Chapter 15 – Sarah and Liam
She slept, and sometimes she dreamed. Oftentimes her dreams were peaceful and happy, memories of good times gone by or fantastical imaginings her mind spun. But from time to time the dreams turned ugly and mean as darker memories came forward or her imagination voiced its terrors. She’d whimper as they encroached upon her, her injured mind and exhausted nerves screaming Please, no more!
And every time, the nightmare was deflected. A voice would call to her from the darkness, telling her that she was safe, affirming to her that she was loved. Sometimes it was a woman that called her and she’d rush to the presence, seeking comfort. The woman would enfold her in her warm embrace and sing to her, calming her with loving caresses. The girl would sink into the motherly comfort and security and let sweet oblivion take her.
Other times it was a man’s voice that came to her, and the first time he called the sound had driven her into worse nightmares – memories of how he’d hurt her. She’d tried to flee, but he’d caught her up in his arms and held her gently but firmly. He’d murmured soft words of comfort, and when the memories faded, she realized that he was crying with her. “I love you and I’m sorry,” he said over and over again.
“Why?” she’d sobbed, her cry filled with desolation.
“Rest, child, just rest,” he’d answered. “Rest now and when you are ready, I will tell you everything.”
Exhaustion took her and she’d let herself relax into his embrace. She’d listened wistfully as he told her a story, a story that was the memory of a time when he’d taken her to ride the unicorns. It had been just the two of them, away from the stiff formality and ceremony of the court… just her and her godfather. It was one of the happiest memories she had. The sadness and fear melted as his voice sent her on to better dreams. Afterwards, every time he called to her his voice evoked the joy of that memory within her and she came to him eagerly – forgetting the nightmares as she listened to him tell her stories until better dreams enveloped her.
But sometimes she surged towards awareness and opened her eyes, awakening to reality and with it the pain and despair. Being awake was confusion, the images her eyes saw were distortions of color and shape. Voices spoke to her (she never awoke to find herself alone) and they called to her softly, asking her if she was in pain, was she thirsty, and please try to stay awake. Sometimes she answered when she understood, and every time she awakened she understood things a little better. Often, cold liquid would fill her mouth and she would swallow it greedily before the darkness came again. Other times she’d awaken to wet cloths on her head or throat. But she was tired and hurt, and despite their demands that she remain awake, she welcomed the darkness and the loving presences that were always with her there.
“There she goes again,” Starkey observed as Peter’s eyes slid shut. He put aside the small cup of broth and turned to look at Hook. “I got most of the cup in her this time, sir. She’s staying awake longer now, but it’s like she isn’t even trying to remain conscious.”
“How often is she awake?” Hook asked as he took the chair Starkey vacated.
“Twice my shift, the longest period being about fifteen minutes. She mumbled some during Mason’s shift but didn’t open her eyes,” Starkey reported as he gathered the things he’d brought to the room. “It’s been two days, Captain. Do you think the girl will recover?”
“She’ll recover,” Hook answered, touching her cheek lightly. Her color was back and her respiration more normal than the last time he’d sat with her. “Peter Pan never gives up, and it’ll take more than a bump on the head to stop her. She’s just been through too much trauma lately and now she’s resting.”
“I agree that a bump wouldn’t stop her,” Starkey mused, “but what of that collar? Jukes said it was killing her.”
“Her wretched excuses for godparents won’t let her die – not yet. They still need her to hold this accursed island together. I wager we’ll see that pixie monarch again before she dies, and I think they’ll do what they can to keep her alive.”
“Well, that’s good then,” Starkey replied, “but Oberon’s record speaks against him. Twice he’s been aboard and twice he’s nearly killed her. They say that the third time’s the charm.” With that final observation, Starkey took his leave and returned to his other duties.
They’d better see to it she lives. They promised her to me. It alarmed him how much the idea of keeping her appealed to him, but he couldn’t deny his desire. To control what was uncontrollable, to tame what was wild, to keep that which had always eluded him… to dominate an enemy that refused to surrender – it was this promise that tantalized him and had stilled his need to end her life. And with that all-consuming hatred somewhat subdued, Hook had finally been able to look at Peter Pan and realized that she was frighteningly human after all.
