Once Upon a FairyTale

Chapter Twenty Three: Maxwell

"I want to go talk to her," Peter mumbled.

He had been severely upset since Wendy had begun screaming. I couldn't blame him, his best friend was basically torturing the woman he loved. The very first thing he told me when I came up from the basement was that he wanted to talk to her.

"She's unconscious right now," I replied, "But, you can try. Hopefully she'll remember."

Peter nodded. I began to wash my hands, which were covered in black goo, before returning to my friend. He had taken three steps towards the basement before stalling.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He frowned, "What if it didn't work? What if she never really will remember me?"

"There's only one way to find out."

He nodded, heading towards the basement. I followed. He seemed timid, somewhat reluctant to continue. But, he did. When he arrived at Wendy's cell, he gasped.

You would expect the cuts I made with the knife to remain, but they had vanished. It was part of the spell. The cuts would heal, absorbing the potion deeper into her system. Hopefully that would make her regain her memory. 

"W-Wendy?" Peter cautiously asked.

She flinched a little before flickering her eyes, "P-Peter? Wha-what happened?"

Peter rushed to kneel in front of her. He undid her bounds and let her fall into his arms. He held her close to his chest. 

"It's alright," he replied, "My friend, she got you out. You were under a spell, but she got you out."

Wendy curled closer to Peter, "Who took me?"

"Hook," Peter replied, "He has your brothers, but we can get them back, once you're better."

She nodded. He tenderly held her in his arms as he stood. It was actually kind of sweet. I had never seen Peter show this sort of love to anyone other than himself. Of course, I had never seen him with Wendy, the true Wendy. 

As Peter went past me, Wendy grabbed my shirt. She looked at me with recollection in her eyes. 

"You look like my little sister, but older," she frowned, "But, that's not possible, they're dead."

She let go of my shirt, allowing Peter to carry her up to his bed. I followed close behind. When we arrived upstairs, Peter laid her down in his bed. He quietly shut the door and returned to me.

"What do we do now?"

"She needs to start feeling better," I told him, "Go in there, be with your love, you finally have her back."

He smiled at me, "Thank you, Maxie."

"Anytime."

"What are you going to do?"

I thought for a moment, "I'm going to take a nap, that magic wiped me out."

"Sweet dreams," he smiled before vanishing back into his own room. 

I copied his example, closing the door to my room. As soon as I was at the foot of my bed, I collapsed. Sleep was instantly upon me. As I slept, I had a dream. It wasn't a familiar dream, just a dream.

"Hush now, my babies," a woman cooed, "It's time to go to sleep."

All I could see was darkness. I heard voices, however, and that's what the dream was based around. 

"Mama, do babies dream?" a young boy voice replied.

A girl scoffed, "Don't be silly, John, of course they dream."

"What do they dream about?"

The first woman chuckled, "Of candy and plush animals they can ride upon."

"I knew it!"

"Mother, are you sure?" the girl asked, "Wouldn't it be more likely that they would dream about drooling or you?"

"I'm quite sure, Wendy, I was a baby once myself."

"So was I, but I don't remember anything."

"You will when you're older."

"That makes no sense."

"Wendy!" the boy voice called, further off this time, "Come tell me the story of Peter Pan and Captain Hook!"

"Again?"

"Yes!"

I heard the hurrying of small feet against carpet. The door slammed, provoking me to cry. The woman hushed me.

"Hush, hush, Maxwell," she cooed, "Go to sleep, and dream of a far off land filled with candy and glitter."

Wait, is that my Mother?