Dawn broke over the horizon line, casting a pink hue on the underbelly of the clouds. The ocean waters were calm, and a northerly wind blew, whistling like a ghost through the rigging. Save for this, all was quiet as the crew of the Jolly Roger was just beginning to stir with the morning light. As the first sliver of sunrise cast its golden splendor over the sparkling water, the silence was broken by a sharp call from the crow's nest.
"Ship ahoy!"
The door to the cabin opened and the captain emerged in a swirl of red and gold. His heavy black boots tromped authoritatively across the quarterdeck.
"Where away?" he called gruffly.
"Four points off the port bow!"
James Hook brought the spyglass to his eye and gazed out over the bulwarks. Sure enough, he could see the swell of white sails in the distance and a flag bearing a familiar insignia – a sword wrapped from blade to hilt in a thorny vine with a rose as the pommel.
"Rosebriar," he murmured thoughtfully.
"But what are they doing out in these waters?" asked the quartermaster, coming to stand at his side.
"A good question, Mr. Starkey, but I don't intend to get close enough to ask."
Hook continued to gaze at the approaching ship through his spyglass.
"We are fortunate. The darkness is on our side of the water, while the rising sun shines upon them like a beacon. They've not yet seen us."
"Orders, cap'n?" asked Mr. Starkey.
"Ready Long Tom. When they're within range, we'll blow them out of the water."
"Aye, sir! You heard the captain, Mr. Smee. Pipe up the crew!"
The bosun blew his whistle. "All hands on deck!"
A dastardly assortment of fiendish cutthroats emerged from the forecastle and swarmed the deck.
"Look alive, you swabs!" shouted the quartermaster.
Hook lifted the spyglass to his eye once more. "We have them in our sights."
The master gunner called out the coordinates as the men positioned the cannons.
"On my signal, men. Ready... FIRE!"
Long Tom fired and the cannonball hit its mark, striking the hull of the enemy ship. As Hook's crew prepared for a second round of fire, Rosebriar's ship gave an answering volley. The shot went wide, just missing the Jolly Roger and blasting into the water a few feet from the bow.
"Tsk, tsk," said Hook with a smile that was half amused, half malevolent. "Rosebriar never was much of a dominant sea power. Double the powder and shorten the fuse!" he barked at the crew.
The cannons fired a second time. Chain shot took out one of the masts of Rosebriar's ship, and a second cannonball blasted through the quarterdeck. Rosebriar again retaliated. A cannonball took off the Jolly Roger's bowsprit and the gilded figurehead at the prow.
Hook's lip curled. "Merely aesthetic, Rosebriar. You disappoint me."
He called down to his crew from the quarterdeck.
"Again!" he shouted. "I want that blasted ship sunk!"
The Jolly Roger sent their final volley. A third cannon shot to the hull and another to the main mast was enough to take down Rosebriar's ship. The resulting swell from the explosion rocked the Jolly Roger, but she stood firmly the victor.
"Make way for that wreckage," ordered the quartermaster.
"Belay that, Starkey," said the captain. "We'll take no prisoners today, nor will we find anything of worth. That was a naval vessel. We've merely eliminated a threat. I have more important matters to attend to."
"Aye, cap'n."
"Mr. Cecco, are we still on course?" Hook asked the pirate manning the helm.
"Aye, Cap'n," said Cecco glancing at a curiously glowing compass. "We should reach Neverland's shores by eventide tomorrow, as the crow flies."
"Excellent," said Hook. "I've been away for far too long, and I am eager to give Peter Pan the souvenir I picked up for him."
He returned to his cabin where a rectangular object sat upon his map table beneath a black velvet cloth. Hook lifted the cover, revealing a small treasure chest. The chest was chained tightly shut with a skull and crossbones lock, and it gave off a sickly green glow from within. He ran his hand across it, almost tenderly, but he didn't dare open it. Not yet.
"Yes," he murmured orgasmically, closing his eyes and relishing in the knowledge of the weapon he possessed. "Vengeance will be sweet."
~~~
"Hey, Mia. Wake up."
Mia opened her eyes. Peter was hovering over her. The fire had long since gone out and the gray light of pre-dawn was all around them. Groaning, Mia gently pushed him away from her.
"Peter... The sun isn't even up yet. What do you want?"
"Come on, Mia! I wanna show you something."
"Oh, all right," she yawned. "Give me a minute."
"Hurry up," he urged. "We don't wanna miss it!"
"All right, all right. I'm up, I'm up."
Peter took her by the hand and led her out of the tent. They slipped silently through the sleepy village towards the front gates. Mia could hear loud snoring as they passed the teepee that held the Lost Boys.
"What about the others?" she asked as they went past without stopping.
"They can catch up later. They know their way around. Come on!"
The two great wooden doors which led out of the village were locked with a large wooden barricade bar. Peter attempted to slide it aside.
"Ngh!"
He grunted as his muscles strained with the effort. He stopped and ran a hand through his wavy red-brown hair.
"Wow, that's heavier than it looks."
"Why don't you just fly us over the wall, Peter?" asked Mia in mid-yawn.
"Oh! Right!" said Peter, laughing sheepishly.
He returned to Mia, pulling her arms around his neck from behind and hoisting her onto his back. Just before he lifted off, the sound of the wooden beam being slid back drew their attention. Tiger Lily leaned against the now open doors with her arms crossed.
