing his hat into his pocket. Why didn't he listen to Wendy?
"Peter, where are you- AUGH!" The black-haired-beauty groaned at the wave of water crashing over her, soaking her freshly sunned top half, as Peter smoothly dived into the ocean's depths.
Wendy struggled, thrashed against the being hauling her to the bottom of the deep blue sea. Her head was so filled with pressure, ears feeling as if they were going to bust. Her lungs throbbed with the need for air. She was going to drown. The wavering light above the ocean surface was becoming dimmer with each second. Wendy blinked, the salt stinging her eyes and nose. Dark called for her, lulling her to sleep. Maybe she should give in to its sweet lullaby...her eyes rolled to the back of her head and were then closed. Her thrashing stopped. But darkness would not wrap its slimy tentacles around her yet.
Peter could see Wendy. She was being lifelessly dragged by Thea, a mermaid known for having a mean streak. He propelled himself towards the girl, pushing himself with every stroke. Thea glanced back, and upon spotting Peter, began to swim faster. Peter growled, kicking his legs, reaching farther. His fingers brushed Wendy's chilled ones. He took hold of her hand, then her forearm, prying her from the vengeful mermaid's grip. The mermaid hissed. Her beauty was taken over by the true monster, hidden underneath the veil. Slitted, yellow eyes. Pointy, slavered fangs. Peter held Wendy's limp body to his own. He couldn't hold his breath much longer. He needed to fly out of here.
Thea was too fast. She roared and bared her sharpened claws. The mermaid relentlessly drove the knife-like fingernails into the meat of Peter's calf. Peter released a pained yell. His cry was muddled by the thick water.
He would not give up. This was definitely a challenge. But Peter did enjoy a challenge. They made him look incredibly smart when he pulled them off successfully (which in Peter's experience, was every single time). Though Thea's nails were still ingrained in his leg, Peter drew his dagger from his belt and sliced Thea's knuckles. The mermaid wailed, wrenched her claws from Peter's calf, and retreated to the bottom of the sea, disappearing in the dark.
Peter swam like a madman. Soon, he burst from the ocean, throwing his head back to inhale the cold oxygen. Now there was the matter of Wendy. He flew to the beach shore and lay Wendy down underneath himself. The grainy sand stuck to his elbows as he looked at the pale faced girl. Her chest did not rise as it did the night before in the treehouse. She was simply placid.
He shook her. "Wendy!" No response. He tried this again. No response. Peter banged his fist against the sand. He was running out of options. Blast it! Then it clicked. There was probably water keeping her from breathing. Desperate for anything to work, Peter turned her on her side. The fluid drained from her mouth, she convulsed, then violently coughed. It was the best thing Peter had ever seen in his life. Wendy was going to live!
She began to stir, but moaned at the bright light of the sun searing her pupils.
"Don't move around too much, Wendy. Take a bit to rest."
Wendy ignored his advice, shoving Peter off of her, coughing as she sat up. "Why should I listen to you?" The girl rasped. "You're the one who got me into this mess!" Wendy turned to get on her feet, but found that her quaking legs were still too weak. They gave right out from underneath her.
"They -the mermaids that is- haven't ever done anything like that before. Why, if I knew they were-"
"I could've been killed!" Wendy choked out, tears pricking at her eyes. The shock of such a fatal situation was setting in. "And all you cared for was the attention, when you were aware that they do not like me!"
There was silence. Guilt was digging a heavy pit in Peter's stomach. He brought his legs to his chest, wincing at the gash the mermaid cut open.
Wendy opened her mouth, readying to scold Peter once again, but drew in a breath when she saw the red blood dripping down Peter's leg onto the blanched sand. "You're injured."
"No. I'm fine. It should stop before long." Peter couldn't help saying this through gritted teeth due to hot pain shooting up his leg, shocking like fiery lighting.
Wendy sniffled, wiped her eyes, and crawled over to Peter. "We have to stop the bleeding." She felt in the sand and came across a broken piece of shell. With the shell piece, she tore through the fabric of her shirt sleeve and ripped it, watching it pull away thread by thread. This would make a perfect makeshift bandage. "I'm going to wrap this around your wound. It might hurt a little."
Peter scrunched his face, feeling the sleeve being fixed around his calf. Wendy wrapped the sleeve expertly. Though it had been painful for him, Wendy was grateful that she remembered when her and her brothers were splashing in a lake and Michael had cut his foot on a shard of glass. Her Father performed the same operation on him that Wendy was performing on Peter. She was rather proud of herself. "You may have a small scar." Wendy said, tying the bandage with one last flourish, then tugged at it for good measure. It was secure.
"Really?!" Peter asked eagerly, instantly going to lift the bandage up and take a gander. Scars were the ultimate badge of boyhood. His exhilaration was ruined by Wendy slapping his hand.
"Do not touch it!" She chastised.
Peter huffed and decided that he would examine his achievement later in solitude, without the nagging of Wendy Darling.