Hook watched Peter sleep, strange emotions stirring in his heart. She was so fragile seeming, lying there defenseless. Once he would have been delighted at seeing Pan like this: hurt, alone and helpless. He’d have put her out of her misery quick enough, and deep down a part of him still wanted to do just that. But now he also felt an awful swell of pity for her.
“Peter Pan, who and what art thou?” he whispered as he stroked her cheek with one finger. Peter stirred at his voice, turning her face towards the gentle contact. Her eyes fluttered open, fixing upon him for a moment before closing again. She gave him a small smile.
“Cap’n,” she breathed.
“Yes, Pan,” he answered, continuing to caress her cheek. “Can you stay awake for a little while? I have some water, if you want it.”
“No,” she groaned. Her hands came up, clasping his hand between them as she rolled onto her side to face him. The result was that she lay with her cheek pillowed upon their three hands. “Tell me a story,” she demanded softly.
Hook blinked, caught off-guard by that strange request. He felt trapped with his hand caught between her own two small ones, even though she was so weak he could have easily pulled it free. “A story?” he repeated dumbly, casting his mind about in an effort to come up with something suitable. But then he realized that it didn’t matter. She was going to go back to sleep soon anyway, and likely she just wanted a voice to reassure here that she wasn’t alone. “Have you ever heard ‘The Taming of the Shrew’?”
“No,” she mumbled, already slipping away.
“I think it’s frighteningly appropriate, considering that I intend to tame you. Perhaps the two of us will learn something from Petruchio and Katharine.” Smiling at his own wit, Hook began to tell the story, reciting the actual lines where he remembered them. After only a few minutes he realized that Peter was asleep. Carefully, Hook disentangled his hand from her lax grip and sat back into a more comfortable position, but he continued to speak to her, entertaining himself with a play he hadn’t thought about for years.
Oberon sat quietly in his chair, watching his Queen as she comforted their god-daughter. She was seated in an overstuffed rocking chair, cradling a large, multi-hued crystal in her arms. She crooned to it softly, rocking back and forth as if it were an infant. Occasionally she would caress an invisible forehead, then bend down to kiss the girl that was only there in her mind. That stone was the only magical link left to Peter; all others were being blocked by the collar. The seeing-stone was how they’d dug into her mind before and how Gloriana had communicated with her when she’d tried to defy her exile. It monitored the girl at all times, alerting the king and queen when she was distressed or in pain. And it relayed back to Peter their words and gestures, letting them interact with her as well as observe.
Finally the fairy queen sighed and the stone darkened, indicating that the contact was done and that Peter was at peace. She looked up with tired eyes and smiled at her husband. “For a pirate, James Hook can be extraordinarily maternal at times.”
“That’s probably the most insane thing I’ve ever heard,” Oberon replied with a snort.
Gloriana chuckled. “Peter was awake for a short while with that Starkey fellow, the one whose sword you destroyed. She woke again not long after that, and was coherent enough to recognize and speak to Hook.”
Oberon closed his eyes, relief rushing though him. “Then she’ll pull through?” He kept seeing her in his memory, picturing the blood trickling from her lips and her torn throat. He’d hurt her, he hadn’t intended to but he had, and he’d been terrified that he’d done her permanent harm. He kept forgetting that humans were so fragile.
“I think so, and so do the pirates. Hook was telling her a story to help her sleep, and she tried to have another nightmare. I helped keep her focused on his words long enough for her to find a better dream.”
The king felt a surge of jealousy flare up, and it was with considerable effort that he quelled it. I tell better stories and I tell them in love! When we get her off that ship, I’ll make sure she forgets that Hook ever existed. “How long should we give her, love?”
“I think she’s nearly ready. She’s coherent now and asking questions, so she’ll be able to understand why we do what we do. Her nightmares are less frequent, too, so there’s less chance of a terror taking her. Speak with her, and if she can respond to your satisfaction, then explain to her why she cannot remain our Pan.”
Oberon nodded and went to his wife, helping her to stand. “It’s my turn to watch over Peter. You should go see to the boys and Wendy, and then get some rest.”
