"If you never stop trying you'll never give up. If you never give up you'll never stop trying." - Rick. W. Terry
OMNISCIENT POV:
Jonathan and Peter walked side by side back to the tree house. They could have flown, but since Jonathan didn't know how to fly Peter would have had to either teach him or hold his hand, and neither sounded appealing. So they walked.
It grew darker as they made their way through the trees. Well, the sky was already dark due to the heavy clouds blanketing it, but it was clearly approaching night time. The rain trickled through the trees and created a mist that surrounded the boys. In the distant, animals roared. They called to one another, filling Neverland with eerie whispers and invisible footsteps. Monsters lurked in the darkness, waiting for their chance to strike.
"Your Lost Boys have been wondering where you were." Jonathan said, trying to distract himself from the increasingly loud animal cries, "The camp has been uneventful."
Peter jump-flew to the top of a tree stump that reached his chest and stopped to look in the distance. His slightly pointed ears perked and listening to the nighttime choir, he closed his eyes. There was something about the animals tonight that made Peter curious. It was the way they sounded, how they remained hidden away even though they could have very well attacked. They were different tonight. It seemed like they were on edge. Like they knew something big was about to happen, and so they anxiously waited for it in the cover of darkness.
A loud bird screech from above made Peter's eyes snap open. When he looked up, he could see the shadow of a bird flying below the clouds, and then soon there was a whole flock of them. They made strange noises as they past, and Peter wondered what type of birds they were. He normally didn't go exploring at night, he knew better, so many animals were unknown to him. Peter squinted against the light rain that was coming down and studied the birds from his perch on the tree stump.
"Are you going to talk to them?" Jonathan asked, startling Peter because he had nearly forgotten he was there.
Peter looked down at him and put his hands back by his sides, "Who?"
"Your Lost Boys. They seem to miss you an awful lot. It's like they're... well... lost without you."
Peter hopped down from the tree stump and landed soundlessly on the ground, "I don't know."
"I'm not going to tell you what to do, since I know you don't like that," Jonathan chuckled, "But a piece of advice? Let them know you're not abandoning them. I think they'll understand that things have been rather... difficult... lately. But they would be glad to see you."
Peter continued walking as Jonathan spoke, and gave a half smile. He did miss them. And he did feel bad for leaving them alone for so long. He had never done that before. It was just that Peter wasn't sure if he could handle himself. Breaking down in tears isn't something a leader does, not even a child one, so Peter wasn't sure if he'd be able to put on a brave face around them. He could barely do anything with a brave face any more. But Jonathan was right. He owed them an explanation, and an apology.
Peter moved a branch out of his face, "You know, this might be one of those rare occasions where I tell you you're right. I do need to speak to them."
Jonathan jogged to catch up to him, "Have I moved up another level then?"
Peter smirked, "Maybe."
They stopped when the fire pit from camp became visible through the trees. Peter couldn't bring himself to move the next foot in front of the other. How could he possibly go back in there?
How could he explain to the Lost Boys the extent of pain which he's been going through? How could he tell them that everything would be okay, and that things would soon be back to the way they used to be? Nothing would ever be the same. Peter could never see himself filling the void in his heart where Lilith was, and thus he could never see anything returning to the way it used to be. His high spirits would never return, the clouds would never go away, and the Lost Boys would never have fun with him again. It just wasn't possible. But the thing that kept his feet frozen in place the most, was the thought of seeing Lilith again. Lilith, but not really Lilith. Just a cold shell of the gem she used to be. And that was all his fault.
Peter could feel his lips trembling and had to dig his nails into his palms to prevent himself from crying again.
"Hold your head up," He vowed to himself, "You can do this."
Jonathan waited patiently beside him, not wanting to push him to do anything and have him snap back into his depression. Jonathan was also suffering through heartache over Lilith, but unlike Peter he was taught at a young age to deal with trauma like a proper gentleman; and to focus on helping others through the tough times.
Peter took a deep breath and looked sideways at Jonathan. He nodded at him, and Peter was finally able to take a step forward.