"Friends come and go through our doors, Peter Pan. Enemies fly over walls." She gave them both a kind smile. "And I'd much rather you leave as a friend."
Grinning at Tiger Lily, Peter took Mia by the hand and pulled her towards the open doors.
"Thanks! See ya', Lily!"
Tiger Lily nodded at Peter. As they passed, she offered Mia some parting words.
"Remember what I told you, Mia."
Before Mia could reply, Peter had pulled her beyond the doors and was leading her down the winding, rocky path.
"What did Lily mean?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Mia.
"I don't know," she lied.
Once they reached the bottom of the hill, Peter lifted her into his arms. "We've gotta hurry. We haven't got much time!" With that, he shot up into the air so quickly that Mia tightened her grip fearfully.
"W-Where are we going? Why the hurry?" she asked.
"You'll see," he said as he flew her over the island. They seemed to be heading for the highest peak at the central-most part of Neverland. In the distance where the sea met the sky, Mia could just see the first pink light of the emerging dawn.
Peter landed upon a flat outcropping of rock near the top of the mountain. He set Mia to her feet and pulled her towards the edge. Mia's eyes went wide as she attempted to dig in her heels.
"Woah, woah, woah! Peter! Woah!"
They skidded to a halt at the very edge and Peter plopped himself down, pulling Mia down beside him. They sat with their legs dangling over the ledge. Mia took a peek down. Her stomach did a cartwheel.
"Oh God. This is really, really high. If we fell..."
"I can't fall Mia. And if you fell, I'd catch you, obviously. Besides, you're not supposed to be looking down. You're supposed to be looking out." He took her chin and lifted her face to the sunrise.
Mia gasped.
"Oh wow, Peter," she breathed.
This mountain perch provided a perfect view of the east side of the island, from the Neverwood to Mermaid Lagoon and beyond. She could see the ocean, and far out on the horizon line, the rising sun.
"It's beautiful!" said Mia. "So this is why you woke me up? You wanted me to watch the sunrise with you?"
"Yeah," said Peter. "Girls are supposed to like this kind of thing, right?"
Mia laughed. "I suppose we do. It is romantic—" She stopped suddenly, uncertain as to how Peter would take her audacious use of such a word, but he seemed unbothered by it.
As the sun rose higher, the shadows slipped from Peter's face, and then, as though the sunrise had brought on the metamorphosis, so too did his boyish countenance disappear, replaced with that of a young man of Mia's age.
"There was a time," he said softly, his gaze as far away as the horizon, "that I thought I may never see another sunrise."
His strange comment struck Mia so hard that she nearly pitched over the side of the mountain.
"P-Peter," she stammered, aghast. "What do you mean?"
Slowly, he turned his gaze to her, his brow furrowed.
"What?"
"You just said there was a time you thought you'd never see another sunrise."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"When?"
"Just now."
"You're dreamin'," he said with a laugh, giving her a poke in the forehead. "Wake up and watch the sunrise with me, Mia."
"I thought that's what I was doing," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead.
It seemed Peter really wasn't aware of what he had said. Was this an instance of what Tiger Lily had been talking about, where Neverland made you forget things? Where something you might remember one moment, you forgot a second later? Was Peter recalling something from his tragic past, only to just as quickly push it out of mind? Mia was desperately curious, but she didn't dare ask.
As Mia gazed out at the sunrise once more, Peter took out his flute and began to play. This time the tune was not "Tender Shepherd." It was one she'd never heard before, but it was beautiful. It began soft and slow, gradually rising to a crescendo with the ascent of the sun. Mia smiled, and before she knew what she was doing, she rested her head against Peter's shoulder.
Peter faltered, and at first Mia feared she'd made a grave error. After all, hadn't he said in Barrie's play, "No one must ever touch me"?
"Why not?" Wendy had asked, to which Peter had replied, "I don't know."
Mia had her suspicions as to why. To allow oneself to be touched in a tender manner was to allow oneself to become vulnerable. Vulnerability was not in Peter's nature. And furthermore, to be touched by a female bespoke a certain physicality that was too adult for a boy like Peter. So far, any time Peter and Mia had touched, it had been on Peter's terms. Thus, Mia feared she had made a serious mistake. But he continued to play his flute and he did not falter a second time.
When the sun was fully risen above the horizon, Peter stopped playing and pointed at Mermaid Lagoon. "Watch, Mia! Here it comes!"
As the water turned gold in the light of the sun, a rainbow arched slowly over the lagoon. It was almost as though Neverland was a canvass and a giant, invisible hand armed with a paintbrush that no mortal could see had just painted the rainbow over the lagoon right in front of them.
"Amazing!" she gasped. "I've never seen a rainbow do that before!"
"Well, you wouldn't," said Peter, "Not outside of Neverland anyway. Come on!" He leapt up and offered her his hand. Mia took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
"Where are we going now?" she asked.
"Didn't you say yesterday that you wanted to visit the lagoon?"
"I didn't realize you remembered that."
"I want you to be happy, Mia," he told her. "You played my game last night. Now it's my turn to let you have the adventure you want."
Mia was speechless. She didn't know what to say.
"C'mon," said Peter, pulling her into his arms once more. "Let's go!"
~~~
"There they are, Mia," said Peter, pointing at the collection of glistening wet heads bobbing out of the water beyond the rocks.