“How is Nibs?” Gloriana asked as she placed the stone in Oberon’s arms.
“Sleeping it off. He never Saw anything at all, so he’s failed the test. Slightly will go next, and I’m sure he’ll fail too. My greatest hope is that Curly or Michael will be worthy – especially Michael. His dreams are often precognitive, and if he has natural Sight as I believe he does, then he is most likely to become our new Pan.”
“Wendy needs more time with him first. Letting the boys see Billy suffer has made them afraid of us. We’ll continue to rule out the older boys, and the younger ones will calm when they see that we won’t hurt them.”
Further conversation was interrupted by the chime of a soft bell. Oberon set the crystal aside and stood beside his queen, taking a moment to restore his royal bearing. “Enter,” he called, his voice suggesting boredom and annoyance.
A plump, green-haired pixie woman entered the chamber, dropping into a deep curtsey to the monarchs. “Majesties,” she announced, “Tinker Bell is awake and stable now, and has consented to speak with you. Her bond with the Pan is dead, so you can now question her without fear that it will force her to lie for Peter Pan.”
“Is she well, healer?” Gloriana asked, knowing that severing her from Peter had been a traumatic experience for the pixie-girl.
“She is stable, but I doubt that she will ever be well or whole again. She’s started speaking again and she no longer asks for death, but she is melancholy and refuses to eat.”
Oberon nodded at the healer. “If she was innocent and only did what she did because her bond forced her, then she will be cared for until the new Pan is found. She’ll be bound to him and she’ll be whole again. But if she knew the truth before she was bonded to Peter, then she is a traitor and will be put out of her misery.” The king could barely control his anger when he remembered the sloppy, dangerous layers of magic that had turned his god-child’s mind into a sieve. His anger had increased tenfold when he’d discovered the same mess of spells in all of the children’s minds. Determined to learn the truth of why the pixie had done something so heinous, he’d broken the bond that should have joined her to Peter for life.
Gloriana dismissed the healer and glared at Oberon when they were alone once more. “It will be best if I speak with Tinker Bell. If you become angry, you’ll do something harsh and hateful, and likely shatter the poor girl. She’s in too delicate a state right now to withstand you.”
“I agree, Glory,” Oberon said flatly. “If she betrayed us, then I will not coddle her. And I will show her no pity if this mess is a result of her treachery.”
“It’s best that we speak to her after Peter recovers, then. I won’t have you hurting Peter again if Tink only acted as she did because of her loyalty to her Pan.”
“I won’t hurt our child…”
“You have and you will!” Gloriana interrupted angrily. “You killed her on the suspicion that she had betrayed us. What will you do if Tinker Bell confirms it?”
Oberon stood silent, troubled by Gloriana’s blunt assessment of his volatile temper. The woman left without another word, going to see to the children. A long time passed in which he stood in silence, contemplating his wife’s question, until he felt a tingling in his mind. He turned to see the seeing-stone was shimmering an angry red.
“Peter,” he whispered, going to the stone and quickly settling into the chair with it cradled in his arms. He looked into the stone, letting his thoughts find Peter’s, and saw that another nightmare was taking hold of her. That collar is amplifying her fears, but it’s too late to take it off. Finding yet another regret in how he’d dealt with his god-daughter, he concentrated on her dream.
She was being chased by a man, the one she called ‘Uncle’, and though she didn’t realize it (being too terrorized to stop fleeing and look), she had given the monster of a man her god-father’s face. I won’t hurt you again, no matter what! he thought as he began to call her, sending her soothing words and memories. In the deepest parts of his heart, he offered a fervent prayer to the deities of his kind that Tinker Bell would tell them something that would allow him to keep his child instead of giving her to the pirate captain.
Peter drifted in contentment, feeling warm and secure in her godfather’s embrace. It was like it was before her world had been turned upside down – when she had been loved by her godparents and knew that they would never harm her. Oberon had just finished telling her another story and now the two of them were embraced in silence.
“Can it all just be a bad dream?” Peter asked at last, not wanting this feeling to ever end. “Can I just wake up and be home and a boy, and you and Gloriana still love me and none of this ever happened? Please?”