Stepping into the light of the fire, Peter saw the Lost Boys haphazardly sitting around the pit. Gil, Bubs, and Mudpie were leaning against a tree. Coast and Pip were sitting on a log, with sticks poking at the fire. Lucky, Duke, and Wally were in a hushed conversation by the rope to the treehouse. Trevor and Nate sat with their knees pressed to their chests, staring into the flames. Jonathan's siblings, Wendi and Mike, were huddled together on a log across from Coast and Pip. Mike's head was on Wendi's lap, and he looked asleep. Wendi, on the other hand, had red dots under her eyes that suggested she had been crying. Peter thought about how difficult losing Lilith must have been for her, too.
"Peter?" Trevor said, sounding surprised to see him.
Wendi's head turned to face him, and now Peter could see that her eyes were also bloodshot, and dark circles were beneath them. Upon seeing him, Peter saw her eyes begin to overflow with tears again and she quickly looked away. He felt sick to his stomach, but did his best not to look it.
"You're back." Lucky said.
All the Boys stood up, even Mike who had woken from his sleep, and stared at Peter. He couldn't blame them. He had been M.I.A for several days (he had stopped counting), and now here he was. Showing up out of the blue.
Peter took a breath, and a small step forward.
"I've been a terrible Captain, you guys, and an even more terrible friend," He began, "I selfishly left you guys here to fend for yourselves while I dealt with things on my own. I guess that... after what happened... I just didn't think I could be the leader you all needed me to be, and I still don't know if I can."
He took another breath and toyed with the leaves on his clothes, "I don't think I deal with problems the way I ought to. Sometimes I want to forget about everything because it's just... easier to deal with. In a way, that's what I was doing by leaving you all. Trying to forget."
Peter looked up at his friends, "I don't normally do this type of thing. I'm not one to... reflect. But I do have to tell you all that I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to abandon you and try to make myself feel better. I'm not fit to be your leader anymore. So once I finish what I have to attend to here," He rubbed his arm, "I will leave -- for good. You deserve somebody better than me."
The camp was dead silent. Everybody stared at Peter in awe, and exchanged unreadable glances. The crackle of the fire was equivalent to crickets chirping, and the lack of response only solidified Peter's thoughts. He dropped his eyes, and scratched the back of his neck, walking out of the circle of Lost Boys and over towards the tree house -- understanding their response.
As he was about to fly up, someone stopped him.
"Wait!" Pip yelled, running forward.
Peter turned around and saw little Pip parting the crowd of boys. He stopped short in front of Peter and looked up at him, scanning his face.
"Stay." Pip whispered, reaching up and tugging on Peter's arm.
Peter's face softened as he leaned down and ruffled Pip's hair, "I can't be the same Peter I was before, buddy. I'm different now. If I stayed, everything would be different."
Pip's round, blue eyes burned into Peter's; his chubby cheeks in a serious position.
"We don't care about change." He urged, "We just want you to stay."
And then he did something that Peter would never have expected. He takes a step back, and bows on one knee.
"Be our Captain again." Pip says.
Peter stands up, astounded and once again at a loss for words. In a matter of seconds, every standing Lost Boy is bent on one knee, heads down. The only people still standing are Jonathan, Wendi and Mike. Without hesitation in joining his friends, Mike follows suit. Jonathan gives Peter a proud smile, before doing the same. Wendi looks at Peter. He can see the hurt in her eyes, and in her disheveled complexion, but after a few seconds, Wendi holds her head up a little higher.
"They believe in you, Peter Pan." She says, and then bends a knee, keeping her eyes on his, "And so do I."
**********
"It's about time you showed up." Tink said just as Peter walked through the front door.
He sealed the latch on the wooden door and saw Tinkerbell leaning against an unlit candle on the table, one hand on her hip and the other on the candle. Peter rolled his eyes, "Nice to see you too, Tink."
After all this time, he was used to her sass -- even when it was at bad times. Since fairies are so small, they only have room for one emotion at a time. Most people think this means they can only display one emotion at a time, but they're wrong. A fairy can tell you what they're feeling, but they can only show one at a time. It's complicated, but a fairy expert like Peter knew how to decipher it.
