My Darling Girl *Disney fanfic*

37. Back to London

Like a man half in dream, Pan stumbled dazedly across the deck. Was she real? Everything else melted away – the fire, the fighting, the foul rage that had consumed him – all that mattered was the girl staring up at him. Her baby blue eyes were the same – large and searching. Pan's heart fluttered wildly, flying about his ribcage.

He sank onto his knees and reached out, cupping Wendy's face with his hand. Real. She felt real. Wendy flinched back from his caress - not wanting his touch. It was the rejection he'd anticipated. Pan's eyes filled with tears but he blinked them back, not wanting to stop looking at her.

"My darling girl," he crooned – his voice breaking. Wendy made to say something – but a coughing fit stopped her.

She hunched forward, hacking and spluttering weakly over her chest – bloody specks sprayed out over her ruined shirt. Pan's body went cold. He didn't look at Nibs – he just put out his arms. Obediently, Nibs handed Wendy over to him. Pan cradled Wendy against him. She tried to squirm out from his lap but Pan held onto her tightly. "Don't struggle," he urged – his voice achingly tender.

"Captain!" Scuttle exclaimed. Wendy turned her head – craning her neck so that she could see Scuttle leaning over Hook. "Captain?!"

Hook's crew formed a protective ring around him and Scuttle. They were panting for breath – their swords wet with blood and their tense gazes fixed on the Lost Boys. Flit swallowed nervously. The Lost Boys all looked like children – some too tiny to be even school age. They stared sullenly across at the pirates – their childish faces scarred – some with burns, others from branding's or knife wounds. Their eyes were sunken – older than their years.

This was the cursed crew of Peter Pan. And Flit thought that he understood now, why they were called 'lost'. These stolen children who had once had parents, who had once had mothers and fathers looking for them were now, years on, still waiting to be found. Though their parents were long since dead and buried. "You need to wake up now, captain." Scuttle pleaded.

A tear fell down Wendy's cheek. Was Hook dead? Her heart spasmed painfully. Still, if he was – they might be reunited soon.

"I'm dying." Her voice was rough. Pan held her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"No," his dark eyes were burning with intensity. "I will never let you die."

The Lost Boys looked uncertain. Should they resume fighting? Hook's crew stared across at them – swords brandished as they waited for Hook to wake. The tension was stretching all their nerves and meanwhile – the sails blazed, the fire snarling like a beast as it climbed towards the crow's nest. Nibs raised his hand – signalling for the Lost Boys to wait. Wendy's blood had soaked his shirt and caused the material to cling to his skin. He pulled it away from his neck, his hands trembling. How could Wendy be dying?

"What happened? Who did this to you?" Pan asked, stroking Wendy's face.

"Tinkerbell... poisoned me..."

Pan frowned. Tinkerbell? His hand froze on Wendy's face.

"She poisoned you?"

Wendy nodded. More blood leaked from her mouth, trailing its way down her jaw and into her hair.

"What is it, father? What's she been given?"

Pan peered into Wendy's eyes. Her baby blue irises were ringed by silver – just as he'd feared.