Author's Note: All righty! So Believe ended on a bittersweet note. You know, like a minor chord. Or maybe you don't know...anyway, I was so sad when Believe ended because now I have nothing to do/write! Plus there's this big gaping hole between the end of the story and the epilogue. And since I myself would like to know what the hell happens with Emily and Peter between the time of Neverland's destruction and their marriage, a sequel-thingy is desperately needed. You know, Peter's trials and tribulations with growing up and Emily's trials and tribulations with Peter. Oi, growing up's such a nasty business.
disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan. You people that do own him----you can kiss my bum.
rating: M, for language and sensuality. Of course, it could be PG-13, but I'm posting it at M for safety.
PS: This story will switch between 1st and 3rd POV, by the way.
I knew having Peter stay in London would be trouble the moment we had made it home. I mean, sure, I let him cry; it only seemed right. He'd just lost the only home he'd ever known to some witch and he'd watched it happen. He had heard the screams of terror and pain that came from his friends, his family. He had seen some pool of nothingness swallow his whole world and leave nothing behind. His heart had been ripped from his chest and stepped on. I wonder if that's what he felt like when I left Neverland, before the spell had been placed on all of us. Eventually he sat up and he'd stopped sobbing, but he had this glint in his eye. And not like the usual mischievous one. One that I'd only seen a few times. He was afraid. He was afraid of having to live in London. I could see it.
Peter sat there at the window the rest of the night, and I sat with him. He was staring out at the dark sky. Since Neverland was gone, Time had reverted back to normal, and instead of being day like I thought it should be, it was still night. Not even ten o'clock. His eyes kept darting back and forth, and I knew he was looking for his star. Me and Gran kept giving each other sad looks,
knowing he would be in denial for a long time. I held him, not sure of what else I could do, knowing it wasn't even helping.
Emily sat next to Peter, watching him stare outside. Two hours had passed since they'd gotten home. Neither of them had moved an inch. Wendy had fallen asleep in her chair a few moments before, leaving the room silent.
"Peter?" Emily whispered, trying to draw his attention away from the window. He didn't answer her. "Peter, please."
"It can't be gone, can it?" he asked, his voice cracking after crying so much and not talking for so long. He shifted uneasily. "I mean, Neverland can't really be gone, can it?"
Emily sighed and ran her fingers absently through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "Peter, you saw it happen. Neverland is gone." She hadn't wanted to say it, but masking the truth even for a little while wouldn't help.
"But---what about everything else?" he pleaded, meeting Emily's eyes. Emily had never seen them so big, like a lost child's. They were red and swollen from crying, and her heart broke at the sight of it. "What about Tink?"
She thought a moment, trying to imagine what could have happened to the island's creatures and people. "I bet you that all of the faeries there became children's laughter. Because every time an infant laughs for the first time---"
"---A faery is born," Peter finished. "I know. But do you think that that could happen? That Tinker Bell is some baby's laugh?"
Emily shrugged. "Possibly. And the mermaids..."
"The mermaids are probably in some deep ocean." Peter managed a half-smile; Emily was glad to see that he could take his mind off the bigger heartache for a moment. "Most likely terrorizing sailors."
Emily smiled at him. "You see? Everyone's fine. And you will be, too." She put her head on his shoulder. "Growing up can't be that bad."
Peter tensed. "How would you know?"
"Well for one, I aged three years in less than six hours." She looked up at Peter slyly. "It wasn't that bad."
Peter gave her a 'stay on subject' look. "It'll be a lot different. I'll have to go to school. And then get a job." He shuddered. "I don't know if I'm ready for it all."
Emily snuggled into his chest. "I'm not either, but I suppose we never will be. It's just something that happens." She sighed. "One day we'll wake up and poof! We'll be adults."
"Don't make it worse than it already is." He looked out the window. "I still can't believe it's gone."
"Me neither. But you know what?"
"Whatever happens, we'll go through this together." Emily smiled. "No matter what."
"That's comforting," he said dryly, "but I'm still scared to death." Peter stared out the window a moment longer, then tapped Emily on the back, getting to his feet. "You should go to bed; don't worry about me."
Emily stood as well. "You should sleep too. Wait here; I'll get an extra futon or something."
Peter cocked his head. "What the heck's a futon?"