Tink folded her arms across her chest and her face softened ever so slightly, "How ya holding up, hot shot?"
Peter put both his hands on the table and leaned forward, "I'm.... getting through it. I don't know if I'll ever actually be over it but, I'm learning how to deal with it."
"At least that's a start." Tink said, being unusually optimistic.
Peter hung his head between his arms, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt dizzy, already, from the anticipation. Nothing he did made it go away. He could hardly imagine her in that other room right now. Quiet... still... cold. How everybody else dealt with it, he couldn't fathom. Next to him, he imagined Alina and Wendi were taking it the worst. Sure, the Lost Boys all liked Lilith, but Alina was her fairy; and Wendi her best friend. Maybe Wendi was as plagued by all this as Peter was. Those circles under her eyes proof of sleepless nights, which Peter knew all too well.
Those pitch black nights where he would wake up on the cold, hard floor of Skull Rock and have the memories come flooding back were torture. It was like reliving her death each time.
"Hey, blondie," Tink said, making him look at her, "Don't give up so easily, alright? Go prove me wrong and get the girl to wake up."
Tinkerbell's messy, blonde hair was tied up in a perfect bun. The little green dress she wore was the girl equivalent to what Peter had on, per her insistence. She's always had some kind of 'fairy claim' over him; meaning that no other girl was aloud to get too close, no matter the species. Tink hated Wendy, she despised Jane, resents the mermaids, and gets infuriated any time he speaks to another fairy. Which is why it's so strange that she wanted him save Lilith. She would never have said that about anybody else. Ever.
Peter stood up, gave Tink a half smile, and walked towards the bedrooms at the end of the hall. The candles on the walls were freshly lit, and cast an orange glow along the vines. The creation of this new home was really quite remarkable. A little bit of fairy magic here, some persuasion on Peter's behalf, and boom: a perfect hideout. Peter ran his fingers mindlessly along the rough walls, and when he reached the last door on the right, he stopped.
"This is it." He told himself.
The wooden door was closed, but Peter could see the glow of light from behind it. He knew it was the correct door. Slowly, Peter brought a trembling hand up and knocked on the door. The sound was sharp, and sliced through the otherwise silent house. The warmth from all the fire was almost tangible. Suddenly he felt it strangling him, cutting off the air in his throat and he couldn't breathe. His hand flew to his neck and he rubbed it, falling a few steps away from the door. He bent over, dry heaving and gasping for air, with one hand pressed to the wall to prevent from completely toppling over. The sweat dripped down his forehead and over his lips, leaving a salty taste in his dry mouth.
Peter closed his eyes and took some breaths through his nose. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and forced himself into a somewhat standing position. Just in time for him to hear the door squeak open, and Alina to fly out.
The door closed behind her and she leaned against it. Peter stood up straighter and ran his hands across his face.
"Hi." Alina said, quietly.
Peter sighed, "Hi."
Alina tucked a strand of her white hair behind her pointy ear and released a long breath. The little dress that she wore was covered in splashes of color and grime, and her usual glow was duller. Peter didn't have to guess to know why.
"It's good that you came." Alina said, her wings slowly flapping behind her.
Peter felt his throat go tight, and he nervously eyed the door behind her.
"Sh-" He stopped, took a breath, and started again, "She's in there?"
Alina nodded, sadness written all over her little face. She hugged her arms around herself and flew a little closer to Peter.
"I know this isn't what you want to hear," She began, hugging herself tighter, "But I fear Lil is only getting worse. At first she looked as fine, even sounded as fine, as a person under a sleeping curse should. But as days went on, she got worse."
Peter felt his worry grow, "H-how?"
"Her skin has taken on a green hue. I-I can see the blood in her veins is also green. Her face looks sunken in, and her hair is turning grey. Normally all sleeping curses leave a person frozen in time -- exactly as they were. But this curse is effecting her body in ways I've never seen. Her breathing is so slow... sometimes I'm afraid her heart has stopped."
Alina shook her head, and it was obvious how frustrated at herself she was, "I don't know how to fix this, Peter. If there is anything you can think of, anything. Please. Try it. It's our last hope."