"Mermaids!" exclaimed Mia. "Oh, wow! Let's go say good morning!"
She leapt from rock to rock over the water towards the deeper part of the lagoon where the finned sea maidens were surfacing. As she approached, several wet heads turned to gaze at her, their long hair shining in the light of the morning sun. The nearer she drew, the mermaids beat their tails at the water, some swimming closer to Mia as though coming forward to meet her.
Mia leapt onto a particularly mossy rock and almost slipped. Several lovely faces gazed up at her eagerly, but their expressions turned sour when she righted herself. She was just getting ready to leap to the next rock when Peter landed behind her and grabbed her, holding her back.
"Don't!" he warned.
"What? Why?"
He wrapped his arms protectively around her from behind and whispered in her ear. "Don't let their beauty fool you, Mia. They're fiercely jealous of human girls. They'd just as soon drown you as look at you."
"O-Oh." Mia stammered.
A collectively dark expression fell across the mermaids' faces as Peter held Mia close to him.
"Back away slowly," he whispered in her ear as he lifted backwards off the rock and carried her with him. When they'd backed up three rocks, Peter set her on her feet once more.
"Stay here," he told her. "I'll draw them out for you so you can get a better look at them. But whatever you do, don't move from this rock. Okay? They won't come into the shallows."
"Okay, but how are you gonna draw them out?" she asked, but Peter was already flying over the rocks towards the mermaids. "Peter!"
Either he didn't hear her or he was ignoring her, for he alighted upon a rock near the fish women and took a seat. He began to play his flute, and the mermaids swam towards him, murmuring his name. They pulled themselves onto the rock and now Mia could see them in all their glorious splendor. Blonde, raven, and crimson manes spilled silkily down their bare backs and the scales on their tails sparkled with iridescent colors.
Mia sat on the rock and watched them, marveling at their beauty. They really seemed to like Peter's music, for they lay halfway on the rocks with their chins in their hands and their tails flicking happily in the water as they gazed dreamily up at him. Mia was content to watch them stretching lazily upon the rock to listen to Peter's music until a few of them grew bold and heaved themselves all the way onto his rock. They took off his boots and played with his toes, giggling delightedly.
Mia frowned. Why did this silly little gesture make her feel so annoyed?
Okay, cool it, Mia. They don't have feet of their own, so for them it must be fascinating.
But when one of the mermaids began trailing her hand up Peter's chest, Mia stiffened. Why was he letting them touch him like that? Now, the mermaid was using a large shell as a bowl, filling it with water and pouring it slowly down his torso while a second mermaid scrubbed the dirt from his chest with a sea sponge. It only got worse as another mermaid pulled his head onto her scaly lap and began running a pearly fishbone comb through his wavy hair. And still, Peter played his flute. His lips formed a contented smile around the hollow reeds as he played.
Their tender attentions, their long hair brushing against his skin, and the way their bare skin glistened with water droplets, they were both maternal and seductive, and Mia instantly hated them. But Peter, how could he... Why did he let them touch him in a way that he didn't even let Mia touch him? Were mermaids so different than human girls? What made them so special?
Fed up with what she was watching, Mia rose to her feet and turned her back on the sight. She hopped angrily from rock to rock, back to the sand, and stalked furiously up the beach, desiring to put as much distance between herself and the hedonistic mermaids as possible. She was halfway up the beach, never considering that she ran the risk of getting horribly lost if she ventured too far, when she heard the soft thud of feet landing behind her.
"Hey, Mia! Where you going?"
Reluctantly, she turned to face him. "I don't know, Peter," she admitted irritably. "But I didn't much feel like sitting around and watching you get pampered by a bunch of bare-breasted mermaids. So excuse me for losing interest."
She turned and walked away from him, but Peter flew around and landed in front of her, blocking her path.
"Aw, come on, Mia. That's just their way. They like it when I play the flute, so they pamper me a little. It's not like anything ever happens."
Mia cocked an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Peter's brow furrowed, as though considering his previous words. Then, shrugging, he said, "How should I know?"
Red-faced, Mia turned away from him and tromped off in the other direction.
"Hey, Mia! Wait up!"
Again, he landed in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.
"Come on, Mia. Don't be mad. Please? 'Sides, I got something for you." It was only now she realized he was keeping his hands behind his back.
"What is it?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Peter brought his hands out from behind his back to reveal a lovely necklace made of moon shells, cockle shells, slipper shells, pearls and small gold charms which must've been found in a pile of undersea treasure.
"Oh, Peter, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "But where did you..."
"I filched it from one of them," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the mermaids.
"Won't they be mad?"
"Who cares? It's yours now."
He flew around behind her and put it around her neck. Mia felt him take her hair in his hands and lift if up over the back of the chain before letting it fall slowly through his fingers like a cascade of silk.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
"Y-Yeah. It feels nice. Oh! I-I mean... The necklace! Yes! I love it, Peter! Thank you!"
Peter beamed with pride. "I knew you would," he said. "So hey, wanna go swimming?"
"Swimming?" said Mia. "Well... I suppose... But my dress is white. If I got it wet, you could... Well, you could see right through it."
"Your dress isn't white, Mia."