"It's like a bed. Wait here." She walked out of the room, coming back a few minutes later with a soft mattress in her arms along with some blankets. She dumped them at the end of her bed. "You can sleep here."
Peter helped her smooth out the futon and the blankets. Then he plopped down on top of them. "What do you think'll happen tomorrow?"
Emily sat on her bed. She began to count off her fingers. "Well, if I'm right, tomorrow's Monday, so I have school. But that's not the problem. When my parents find you---well, let's just say you should be glad that you have Gran to stand up for you. Then there's the fact that you're an orphan, so they might put you in foster care."
"It's when a family takes a kid with no family into their own and takes care of them for a while. If they like you, they might adopt you."
Peter frowned. "So that means that I can't stay with you?"
"No, you can't. But we're the same age. Unless they don't live around here, you'll go to school with me."
"So I'll still see you?"
Emily nodded. "Hopefully. I'll make sure you get to live within walking distance of my house." She smiled. "In fact, I think I know the perfect family." Her mind wandered to some of her best friends in London.
When Emily was ten, she had been walking home from primary school and had tripped on an unseen crack in the sidewalk. This happened right in front of the Fitzpatrick's house and Mrs. Fitzpatrick had come out and took Emily inside. The kind woman and her husband didn't have any children, but she was so nice to her and had bandaged her knee. Emily stopped by there every afternoon since. They'd be perfect for Peter.
"Okay, sleep. I'm tired." Emily pulled back her covers.
"How's your arm?" Peter asked. Emily paused, looking at him with a questioning look. He nodded at her arm. "Where you got cut. I'm guessing Merlot did that."
Emily stared at her arm. The cut had scabbed over slightly, but it was still covered in dried blood and sweat. She would put a bandage on it tomorrow, and then hope her mother didn't see. Honestly, it felt like her arm had fallen off. Not like she would tell that to Peter.
"It's all right. It kinda stings, though. She didn't cut too deep."
Peter frowned. "You're lucky. If she had you'd have lost muscle control in it. Then where would you be?"
Emily raised an eyebrow. "Right where I am. You'd have carried me back."
He rolled his eyes. "That's if I came back to life." But he grinned anyway. "'Night, Emily."
"Whatever." She smiled and turned out the light. "Goodnight Peter."
The next morning wasn't as bad as Emily thought it would be.
Nope, it was worse.
Her mother had come in to wake Emily up and upon turning on the lights, she nearly exploded. Peter was sitting at the end of her daughter's bed, his arms crossed, one of his legs stretched out to hang over the mattress, the other bent, his head nodded in sleep. But it wasn't just the fact that he was on her bad; that was just a fire-feeder. It was the fact that there was a boy. In her room. At night. Jane clenched her fists.
"Emily Moira Darling!" she shouted. "Wake up right now and explain yourself!"
Emily shot up, her brown-gold locks knotted and tangled, her eyes wide. "What---?" Peter too had woken up (he had always been a light sleeper...or so he thought.) and was looking around, confused. His eyes met Emily's, then Jane's. He swallowed heavily.
Emily looked at her mother sleepily. "Mum---"
Jane's eyes flicked to Wendy's sleeping form in her chair. "Mother!" she exclaimed, jolting her mother awake. "You let a boy into the house! Into Emily's room!"
Wendy looked at Emily and Peter on the bed. "I see nothing wrong with them," she said truthfully.
Jane's face grew red with anger. "Mother! There is a boy I've never seen before, let alone met, on my daughter's bed! Don't tell me there's nothing wrong with that!"
Emily sighed, knowing this would happen. She rolled off her bed and looked at her mother. "Mum, let me explain."
Jane crossed her arms. "You had better, young lady. You wait until I tell your father---"
"Mum!" Emily said. "This is Peter---"
"I don't care who he is!" she interrupted. "I just want to know what he's doing here!"
"Well if you'd shut up, she'd tell you," Peter spat, making Emily flinch. She had been hoping he would stay quiet and not ruin everything. Before her mom could start again, Emily continued.
"Mum, he's an orphan. I've known him for a while. So has Gran. We let him stay here for the night."
"But that doesn't explain why he was on your bed."
