Who Are You?

By: Unknownred

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Inside Summary: An accident occurs two years later, Wendy is diagnosed with amnesia so she doesn't remember what had happened the day before Peter Pan had taken her back home along with her brothers and the Lost Boys. In fact, ever so often… she is losing sight of Peter each day, only one thing could possibly help her remember. What will happen when Peter takes her back to Neverland? How will he deal with Wendy not remembering him at all?

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I have to find John or else Wendy will have my head! I flew through the trees, over and under arms of branches that blocked my way or direction.

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"Well the only thing to do is," She paused, pushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear. I snapped my attention to her, knowing she got something in mind. I gave her an urging look which pleased her. "…to talk to the mermaids."

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Then, Vanswell looked back at me and said, "The girl's brother has joined forces with the villain of the underground grotto. He now calls himself, Johnswilth."

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I felt a smile form onto my lips as she smiled back; but something didn't feel right. I should feel used to this— all the mermaid's smiles feel lacking, sometimes they're false but what is her smile trying to tell me…?

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But something was wrong, terribly wrong. The ship, it wasn't abandoned, someone is on my ship and it seems to be sailing away.

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Squinting, I thought it looked like a whale from afar but as it seemed to come closer, I recognized it quite well. It's the Jolly Roger, Captain's James Hook's old ship— just before Peter overthrew him and he then became the capt'n as well.

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"Tink," Erina broke me from my thoughts, "Listen carefully. Wendy is in danger, you need to help her."

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"Hold on! I don't get what you're saying. You want me to help her regain her memories? And she will be the one to save Peter?" I snapped, shooting my arms in the air, disbelief written across my face.

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Love, and if that's what I'm standing for, then watch out Wendy, I will not lose— you'll be the one to fall.

~ (Line interception)

"I want to fly, Wendy!" John whispered in the nursery. It has been over a year since the children returned to London. I on the other hand was quite submissive and dreamt of hope and love.

The dream faded rather quickly, the room forming into the image of the front entrance of our house and two men dragging Father out— his struggles were useless, his strained voice pleading, it had made me teary at the sight as my brothers rushed forward, beating against the other guards that blocked their way, just to get to father but failed miserably. I turned my head away and caught sight of my Mother crying hard into her handkerchief in the doorway of the living room.

"I want to fly, Wendy!" John's voice echoed in my head, his voice gaining strength each time. "I want to fly, Wendy!"

What do you mean? What are you talking about, John? How can you talk nonsense when Father has been taken away? Do you want to be taken away, too? I want to fly, Wendy!

Another scene formed. I was walking in the hallway upstairs, heading to my bedroom when I heard multiple of voices speaking in Nib's room. Being sneaky and ever so curious, I silently crept to the door that was left ajar and took a peek inside.

"I wish we were back in Neverland." One of the twins sighed, groaning in boredom. The other twin made a sound in agreement.

"I miss Tink!" Curly mumbled, and placed his chin into the cup of his hands, sighing loudly as well.

"But what about mother?" Tootles spoke up, always being the understanding person in the group.

"And Wendy?"

I gasped at the sound of my name and took a couple steps back before they could sense my presence. Then I quickened my steps and retreated to the old nursery that was made my permanent bedroom for the time being.

I want to fly. This time, these words weren't John's but my own. I closed my door behind me and leant on it, thinking, confused. This dream felt so real and yet it was like slow motion, every thing sluggish and dull. The first thing that came into my view was the open window and how much snowflakes flew in and landing on the warm floor, melting. I didn't know I was standing at my balcony until I looked up and felt the ice cold sting of snow landing on my cheeks. I looked up at the sky, seeing the bright moon staring back into my own. No stars were out; nothing catching my interest at that moment but for some reason, the words 'I want to fly' kept repeating itself in my mind. So I took a step onto the small ledge of my window and—

I snapped my eyes open, aware that it was dark from the skylight. I could hear the roaring thunder above, the thrashing of water outside the shelter, waves hitting the boat as it rocked ferociously. I swallowed and sat up, feeling a shot of pain rush up my leg. I cried out. On instinct, I reached forward to touch my injury but instead felt a sting of cold metal strapped around both my ankles and as the boat tipped to the left, it flung me aside. What is this? Why am I in shackles? My mind was filled with questions that I had no answers to.

