Work Text:
**1**
When she first arrives in Neverland, Wendy feels her sorrow slowly seeping away, replaced by wonder and incredulity. She steps foot on the islands soil and she is awestruck because, one, she’s never seen the sea or a jungle before, never been out of London really, and two, there is a fairy staring right at her.
She approaches it slowly, not wanting to scare it away, while at the same time not entirely sure if it was safe to go near. Peter watches from the side, not even bothering to hide his amused smirk as she reaches out before quickly retracting her hand in fright. It is only when he tells her that it is safe that she allows her hand to linger near the fairy, and her giggles fill the air when the small creature uses both of its hands to shake her pinky finger.
For Peter, who has been deprived of human company on the island for so long, the sound of her laughter helps make Neverland feel more like home than it has ever felt before. It feels as if she was what the island was missing this whole time, and now everything is perfect.
Soon, it seems her sacrifice is worth it. She has always been adventurous, though her father had tried numerous times to stamp it down, and now she is free to live her life the way she wants to. Now, she is in another world, another realm, and Peter has promised her all the adventures she could ever want. She misses her family, yes, but she is too distracted by the new wonders of this world that she tries not to dwell on such things.
Peter waves his hand and builds her a treehouse right next to his Thinking Tree. His room, he explains, is directly under it, but ladies shouldn’t sleep on the ground and so he controls the vines and the bark to grow for her. She is no lady, but she is pleased nonetheless. She has a little piece of the island to call her own, and she cannot deny that a tiny part of her is glad she is the only girl Peter has brought there.
After she has finally soaked in enough of her new quarters, filled with little treasures he had brought back from his travels in the other worlds, he offers her a grand tour and she takes hold of his arm in excitement. She doesn’t see his eyes grow wide at the contact, doesn’t feel him shiver. She is much too absorbed in her surroundings, her eyes darting from left to right, trying to soak it all in.
They start with Mermaid Lagoon, where she learns that the half woman-half fish creatures aren’t as sweet as she was led to believe. According to Peter, they’re more likely to drown her than be her friend. Still, she watches them from afar and can’t help but gape at their beauty, while next to her, Peter stares at her. He will not say it, not yet anyway, but for him she is more beautiful then all of the mermaids in the lagoon put together.
Next, he takes her flying, and her laughter is carried off by the wind as he holds her close to him in the air. They land on top of a hill overlooking the sea, and she gets her first look at the Jolly Roger. When she tells him she has always dreamt of being a pirate, of calling herself Red Handed Jill, he rolls his eyes at her.
In irritation, she asks if he doesn’t think her fierce enough to be a pirate. She feels herself blush when he laughs and tells her she’s too fierce to be a pirate, as everyone knows that pirates are really cowards.
Her affections for the boy grow more with every word.
The light starts to dim, the horizon shines with shades of pink and orange signalling the end of the day, and soon a blanket of stars fill the sky. Wendy yawns, feeling her exhaustion seep into her bones, but Peter tells her the day is not yet over and they have one more thing to see before he can bring her to her treehouse.
He takes her on foot through the jungle, pointing out things that he thinks she’d like to see along the way. Even her fatigue cannot bring her spirits down, and she does her best to take everything in despite the lack of light.
They stop before a large tree, one so huge that standing under the canopy of its leaves blocks out the sky entirely. Wendy is about to say something, but Peter puts his finger on her lips, signalling her to keep quiet.
She tries to hide her shiver as his touch makes her lips tingle. He does not notice however, for he is too busy looking into the hollow of the tree. She crouches down next to him, trying to get a look for herself. Her eyes widen and her hands jump to cover her mouth and keep her shocked gasp in.
Faeries! Not just one, but loads of them! All dancing inside the hollow of the tree!
The glow of their light shines on her face, and she does not notice that Peter is looking at her instead of the scene before her. When she turns to look at him, to ask what the faeries are doing in the hollow, she stills.