Oberon’s heart ached at the pleading, desperate tone. Mingled with that ache was relief – this was the most she’d communicated with them in days and her coherency gave him hope. “We still love you Peter. We’ll love you whether you’re a boy or a girl… even if you changed into a troll we’d still love you.” What made this worse was the fact that he could have granted her request. It would have been difficult, but he could make everyone either forget or remain silent about her gender. He could remove the collar (albeit carefully, the collar was unstable and dangerous) and take her home, so that when she awoke it would be like this had never happened. Tinker Bell’s condition would be difficult to explain, but she could be re-bonded to Peter and, given some time, she would recover. “But we can’t undo what’s been done.”
There was the law to consider and the danger she posed as the Pan. Covering this up wouldn’t solve anything; they would still have to replace her, and the sooner it was done the safer it would be for Neverland. It was regrettable that this was going to be so much harder on Peter now than it would have been if she’d been older.
“Why don’t you want me anymore? Why did you hurt me?” There was no anger behind her words now, only deep sadness and hurt.
“I shouldn’t have hurt you, Peter. I was angry and I acted without thinking. And we do want you. We don’t like exiling you. You’ve been a wonderful Pan and we’d keep you always if we could. But we can’t.”
“Why not? Why aren’t I good enough?”
Oberon sighed and kissed her cheek. “I’ll tell you another story, and maybe you’ll understand why, and forgive us.”
“Please, tell me,” Peter asked, aching with her need to make sense out of her new world.
“You aren’t the first girl to be Pan,” Oberon began. “There was one other, long, long ago. There had been three Pans before her: Adam, Nicholas, and Duncan. We were still learning how unpredictable magic was when used by humans – how their minds could alter it, how the changes in their bodies as they grew could twist it. When Duncan grew older and wished to go to other lands, we found a new Pan in a pretty little girl named Sarah. Gloriana was ecstatic at having a god-daughter, and we spoiled the child rotten.” He smiled as he remembered, missing the girl terribly. It still hurt to remember her.
“Sarah Pan lived in Neverland for many years and we never had a reason to think anything was different about her. It wasn’t until she was grown up that we were nearly undone.
“You’ve been called the ‘Eternal Youth’ and it’s true to a point. So long as you sojourn in the fairy realm, you will never grow old. But even here in Neverland you can still grow up. Most Pans pass through puberty in Neverland, and it’s shortly after that that they grow restless and seek to leave this cradle of an island. But not Sarah. She grew into a beautiful young woman, but she was content to remain here with us.
“‘Fine,’ we thought, ‘all the better for her to stay.’ We loved her dearly and Neverland was none the worse for having an adult Pan. She still dreamed and believed, and that was all that mattered.
“But she fell in love with a young man, one of her childhood companions that had grown up in Neverland with her. She became pregnant and all of Neverland bloomed with excitement in anticipation of the coming baby.”
“Pregnant?” Peter echoed. “What’s that?”
Oberon showed her an image, one that illustrated how a baby grew in its mother’s womb before being born. He didn’t show her how it was conceived or how it was born, and mercifully Peter was too amazed to think of asking. Gloriana would be better suited to explain human procreation.
“But even in Neverland, sometimes bad things happen. We didn’t know something was wrong until it was too late. Aaron, Sarah’s husband, was killed in an accident. Sarah herself was also injured, but the worst damage to her was to her womb and the baby within it. She miscarried – that means that her baby died before it was born. And when the child inside her ceased, Neverland also began to cease.
“Once we knew to look, it became obvious to us what had happened. When Sarah became pregnant, her magic became a part of the baby. The more the child developed, the more the Gift became a part of it. Neverland itself became attached to the child and began to change… if born, the child would have become Neverland, the island just as much an extension of it as an arm or a leg. The gift would have belonged to it by birthright, to be passed down through the generations of Sarah’s child’s bloodline. It would have passed out of fairy control and our fates would rest solely on the continuation of those generations.