"Yes, it is. It's..." She glanced down at herself and gasped at what she saw. The white shift with the vine cord and violet flowers was no longer present. Instead, she was wearing a dainty wrap dress of burnt orange. A green vine cord was cinched around her waist, this time boasting yellow orchids.
"B-But how...?"
"See? It's dark colored. You won't be able to see through it. Come on!"
He grabbed her by the hand and ran with her down the beach as Mia tried to fathom when and how she'd changed into a different dress, when in fact she still couldn't remember how she'd gotten the first one.
Peter stopped at the edge of the water and began to strip.
"P-Peter!"
"What?" he asked, as he slid his crossbelt off his shoulder and doffed his leafy skirt. He then proceeded to sit in the sand and pull off his boots. Granted, he didn't have much to take off. His torso was already pretty well bared from the beginning. But when his hands came to the waistband of his form-fitting breeches, Mia stopped him.
"Peter, please! At least leave your pants on!"
Peter hesitated and glanced at Mia with a sudden strange look in his eyes. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"I get it," he said. "You don't want to see it."
Mia's face turned hot. "S-See what?"
Peter's grin widened and he leaned closer to her. His voice dropped low.
"You know... It."
Although she tried not to, Mia's gaze instinctively flicked below his waist. Even with his pants on, Mia could see the delicious contours of his pelvis, what some called an 'Adonis belt,' dipping into his low-riding breeches, as well as the curvature of something else hidden within. Her cheeks went through three shades of red.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said indignantly. "Just keep your pants on or I won't swim with you."
Peter rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in exasperation. "All right, all right. Fine. Sheesh. Girls are such prudes."
"I'm sorry, what?"
That was not a word Mia thought Peter would know.
"What do you mean what?"
"You said girls are prudes."
Peter smirked at her. "Well, aren't you?"
Mia opened her mouth to reply, but she had nothing. Still grinning, Peter leapt into the water with a splash. When he reemerged, he waved her towards him.
"Come on, Mia! The water's great!"
With a sigh, Mia stepped to the water's edge. Slowly, she waded in. When she was about thigh-deep in the water, Peter grabbed her and pulled her the rest of the way in with a splash. Mia came up sputtering.
"P-Peter!"
She wanted to be annoyed with him, but his playful laughter was contagious. Soon, she was swimming along with him, chasing him through the water. At one point she lost sight of him and swam deeper towards the lagoon when he suddenly popped out of the water and yanked her behind a rock.
"Peter! You scared me!"
"Don't swim beyond this rock, Mia," he said seriously.
"Why not?"
All Peter need do was nod his head in the direction of the mermaids who were glaring jealously at her from just beyond the rock .
"They won't come into the shallows, but if you go any further, they'll try to drown you," he said.
"M-Maybe I shouldn't swim, Peter."
"What? Don't be crazy. I'm telling you, as long as you don't go past this rock, you'll be fine. Come on," he said, pulling her away. "I'll teach you how to jump on the rainbow's back and slide down!"
He lifted out of the water, taking Mia with him as he flew to the crest of the rainbow and let her go.
"W-Wait, Peter! I'll fall through!"
But, miraculously, she landed on her feet. Looking down, Mia saw that she'd sunk to her ankles in the rainbow until her feet touched something solid, as though there were a second invisible layer to the rainbow just beneath its colors. It was sort of like standing ankle-deep in rainbow-colored water, except this didn't have the consistency of water. It wasn't wet, but it wasn't entirely solid either. In fact, it wasn't much of anything. It was like standing in a ghost. Mia felt a distinct but pleasant tingling sensation in her feet.
"Hurry up, Mia," said Peter from behind her. "If you stand on it too long, you'll eventually sink through."
With a push, he sent her gliding down the rainbow on her bottom as though it were a slide. Mia slid all the way down and landed in the water with a big splash. She reemerged just in time to see Peter slide down after her.
"Yahooo!!!" He landed in front of her with a splash, and when he came up, he spat a stream of water at her.
"Hey!" she said, and splashed him.
Peter returned the favor.
"Want to go again?" he asked.
Mia nodded, grinning. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had this much fun. It was like being a little girl again.
Peter gathered her into his arms and carried her up to the rainbow. This time Peter slid down first. Mia followed after. He was waiting at the bottom to catch her. Mia landed with a slightly smaller splash, never submerging as Peter's hands moved to her hips. Mia put her arms around his neck, giggling.
"Peter, this is so much fun! I'm glad you brought me to the lagoon today."
"Me, too," he said as he pushed her gently backwards.
"Peter, what are you doing?" she asked as he pressed her against the base of the rainbow.
He reached up to the side of her head and trailed his fingers through her wet locks. "I like the way you look when your hair's wet, Mia," he said softly. "And I like how you look with the water glistening on your skin. You're so... You're so pretty."
"Uh, th-thanks, Peter," she stammered.
Honestly, he didn't look so bad himself. With his wet hair plastered across his forehead over those seafoam green eyes, the water glistening off his skin, and the sun shining on the musculature of his torso, he looked very appealing, like a water sprite or a young Greek god.
Peter leaned towards her, trapping her between himself and the rainbow. His face drew closer to hers. Mia's heart was racing. Suddenly, she wasn't feeling very much like a little girl. Not at all. Nor was Peter acting like much of a young boy. Of course, he didn't much resemble one either.
"Mia," he murmured huskily. "I want to..."
"There they are! Hey, Peter! Mia!"