They spend a few seconds just looking at each other, a hint of a smirk on the corner of his mouth, and her lips still parted in awe from seeing the faeries.
Slowly, as not to startle the faeries, he offers her his hand and she takes it. He helps her up and pulls her close, his other hand going around her waist, and the act feels so natural and so right that she doesn’t even have it in her to be surprised. She is too caught up looking at his eyes that it takes a while before she realises they are no longer on the ground. Instinct makes her push forward more into his arms, and he welcomes it with a laugh. The hand holding hers adjusts its hold on her and then she gets it.
They are dancing. They are dancing in midair like the faeries from inside the hollow!
She grins at him, her smile so wide and bright he tells her he thinks she might be a faerie herself. They dance a bit more, ears straining to hear the soft music coming from the hollow, before he lowers their feet to the ground and steps away with a little bow. She offers him a curtsey, laughing as she does so until a yawn interrupts.
He finally brings her to her new treehouse, and stands watch as she climbs up the ladder. He does not leave until she pops her head out of the window to wave goodbye, and even then he waits until he is sure she is safe in her bed.
They both fall asleep with smiles on their faces.
**2**
The first time he takes her with him on a job, they go to a town he calls Hamelin in order to help them with a situation they were facing.
“Just a small rodent problem, that’s all,” Peter says as he takes her hand and flies them both away from Never Neverland.
Somehow, though they came from the sky, they emerge from a portal through a mountainside. Side by side, Peter and Wendy walk down the pathway towards the entrance of the town. Peter, cloaked in his dazzling red and gold cloak, and Wendy, in her white as snow nightgown, make for quite a sight, and she isn’t surprised when a few of the towns folk stop what they’re doing and stare as they walk through the streets.
The problem is simple. There’s been an infestation of rats in their town and they want them all gone, every single disease ridden rodent. The town’s mayor doesn’t care if Peter chooses to trap them or kill them, he just wants them gone.
This is nothing for Peter, and it’s an assignment that shouldn’t take more than a day. Wendy watches from the side (safe and sound inside four walls, far away from the creatures that make her shiver in disgust), as Peter plays his pipes and gets the rats to follow him.
The rats move slowly, their bodies almost swaying as they follow the piper down the street. They are hypnotized by the music, a soft lilting tune that puts most of the townspeople to bed, dragging them away from where they had their faces pressed up against the windows of their homes.
When all of the rats have followed Peter out of the Town gates, Wendy steps outside of the place where she had taken refuge, and follows them through the woods and near the banks of the river.
One by one the rats, led by the music of the pipes, walk over the edge and fall prey to the strong currents of the river. They all drown and Peter finally lowers his pipes, a smug smile evident on his face.
Success.
Everything should have gone smoothly after that. Usually Peter does his task, gets paid in whatever he requests, and goes his own way. He does not need payment, not really, but everything has its price, and a price must always be paid.
Too bad the citizens of Hamelin care not for the rules.
The mayor, a greedy, balding man who smells like spoilt milk, refuses to handover the promised payment to Peter. He says that he had seen a rat remain behind, and so their agreement was null and void.
Really, the excuses people come up with not to part with their precious belongings.
Peter doesn’t like this though. Wendy can see his fury in the set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders. To the mayor though, he reveals nothing of his rage and gives him only a smirk.
“I’ll be back.” He promises, and his tone makes the mayor shudder in fear.
They spend the rest of the night and the next day in the woods near the border of the town. Wendy tries to ask him what he’s planning on doing, but he refuses to answer her.
It is only when the sun sets the next day that he takes back his cloak from her (she had been using it to keep warm), and with her hand in his, heads back into the town.
They stop at the gates, and he starts to play his pipes once again. Wendy does not realise what he’s doing until she sees the first of them.
The first few children.
Rage fills her and she turns to him quickly and grabs the sleeve of his shirt, attempting to make him stop.
“You promised me! You promised you wouldn’t take anyone else away from their mothers!” she hisses at him.