Emily pointed to the futon on the floor. "He started sleeping there." She put her emphasis on the word started. "But I suppose he had a bad dream or something." She expected Peter to say something, but he didn't, and Emily figured that he did have a nightmare. "I've known him a really long time. I let him stay because he had nowhere else to go."
Jane looked at Peter with her keen teacher eyes, examining him. "Are those your father's pants?" she asked Emily.
"I got those for him, dear," explained Wendy. "He was here the other day when it was raining. The boy was soaked to the bone. Marcus' clothes fit him, so I took the liberty of preventing a cold."
"Fine." Jane looked back at Peter. "Do you know your last name, Peter?"
Peter glanced at Emily, and then shook his head. So far, he wasn't very fond of this woman that resembled both Wendy and Emily but acted nothing like them.
"What about your age?"
He nearly answered 'quite young' but stopped himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Emily mouth 16. "Sixteen," he said.
Jane gave Emily a stern look, then continued her little pop quiz. "Do you remember what your parents' names were? Where you lived?"
"Near Kensington Gardens," Peter said strongly, finally knowing the answer to one of the questions.
Jane sighed. "It's a start. I'll call the orphanage. As for you, young lady---" She turned and finally settled her eyes on her daughter, then gasped. She had just noticed the changes that had taken place on Emily.
"Mum," Emily said in a hushed voice. "Let me explain." And she told the story of Madam Merlot and Neverland. When she was finished, Jane looked at her mother.
"You knew about this?" she asked. "You let her go gallivanting off with an ageless boy around pirates!"
Wendy smirked. "I was going to let you do the same thing. And are you saying you believe now?"
"That's beside the point---"
"Do you believe, Mum?" Emily prodded, curious to know if there was still a bit of child in her mother's heart.
Jane sighed, looking to Peter. She walked toward him until they were face to face. "Let me see your back."
Peter gave her an odd look, glancing at Wendy and Emily for approval. They nodded and he turned around. Jane examined his back, then smiled in sudden belief.
"It has to be you," she said under her breath. "This scar." Jane ran her finger along a thin scar that stretched from Peter's left shoulder blade to his right bottom rib.
"What about it?" Peter asked rather rudely.
"You got this fighting Captain Hook when he tried to take the Indians as slaves," Jane finished. "You were caught on a rope and Hook got you right across the back."
Peter turned around, surprised. "How'd you know that?"
Jane smirked. "You weren't the only one who listened to my mother's stories."
"Mum," exclaimed Emily. "You surprise me everyday."'
Jane sighed. "But we still have to explain to your father. He'll be harder to persuade. And we have to get you a home." She looked at Peter.
Emily smiled. "I think I know just who will take him in."
Wendy raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick. They live down on 5th Street by the Cafe." Emily sat on her bed, looking to Peter. "They don't have any children, but they've supported a lot of foster kids. They'd love you, Peter."
Jane nodded. "That's good, Emily. But first we have to find Peter a social worker, then put him up for foster care. We can specially request the Fitzpatricks, but it will take a while for adoption to even become an option." She sighed. "Peter will have to stay here for a while."
Emily jumped up and hugged her mother. "Thanks, Mum. Thank you so much." She released Jane and looked at Peter. "You're going to have a family again," she said. "Isn't that great?"
Peter looked her in the eyes, brows furrowed. "I guess so," he muttered. He sat down on the edge of Emily's bed, staring out the window. He didn't know it, but the other three in the room could hear the gears in his brain turning. This is happening so fast, he thought. First my home's destroyed, and now I'm going to have a mother and a father? And I have to grow up? And go to school? This isn't what's supposed to happen.
Emily saw the detached look on his face. She looked to her mother and grandmother. "Mum, Gran? Can I be alone with Peter for a few minutes? I promise we won't do anything," she added, seeing the looks they were giving her.
"All right," said Jane. "But remember: You have school in an hour."
"I'll remember." Emily watched Wendy and Jane leave and shut the door behind them. She gazed at Peter. "What's the matter?"
He snapped out of his daze, his face blank. He turned his green eyes to Emily. "I'm not so sure about this, Em," he said quietly. "I don't think I can do this."
Emily looked at him in disbelief. "But you're Peter Pan, remember?" she said. "There's nothing that you can't do!" But Peter looked away, his eyes glazing over as he stared out the window. Emily sighed and sat next to him on the bed. "Why are you afraid?"
