Innocence (OUAT/Peter Pan)

Chapter 35: Let It Rain

Okayyy so to get you all to forgive me, I'm doing a double update today! Please forgive me! And I'm sorry if they seem fillerish lately, they kinda are, but in the story this is a lot of time passing and it just doesn't have the same meaning if I just skipped over it. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder ;) Just stay with me guys!<3

Read! Comment! Save me because my grandparents are gonna be here for two weeks starting tonight and I will probably shoot myself, they are so annoying!! That also means I may not get to write, all that "quality family time" and other BS...but I will try!! Thank you for all your support, I honestly never thought I would have this many reads EVER. Enjoy:)

PETER PAN’S POV

Peter Pan floated on his bare back in the middle of the wide river that snaked through the island, an odd beacon of bright blues cutting through the mass of dark green and black. As boys, they never cared much for water besides fishing and drinking, but when even messy Robert scrunched his nose when Michael had walked by him yesterday, Peter knew it was time for a bath. So, here they all were. The Lost Boys were just a few yards upriver, splashing and playing in the water while simultaneously getting clean. All nine shirts, plus Peter’s and Felix’s, lay spread out on a grassy bank drying in the sun.

            As Peter floated, arms outstretched and fingers dipping and circling in the water, his thoughts drifted from the island to his Shadow to the Truest Believer to the island again, and back to the Truest Believer and the other realms and then finally, after some time, to her again. He hadn’t thought about her in a long time, at least a few years.

            This time, it was different. He didn’t think about her magic, he didn’t think about wanting to go find her. Peter didn’t even feel anything, just an odd sense of emptiness. He supposed, when he really thought about it, he could have searched harder for her. Peter Pan could make the trees of Neverland uproot and do his bidding, if he really wanted. He tried to reason with himself that his magic hadn’t been at its fullest then, so of course he could have only done so much. But then he had traveled into other realms on his search for the Truest Believer. Well, mostly for that. He’d been looking for her too, any mention of a magic girl or princess he had followed, but it had never been her.

            He wondered where she even was. None of his boys, or anyone he wanted for his dirty work or entertainment, had ever died on Neverland. He hadn’t allowed it. He chuckled drily, she was too powerful to just die. Still, something in his chest darkened and seemed to shrivel, and he suddenly felt a chill despite the sun, as he wondered what else could have happened. The Lost Boys, the fairies, himself, Felix, his Shadow…none of them had seen or heard of her since the day she ran off. He hadn’t felt anyone leave, but he had felt her aura just disappear. Completely. No matter how hard he focused, there was no trace of her, as if she had never existed. He couldn’t come to any other conclusion.

            Next, Peter wondered what happened to people who did die in Neverland. Especially those so exceptional as herself, so powerful and a part of the island because she had been there for so long. Peter may have sold, or killed, his soul long ago, but she had had hers. He wondered if it remained, like a ghost, somewhere on the island and he couldn’t feel it because it wasn’t technically there. Like the kids who sometimes came in their dreams.

            He wondered if her soul, at least, would listen to him. He wondered if it would be his enemy in the coming years, or neutral like the mermaids.

            It began to rain then, just a few hours before sunset, much to the boys’ discontentment. Peter rolled his eyes at their groans as they all swam to the banks and trudged up, pulling on now damp clothes and making their way back to the campsite. He didn’t bother suspending the rain, it was light after all and quite honestly he didn’t give a damn. As the boys scrambled to take shelter, Peter just wandered lazily along the bank downriver.

            It grew even darker with the clouds, Peter didn’t know if it was sunset yet or not, when his Shadow swooped down in front of him, white eyes glowing bright and narrowed. Peter bit back a sigh, he didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

            “You do remember the deal you made?” he asked, voice low and hard.

            “Of course,” Peter scoffed. “What do you think I’ve been doing these past few years?” His Shadow cocked his head, one eye slightly wider as if he had an eyebrow raised. After a breath, he spoke again.

            “This may be a bit late, but I thought you should know,” his tone had something else laced in it, almost like amusement. Peter groaned internally. His Shadow was loyal, yes, and always did any work—dirty or clean—that Peter wanted, but he most certainly had an attitude. Still, he was useful, and Peter liked having someone as clever and devious as himself under his command.

            “Well, out with it,” Peter snapped.

            “Her heart would work,” his Shadow shrugged, and Peter choked on air.

            “How?” he demanded. The sky above darkened further. “You said only the Truest Believer, she didn’t even fully believe in me when she came here.”

            “She has her own magic, more powerful even than yours. And another magic, the most powerful of all. Her heart is pure, she believes in you, and she truly loves you,” his Shadow explained nonchalantly, leaning back in the air with his dark arms crossed over his chest. Peter’s blood boiled, and he felt sparks in his fingers and hands and eyes as his anger began to pull at his magic.

            “Stop it,” he growled. His Shadow tilted his head. “Stop talking like she’s still here. It’s bloody annoying, and it’s not like she’ll work now will she, being dead and all?” he laughed derisively. His laughter, which continued, was drowned out by the sudden shriek of thunder. Peter glanced up to see the sky, a grey so dark his Shadow almost blended in, thunder roaring in the distance and coming closer. Of course his Shadow would figure this out, that Peter had had his answer all along for years right in his hand, after he’d lost her.

            He didn’t even care if his Shadow was still there, Peter turned his back and strode in the direction of camp, using magic to dry himself and keep it that way, intent on continuing his search. His Shadow, for all his taunting and inconvenience, did have a point—his time was running out. Peter needed to focus solely on the Truest Believer, he couldn’t think about the princess, of what might have been, the life he could have had if he’d realized it sooner.

            Stepping into the clearing, he glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. Stopping the loud thunder and the now pouring rain from soaking the tents any further, Peter wondered why his Shadow had spoken in the present tense.

            It didn’t matter. She was lost, gone, dead, it didn’t make a difference. Out of Peter’s grasp, and he had other things to worry about.