He does not stop, and does not seem to be affected by her constant tugging at his clothing. He only stops when no more children emerge from the streets of the town, when all the children stand before him in their nightgowns. The stares of the children are hollow, and it’s as if they’re staring right through the two of them.
When the mayor and several of the other citizens come rushing to the children, their shouts filling the air, Peter lowers the pipes and gives Wendy a smirk.
“Trust me,” he says, then he turns to the adults.
And God help her but trust him she did.
He tells them that the children would have the same fate as the rats did if they do not agree to pay him what they owe him. Wendy’s gasp joins the cries and pleas of the parents before them. She does not believe that her Peter could do such a thing, but a small part of her now fears for the children.
It does not take long for two of the mayor’s assistants to rush towards Peter, a small trunk carried between them.
They set it down at Peter’s feet and step back cautiously. He kicks the trunk open and Wendy finally gets a glimpse at the payment.
Fabric. That’s all there is. Just a few rolls of fabric in rich hues of gold, red and blue.
Wendy is seething inside because this, all of this, is for scraps of fabric? Peter was playing with the lives of children for fabric?
But then she remembers one of the first lessons he taught her. Everything comes with a price and the price must always be paid.
Peter nods in satisfaction, waves his cloak, and the trunk is no more, transported somehow to Neverland. A few blows into his pipes sends out an unheard signal that makes the children instantly wake up, groggy and confused as to how they all got to the entrance of the town while they were sleeping.
In the commotion of parents screaming out their children’s name, Peter takes Wendy’s hand and they walk away towards the portal from whence they arrived. They are almost there when Peter stops and takes Wendy into his hands. He looks at her with a serious expression on his face, one she hasn’t seen much of.
“I wouldn’t have done it you know,” He tells her. “I wouldn’t have drowned the children.”
A pause. Then the serious expression is gone and a mischievous smirk is in its place. “But they didn’t know that.”
He deserves it, really he does. He deserves to have her fist fly straight into his face, causing him to stumble backwards and nearly fall to ground.
He gives a loud ow, and rubs at his cheek, his face twisted in annoyance. She knows a bruise will appear there soon, but right now she’s too irritated at him to care. Okay, perhaps she feels a twinge of regret. But then his expression changes and he starts laughing at her, his hand still cupping his cheek.
“Had that coming, didn’t I?” his grin is playful and he laughs again despite the pain he undoubtedly feels.
“Yes.” she says primly. She doesn’t spare him another glance, and stomps off towards the portal knowing that he will follow after her.
It is only later that she discovers that the payment, the gorgeous rolls of fabric, was chosen especially for her. She finds out when she opens the package strategically placed at the foot of her bed and pulls out a bright blue day dress, as well as a red and gold cloak of her own.
He gets a kiss on the cheek as a thank you and he doesn’t stop grinning for days.
**3**
The first time Wendy plays the pipes, it irritates her. They are sitting on a log near the bonfire near their trees and he is playing a soothing, calm tune to relax them after a hard day at play. They had been busy trying looking for lost treasure to trick the pirates with and had only stopped to rest hours after the sun was long gone from the sky.
She listens to him play before she becomes a bit restless, and finally asks what she has been dying to ask for a while now. Will he ever teach her how to play?
Unexpectedly, he scoots closer to her and hands her the pipes. She is shocked. She never expected him to give her his precious magic instrument so easily, but she takes it from his grip anyway and hides her pleased grin behind it.
She brings it up and blows, her lips not touching the flutes, but pushing together near openings and releasing a wave of breath much too strong to get a proper note from them.
She frowns when she hears nothing, and tries again to no avail. Perhaps it doesn’t work for anyone else but Peter? Maybe she couldn’t use it because she was a mere mortal?
She hears him laugh softly before moving closer to her. He takes the pipes from her hands, tells her to watch, and brings them to his lips. She watches as his lips softly touch the ridges of the pipes, she watches his chest rise as he inhales, and falls as he slowly blows. A sweet note rings through the air, still floating even when he pulls the pipes away. He gives it back to her, but takes her hand in his and brings it to his mouth, not quite touching the skin with his lips, but close enough for her to feel his breath.