Peter shot her a glare. "I am not afraid," he said defensively, but his eyes were uncertain. Emily gave him the 'oh please' look, and he snapped.
"Okay," he admitted. "I'm afraid."
From outside Emily's door, Jane and Wendy pulled their heads away from the wood. They gave each other incredulous looks.
"Are you sure that he's Pan?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow. She wouldn't really know; Peter had never come for her when she was young.
Wendy nodded. "It is he. But Emily must have broken through to him. She's a persistent child."
"She's your granddaughter."
Wendy smiled, but gazed thoughtfully at the door. "Whatever happened while Emily was away has changed him greatly. So much, in fact, that I fear he is far from the boy I knew."
Jane nodded. "He seems older than you told me he was."
"As to why that is, you will have to ask them."
They were silent a moment, then stuck their heads back to the door.
Emily smiled faintly. "I understand---"
"No, you don't," Peter rounded, standing up. "You've had a family your whole life. I ran away when I was...was... I don't even remember!" He shook his head. "You see? I'm not even an orphan! Orphans at least know how old they are! They know something about their family; themselves!" He ran his fingers through his unkempt brown hair, pacing around. "I'm not like that, Emily. I can't remember my father or my mother or even if I had brothers and sisters."
Peter sighed and leaned against a bookshelf. "I even have trouble remembering why I ran away in the first place. It's all fading away." He gazed at Emily, his green eyes bright with desperation. He blinked. "Every time I try to remember it, I can't. It's like they disappeared with Neverland."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I knew why I ran away before you left. Before the damn spell." He shoved his hands in his pockets grudgingly. "Before that bitch ruined everything. Before she destroyed everything I loved."
Emily stood up and went to him. She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a faint smile. "I'm sure it's no consolation, and I know you'd rather have Neverland back," she said. "But...you still have me."
Peter smiled back at her, returning her embrace. He buried his face in her neck, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, inhaling the foresty scent of her hair. "You're right," he muttered into her skin, holding her tight. He held her away for a moment so she could see his face. "Don't get me wrong; There's nothing I want more than for Neverland to exist again. But I want to be with you, too. Just as much. And if that means I'll have to grow up, then I'll do it. If it means that I have to go to school and get a job, then I'll do it, Emily. Because I want to stay with you. Here, in London." He shrugged. "Hell, anywhere."
Emily smiled, but it was short. "If Neverland hadn't been destroyed, then you'd still be there. Not here. Not with me."
"That's not true," Peter shot. "If you had left again, then I would have gone with you." He kissed her lips softly. "I don't care. I told you: if being with you means I have to grow up, then I'll do it. I don't want to loose someone I love again." And he kissed her again.
Before Emily knew it, Peter had pushed her back onto the bed, holding himself over her. Their eyes met and they held each other's gaze for what seemed like an eternity until he brought his hand up to caress Emily's cheek. Their lips brushed against one another's in a soft kiss, then met again in a deeper one. Emily moaned against Peter's lips, taking his hand that was on her cheek and putting it on her breast. Peter pulled away a moment, staring at Emily, confused, but when he realized she wanted his hand there, he leaned back down and kissed her again, sliding his tongue past her lips and tasting her. He felt her sigh against his cheek.
They were so caught up in each other that they totally ignored it when they heard the doorknob turn. Peter pulled Emily on top of him and helped her pull her shirt off. When that was discarded, they kissed again while Peter slowly ran his hands up and down Emily's sides, caressing, feeling every bit of skin that he knew now belonged to him. But, like I said, they were so caught up in each other, that they were oblivious to the two women standing in the door, one furious, and the other totally blown away.
"Emily Moira Darling!" exclaimed Jane angrily, resisting the urge to scream.
Emily was so startled that she nearly jumped out of her skin and fell off the bed. Peter managed to catch her before she rolled off the side. Under normal circumstances this sort of thing would be funny, but since there was a fuming mother glaring at them, they'd skip the humor.
Peter sat up, pulling Emily into a sitting position next to him. She would have done this herself, but she was too shocked to move. She stared at her mother, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. She swallowed heavily.
"Mum---" she started weakly.
"Get off that bed!" shouted Jane. She'd seen enough. "Both of you! Right now!"
