The sky was a deep, dark, almost black shade of blue. No clouds disturbed the tiny specks of crystal that twinkled above. However, if one were to be situated underneath this beautiful night sky, something was missing. Something wasn't there.
London was its usual busy, brightly-lit self, the yellow lights echoed off the sides of buildings. There wasn't anything wrong with that. Maybe it was the buildings? Yes, that had to be it. Yet sure enough, the familiar sights of the old city were all there, the houses were where they should be, every road, pavement, street lamp and tree was in its rightful place. Peter Banning lifted his shoulders and perched his weight upon his forearms. His limbs felt stiff, numb; agonisingly cold. He hissed through his teeth as his shoulders gave way to the cold, his arms crippling underneath his torso. A quiet whimper floated with the condensation of his breath into the crisp air. He allowed himself to lie in the snow for now, he couldn't care less. Something was wrong, and he couldn't care less. His eyes blinked as they tried to scavenge some warmth from the eyelids, in some vain attempt to stop themselves from drying up. Peter counted stars. No one had come, no one would till morning. The two glistening orbs turned upwards to stare. It was a beautiful night, he admitted to himself.
The beauty of the night, however, was spoilt by Peter's observation of a glowing star that was growing in size. It was the second star on the right, along a familiar constellation, that's what was missing. He strained an arm to measure the star against his fingernails, and despite the immediate shock of his blue, shrivelled hands, the star was nearly the same size as his index fingernail, albeit a great distance farther away, but still of considerate size. The star continued to grow until it started to take the form of a human being, and the closer it got, the more it resembled his perfect image of a woman, an angel perhaps. Peter coughed through drying lungs, which turned into laughter. He was mad! Or dying! Or, suddenly feeling his pained body again, hopefully both. Anything to take him away.
"Peter! You complete idiot! What the hell have you done?"
"Ha Ha! I thought angels were meant to be calming and sweet? This is a little rude do you not think considering I'm dying, show a man some respect! Can I just go please, I don't know if you've noticed, it's a little cold and I may catch a chill out here!" Peter said through fits of laughter.
"Right, you're coming with me. We should never have let you go."
"She's dead Moira. Wendy's dead. I thought you were there? Ha! You're almost as mad as me!"
"…I'm sorry Peter"
The howls of laughter quite rapidly turned into sobs. Not much could be understood through his slurred words and his taught shaking mouth, but the only recognizable words were "boy" and "again".
He was scared to open his eyes. Partly because he could see the intensity of the light even through his eyelids, and because he wasn't sure whether he was dead or not. His senses slowly came around, and he could feel his skin against something damp underneath him. All of his skin. He was naked? And outside? He slowly tried to move, and writhed around. The surface beneath him felt soft, it could move around underneath him, it stuck to his body. He opened his eyelids just so that small fragments of light could find their way through his eyelashes and through his pupils. The initial burning forced them shut again quickly. He was in an open area, as there was no shade. A shallow hissing noise grew slightly, yet it was peaceful and calming. Peter lay there for a while; it was comforting to his ears, which helped the pain that swept inside his head. He must have been here for a long time, he felt what he assumed was an awakening from a comatose state, or waking up from unconsciousness. His mind drifted back to Kensington Gardens…he couldn't have been lying there for a whole season could he? Surely the park grounds were not that unpopular.
He scrunched his hands into fists, and the surface underneath him collected in his palms, and escaped through his fingers. Another attempt at opening his eyes was in order, and Peter took a more aggressive grip on his mission, prying open the eyelids quickly, and taking in the surroundings. After continuous blinking and tears seeping across his face, he was able to see. He could not believe his eyes, another dream? Or another hallucination? Peter was lying face down on a beach that spanned out in front of him. Water lapped at his body, white foam jumping and engulfing his legs and feet with each calm wave. He pressed himself up and sat on his heels, his knees digging into the sand. Only fragments of wet sand that had stuck to him acted as a cover for his more private areas, but everything appeared much more unused, fresh and felt energetic. He was looking down at a fifteen, possibly sixteen year old boy, and the sudden horror of it soon turned to anxiety and curiosity. This was not Peter Banning. He stood up. His legs and back worked perfectly as they sprang up into life, and Peter felt lively. Very lively. He took a skip, which broke into a run and threw sploshes of water as each heavy footfall hit the sea. His cheekbones grew tight as a grin emerged from ear to ear. The deeper he got, the more he had to lift his legs to continue his pace, before his slightly shortened height was overcome by the water, and Peter finished his sprint with an elaborate dive into the water.
He crouched under the water, found his feet on the soft bed and sprang up, pushing himself back up to the surface. The salt made his eyes sting, but he liked it. He was young again. Not a care in the world. He waded through the waist-high water towards the shore.
"Having fun?" a quiet voice enquired.
Peter stopped in his tracks. The beauty and grace of the voice soothed his head, despite the short question. His hands ran from his chin, through his hair, and back to his crown, pushing water out of his eyes. As his vision returned, Peter instantly crouched a little in the water to hide himself. It was Tinkerbell. But, big. Big? She had done some funny magic again.
"You're probably wondering why everything's changed, there's a lot to explain."
"Yeah, kind of…erm Tink?" Peter seemed quite worried as the woman waded her way into the water slowly. He was only young, again, and was a little self-conscious. Tinkerbell opened her arms and grabbed Peter, pulling him into an embrace. Peter, despite his embarrassment, wrapped his arms around her. She was about the same size as him, which amused Peter slightly…
"Boy…it feels good to be back"