Peter quickly pulled away from her and looked up towards the shore. It was the Lost Boys. They were running down the beach towards the water, yanking off their clothes as they went. But unlike Peter, they didn't stop at their pants.
"Oh God!" exclaimed Mia, averting her gaze.
"Yahoo!"
"Whee!!!"
They plunged, butt naked, into the water. The twins ran along the rocks before stopping at the one that faced Mia and Peter. Mia held her hand at her forehead and turned her gaze away, trying to shield her eyes from the sight of the nude boys.
The twins exchanged a mischievous glance. Then, with a cry of "Cannonball!" they leapt in, sending a wave of water splashing over Mia and Peter.
Now, quite awkwardly, Mia found herself surrounded by six naked boys. But they were only little boys and she was a mature, responsible young woman. It was not the same as if Peter had gotten naked. The Lost Boys were so young, perhaps it shouldn't matter so much. Besides, the water did a good job of hiding them from the waist down; though every so often Mia caught sight of a bare butt sticking up out of the water as the boys dove under. But when they began clamoring at her to play with them, Mia felt she needed to put her foot down.
"Go over there, the lot of you!" she said, thrusting her finger in a vague direction some distance away from her.
"Awww. Why?"
"But Mia, we want to play with you!"
"Do as she says, lads," said Peter. "Mia is a lady, and a lady mustn't be surrounded by a bunch of naked boys. It's not proper."
Grumbling and pouting, the boys swam past the rock. Mia smiled her thanks at Peter.
"Go on ahead and play with them, Peter. It's all right."
"But what'll you do, Mia?"
"I think I'll sunbathe a while. Maybe get a nice tan."
Peter shrugged as this didn't much interest him. "All right. Suit yourself," he said, swimming after the Lost Boys.
Mia pulled herself up onto the rock and lay out across it. Its sun-toasted surface felt nice and warm against her wet skin.
"Ahh..." she said, closing her eyes.
She lay this way for a while, basking in the warmth of the sun as it rose higher in the sky and morning turned to noon. She was later awoken from her relaxation by the sounds of feminine laughter mingling with that of the Lost Boys', prompting her to open her eyes and sit up. Across the water, the Lost Boys and Peter were playing with the mermaids. At first, Mia bristled with jealously, but then she saw what they were playing with and all thoughts of envy quickly vanished.
The mermaids and the Lost Boys were tossing what appeared to be a giant rainbow bubble. Back and forth it went, like they were playing volleyball. The more Mia watched, the more certain she was that it was a bubble. And yet it never popped the way a bubble should when someone touched it. Mia could only guess this either had something to do with mermaid magic, or perhaps some magic within the lagoon itself.
She sat on the edge of the rock, watching intently and wishing she could play. The desire was so strong that when the bubble was knocked out of bounds, she was more than happy to take up the task of retrieving it for them.
"I got it!" she called, as she leapt into the water and swam after it. With outstretched hands, she grasped it and lifted it high over her head.
"Okay, catch!" she called and tossed it towards the Lost Boys and their mermaid counterparts.
The bubble bounced off Curly's head and went long. No one attempted to catch it. The boys were staring at her, wide-eyed and pale-faced.
"What?" she said. "What's wrong?"
"MIA!" shouted Peter.
It was then she realized that she'd swum past the rock.
Peter's expression was one of panic as he shouted something else at her. But Mia never heard it as she was suddenly dragged under the water.
~~~
Mia felt a rhythmic pressure on her chest, followed by the feeling of warm, soft flesh pressing against her mouth. Air filled her lungs and another pressure, one which seemed to be building from within, rose from her lungs and into her esophagus. Mia choked, coughing up water, and finally she could breathe again. Her eyes fluttered open. Seven faces gazed down at her.
"Is she all right?"
"She's breathing again!"
"Mia, are you okay?"
The Lost Boys were all staring down at her, a circle of faces with the afternoon sun shining brightly behind them. Peter's face was front and center, looking very much relieved.
"Wh-What happened?" she asked hoarsely.
"The mermaids tried to drown you!" said Nibs.
Mia fought against the sting of encroaching tears. She really did not want to cry. Not in front of the Lost Boys, and especially not in front of Peter. But the thought that she'd almost drowned, that she'd almost been killed by a creature of such beauty...
Why, she remembered back in Junior High, the margins of her notebooks had always been filled with sketches of mermaids, fairies, and other such fancies of a 12-year-old girl. To think creatures that she'd admired could be so cruel! And furthermore... she almost died!
Mia could not hold the tears at bay any longer. Slowly, they rolled down her cheeks, mingling with the rest of the droplets that peppered her wet skin. She let out a choked sob and leaned into Peter, who swiftly wrapped his arms around her and held her comfortingly.
"It's okay," he whispered in her ear. "I've got you. I'll never let anything happen to you."
His words washed over her, warm and soothing, and suddenly she wanted to be nowhere else but right here, betwixt his arms and never released. Ironically, this comforting feeling only made her cry more.
Peter scowled in the direction of the lagoon as his free hand moved to the dagger at his hip. "Those coldhearted tramps! I oughtta gut 'em like the fish they are!"
"Oh, Peter, no!" Mia exclaimed, pulling back and taking a firm grip of his upper arms. "Two wrongs don't make a right. Besides, it's like you said... That's just the way they are."
