Neverland's Angel

Chapter 3

She dreamed of Neverland again, but the dream was different this time. That she was flying over that all too familiar island and it was dark and frightening. The waters, once so clear and blue had turned black. The flowers, once so vibrant and colorful, were gone, replaced by craggy trees with gnarled and knotted limbs. Hook was fighting Peter again. Emily wasn't really sure how it had started or when, she only knew that they were fighting. The ship was lying on its side in the shallows, a gaping hole in its flank and frozen to the shore by great pillars of ice, sharp and white like the grinning visage of some monstrous beast. Half the crew lay scattered in the water, swimming to shore while the handful that had already made it were standing on the sidelines' cheering their captain on. Hook was enraged, his face beet red with purple veins ready to pop out of his forehead. His bright red overcoat was gone, revealing the torn sleeve at his right shoulder. Blood blossomed and streaked across the fabric, soaking through the hastily tied bandage and dripping down his arm, making the hilt of his sword slippery in his hand. His shirt hung half open, as if he'd ripped the buttons away in his haste to remove his cravat and tie the wound. His hair was a wild fray of black curls that seemed like the snakes of medusa, writhing in the wind. Hook bared his teeth like a wolf, growling and screaming, his eyes shot through with angry red veins giving him a crazed, frightful appearance. "Get down here you bastard!" Hook screamed, his sword stabbing at the air around his opponent as he dodged. "I'm going to run you through and tear every limb from your devilish body and feed you to that damnable crocodile!" Peter, who almost always held a cocky little grin whenever he fought the bumbling pirate, held no such smile now. He was bleeding just under his right rib; the blood dripped down his side and making his clothes cling to his frame. He was slower, almost sluggish and clumsy as he bobbed in the air. Emily faintly noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Something, a blur of a memory that was not her own, bled into her mind's eye. For a moment, she saw Hook cackling manically to himself in his cabin. A vial, holding a dark, sticky substance clutched in his hand as he poured the contents over his sword. Somehow, she knew that it was poison. Then she saw Peter laughing as he flitted through the air. Saw as Hook's sword flew up and around, catching him deep in the side and sending him falling to the deck of the ship. She watched with fingers pressed tight over her lips as he screamed when the poison burned through him. As Hook strode cockily, maliciously towards him, kneeling over the boy who scrambled backwards to get away. Hook grabbed him roughly by the collar, twisting his hook securely in the worn material and halting his escape. He pressed a knee into firmly his arm, holding him to the deck and with his other hand, pressed the tip of his sword into the dip above his collar. Emily, for the short time she had dreamed about him, had never seen even the slightest hint of fear cross Peter Pan's face. But as she watched Hook cackle above him, she saw it now. Raw, sheer terror in its purest form settled across his features like a mask. His pupils dilated, his face drained of blood and color, his limbs froze and his throat worked beneath the blade, whether trying to speak or breath she wasn't sure. She tried to go to him, tried to help but something held her firmly in place though she couldn't see what. And then, his eyes jerked to the side and his hand grappled across the deck. Hook saw the movement and snarled, drawing back his sword as she fought to break free. She heard both Hook and Peter scream at once but Peter's was different. High pitched and feral as the sword flew across the deck and Hook fell back, the jagged, broken neck of a rum bottle protruding from his shoulder. Hook, the crew and she herself watched in amazement as Peter staggered to his feet, stumbling backwards until he leaned heavily against the mast. The seas churned beneath them, brought to life by a storm that seemed to come from nowhere. Dark clouds swirled above them, angry and daunting. Hook ripped the glass from his arm shoulder with a cry of fury and as he rose to his feet again, Peter cried out, raising his bloodied hand as if to block the pirate. Instead, the waves rocked and surged as if beckoned by the movement. Suddenly, the ship tilted and rolled. The memory faded. The fight appeared again, and Peter flew higher, pressing his fingers over his wound to staunch the bleeding. Faintly, Emily wondered where Tinkerbell was as there was rarely a moment without the fairy by his side. She flew closer to Peter, but he was bigger somehow, larger than she remembered. He turned to her, grimacing. "It hurts, Tink." He whimpered and she was suddenly starkly reminded of just how young he was. Emily frowned. Why had he called her that? She wasn't Tinkerbell, she was Emily. She opened her mouth to tell him so but an explosion of noise interrupted her. Emily looked back toward the beach where Hook squatted in the sand, rifle cocked at his shoulder, grinning. She panicked, tried to push him out of the way but he was too big. The shot was loud, and it deafened her. Peter screamed as it grazed his shoulder and sent him hurling out of the sky and down into the jungle below. Hook sat stunned, and then his brows lowered as he motioned towards his men. "Get him! I want to be good and sure this time." The scene changed before she could go after him and Emily found herself in the hideout. Peter sat in his bed, wrapping a crude