Caged • Robbie Kay/Peter Pan •

Chapter Eight

"Put him on the table."

Groans and incoherent mutters fell from Peter's cracking dry lips and deep plum colored circles surrounded his eyes.

We had arrived in Neverland without another from Peter and he was carried from the water, through the woods and Caspar and Owen placed him on the dining table.

"Can't we take him to his bed?" I asked Nolan fretfully, who had been watching him carefully since the incident.

"We aren't allowed in his room."

"For heaven's sake! He's dying!" the desperate shout came unexpectedly from my mouth and silenced the boys.

Their stares held tightly to me as I looked between their faces. "I will take the blame when he wakes up."

Caspar sighed in defeat and looked the other boys as if asking for approval. "Let's move him."

Once more, they lifted Peter and carried him through the patched curtains, and into the forbidden dorm of Peter Pan.

I followed close behind them, glancing quickly at my surroundings but my eyes never lingering on one object.

Quickly, Peter was lain on his bed which was larger than mine and seemingly more comfortable. Smooth pillows rested at the head of the bed and a thick blue blanket covered the mattress.

"His fever is worse." Nolan concluded, feeling Peter's forehead with the back of his hand. He then untied Peter's cloak and unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off his arms with some difficulty.

Peter's ravaged body lie quivering and pale, the veins in his wrists and neck more apparent with color and his hair dark and strung to his head with sweat. He was truly pitiful. Intimidating and brooding Peter was helpless with sickly, humbled before those he shamed, something I never thought I'd see.

"I'll make a tea to flush the poison out of him. Meadow, can you stay with him?" Nolan's words interrupted my lengthy daze.

"Hm?" I mumbled.

"Stay with him?"

I nodded and both of boys left me alone with my thoughts and a very frightened looking Peter.

I dragged a chair to his bedside and sat next to him, watching him for a few solid moments.

Though Peter was far from pleasant and hadn't treated me welcomingly since I had I arrived in Neverland, I still felt the need to care for him. Of course, I would have done the same to anyone.

Afterall, I had created this mess, though I was certain I had stayed clear from the dark stemmed Shadowleaf plants. The whole situation seemed questionable and unrealistic, but how else would he have been poisoned?

The unanswerable questions screamed in my head, contrasting with the silence that had captured the room.

"It doesn't make sense, Peter." I muttered, though I know he would not hear me.

My eyes trailed down his body, but guilt clutched tightly to me and I was forced to look away.

A small nightstand was set next to the bed and a large dresser with a cracked mirror stood in the corner farthest from the bed.

I stood up carefully and sauntered over to the dresser, being certain Peter was asleep.

Seeing my reflection made me gasp. Deep bags hung under my eyes and a thin layer of dirt formed in splotches on my skin. My hair was in tangled knots that cascaded over my shoulders and the only thing familiar to me, were my brown eyes.

I glanced down at the dresser top and noticed a few things that it's surface, dust covered and hauntingly nostalgic.

The mermaid's scale Nolan had talked about was one of the first things I noticed, along with a small key. The key to Hope's chest, I assumed. A folded piece of tattered parchment seemed to be dustier than the rest of the items and curiosity stuck me like the point of a needle.

It was none of my concern what words were etched inside, nor whom it was from or for, but my mind raged wondrously. Maybe whatever was locked inside its folds would help be better understand Peter, but I refrained picking it up and reading it.

What caught my eye was a rose, it's colors mellow and dull, looking as though a single glance would break it's delicate stem.

For her that gives me breath, yet takes it away with a simple glance

A small label rested underneath the rose with ink words written carefully and without flaw.

My heart broke as I reread the words over and over, enveloping the thought of Peter once writing these words.

I glanced behind me at the sleeping boy, his body frail and his expression full of desperation and an apparent hunger for relief.

It was then that I realized why Peter was so bitter and cross.

Peter Pan was heartbroken.

•••

A/N

Really short chapter but I'm so tired and it's so late. I kind of am curious to see what will happen next!

I actually have a song I listen to while writing and this time it was I Remember Well by Fernando Ortega. I think it really captures Meadows feelings for this chapter.

Please check that out and listen while you read!

Thanks!!

Love love love