"Capture the flag!" Peter called, sounding self-important. All the Lost Boys cheered, for they adored an opportunity to battle one another under the thin guise of the Game.
"Teams?" Skunk asked.
A group within the group began to congregate at my side. The small remainder stared, puzzled.
"But that's not fair," whined Foxie.
"Oh don't worry," Peter interjected, diplomatic and pleasant, ever the playful Prince of Mirth. "Let them have their Captain."
"So be it," I said, disaffected.
Peter raised a patchwork flag for all to observe, as was our custom. In response, I drew a lace kerchief from my sleeve, embroidered with a grinning skull.
"Well met!" Smee shouted.
"May the best boys win," Badger announced, and you could see his need to emulate Pan.
"And flog the losers," Smee replied, at which many of Pan's Lost Boys grimaced.
"Surely you don't mean to," Foxie muttered, trying to mask his distress.
"Of course not," I said. "'Tis but an expression."
I smiled at him, magnanimous. He smiled back, nervous. Indeed, our social landscape was rearranging itself in new and sometimes frightening ways.
My Pirates slipped neatly into the shadows, while the Lost Boys gaped with concern and a strong sense of foreboding. In my present mood, I was eager to give them sufficient cause.
Before turning on my heel and joining my crew, I caught Peter's eye. He appeared conflicted, trying so very hard to speak his mind whilst retaining his cavalier affect. It both pained and delighted me.
On the one hand, his turmoil was my doing, I, his friend. On the other, this wild and carefree artifice he had so carefully constructed drew my ire to monumental heights and I felt exalted to see it tested so.
"Have you grown taller?" he asked.
This was not at all what I expected, and it caught me off guard.
"I beg your pardon," I said, "But one does not age in Neverland. Unless I'm mistaken."
"Unless you want to," he replied, sounding for all intents and purposes like the petulant child he was.
I made to take my leave.
"It was bad form, what you done to Badger."
"Bad form," I said, feigning protest. "Dear me, surely not."
"You cut him down. But not this time," he taunted. "You'll not hurt my Lost Boys for your pleasure."
"It did gratify my ego, I must admit. But no, you're absolutely right, Pan. Bad form indeed. Today, I shall be on my best behavior."
I made an ironic gesture drawing an X across my heart. After all, does it not mark the spot?
"You're growing up," he said, accusative. "You're breaking the rules."
"Am I? Tsk tsk tsk. In the Land of Never, I should think rules to be less than à propos."
"What do you mean?" he snapped, his strained patience approaching fever. "You speak like an adult! What are you on about?!"
"Oh pay it little mind, child," I answered, patronizing. "It is of little consequence. Let us have our game."
"An honest game today," he commanded.
I smiled ruefully.
"Upon my word."
With that, I imagined a rapier with a silver hilt, encrusted with jewels. I brandished my weapon of choice over my head, and added a brace of pistols over my bosom.
Peter flushed with anger, and a glinting golden sword appeared in his hand, quivering.
"Good form, Peter," I said and strode into the forest as he lifted off into the sky.
Not thirty paces into the welcome protection of the trees, I nearly stumbled over a member of my crew.
"Confound and BLAST you, Smee! Won't you watch where I'm going?!"
"Sorry, Cap'n," he muttered, and began to speak quickly, practically babbling. I could sense the rest of my men about me, and all seemed thoroughly put off.
"Stop this infernal rambling and get yourself together, Smee! What is it, and be brief?!"
"Croc," he said, and the men quailed.
"That was indeed brief," I said, dismissive. "Now I will have no more whimpering. I believe Pan has taken their flag to the meadow. Garn, Davey! Split squads. Go hunting! Capture as many Lost Boys as ever you may. A shiny gold earring for them that snares the most."
"Aye, Cap'n."
They knuckled their foreheads and started snapping out orders. But the moment they were out of sight, they fell silent as monks, a tribute to their profession.
"Smee, you're with me. Our quarry is somewhat more elusive and needs a baited trap."
"Hunh?" Smee asked, clearly a paragon of intellect.
I whispered my plan in his ear.
"But Cap'n. Supposin' she ain't..."
I cut him off with a withering look and whispered a few more words to him.
"Aaaaaaaahhh... I follow, Cap'n."
"No, you don't."
"No, I reckon I don't, but it's a good plan despite," he said.
"Then follow me, and do be quiet."
"Aye aye, Cap'n," he answered, and we departed.
***
"Now remember, Smee. Caterwauling like a wounded animal, and don't spare the drama."
Smee knuckled his forehead and started howling as he swung through the air on a vine. He landed with a thump and a crunch, and from then on needed no encouragement. He was indeed injured. Sufficiently so.
Far off but approaching at a hurried pace I heard a familiar jangling. Soon, Tinker Bell crested a hill and sped down towards the poor, pathetic, prone pirate. The trap was set.
"Oh Smee, what have you gone and gotten yourself into?" she said, "A fine mess, no doubt."
"My leg," he whinged. "I think it's broke."
"Well of course it is," she scolded. "Look at the angle of it. What a shame. I can fix you up, but you'll need a day or two to recover. You'll miss out on the rest of this game."
Smee moaned, doing his level best to play the part.
"Now lay still," she told him.
A faint glow began to emanate from her, brightening with every moment that passed. Truly, this was beautiful magic to behold. A wonder. She sang her healing song.
Just a moment more, a fraction even.
Her light began to dim, and then I descended upon her. In a flash, she was in a small sack kicking and thrashing about wildly.
"I've got her, Smee."