He brings his lips together and blows softly on her skin, trying to show her just how much air to release into the pipes. He does it several times because she was distracted the first time, and she needs him to repeat the action for her to get the feel of it. It feels too intimate an act and yet she does not mind. With him, it’s as if the strict rules of propriety drilled into her since she was a baby do not exist anymore.
She lifts the pipes and attempts to play again, all while trying not to think about the fact that her lips are now touching where his lips have been. She blows softly and slowly, trying to imitate the way he blew onto her hand, and several attempts later, is delighted when a small note is played.
She bounces on the log, too giddy to stay still, and delights in the proud look Peter sends her way.
“You’ll be a piper in no time,” he tells her as she repeats her earlier actions and plays more small notes.
The notes do not make sense, there is no music and there is no magic, but every sound she produces from the pipes feels like victory to her.
Peter was right when he told her she’d master the pipes quickly.
Soon, she is just as skilled as the boy who taught her, and soon the pipes answer to two masters.
**4**
The air is still on Bloomsbury street. On the roof of one of the houses, a figure silently creeps. It seems to almost float, but it is hidden from view, surrounded by white fabric and heavy mist.
Wendy misses her family. She knows she hasn’t been gone long in her old world, though it has felt like decades for her. She has had time to heal the ache inside her, though it flares up every now and then when she recalls memories of their days together. But she knows they still grieve. She can feel it in her bones. Sometimes she wakes to the ghost of their cries, echoing through their dreams, straining to be heard by her.
She cannot ease their pain by going back. She cannot go back, she has been gone for far too long to even fathom going back. Her home now is Neverland, with her Peter by her side. And she cannot give up what she has. She knows her former home will never be enough for her now, not with everything she has seen and done in all the worlds.
But she can do something else. She can help heal the crack in their hearts, and she can make them forget all about their pain, all about her.
She has spent many a night practicing, sometimes under the tutelage of Peter, sometimes by herself when he has no need for the powerful instrument. Now, she is finally ready to play the pipes and make them work for her, make the music bend for her, make her family dance to her tune.
She tiptoes, jumps, and leaps, until she reaches the window right outside her former living room. She does not need to do so, as she has the mist to keep her hidden from sight, but the adrenaline in her is hard to resist, and so she listens to it and allows herself to be free.
She peeps through the glass to take a look, careful not to show herself to the inhabitants of the house. As expected, her parents are seated by the fire, John and Michael at their feet. Before, she would have been there too, as it is a Sunday night and those were always family nights at the Darling household, filled with games and laughter. Now, she watches as her mother quietly does her sewing and her father drinks his brandy and stares into the flames. John is reading from a book while Michael plays quietly with his teddy bear.
Her breath catches in her throat and she resists the urge to cry right then and there.
No, she cannot give in to weakness. She came for a purpose and so she will fulfill it.
She clutches the pipes, hanging from her neck in a thin string, and brings it up. Heart and soul is poured into each breath she release, and soon a sorrowful melody finds its way through the crack between the windows and into the hearts of each and every Darling. They all stop what they’re doing, all instantly enraptured by the music. The family starts weeping, and even George finds the need to reach for his handkerchief and wipe away a tear or two.
Wendy keeps the music going, doing her best to draw the sorrow out of them. Though it hurts her to watch her family cry, she does not stop.
When it feels as though the family has no more tears to shed, the tone of the music changes, growing stronger and wilder. No longer is the melody melancholic, but it turns upbeat and almost joyful.
Smiles start blooming on the faces of the Darlings, and giggles force themselves out of Mary’s mouth. They all jump out of their seats, and start moving to the music. Mary has little Michael in her arms, and she sways her hips in the graceful manner that all women seem to acquire when they become mothers. George shuffles his feet and moves his shoulders up and down, while John starts bouncing on his toes.