I looked around but underneath the quarter where I've been sleeping, obliviously was quite dark and all I could see were small silhouettes, outlining the forms of objects and/ or someone.

I gasped and jerked back. Someone was indeed watching me. But who? And why?

The stranger was sitting across the room, eyes gleaming in the shadows, only a strip of white teeth made a sign of triumph flashed at me. I couldn't swallow, I was fully awake and I knew that this wasn't a dream.

"Who are you?" I asked, holding on to what was left of my sense of bravery. I strained my eyes to focus on the figure but it came out blurry. Then as if a flower bloomed, the person made a small chuckle and finally revealed him self to be a man. "Finally awake, are ye?"

(Line interceding)

I still couldn't see this man, for he seemed to like the shadows more than showing a bit of identity; a little skin wouldn't hurt. I gritted my teeth as I felt the pain shoot up my leg, and instead, winced. I let out a raspy breath and turned my attention to the man who was still staring at me.

"Sir, may I ask for your name?" I asked, glaring at him. Why is he standing off over there? If he did this to me, wouldn't it be usual for a bad guy like him to show me his identity— oh, why did I think that? That's stupid. "Any name?"

Maybe I shouldn't have said that, but I really wanted to know his name and if by opt, he could tell me his alias name. He didn't say anything, just stood there, rocking with the boat as if it didn't bother him.

"Jimmy… James Hook." He whispered.

I gasped. Forgetting about my leg, I scooted back and the image of what Peter had told me about cutting Hook's hand off and feeding it to the croc flashed through my mind. Feeling my stomach do a flip, I bit my lip and glance at the man whom claimed to be the old capt'n of this ship.

Was he really who he said he is? I mean, I told him I'd be satisfied with any name, any name that I could refer him to. Is he lying to me? Then a huge crackle outside struck, and the boat swayed roughly from side to side. I tried not to fling much but there was no helping that I was chained to a… I looked to the side, and followed where the chains that bounded my legs led to and finally came across a tipped over cannon. Used and abandoned, very dangerous, indeed.

Then suddenly, a thought popped into my mind, registering the detail of Hook's painful past, my eyes voluntarily moved over to where the man stood, suspicious and a bit curious to see if this man was really who he said he is.

"Then…" I spoke, surprised that I still had the strength to speak calmly, despite having a leg injury. "May I see your right hand, sir?"

"Why?" He asked, shuffling around, his foot steps making a deep and hallow sound against the wooden floor. "Are you planning to cut off the other limbs too?"

I followed my gaze and for a moment, locked gaze with him and in that instance, saw the hard cerulean eyes that held loath and despair and something too that caught my attention. Was that excitement? Was he excited to have captured me? What is his plan, what is he planning to do with me? I have nothing to offer except… except what?

"And what do they call you?" He sounded closer even though he was far off in the shadows, no where near the moon light that stained my side of the boat. "Miss?"

I didn't answer him right away. I was thinking that if I should give him my name, then will that send a message to Peter if he was to hear of my being, captured and chained and possibly come to my rescue? Or should I give him a name that I've gotten quite attached to back at home, (it has been written down so many times in my latest diary that I didn't know why or what of that made it so special)?

"Any name would do."

That, at least, made my decision. "They call me, Red-handed Jill."

(Line interceding)

"Red." He spoke, his voice going light as he stepped forward. I squinted, only to see the black shiny toe of his boot peek out from the shadows. "Handed…"

I held my breath, urging him on with my pleading eyes; only another step would do, to give me an idea of how tall this man is. "Jill." I whispered the name the same time he answered, his profile out in the open, black heavy boots as expected, lining upwards as he was dressed in fine linens— dark pants and a solid blue coat with gold linens railed around the seams of the jacket and silver buttons gleaming from his cuffs and collar. His skin was paled off by the moonlight but what bothered me was that half his face was warded in the shadows and all I could see was his chin down to his toes.