Peter sighed as he lifted her into his arms. "Come on. Let's get you back to the hideout where you can rest and warm up."
This time Peter decided to walk in lieu of flying. It appeared he desired to move carefully without jostling her too much.
"I can still walk, you know," Mia told him.
"You'd better not just yet."
As Mia glanced up at him, she suppressed a gasp. He now wore the face of a young man in his 20s. This was getting crazy! Mia wanted so badly to question him about it, but she feared the repercussions. She couldn't easily forget Tiger Lily's comment about Peter having a tragic past. If that were true, did Mia really want to be the one to break his delusion of childhood and make him remember something that could hurt him? No, certainly not. There was one question, however, that she couldn't help but ask.
"How did you know to do that?"
"Do what?" asked Peter.
"CPR."
Peter scrunched his face. "What's CPR?"
"You know, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. You revived me."
"Oh. That," said Peter.
"Well, how'd you learn that?"
Peter was silent for a long time. Mia watched a range of emotions flicker across his face. Shock, fear and sorrow followed by a one-thousand-yard stare that she'd seen once before when her girl scout troop visited a nursing home to sing Christmas Carols for the old folks. There'd been a man, one of the oldest people there, who'd served in World War II. The nurses said he suffered from PTSD. He wore the same expression that Peter did now.
At first, Mia was worried she'd triggered something, but then she watched amazedly as, in slow motion, Peter's face seemed to morph back into that of a teenager. With this metamorphosis, so too did the one thousand-yard-stare disappear.
"Hmm. I don't remember," he finally replied.
Though it still struck her as curious that Peter should know such a technique, Mia decided not to push the issue. Peter looked sad, but she didn't think it had anything to do with her prior question.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"This was supposed to be a great day for you! The best day ever! I wanted it to be perfect! Now... Now it's ruined."
"It doesn't have to be," said Mia, for he seemed so disappointed. "I mean, the day is still young. I'm sure there's still opportunities for enjoyment of some fashion."
Peter's face lit up. "I've got it!" he proclaimed. "I know how to make this a special, relaxing, girly day for you!"
"Uh... girly?"
"I'll pamper you, Mia!"
"P-Pamper me?" She couldn't help thinking about the way the mermaids had 'pampered' Peter. If that was his definition of pampered...
A hot shiver threatened to run through her body, but she did her best to ignore it.
~~~
Later that day as the deep red of sunset began to ease itself into the magenta haze of twilight, Mia stood in the middle of the Neverwood wrapped in naught but a towel, one that could use a good washing, and whose origin she didn't even want to fathom. Perhaps it had come from the same place that Peter and the Lost Boys had gotten the cast iron tub, which sat before her atop a pile of burning wood. Like an assembly line, the Lost Boys carried buckets of water from a nearby stream to the tub, gradually filling it for use.
"So, uh... where did this tub come from?" asked Mia.
"Stole it from Hook a while back," said Peter, his arms crossed as he supervised the Lost Boys' work.
"So you've had this all this time and you haven't used it?" asked Mia, bewildered.
"Oh, we've used it a couple times, once or twice, maybe."
"Then why even have it?"
"To annoy Hook, obviously," said Peter, rolling his eyes as though she were a simpleton for asking such a question.
"I suppose you're going to tell me this towel belonged to him, too?"
"Yep!"
Mia grimaced. She was wearing Hook's towel. Was that even sanitary? Granted, it only looked a little dusty from lack of use. But still... using another man's used towel just felt wrong somehow.
"You should've seen it, Mia," said Peter, laughing. "He was taking one of his baths in the Neverwood... He can't do it on his ship, you know. He'd burn it down trying to heat the tub. Anyway, he had a few of his men around to guard him in case Mr. Tick-Tock showed up. Well, we lured his men away and they fell right into one of Slightly's pit traps. Then we stole Hook's clothes and his towel. Man, you should've seen him running from Mr. Tick-Tock all butt naked! He was so pissed!"
Mia tried to suppress a laugh, only because it seemed improper to do so. But she couldn't contain it. She let out a loud and very unladylike snort. At least it was reassuring to know that Hook bathed regularly. Now she wasn't quite as perturbed about borrowing his towel.
"A day later, he gave me this," said Peter, showing off a deep scar on his bicep.
"Oh my God!" Mia exclaimed.
"Yep," said Peter proudly. "Pretty cool, huh?"
"Peter, he could've severed an artery or something! You're lucky you didn't die!"
"Nah," said Peter, waving a hand dismissively. "Hook ain't got nothin' on me."
"Except a scar."
"Well, maybe a few of those," Peter admitted, grinning sheepishly.
Mia sighed. What was it with boys and battle scars?
"All finished, Peter," called Slightly. Sure enough, the tub was filled with water.
"Excellent," said Peter. "Now we just wait for the water to heat up and then Mia's pampering can begin!"
And begin it did. With the towel still securely wrapped around her, Mia allowed Peter to help her into the tub. She hissed as she waded in.
"Oooh... That's hot."
"That's the point, silly," said Peter. "It's a hot tub. Duh."
Mia eased herself into a sitting position in the tub, keeping the towel wrapped securely around her. The hot water felt heavenly. Mia gradually slid into a reclined position and closed her eyes.
"Ahh..."
"Lost Boys!" said Peter, clapping his hands for attention. "Gather the supplies I told you. On the double, lads!"