Wendy smiles against the ridges of the pipes and lowers them, allowing them to hang once more from her neck.
She did it. She has managed to draw the sadness away and replace it with joy. Now and then they will feel a pang of sadness for a girl they no longer remember, but at least now they could go on with their lives without the shadow of a lost daughter hanging around them.
She sighs as she finds her way to the street in front of her former home, her shoulders drooping with exhaustion. It took too much energy, both physically and emotionally, to do what she just did, and all she wants now is to crawl into her bed in her cozy little treehouse.
She sees him when she reaches the corner of the street, a flash of red, gold and white leaning against a tree. He is waiting for her, she knows, and she picks up the pace in order to reach him sooner.
He welcomes her into his arms when she is close enough, and embraces her tightly, allowing her to lean heavily on him and bury her face in his chest.
“Let’s go home,” he says, before kissing her forehead. She nods, but waits for a few more minutes before stepping back and looking at him.
Peter gently touches her cheek with the back of his fingers and she gives him a small smile in return. She grabs his hand, squeezes it tight, and waits for the familiar sensation of flight.
She is ready to go home.
**5**
She senses him before she sees him. Perhaps the pipes had made her just as magical as Peter is. Perhaps Neverland has accepted her as one of its own now, and has laced her bones with its magical mist. Whatever the source, she is so different from the girl she once was. And now she can feel things she had never felt before.
She feels lost, she feels unloved, she feels alone.
But no, these are not her feelings, but the feelings of someone close to her.
She grips Peter’s hand tight in hers and leads him, following the tug on her heartstrings until she finds a boy sleeping on a park bench. Her heart aches, both from the pain he feels, and from the melancholy that fills her upon seeing him.
Peter nudges the boy with the toe of his boot, stopping only when Wendy sends him a pointed glare. She reaches down and gently shakes him awake.
When he wakes up, she looks into the gentlest pair of brown eyes she has ever seen in her life. She immediately knows that this boy is special, and she will do her best to help him.
She looks at Peter, holds out her hand, and looks at him expectantly. He rolls his eyes before reaching into his cloak, one matching the cloak she is currently wearing, and pulling out his pipes. He isn’t like her, isn’t much of a bleeding heart, but she loves how he goes along with her plans simply to appease her.
She thanks him with a smile, then returns her gaze to the boy. By now he has sat up, and is looking at the both of them with a confused expression.
She uses the pipes, blows a soothing melody that wraps itself around her soul, and both Peter and the boy follow.
She has a plan in mind, and she just knows that it will work.
Because somewhere out there is a family missing a child, a family with extra love in their heart to give to a lost boy.
They stop outside a familiar door. Wendy tells the boy to stand in front of the door, knocks three times, then takes Peter to the side where they are both out of sight. She is playing the pipes before the door even opens, and she knows her plan has worked when Mary Darling holds out her arms and welcomes the boy into her embrace. Now, the boy has a family, and her family has someone to help heal their hearts. She knows they will not make any problems or ask any questions. The power of the pipes is just that strong.
As they leave, the mist hiding them from the eyes of her family and anyone else who might be looking their way, she hears Mary ask the boy for his name.
“My name is Bae. Baelfire.”
They walk to the edge of the village, hand in hand, ready to go home. Before they reach the edge, Wendy stops, her pull on Peter’s hand making him look at her in question.
“There are others like him, you know. Boys with no family, no love in their hearts, and no place to go.” She says.
“What do you want to do about it?” His face tells her that he already has an inkling of what’s going on in her mind, but he asks her nonetheless. She knows that no matter her decision, whether he likes it or not, he will go through with what she wants. He cares for her too much to say no to her, and she makes sure to use this advantage over him any chance she gets.
“Neverland has been quiet for far too long, I think.”
She smiles while Peter groans.
After that day, Neverland is quiet no more, as the laughter of the children who were once lost (but lost no more) join the sweet notes of the pipes. The island is open to children who have nowhere to go, and Wendy and Peter make sure they’re safe and sound.