Peter watched Alina tremble, tiny tears streaking her cheeks. She took a moment to pleadingly look into his eyes, and he finally nodded.
"I'll try."
Satisfied with his response, she wiped her tears with her palm and flew away from the door.
"I'll... um. I'll give you some time." Alina sniffled, turning her back to Peter and flying down the hall.
Peter watched her until she disappeared around a corner. Even after she was gone, he was still watching the place she had been. Soon he heard a soft jingling, and knew it was Alina talking to Tinkerbell. Turning his head towards the door in front of him, he brought a palm up and pressed it against the panel.
This was the moment. When he opened that door, nothing would be left to his imagination any more. He would finally see the exact condition of his beloved friend. And maybe, just maybe, he would be able to save her.
Peter took a shuddering breath, pushed gently with his hand, and opened the heavy, wooden door.
There she was. Carefully laid on the bed in the center of the room, wearing the same tattered clothing that he had last seen her in. The dirty, ripped shirt and the tight, brown pants. The day of the fight, she had been wearing a black bandana, but it was no longer there. Either lost in the battle or removed by Alina. The room was filled to the brim with various flowers and gifts. Peter noticed a hand carved bow and arrow placed at the foot of her bed, just begging to be used. He hoped she would get the chance.
The tables on either side of her bed were scattered with various bottles and bowls of strangely colored tinctures. The air had a crisp smell, as if scented candles had been lit. And indeed, they had. Next to the bottles was a clam shell with a smoldering stick on it. The small trail of smoke billowed from the stick, and left a burning scent behind. A singular chair was next to her bed, but that too had been shrouded in bunches of flowers and colorful stones. Peter saw many crystals, and knew that was thanks to the Lost Boys.
And finally, among the myriad of treasures and gifts, was Lilith. Peter slowly made his way closer to her bed and laid his eyes upon her after all those days.
Alina was wrong. Lilith still looked as captivating as ever. Her red ringlets were scattered around her pillow, and her freckled arms were gently by her side. Her delicate eyes were closed, and Peter could have almost convinced himself she was asleep, and would wake with a simple tap on the shoulder... but he knew she wouldn't. Yet, as he was standing by her side, staring down at her, he couldn't help the hand that brushed it's way across her painted cheek.
Peter felt the tears burning in his eyes and closed them. He dropped onto the chair and shoved the gifts onto the floor. Feeling the warm tears flow down his cheeks, Peter rubbed furiously at his eyes and groaned.
"I promised myself I wouldn't do this." He said, wiping his nose, "I promised myself I wouldn't cry any more."
Peter stopped rubbing his eyes and leaned on his knees, staring at Lilith. He sighed and shook his head.
"Oh, Lilith. Look at the trouble you've gotten yourself into. I can't tell you how many times I've run over the scenario in my head. If you'd," He paused, "If you had said something to me, in any of the scenarios I thought of, I could have helped you. I could have figured something out.
"And no," He chuckled out loud, "Don't ask me what I would have done, because I have no clue but... I would have done something. I wouldn't have let this happen to you. That's why it's hard for me not to blame this on myself. It was because of me that this happened. You were protecting me when you got slashed. It should have been the other way around. It should be me in that bed."
Peter shook his head again, looking down at his hands, "It's ironic, actually. I always told you to stop being so hard on yourself about things that were out of your control but, here I am beating myself up. I know if you could respond, by now you'd probably be saying something along the lines of 'I make my own choices, Peter'. And you know, I'd probably have no option but to agree because that's just the type of person you are."
He looked at her face, gently holding her arm, "You're the bravest person I know, Lilith. You put yourself in harms way to protect others, no matter the cost. You go out of your way to help your friends. And sometimes, to prove a point. Although I can't criticize you for that because you're pretty stinking good at it. Even when people or obstacles get in your way, you knock them down as if they were nothing. You do what you want to do, even when you're told no."
Peter twisted one foot behind the other and watched the breeze from the open window sweep the dirt on the floor under his feet. He smiled.