Mia opened her eyes. "Supplies? What supplies?"
"Don't worry, Mia. We've got it all covered. We're gonna pamper you until you're sick of it!"
Mia grinned as she sank even lower into the tub and closed her eyes again. "I'm not sure that's possible, Peter."
There was no reply.
"Peter?"
She opened her eyes. Peter was gone.
Mia sat up.
"Peter? Peter!"
Just when she was beginning to fear she'd been abandoned to a similar fate as poor Hook, a shower of rose petals began to fall from above, landing gently into the tub. Mia glanced up.
"Peter? What are you doing?"
"Making your bath extra nice, of course," he said, hovering above her as he continued to pull the petals off the two roses he was holding and drop them into the water below. Soon, there were so many floating atop the water that it looked like a bath made totally of petals.
Mia smiled as she plucked some stray petals from the top of her head and placed them gently in the water to join the others. Peter took a seat on the edge of the tub, crossing his arms and grinning smugly.
"I know what girls want, Mia," he said.
"Oh yeah? Had some experience with that, have you?"
"Well, I know what you want, anyway."
"Oh?" said Mia, crossing her arms and lifting an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
Peter hovered over the tub, placing his hands on the edges on either side of her. His face came close to hers as he spoke in hushed tones.
"Adventure... Romance..."
"Easy guess, Peter," she replied somewhat breathlessly.
He pulled away from her, now wearing a more serious expression. "And... confidence."
"C-Confidence?" said Mia. He'd caught her off guard with that one. Perhaps Peter was more intuitive than she gave him credit for.
"Yeah, confidence. It's something you want, isn't it?"
"You don't think I have confidence?"
"I think you need more of it. All girls should have confidence. After all, one girl is worth more than 20 boys."
Mia laughed. "So I've heard," she said, thinking of how Peter had uttered that same line to Wendy in Barrie's play.
Peter lay on his back in midair beside the tub with his arms crossed behind his head. "Mia," he said, "How come you won't tell us your stories? I mean, we liked the stories about Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. You tell 'em really good. But none of those are yours."
"M-My stories?"
"Yeah. You were telling that lady in Cerenopia your stories, and you have lots of stuff written in your notebooks."
"You went through my stuff?" asked Mia, scandalized.
Peter shrugged. "Only a little. But you wouldn't even read them to that lady, and you haven't read them to us. What gives, Mia?"
Mia drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I just... I don't know. I guess you weren't so far off the mark about that confidence thing. I've always loved making up stories and writing them down, even when I was little, but..." She trailed off as flashes of long-ago memories played through her head.
"You wrote a poem about Cody? Can I read it?"
"Okay, but just don't tell anyone."
"Hey everybody, listen to this!"
"No, please, Jenny! Don't read it out loud!"
"His eyes are like an oasis beneath sweeping lashes that flutter like a butterfly's wings... Oh wow! How embarrassing for you, Cody! Mia thinks you look like a pretty little butterfly!"
"Th-That's not what that means! It's a metaphor!"
"Well, it's really dumb."
"Mia, we're pulling your story from the contest."
"But why? I worked really hard on it!"
"It is far too graphic and mature for girl your age, and Crown Thorn Prep cannot condone such a bawdy, Rabelaisian work of fiction."
"But it's meant to be satirical!"
"Then it is clear to me that you haven't the slightest idea how to write satire, Mia."
"You're just trying to get more views."
"No! I just wanted to give everyone a voice!"
"It's just for shock value."
"No, it's not! It's integral to the plot!"
"Your writing sucks. Don't quit your day job."
"Your technical skills are average at best, and your imagination leaves a lot to be desired."
"My imagination?"
"Well, I suppose there is something there, but many of your concepts are trite and gratuitous. Much of your writing I found to be ingratiating and shamelessly self-promoting. Frankly, Miandra, I simply do not believe you have what it takes. You are simply not cut out to be a writer."
Mia buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. Even now, all these years later, it still hurt. And there was more. More cruelty, more bullying, more pain. She felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, rubbing them firmly, massaging away her tension. Peter's lips moved to her ear.
"Forget them, Mia," he whispered. "Forget them all."
Had she said something out loud without realizing it, or did he just somehow know what she was thinking? Mia closed her eyes and leaned back, allowing him to rub away 12 years' worth of pain and heartache. Perhaps there was something to be said for forgetting things... the bad things, at least. Why had she put so much stock into what those people had said?
"Peter, we're back!"
Peter withdrew his hands quickly, as though he'd been caught in a scandalous act. Mia didn't think there was anything particularly scandalous about a shoulder massage (she was rather enjoying it), but she supposed for Peter, who preferred to embrace the demeanor of a child rather than the teenaged, nearly adult boy he truly was, it could be a source of embarrassment to be seen engaging in an act even minimally intimate.
The Lost Boys gathered around, armed with their 'supplies.' Nibs and Curly each held a wicker basket filled with all manner of fruits from the recognizable – berries, apples, mangoes – to the more exotic. The Twins each held a glass jar. Inside shined several tiny golden orbs, which Mia at first though were fairies. But before she could chastise the Twins for imprisoning the poor little fairy folk, she realized they were in fact large fireflies. These jars, along with the baskets of fruit, were placed on a large tree stump beside the tub.