“When the unborn child died, the power of the Gift began to fail and Neverland started to die. Sarah was devastated by the loss of both her husband and child, and was seriously injured and weak from the miscarriage. But she was able to reclaim the Gift and used its power to re-bond herself to Neverland. But neither she nor the island recovered. When we found a new Pan, she passed the Gift on without a word. Neverland was reborn under David Pan, and Sarah, her duty fulfilled, passed away.”
“Why did she die?” Peter asked, feeling awful for the poor, tragic girl.
“She missed her husband and her child, so she killed herself to rejoin them,” Oberon whispered, a wave of grief for his long-lost god-daughter overwhelming him. Peter likewise remained silent, thinking about the story.
“We swore it would never happen again,” Oberon said at last. “We’d seen the dangers of having a girl-Pan. We nearly lost everything when the child died, but Sarah salvaged the gift and saved the Never-fey. But if her child had been born… there would have been no salvation for Neverland then. The baby would have been the Pan by birth, and only could have passed it on by having a child of its own. We would no longer choose our Pan and have no recourse if the new Pan was undesirable. And if a Pan failed to procreate, the gift would die out with the failing of the line and most of my race would die with it. So never again was there to be a girl-Pan, and by consent of the High Fey it was made into law. And now that we know you to be female, we must replace you with a boy before it’s too late.”
Oberon fell silent, his tale ended, and waited for Peter’s response. He felt the girl tense up and pull away a little, which confused him. He expected her to express her understanding now that she had been told. He was disappointed.
“That’s it?” Peter said at last, disbelief and a touch of outrage in her tone.
“Yes, that’s the story,” Oberon affirmed, a little off-balance.
“You’re going to take everything away from me and exile me, for that?” Peter shouted, incredulous. “Because a long time ago one other girl’s baby died? It was your fault! You didn’t care enough to even bother thinking about what the magic might do to a baby, much less think to check, and when it died you blamed the mess on Sarah? For being a girl?”
“That’s not what…” Oberon began, but Peter pushed away and turned on him, screaming.
“Maybe some of it was her fault. She should have sensed what was happening. But with a whole other person growing inside her, she probably felt too strange to notice her magic being pulled away. But she didn’t know what was right or wrong and she probably trusted you to tell her if something wasn’t right! And I can only imagine how horrible it must have been for her to have to take her magic from her dead child to save the necks of selfish, heartless fairies!
“But the worst part of your story is how insulting it is,” she said in a suddenly cold voice. “Just because it happened once, you assume it will happen again. Do you have so little faith in me? Did it never cross your mind that with a little warning, I could not make the same mistakes? You could have looked out for me! You could have told me what not to do and why! But no! You’ve condemned me for something I haven’t done, that I’m not even old enough to do!”
“That law was made by ones much older and wiser than you, little girl,” Oberon snapped. He was upset by Peter’s accusations and irritated that a mere child dared to question him.
“It was made by pompous pixies that can’t even See their own magic!” Peter snapped back, deeply hurt by her godparents’ complete lack of faith in her – faith they’d promised her long ago.
“It was your duplicity that forced an early resolution to this,” Oberon yelled, furious now. “If you hadn’t lied to us, we could have trusted you to remain on the island until a boy-Pan was found!”
“If I hadn’t lied to you, you never would have looked twice at me and I’d have died a beggar in London!” Peter screamed, too furious to realize a memory was coming forth. The fight that was brewing between them was suddenly interrupted by a voice, and Peter froze as she recognized and remembered the boy speaking to her.
“I’m sorry, Pete,” the voice said weakly. Peter and Oberon turned with a gasp, seeing the memory. A red-haired teen lay on the ground, looking like he’d been badly beaten. A large red blood-stain covered his shirt, and blood likewise trickled from his mouth in large quantities. A child sat beside him, holding her hands over the boy’s wound and crying. It was a much younger Peter, wearing boy’s clothing and sporting a split lip and black eye.
“Hush, Liam, they’ll hear you,” Peter urged the boy. “They’ll come back and kill you sure.”
“Dead already, Pete,” Liam groaned. “Jus’ to stupid ta know when ta quit. Ma always said I’d come to a bad end.”
“No,” Peter snapped, “don’t die Liam. Don’t leave me alone here. I need you. I love you.”