"The story teller?" He raked his hand down his coat pockets and took out a box. I tried to pick out what the box detained of but he was too fast and dropped it back into his pocket. I felt my throat close as a daze memoir of voices flashed in my mind.

"Who is she?" "Yeah, who is she?"

"She's just a story-teller."

"Just a story-teller!?"

I snapped my attention back to Capt'n Hook as words began to drift in the air and into my ears; a rhyme that I haven't heard before started out with a small chant. This time while I was in a daze, I didn't notice him walking towards me, his big boots pounding down on the wooden floor big and his hat covering half his face.

"Red-handed Jill, Red-handed Jill, come to play the games of a pirate left in jail."

I swallowed deeply as my eyes crawled up his coat to his clean, shaven chin. I was hoping he'd show his face already. I leaned forward, now realizing that I was in pain, flinched and gasped as I accidentally pulled my leg forward.

"Red-handed Jill, Red-handed Jill, tale of a girlie who in the end betrayed her own…"

He stopped and knelt down, his hand reaching for my leg and seeing that I flinched once again, he gently grabbed one side of my leg and the other on the lower calf. Then he whispered, "Feelin—" and jerked my leg, stretching it like what you do to put a limb back in its socket but this was much different. I didn't even expect for him to do that and that's why I screamed.

I can't really explain the pain, how much worst it is— just the thought of when he pulled had fired at me, blank and black. I might have fainted or at least, I think I did. I don't remember but it was too quick and, and…


I rolled my head up at the voice, confused at first but then his name popped into my head, "Peter!"

He immediately flew down and hovered in front of me, his hands stretched out, taking my arm and viewing my profile. I breathed out an exhausting breath of strain as his face came closer to mine. I leaned back a bit, not wanting to get too close.

"Are you okay, Wendy? I heard you scream, are you hurt?" He asked continuously, his eyes traveling down my arm to my dress that was wrinkled, my leg extended forward. I took my hand out from his hold and lifted it to my forehead, resting it there and thinking. What had just happened?

Peter, curious and worried, rested his hand on my leg when something had occurred to me that I didn't notice until now. I gasped. Where did Capt'n Hook go? He was right here beside me! Peter jerked back, his eyes immediately meeting my own, his face stricken with concern. "I'm right! You are hurt. Oh Wendy, I'm sorry I left you alone!"

"I'm not worried about that." I whispered, my eyes averting past Peter's startled and confused expression. Searching the shadows in the dark room, I came to the conclusion that Hook had gone, probably after I had fainted.

Peter came closer, muttering something I couldn't hear and placed a hand on the center of my back and the other hand under my legs, lifting me into the air. Startled by a sudden realization, I looked at my leg and felt the lightness of not being chained. Was I really chained after all? Was Hook really here, talking to me? Or was it all just my imagination and I was dreaming the whole time? It was possible. I bit my inner cheek and furrowed my brows in deep concentration.

"Watch your head, Wendy." Peter instructed as he dodged the ceiling of the broken roof I had fallen through earlier.

I leaned in closer to Peter, laying my head against his shoulder and sighing after a long day of short events. Closing my eyes, I sniffed in the scents of the island, the salty sea and the mix of Peter's sweat reminded me of adventure. But for awhile, at this moment, I was tired of adventure and needed only a minute to rest. I breathed out a tired yawn and softly listened to Peter's heart beats, racing against my ear.

It almost felt like a dream but this time it felt real, this place I'm in… Neverland! I'd go hunt with the Indians, swim with the mermaids and fight pirates with Peter and the lost boys. Then this fantasy would turn tables, and the scenes would change from a forestry to a ballroom, where beautiful gowns and slippers are being worn by heiresses and guests of so many families, so many I lost count of. They'd dance so apart and their heads turn away from each other, as they tip-toed across the floor. It was so fancy, I would have join them if it wasn't for my brothers, John and Michael to appear— wearing the most awful looking clothes I've dreaded seeing, even on me.

"Michael!" I exclaimed, my hand shot up to cover my gaping mouth as I looked my siblings from head to toe, "John! What are you wearing?"

They didn't seem to mind my opinion, as of no one had taken noticed except I who in return gave them a disapproving stare. "Change out of those awful clothes, they're hideous on you both."