Dusk had fallen, turning the sky a deep violet-blue. The firefly lanterns provided the perfect ambient lighting. Tootles toddled up to Mia, holding something behind his back. Mia smiled at him.
"Whatchya' got there, Tootles?" she asked the youngest Lost Boy.
"A present," said Tootles, taking his hands out from behind his back and presenting it to her. It was a circlet of interwoven flowers.
"Oh, wow. It's lovely, Tootles," said Mia, taking it into her hands.
Tootles beamed.
"Did you make this all by yourself?"
"Slightly helped," he said, glancing at Slightly, who blushed when Mia looked his way.
"Well, thank you both. It's beautiful," she said, placing it atop her head. "How do I look?"
"Pretty!" said Tootles, giving her a big smile full of pearly white baby teeth.
Mia looked at Peter. "Peter?"
"Like a princess," he said with a grin.
Now it was Mia's turn to blush. She certainly felt like a princess with her diadem of flowers and the undersea treasure necklace Peter had given her earlier that day. In some ways, with the nice bath and the baskets of fruit and all the spoiling, she almost felt like a mother on Mother's Day, and the Lost Boys her children. But she'd never admit that to Peter. She knew he wouldn't be happy with the comparison, particularly because she recalled Tiger Lily's words the previous night.
"He's long since given up his infatuation with mothers. Though I suppose one would, when the girl you brought to Neverland to be your mother abandoned you. He's tried very hard to forget it, which is why it would be best if you never mention Wendy or the Darling children to him. He doesn't take too well to such reminders."
And Mia remembered all too well the tense scene between Peter and Wendy towards the end of Barrie's play. They had been playing house, pretending to be Father and Mother to the Lost Boys and Wendy's brothers, but Wendy had grown more and more attached to the idea, particularly where it concerned her relationship with Peter. Mia recalled their dialogue.
"Peter, what is it?"
"I was just thinking, it is only make-believe, isn't it, that I am their father?"
"Oh, yes."
"You see, it would make me seem so old to be their real father."
"But they are ours, Peter, yours and mine."
"But not really, Wendy?" he had asked anxiously.
"Not if you don't wish it," Wendy had said, and Peter had been relieved.
Then, she'd asked him that ultimate, poignant question.
"Peter, what are your exact feelings for me?"
"That of a devoted son, Wendy."
"I thought so," she had said disappointedly.
"You are so queer. And Tiger Lily is just the same. There is something she wants to be to me, but she says it is not my mother."
"No, indeed, it is not."
"Then what is it?"
"It isn't for a lady to tell."
It made Mia wonder... What were Peters feelings for her? But then, the warning from Tiger Lily rang in her head.
"Don't fall in love with him. It'll only end in heartbreak."
Mia chewed her lip pensively as she sank lower into the hot tub.
The evening wore on. The Lost Boys had tuckered themselves out and fell into a doze outside the tree which served as entrance to their hideout. Peter, however, continued to dote on Mia with tender ministrations, keeping the fire beneath the bath lit and offering her the sweet fruits.
"Peter," she said, her hands cupping a persimmon that he'd peeled for her. "Would you play your flute for me?"
"Of course, Mia. After all, tonight you are my princess."
He stood in front of her and bowed deeply as though he were a musician commissioned to play for her royal highness. Mia blushed and sank lower into the water to hide her incriminating smile.
He took a seat on the tree stump among the jars of glowing fireflies and began to play. This time, the tune was cheerful and sprightly. It almost sounded like something one might hear at a Renaissance Fair. As Mia watched him play, the most extraordinary thing happened. Dozens of fairies floated down from the trees and began to do a little dance around his head.
Peter always kept his eyes closed when he played, as though he were concentrating or just enjoying the music. But at the sound of Mia's delighted giggles, he opened one eye and grinned at her around the reed pipes. More fairies flitted out from the depths of the forest and began to dance around the tub, as though putting on a show for Mia, who was quite relieved that Tinker Bell was not among their ranks. She did not think the jealous little pixie would approve of the luxurious treatment she was receiving.
When Peter switched to a lullaby melody, the fairies began to slow in their dance. A few of them lifted their tiny hands to their mouths and yawned. One by one, they began to depart, leaving Mia and Peter alone with the fireflies and moonlight. Mia yawned, too. Her eyelids began to droop. The hot steamy bathwater, the scent of the rose petals, and the soft melody from Peter's flute lulled her to sleep.
Gradually, the sounds of the flute died and the only sound left to serenade Mia's doze was the chirping of crickets and the lapping of the bathwater as someone leaned over the tub.
"Mia... Wake up, Mia."
Who was that? It almost sounded like Peter. But it couldn't be, for the voice which spoke sounded older.
"Come on, Mia. The fire's gone out. You have to get out of the tub or you'll catch cold."
Mia made a low groan in the back of her throat, too content to fully awaken. She was lifted out of the tub. It felt as though she was floating, like a leaf carried on a gentle breeze. She was laid upon a soft surface and something warm and furry was draped over her. With a contented sigh, she rolled onto her side. A hand brushed her hair behind her ear. The last thing she felt was a soft sensation against her cheek, like the brush of a feather, as she drifted into pleasant dreams.
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Disclaimer: The Peter and Wendy quotes in this chapter are from the Peter Pan play/stage performance written by James M. Barrie and is still in copyright in the US and Spain. I do not own the play.