Between Sleep And Wake

Doubts

"I'm not certain that this is a wise idea."

For the last several days Alice had been mentally and physically preparing herself for her trip to see Peter. She knew that she couldn't, even for a moment, underestimate him. Yes, it was true that he had not harmed her—and perhaps he never would—though she didn't care much what happened to herself, anyway. Slightly was her true concern. The brewing guilt within her if he was killed, or even remotely injured, would become insurmountable.

"It may not be, but it must be done. He has to be stopped," she advised Slightly, lifting the sword up and using her strength to pierce the likeness of Peter she had constructed.

Well, it wasn't so much a likeness as it was a flimsy attempt fashioned together by wool, grass, and every other material she could find in and around the ship. However, it would do. She didn't have much patience to create it with accuracy. 

She had also originally tried to do it with wood; alas, it was too sturdy and she had been forced to use more of her strength than she would with an actual human being. Every time she penetrated the timber she couldn't manage to withdraw it successfully. It made her feel like she was trying and failing to pull Excalibur out of the stone. She wasn't, nor would she ever be, like King Arthur. She was just a little girl with no true power seeking revenge. Her parents and her sister, she imagined, would have called her a stupid, unhinged little girl if they were here. 

"You do not have to accompany me. I've thought about it and perhaps it's best for you to remain on the ship. I can go alone." She held a sword in her grip, tightening the hold and lifting it up. Her slender frame did make strenuous activities more difficult; she needed to exert her strength as much as humanly possible to develop more muscle, otherwise she would never be able to defeat Peter.

It did frustrate her that regardless of the amount of practice she had she still was nowhere near as strong as Hook or the majority of the other pirates. Yes, she was much more capable than she was when she first landed in Neverland, but not where she hoped to be. How was that fair? Her determination was still ever present, yet it was cursed by discouragement. 

She imagined Peter's head flying across the air as she swung her sword through his neck, slicing it right off. The image of blood pouring out and his lifeless body falling was clear and satisfying. Did that make her callous and cruel? To bask in the thought of murdering another human? One that she had spent intimate nights with? Whom had seen her at her most vulnerable? She had never disclosed what transpired between her and Peter to Slightly; occasionally she speculated who's he would react if she did. Would he be disgusted with her in the same way he was disgusted with herself?

But her judgements of her own behaviour were not just. She hadn't know the truth then and perhaps Slightly would understand why it unfolded, why she turned to Peter in the way she had. At the time, she felt as if she had no one else believe her or comfort her. Peter evidently had taken advantage of that. However, he had also harmed many innocents, without remorse. Why should she feel anything aside from contentment when he died at her own hands? Wasn't she doing Neverland a favour? Wasn't she potentially saving the future children he'd inevitably kidnap? He was never going to learn or change. The only way to stop a monster was to defeat him. 

"I won't allow that. You'll die if you travel alone," Slightly pointed out.

Alice knew he was only fretting over her safety, so she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at him. Just because she was a woman, it didn't mean she couldn't single handedly fight off a deranged killer. A villain. A merciless and soulless beast. And if there was a chance that she died, what did it matter? At least she would die with dignity, and not by standing idly by. She had done enough of that, for a long time. She didn't want to be the hero; she just wanted children to be spared. 

Lowering the sword, she allowed it to rest by her side as she released a breath, poorly able to conceal her annoyance, but then feeling horribly about it. Slightly specifically wasn't worried because she was a woman; he was worried because they were friends. She was aware of that. Besides, she also worried for him. To be be angry was nothing aside from hypocritical. 

"I know you're worried but I shall be fine," she assured him. "I've been here for . . . many moons. Captain Hook and his men have taught me well. I'm not afraid of Peter. Maybe I should be, but I'm not." 

"You know I won't let you go alone."

"You should know by now I'm headstrong. If I decide to do something, I shall do it," she said. "You are wasting your breath telling me I shouldn't go. I have my wits. You even said yourself that my points were grounded. You were the one who wanted to assist me. Don't you remember?"

"I have thought much about it and remembered the way Peter could hide without anyone noticing. He may do the same with you and then . . . "

"I do not care." She said the words with both such conviction and vehemence that Slightly winced at her delivery. "I will not stay here and hear any more stories about him holding women—or anyone—captive. This is the last time. Neverland is not his. He should not be able to have control over it. He needs to receive his comeuppance. He has gone unpunished too long."

Slightly's head fell, as if in defeat. "All right," he said. "Then I will still go with you."

"Will you promise not to convince me I shouldn't kill him? I will not listen but it will tire me to have to hear it."

He offered her a smile. "You truly are headstrong." His tone had shifted to amusement. "The most headstrong person I know."

She grinned back at him and performed a small curtesy. The sword was still in her hand, so she likely looked a bit awkward doing it. A polite and girlish move while having a deadly weapon in her possession. "Why, thank you! It does come to me naturally. Call it a gift."

"Oh, of course!"