"I remember when you first woke up here, you were so confused. You had no idea where you were. But when I told you... that look of pure joy on your face... Nothing else compares to it. That look on your face was the look I had worn the first time I arrived here, and it was in that moment I knew I made the right decision in befriending you. And every single adventure we had together after, good and bad, solidified my decision. Not to brag, but I generally make wonderful choices, and you're certainly one of them. I'm sure of it.
"I never thought my life would be so effected by a single person. I didn't realize how much you effected my life until you were gone. Neverland feels like a more lonely place, colors seem duller, and I've lost all my motivation to do anything but sit in the cold rain all day -- because at least then I can remind myself that I'm still alive, and not in some horrible alternative reality. But, even then I don't think I could go on the way I used to. I was so... ignorant, before I met you. I thought my eyes were open to new possibilities, but really I was seeing the world through a grey film, and it wasn't until I met you that I began to see things in color."
Peter moved his hands to pull at his hair as he felt his pulse rising.
"But you left me, Lilith. You left me here alone to try and move on, as if you never even existed. How can I do that, Lilith?! How can I ever be the innocent boy again when I already feel like an entirely new person? I feel like I've been ripped apart and glued back together, but my heart is in my stomach and my brain is in my throat and things are just in all the wrong places!" He stood up and used wild arm motions, "And who's gonna fix it, huh Lilith? Who's gonna put me back together this time? It can't be you, can it? No. It can't. Because YOU LEFT ME. You kept that information to yourself and decided that you wouldn't TELL ME."
"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, LILITH?" Peter yelled at the top of his lungs, and then his anger broke, and he folded back onto the chair, "How could you?"
Crossing his arms in front of him on the bed, he leaned forward and cried into his arms. The blankets muffling his broken screams of frustration. He dug his fingers into the fabric until he felt it rip, and not even that satisfied them. Amidst his outburst, his fingers brushed Lilith's arm, and it made him stop. He sat up, and looked at the spot his fingers touched her arm.
His boyish heart couldn't bare the pain much longer. It was eating him alive, gnawing at his soul.
"Lilith," He calmly whispered, regaining a bit of composure, "What I'm trying to say is... I need you. I need you to come back. I've lost Wendy forever and I just... I can't lose you too."
Peter went on to his knees and crawled closer to her head. He gently put a hand on the side of her face, and looked into her closed eyes.
"Lilith. I know you can hear me. So listen. I need you. You have to wake up. You have to open your eyes and yell at me for being such a big cry baby."
She didn't budge. There was no indication she had heard a word Peter said.
He shook her face, "Come on Lilith. Wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up!"
Again -- nothing.
A tear fell from his nose and landed on her forehead, sliding down her temple.
"Please," Peter begged, "Please."
Peter sat there, holding her soft cheek in his palm and waiting for her to open those emerald eyes. He held his breath, he closed his eyes, he wished with all his heart. But alas, it was all in vain. For Lilith remained unmoving, and Peter had run out of options.
His head hung on his chest, and his world felt shattered in two. This was his last hope. His big plan was to talk to her, and he believed that in doing so it would wake her from this comatose state. But Peter learned then that sometimes believing in something isn't enough. It can't fix everything.
Peter couldn't look at her again. He couldn't see that pale face another time, or he might really be sick. Moving his hand carefully away from her cheek, Peter stood up, and turned his back to her.
"I won't say goodbye." He mumbled, head down and not facing her.
Walking to the now ominous looking door, Peter couldn't begin to think what would happen after he walked through it. Tinkerbell and Alina would come whizzing down the hall, wanting to see Lilith awake and well. The Lost Boys would hold their breaths as he stepped out of the tree house, anticipating the good news. But he wouldn't be able to accommodate them, because he had failed. Lilith didn't return to him... and she never would.
Peter reached the door and pulled on the small, rope handle -- fully intending to leave the room holding his magnificent Lilith and never return, but something stopped him. Some sensation, unknown to him, told him not to go. Told him he had one thing left to do.
In that moment before he stepped foot out of the dreaded room, he turned around with a burst of bubbles in his stomach and marched back over to Lilith. It was then Peter Pan did something he never ever imagined he would do.
He bent down, and he kissed her.