"Says the girl who didn't want to become a lady in the first place!" Michael protested, shooting a glare at me.

"I—" I started but was interrupted by John who coughed in distraction, and bowed mockingly at me.

"May I assure you Wendy, that father had arranged all this, so do not blame it all on us." John chuckled, giving Michael a wiggle of his eye brows. Michael stifled a giggle. I turned to Michael and averted my eyes to a distant figure that stood on the sides of the entrance to the ballroom. Father. How dreadful.

The sudden thought came rushing through my mind before I could erase it. I had made eye contact with Father and now he is making his way over to where we were. I held my breath and reached up, brushing a strand behind my ear before hearing the whispers of mock coming from my brothers. Grown-up. Lady. Miss Wendy. Daddy's girl. Ignoring them, I brought my attention back to Father who had now reached us and stopped before me, giving me what looked to be a stern but approving look. I'm pleased.

"How stunning!" He announced, his voice piercing through my thoughts and never breaking my gaze with his. "Come, there are plenty of guests about— to get and know each and everyone."

I smiled politely and nodded my head in respect before remembering John and Michael. When I turned to look back, they had gone elsewhere and I received a small address from Father, "Don't doddle, makes you look so unimportant. Now, keep your chin up and never break contact with a person you meet the eye."

He shooed me forward quite quickly but being the happy, quick step kind of girl, I led the way across the busy platform crowded by dancers and formal acquaintances being introduced to different people. Suddenly a hand caught my attention and I turned, letting my dress skirts sway behind me.

Now what seems to be a dream is probably really a dream— knowing this, a young man is unidentified also known as the shadow man (sometimes I'd have these type of unknown people in my dreams, I can never know their faces). His hand was outstretched and what my mind was registering as a dream, I had taken the kind man's hand and he pulled me into an enchanting dance ritual. I couldn't help but slip a smile, showing my true feelings about how exciting and adventurous this is turning out to be.

A sudden irk tugged at the back of my mind and I slowly watch the dream fade as I calmly opened my eyes, seeing my room dark at first but a soft glow above me caught my attention. Then, as I flung my eyes wide open, a boy I had never seen before had startled me that I gasped and fell off the bed.

I heard barking from no other than Nana, our watchdog or nurse. I was tangled in my own blankets that it took me awhile to sit up and get the sheets off my head and glance at the closed window. I shot up and ran out the nursery room and into the hallway, a table drawer facing our door and quickly searched its remains. Finding a candle and lighting it, I ran down the hall and out to the patio in pursuit, my thoughts racing within the night and my eyes investigating the night sky. Instead of finding what I hoped to be the boy again, I went back to bed, my eyes drifting to where I left off in the dream but this time I wasn't dancing with shadow man, I was being introduce to a new man by Father.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Wendy," His voice was deep and husky, the kind where a villain would lure a rat into a trap, "My name is Jim—"

Shooting up, sweat covered my forehead, I turned my head making sure that no one by the name Jimmy or also known as Hook was nearby. A sigh of relief left my lips as I viewed the area I was in, cleared and empty.

Where am I?

The room was wide with tree stumps as stools, a huge flat rock used as a table, holding up a few candles and some contraptions. I furrowed my eye brow as my eyes swept the room. It was a bit tidy and must be comfortable to someone who must be living here… but I noticed there wasn't any door to enter or exit. Aside from where I was sitting, I heard small patters of water leaking from above and eyed where it was dripping. Then as my eyes travel upwards, they widen in shock. Is that a root? I pursed my lips before remembering to breathe. Where am I? Am I under a tree? I shrank back, placing a hand to my chest and counted up to ten, slowly.

Suddenly, I started to hear a rumble from above and a distant noise coming closer. I looked around me, wondering where it's coming from and knowing this time I can't calm my heart beats down. The visible fear was caught in my throat and there wasn't anything to remove it by. I closed my eyes, waiting for the extrusion to happen.

"Oh Wendy," Peter announced, "You're awake!"

Astounded, I opened my eyes and looked at Peter. My lip fell ajar as I tried to piece upon his arrival. Where was the door? Wendy, you idiot, you weren't watching how Peter arrived! "O-oh, yes."

