Wendy Darlin'

Chapter Fourteen - Escape, at last

I awake to the sound of gun fire. 

An icy shiver passes through me and I see Aiden's dark shadow across the room, arming himself, ready for what lies ahead. I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep still. 

Not five minutes later, when I can still hear the bloody cries of the mysterious battle outside, I feel a pair of hands carefully tie a strip of cloth over my eyes, incase I am to wake up. He slips his hands under my knees and behind my shoulders with so much caution I am flattered for a fraction of a second. 

The pistol slides from my skirt and clatters to the ground. 

"Clever girl." I hear him murmur under his breath, and I can't help but take it as a compliment. I have never been appreciated for what little logic I do possess.  

The cool night air strikes me in the chest. I stay still, not daring to arouse his suspicion of my consciousness. I feel weary as I hear the roaring of the ocean over the screams of war and blasts of pistols, and I grow even more skittish when I feel aware of how close we are to the edge. 

The cold air becomes warm again, and I am certain we are back inside. 

I allow my body to fall limp as he lays me down on the floor. His lips press to my forehead and his footsteps echo as he leaves. 

Then it occurs to me. 

One: the Quarters walls and floors are wood-panelled, they would never echo. 

Two: only stone or damp walls produce an echo. It would be illogical to have stone walls on a ship, and the only way the walls are damp inside the ship is if we are below the water line. 

Three: the only room below the water line is the prisons. 

To assure my assumptions as correct, I hear the cell door creak shut. 

I wait until the heavy footsteps have scaled the stairs until I tug the cloth off my eyes and sit up. I am not scared, if anything, my mind is working, the old cogs shaking off the years of dust. 

I am anything but afraid. Aiden is smart, he is a genius, but he did not realise, it shall be easier for me to escape the cell than his quarters. 

My hand wraps around the cool metal. Sure enough, it is brittle and bendy almost from age. I fiddle with the lock, looking at how it works. It is a simple, rusty, key-requiring padlock. Aiden is most likely to be in possession of the key, and by the way he always smooths out his jacket, they are being kept in an inside pocket of his coat. 

I slide one of the spindly little, metal pins out of my hair and let my curls fall to my shoulders. I hold it as if a needle, a needle I am simply pressing into fabric. With foolish hands, I push the pin into the lock, turning it several times before it finally clicks. 

I do not turn to Peter's cell, who sleeps fitfully in the corner. I slip the pin back in my hair and run up the stairs, my skirt hitched. 

I see blood and bodies sprawled across the deck. I see Slightly's binds hanging limp around the mast, him no where to be seen. I see the pirates carelessly slaughtering the natives. 

I pray that they shall provide a distraction whilst I enter Aiden's Quarters. It is empty, so I swiftly pull open the chest of drawers to find a pair of Bethany's old, black leather boots, before searching for the cure. My heart pounds against my chest, rocketing against my ribs. I hear the battle louder than ever before and I shakes me to the core. My hand brush against trinkets and bottles, eager not to make a mess that may catch Aiden's attention. The best criminals leave the setting as they came. 

I find it. The little wooden box sits carelessly amongst yet more maps and parchment. I take out the glass phile, the clear liquid shining in the lamp light. I dash back down to the cells, the deadly battle providing the perfect distraction. 

Within two minutes I finally pick the lock on Peter's cell and shake him awake. His eyes are flickering from green to hazel and I can't help but wonder how much his head must hurt, at constant battle with his own brain. Whilst they are hazel, I force the cure down his throat. 

"Wendy," he looks at me for the first time, as if he means it, but I notice a certain sadness lingering behind his stare. "Wendy it's water it's water Wendy!" He screams, his hands shaking so I take them in mine and pray that everything will be alright. 

"Peter! Peter look at me!" I grasp his head in my hands, holding him there. His face is sweating and shaking and so am I and I need him to calm down and just-just become Peter again. "What-what do you mean?!"

"It's a fake, Wendy! It's water it isn't anything! I'm not right yet! It's not the cure!" 

And I'm crying and he's crying but I don't let him know how much he means to me because that would upset him more so I take his body in mine and he keeps whispering for his father and I promise for a better tomorrow because that's all I can do for now. 

My wonderful boy, my brilliance is broken and lost to me and I shall do anything to have him back. 

"Come on, come on Peter lets get out of here!" I grab his wrist and drag him out of the prison, my palms shaking. 

The war rages on, and I can't help but shoot Tiger Lily a smile when I notice her battling a man twice her size with nothing more than a spear. She ends his life with one final plunge of her weapon in his heart, and turns to her next victim. 

I haul Peter to the side of the ship and turn to him. His eyes have momentarily turned hazel, but I know he won't be like this for long. 

"Do you trust me?!" I yell. 

He simply nods, his bottom lip slightly puckered. 

I steady my feet as I balance on the side of the ship, helping Peter up. The wind bellows my gown around my ankles and I turn around one last time. 

Aiden is progressing towards us. 

I take Peter's hand in mine and squeeze it fast. He looks deep into my eyes and I see his slowly turn green. 

I jump off the ship, and into the moon-lit waters bellow. 

We plunge into the icy sea, the taste of salt hitting my body, the feeling alien to me. The world is different around here, quieter, more peaceful. 

I can't breath. I scramble for oxygen, pounding my legs through the water. My lungs compress against my chest and my insides scream. My eyes seal shut from the sting of the salt and I feel two hands slip under my arms and pull me up. 

My body breaches the frozen surface and I drink in the night air. The waves gentle lap over me. I wade through the depths, searching for the ground. Peter grasps me tight as we make our way to the shore. I feel at home as he whispers reassuring promises of hope in my ear. 

We reach the sand, wet, cold sand. I run it through my fingers, lacing itself in my hair. The smell of salt stings my nostrils but I welcome it. I am drained. I am empty. 

And I just lie there, allowing the sea to tickle my toes, my hair sprawled over the shore, and Peter, my brilliant Peter, trying to haul me to my feet. 

I don't want to. I want to lie here forever. I want him to lie with me, bathed in the moonlight, resting in the sand. My eyelids flicker and I feel cold, cold and numb, numb and empty. 

"Come on, please, Wendy..." My boy, my man...

And he takes my hand. His hands, small and pink and chubby. Oddly stubby fingers and short nails clouded with dirt, tinted green from living in the woods. The warmth, the life within them. 

He feels like my Peter again. 

I stand for him and he grabs my arm, helping me up. Slowly and sluggishly, we run through the sand and into the dense forest. 

He is strong for me, so I am strong for him.