Peter and Emily jumped from the bed and stood side by side like army recruits, facing Jane. Emily bit her bottom lip, fearing what would happen next. Peter stood defiantly, arms folded across his bare chest, gazing at Jane as if daring her to continue. And that's exactly what she did.
"Emily, I cannot believe you!" she started. "Wait until your father hears---"
And, naturally, guess who walked by?
Marcus had been downstairs, but upon hearing all the shouting, had decided to go up to his daughter's room and see what was going on. When he saw a boy--- an older, teenage boy--- in the room, he nearly lost head.
"What in God's holy name is going on here!"
Emily whimpered. "Oh no."
Peter held his chin up proudly. "It's none of your---"
"Peter!" hissed Wendy, sending the boy a hard look.
He looked back at the old woman. "What?" Peter challenged. "Why should he have to know? Who is he anyway?" Next to him, Emily groaned, muttering something like "just shoot me now." Marcus glared at him.
"I'm Emily's father. Who are you?"
Peter put his clenched fists on his hips. "I'm Peter P---" But before he could finish, Emily elbowed him in the ribs.
"Dad, this is Peter. He's an orphan. He had to stay somewhere last night---"
"There is a boy in your room," Marcus said angrily. "And why is your shirt off!"
Emily's lip trembled and she put her head in her hands. "This is horrible," she muttered, nearly inaudible. "Peter's going to be shot."
Peter turned his head to look at Emily, confused. "What? Who said I would be shot?"
Marcus glared. "I will shoot you if you don't get out of my house. What did you do to Emily?"
Emily groaned and went to the wall. She sighed and started to beat her head against it, muttering to herself. Everyone in the room stared at her, confused, until she stopped and ran her fingers through her hair.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to get ready for school. Could you all please leave?"
They stared at her some more, and then filed out. Jane had to push her husband out the door; Wendy followed them. Peter, naturally, didn't budge. Emily sighed.
"Peter, shut the door." She sat down on the bed. After he did, Emily tried to smile. "Well, that went a little better than I expected."
Peter laughed hollowly. "You mean you actually thought I would get shot? Did you hit your head too hard?"
Just then the door opened and Wendy came in. She grabbed Peter's arm and dragged him out of the room, despite his protests ("Let go of me, damn it!), and saying to Emily over her shoulder, "Get ready for school," then scolding Peter ("Where did you learn that language? What, were you raised by pirates?). She shut the door behind her.
Emily stared at the door a moment, listening to Peter's rant as he continued to be dragged down the hall ("I mean it, damn it! Let go of me, Wendy! What the hell's wrong with you?"). She laughed in spite of herself, and set about getting dressed.
She hoped that Wendy and her parents wouldn't be hard on Peter. He hadn't done anything wrong, at least not in her eyes. Sure, it was more than embarrassing having been found making out with him like some kind of slut. But they'd done a little bit worse than that. At least their pants were still on. ((a/n: No! Both of them are still virgins! I promise!))
Emily also hoped that they would find Peter a family soon. He needed one so badly, almost as bad as the Fitzpatricks needed a child. And although Peter wasn't really a child anymore, the Fitzpatricks had housed enough teens in foster care to know what to expect from a troubled sixteen-year-old boy. She hoped.
Emily sighed, pulling on her school uniform skirt. An undershirt and a blazer followed that. She took a quick mental note to tell her mother that she would need some new ones (they were about five times too tight now) and wondered silently how she would explain to the people at school why she was gone and why she had changed so much. After tying her tie, she pulled on her knee-length socks and her shoes, and made her way downstairs.
Whatever would happen next, Emily didn't know. She just hoped it would be good.
Author's note: So? What did you think? Tell me if you liked it. I hope you did. You see how much Peter has changed? If you think its scary/weird/not a good idea... well, too bad. That's how it goes. A lot that's in this chapter is different from when I first wrote it, but I think it's better. I'm wondering whether or not I should add a new chapter for Ch.2 instead of the one I had originally, or use the original one. You see, the original ch.2 takes place 6 months later. But I'm wondering whether or not I should write another one that goes right after the end of this one, cause its kinda cut off. Well, you guys tell me what to do. Cause if y'all want me to write a new ch.2, then I'll probably do it. Just review and say so. Just keep in mind, though, that it'll take me longer to update if I write a new ch.2. Just a tidbit. Review and save the faeries!