I slowly stood up, feeling the little trembles on my knees before standing upright and walking around with no trouble. I glanced back at Peter, a question in mind that hasn't occurred to me until now. "Where is Tink? I haven't seen her since… yesterday."

"Oh, I haven't either." Peter flew towards me, and sat cross-legged in midair. "But don't worry about Tink; she can take care of herself."

"Oh really, and" I huffed, giving Peter a stern glare before walking back to the bed and sat on the edge, "I suppose I can take care of myself too when you suddenly leave me on a ship to fend off intruders."

"Oh come on Wendy," Peter floated to me, his eyes apologetic, and "I came back like I said—"

"After it got dark when we clearly arrived at dusk." I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my head away from him.

"Well okay, but I had something important to do." Peter protested, his hands spread out in front of him in demonstration.

"Like what was so important to you that you couldn't bring me along? I, Peter, fell through the ship's quarters and you weren't there for me."

"I, well," Peter scrunched his face in frustration then a second later, his eye sparkled and he began to float higher. "Wendy, I have found Johnswilth!"

I looked up, giving Peter a disbelief look, "Who?" I hunched forward, shaking my head. What is he babbling on now? Is he telling another lie again?

"You know," Peter flipped in midair, "John, your brother!"

The sound of John's name perked into my head, a memory of finding a past photo that was hidden inside my journal made me feel whole again. Having forgotten who John was at first or the fact that I didn't know what he looked like made me have a migraine. Once I finally found a photo of my whole family including my adopted brothers, something sprung inside me, like watching a baby egg hatch. "Really? Oh Peter, that's so sweet of you to find John for me."

I smiled up at Peter with appreciation lingering on my face as he returned with another grin while lifting his eyes brows handsomely. I bowed my head as I felt blood rush to my cheeks, of course I didn't want him knowing that he made me feel that way.

Taking a big breath, I jumped up and clapped my hands, "Is he here? John, I mean. I want to talk to him."

I must have made him uncomfortable about my bubbly side; my family says I can be bipolar sometimes.

"Well," The boy before me paused and turned his gaze away from mine as I urged a look for him to go on, "I, uh, haven't seen him yet, b-but!"

Wait, what? I could feel the lost of feeling in my toes as his words were rushed and he turned to face me again, his lips running but all I could hear was the silence between us. Another lie, isn't it? I frown, giving Peter the impression of disappointment and betrayal.

"I know he has joined forces with Falcon!" Peter finished, landing on his feet and walking towards me. He placed a hand on my shoulder but I just couldn't believe my ears. I shrugged his hand off. I wasn't going through this again. What a fool I am, to believe a boy!

"I suppose Falcon is a bird, or a name given by an Indian or, or!" I grounded my hands into fists and stomped my foot, "I can't believe I've been stumped; I can't stay here no longer."

"Wendy…" Peter bleated, stepping closer to me but I only push him away.

"No! If you think you can meddle with my feelings like its some game, then you're wrong Peter. Pan," I swallowed and walked around him towards the table filled with candles and silly contraptions. "I'll find John on my own."

"But Wendy, I was only trying to help!" Peter pointed out, grabbing my left wrist and spinning me around. I gasped.

His face was too close to mine for comfort but in this moment, I couldn't help but inhale his earthy scent of pine leaves mixed with salt water. I let my eyes take cautious time as they travel up and about, exploring his face. His hair looked almost like bed hair but that didn't matter, because clearly he looked rather dashing. His eyes were in depth of sea green like a pool of stars and remembering how he raised his eyes brows earlier made my heart take flight. I licked my dry lips, thinking of what to say— finding it hard to sort through handsome thoughts about this boy and the truth.

I leaned in, and as we locked gaze, I whispered, "Your help… led me to believe nothing but lies."


(Line Interception)

A/N: How will Peter prove to Wendy that he isn't lying? Will Wendy start believing again or will she change? Where's Tink and why isn't she there helping out? What happened to Capt'n Hook… or is that his real name? Where's John in all this? Find out in the next chapter! Send feedback!