bandage around his shaking arm while she tended his side. What a brave, young boy he was. Where she would have been a crying mess had she been shot at that age, he was taking it in stride. She didn't know whether to be awestruck or afraid. Wondered briefly what other injuries he could have possibly endured to have built up such a tolerance. "We have to get Jane or Moria." He was telling her. "One of them can help us. They beat Hook before, they can help us beat him again." Emily shook her head. "But I'm right here, I'm here Peter. I can help you." But he didn't seem to hear. He stood shakily, sweat dotted his brow. He was very sick, she could tell. He needed rest. His breathing was labored and though she tried to touch him her hand passed through, as if he were no more than air. "Peter!" She called but he began to fade away, everything began to disappear. "I'm here Peter! I'm here!" 'Help us, Emily.' A voice, soft and gentle, like the ring of bells echoed in the darkness. 'You're the only descendant of Wendy Darling who can come here.'  Emily glanced around as wind whipped her copper blonde hair around. Who was speaking to her? And how did it know she was a descendant of Wendy? 'He's dying! "I don't know what to do!" 'Please Emily.' "Who are you?" She called out. 'Wake up, Emily.' Emily frowned, confused. "What...?" 'Wake up...' She jolted awake, nearly colliding head first with the fairy who'd been hovering above her, tiny hands perched gently between her eyes. It took a moment to register what she was seeing, and even longer to hear the frantic chiming of the fairy's voice. "Tinkerbell?!" The little fairy flew a ways toward the window then back, motioning for her to follow. Emily swept the coverlet aside and stood shakily. "Tinkerbell, what are you doing here? Where's Peter?" Tinkerbell shouted something at her, but she couldn't understand and it showed plainly on her face. Emily's dream flooded back to her and she scooped the fairy up into her hands. "Tink, what happened?" Tinkerbell took fistfuls of her own hair in her hands and pulled in exasperation. She waved at the window, mimed choking and falling and then lay still. Emily's heart lurched. "Peter?" Tinkerbell nodded and pointed towards the window. "He's sick, he may be dying!" Emily's imagination ran wild then. She envisioned him lying prone on a bed in the dark, depths of Hangman's Tree, pale and sickly, his breaths coming shallower and shallower. "I have to help him; you have to take me to him!" Emily ran to the window and flung it wide. The night air swirled around her, swept into the room, blowing the curtains into a frenzy. A storm was coming; thunder rumbled in the distance. "Wait." She said. She looked  Tinkerbell turned back, and the little fairy looked so torn and lost that it scared her. Emily backed away and crossed the room to her desk. She had to breathe, she had to take a moment and think this through. Her mother would be frantic if she woke to find her gone, not that Emily cared, and...if Peter was sick, he would need medicine which was something she didn't have. Looking down at herself she also realized she couldn't go trekking through Neverland in her pajamas. She took a black bag from under her bed. A girl can learn a lot at seventeen, Emily had already learned so much more than most her age. She often volunteered as a nurse's aide at the hospital, and while she wasn't allowed to help much,she was allowed to bandage and care for the less critical patients fresh from car and other vehicle accidents. But all the medicine was at the hospital; she'd have to sneak in and told as much to her companion.Tinkerbell brushed a hand through her bangs and kept glancing at the sky, where thick, heavy rainclouds blotted out the stars. Her fingers fumbled together in front of her nervously. They should hurry, if not, they might not beat the storm.Emily went to her dresser , before fucking behind a changing screen and changed into her out of school clothes. Her mother didn't like that she wore them, said that it wasn't approved for a young lady, but she didn't give a crap about what her mother wanted anymore. When she emerged from behind the screen, she wore a blue shirt and jeans. She tightened one of her belts around her waist and sweeping her short-ish braid behind her, went to the desk again. Tinkerbell alighted on her shoulder as she scribbled a note to her family. Stepping back, she read it over, swallowed the butterflies in her stomach and settled the letter over her pillow. "Ready?" She said to no one in particular. Stepping up on the window seat, she tried desperately to steady her trembling by rubbing hands together. Emily took several deep breaths as Tinkerbell doused her in dust, feeling the slight tingle seep into her skin. Suddenly, the ground seemed to rise up to meet her, mocking her. What if she wasn't able to fly, what if she was too old now? Tinkerbell motioned for her and the desperate pleading in her face urged her on. Jane closed her eyes and stepped off the ledge. The wind rushed around her as she fell, a scream froze in her throat and the ground rushed up to meet her. It's not gonna work! She realized. No! Peter, Neverland, the Lost Boys, they all flashed in her mind and just as she thought she would hit, she stopped. She floated mid-air, heart racing, tears burning behind her eyes, fear and adrenaline slicing through her veins. She thought again of them, thought of the hideout, of treasure hunting, of pirates and fairies and pixie dust and Indians and mermaids. When she opened her eyes again, the ground was far below her and Tinkerbell was patting her cheek worriedly. "I-I'm fine, Tink." She said shakily. "Let's go."