Smee kept whimpering.
"You can stop the charade, Smee. Our plan worked. Come on! Get up. We still have work to do."
He rose to his feet, begrudgingly, and followed to our place of rendezvous. Pirates awaited me.
"How many? Quickly!"
"4," Garn answered.
"6," Davey gloated, his arms folded neatly across his chest.
Davey's boys smiled and threw taunts while Garn's crew sat sullenly and cursed under their breath.
"Ten little Lost Boys, all in a row," Davey sang, menacing.
"Loser sets the fire!" I announced.
"Yes, Cap'n," Garn grunted, and he and his men went in search of kindling.
The Lost Boys we gagged and bound together, then hoisted them aloft from a sturdy branch all in a bunch. As the boys returned, they set their branches in a pyre below and began rubbing sticks together to set it ablaze.
Cutting a hole in the thrashing little sack, I began to shake vigorously, producing a steady stream of sparkling dust. This I poured directly down my throat, swallowing it readily.
"There," I exclaimed, loosening the drawstrings. "Now run along, Ms. Bell. Tell Pan what we're up to and feel free to embellish."
Tinker Bell shot into the air, clearly glad of her liberty. She paused a moment, surveying the scene before ascending rapidly into the sky.
"It's not too late," I announced, grinning, "to change allegiance. As you can see, the pixie has abandoned you, choosing instead to save her own wretched skin."
Badger began to grunt, attempting to speak. I motioned to Garn.
"Here now, remove his gag so that I may hear the prose of his heart, unrestrained."
Garn hooked a stick through the cloth tied between Badger's teeth, for the boy was too high to reach, bound in the air as he was, and loosened it.
"Never! We'll never join you! You're a coward and a mean old man who can't even fly!"
His fellows started to mumble their agreement.
"Old man, am I?"
I felt as though I'd been slapped by this juvenile. I was one of the forefathers of their community, and who was he to speak to me thus?
"Can't fly, can I?" and this really stung, all things considered. He, who was clearly so highly favoured by Pan and the pixie. He who could fly at will. "Did you not see, dear boy? I too have consumed the fairy's dust, and I feel a sudden urge to..."
I turned my face up to the sky, eyes closed, arms outstretched, and then...
Nothing.
I laboured a moment, placing my happiest memory in the forefront of my mind and...
Still nothing.
"What is happening!" I shouted, enraged. "I ate the dust, as they did. Why...?!"
"Because pirates can't fly!" a voice cried from above.
"What?! Peter! Bad form!" I shouted. "It's not fair!"
"Not fair! Not fair! Says the man with the long grey hair!" Badger sang, mocking.
I drew my sword.
"I suppose I'll just have to improvise!" I shouted.
Grabbing hold of the vine that held up the lost boys, I slashed at it near the ground. The boys came down quite expeditiously, and I launched into the air at a most alarming rate.
Slashing wildly, I heard Peter shriek with pain. Below, the pirates all shouted, "Huzzah!" whilst the Lost Boys cried out for their wild prince.
When I landed, my blade was streaked with blood. Pan was gripping his side, grimacing.
"I..." and for a moment I hesitated. I hadn't meant to harm him, after all. My shame replaced my wrath, and I reached out to my friend, all too aware of the misery I'd visited upon us in my envy.
A hand extended in the spirit of penitence, and reconciliation.
A glint of gold, like a tropical bird on the wing.
And then agony.
Blinding fiery erupting pain the likes of which I had never experienced before or since. Like a star exploding in my midst.
I looked down and saw a hand that seemed strikingly familiar, but suddenly abject, sort of like an item I'd borrowed now being removed from my possession.
"But, I wasn't done with it..." I uttered, delirious.
I looked to Peter, who appeared utterly mortified.
He picked it up, and I heard a commotion from the boys nearby, but I focused solely upon my recently liberated appendage in the grasp of my friend. The noise became a din, a mad carnival of screaming.
"Oh, do be quiet!" I shouted. "He has something of mine and I should like it back this very instant!"
My voice was lost in the cacophony.
"C-c-cap'n!" Smee stuttered.
"What is it?!" I snapped. "Come on, man. Spit it out!"
Turning in the direction which he indicated, I saw the thing. It was a great leathery mound, pitted and rough, with a mouthful of vicious teeth. And it was but a few paces away.
"Peter?" I pleaded. "Could you please address this problem as it is of growing concern."
Stunned, visibly shaken and unable to find a suitable solution, he cast my severed hand into the beast's gaping jaws where it danced a moment on the creature's tongue, then vanished.
"Peter," I muttered, on the verge of fainting. "I don't suppose you have a spare for me. I am in dire need."
Peter's eyes met mine, and whilst they were apologetic, they were somewhat more terrified.
In the spirit of unabashed self-preservation, Peter sailed past the crocodile and set his Lost Boys free. They all were gone in a wink, and I realized I had been deserted by my Pirates, utterly forsaken.
My mind cleared, the beast approached, and I began to hurl invectives as well as other objects upon my person. First, a dagger, then a pistol (why I didn't use my pistols to shoot the monster I cannot fathom).
Finally, a pocket watch. My father's no doubt, although given the choice I believe I still favoured Neverland and its crocodile over facing him again.
Deep within the belly of the beast I could hear that pocket watch ticking loudly, and regaining my senses I broke away, leaving its snapping mouth to feast on my fleeing coat tails. I nursed my arm as I ran, which I did till I collapsed, miles away at the water's edge.
What had they done to me?
Indeed, what had we all done?