Liam raised a weak hand and touched her cheek. “Love ya too, hon. I’m sorry I failed ye. I shouldn’a put me hands on ya…”
“Liam…”
“Lemme finish, girlie,” Liam croaked, “Fer once lemme finish what I mean ta tell ye. ‘Member what I’ve taught ya… tell me th’ rules back straight.”
“Trust no one but yourself,” Peter said dutifully, brushing away a tear and leaving a smudge of blood on her face, “There’s nothing for free; always have a way out; fight for what’s yours or someone will always come to take it.”
“And yer number one rule?”
“Pee standing up,” the girl answered with a chuckle, tears streaming down her face.
“Aye, lass… keep yer secret safe… and stay away from that lot, they knows yer a lass now and they’ll try agin ta rape ya if they finds ya…” the boy’s breath caught for a moment, and an expression of agony crossed his features.
“You should’a let them have me,” Peter moaned. “I’d have let them have me if I’d known they’d kill you over it.”
“Swore I’d protect ya,” Liam muttered. “Ya shared with me square an’ Liam McClellan keeps his promises.”
“Yes, Liam, you kept all your promises.”
“Will ya tell me now?” he whispered, the world dimming around him. “Tell me yer real name, so’s I can tell th’ angels who I’m waitin’ on?”
Peter bent down, laying her cheek to his as she whispered her true name into his ear.
“’Tis a lovely name,” Liam murmured, “I should like to have called ya by it in better times…. Keep sharp, lass, and stay Peter ‘till yer old enough ta hold yer own. There’s worse out there than what’s killed me ta get to ya.”
“I will Liam, I promise. No one else will ever know I’m a girl.”
“Love ya, Pete,” Liam whispered, his last words spoken on Earth.
“Love you too, Liam,” Peter replied. When his breath stopped not long after and he opened his eyes no more, she threw back her head and screamed.
And she awoke screaming, her hands fisted against the sides of her head and her knees tight against her chest. She screamed until her throat felt torn, and then she sobbed, her grief at the memory as raw as it had been when she’d lived it for real.
Hook held her while she screamed, just as he’d held her when she’d been thrashing and talking in her sleep. He sat on the bed with her curled in his arms, rocking her awkwardly as her screams turned to wails. Smee sat on the bed next to him, his hands fluttering helplessly as he tried to think of something useful to do. Mullins stood in the doorway, the rest of the crew behind him in the corridor, wondering what the noise was about.
Hook continued to rub her face and hair, trying to soothe her from whatever nightmare she’d been having. At one point she finally opened her eyes and saw him, and to the man’s astonishment Peter threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly. Hook stiffened in surprise at the unexpected reaction, but he soon resumed his efforts to calm her. When Smee passed a handkerchief to her, she took it and blew into it loudly. Hook felt a surge of gratitude to the bosun for that gesture, knowing Peter likely would have used his shirt instead.
When Peter’s cries tapered off, Mullins nodded and left, shooing the other pirates away and closing the door behind him. At long last, Peter stopped crying and sat in Hook’s arms silently, occasionally wiping her red and swollen face with the damp cloth.
“Feel better, lass?” Smee asked at last, breaking the quiet.
“No,” Peter said softly. “I’m tired, but I’ve had enough of sleeping. Please help me stay awake, Captain.” I’m tired of memories, and I’m tired of Oberon. I just want them to stay out of my head! Why won’t they just leave me alone?
“I’ll help you,” Hook answered, pulling the girl back so she could sit on his leg and see him. She swayed, still weak, so he put an arm behind her to steady her. “When you’ve composed yourself, you should try to eat something and get your strength back. Perhaps a walk on deck and some fresh air will revive you.”
Peter smiled faintly. “I’d like that.” Her head pounded with pain, but she’d endure anything right now to stay awake.
Hook nodded, pleased to see his charge aware and coherent. “Allow me to escort you, then. You took quite a knock on the head and I’m worried that you won’t make it.” With the bosun’s help, Peter stood on her own long enough for Hook to get to his feet and offer her his arm. She took it without hesitation, realizing she needed the support and not quite caring where she got it. Together, they made their way outside.