Pan's Never-Neverland

Peter's Imprisonment, Part 1

Chapter Seventeen – Peter's Imprisonment, Part 1

Many Years Ago…

Peter remained kneeling before the tombstone as Tinker Bell flew away, staring at the squiggly lines that made up Wendy's name and the dates of her birth and death. He knew she must've put the stars on the rock so in case if he came he could find her. She was always thinking ahead, while he lived for the moment. Perhaps if he, too, had thought of the future, just for once, he would've been able to find a way to bring her back with him…

He sobbed once more, bowing his head before the stone. "I'm sorry, Wendy…I miss you."

"Boy?"

Peter gasped upon hearing a stranger's voice, spinning around with his dagger ready at hand. Behind him stood a man wearing a dark coat, spectacles upon his face. He took a step back as Peter drew his weapon, but peered curiously at his face and asked, "Why are you crying?"

Peter felt his face flare up, furious that he'd let a grown up see him. "I'm crying because I lost my Wendy – and I wasn't crying!" he snapped in indignation.

The man squinted at him, his dark eyes suddenly growing wide as if he recognized Peter from somewhere. "…you…you're name's Peter…isn't it?" His voice was full of hope, anxious for an answer.

"So what if I am?" Peter huffed, roughly wiping away a line of snot coming down his nose.

The man was in his mid-forties or so, bags showing under his black eyes. His brown hair was combed back neatly, not a hair out of place. "Well…you see, it sounds silly…but I've been looking for a boy named Peter…he went missing years ago…his parents are gone now, but…supposedly, he's Peter Pan…his mother died wishing she could see him again…" He paused, seeing Peter's face pale at his words. Leaning forward, he whispered, "…you are that boy…aren't you?"

Peter glared his green eyes at the man, causing the grown up to freeze as though he were under some spell. "That was many moons ago…who are you, anyways?"

"My name is David," he said, offering the boy his hand. Peter stared at it, not daring to touch it. He sighed, shoving his hand back into his pocket. "Well…I just came to pay my respects to your mother and brother."

"Mother? Brother?" Peter echoed, blinking in disbelief.

"Yes…just down there," he said, pointing out a pair of lonely tombstones a few yards away. "Would you…join me? Just for a moment?"

Peter glanced from him to the distant tombstones, back down to Wendy's tomb. Placing his hand on Wendy's stone, he gave it a squeeze before flying off without the man. David ran after him, stopping a few feet away when Peter landed before the graves. One read "Agatha," the other "Paul."

"How did you know them?" Peter asked. Their deaths must've been ages ago – there was no way this man could've known them, if they were supposedly his mother and brother. He must be lying.

"Well, I…I didn't know them personally, but…my family was friends with your family…"

Peter rolled his eyes at this but said nothing. Definitely a lying grown up, this one. "Where's my father?"

"You're worried about him?" David asked anxiously from behind.

"He must be dead, too. Where's his tomb?" Peter clarified, ready to turn around and tell this grown up off.

That's when everything went wrong. He felt the man's hands come from behind, one of them pressing a cloth over his nose and mouth. Peter panicked, struggling in the man's grasp, but he found him too strong. There was also a foul smell coming from the cloth, making him dizzy and weak.