by Chanda Hahn
Wendy was about to say something to him, but John gave her a look.
“Leave him.” He yawned and laid his head back. “If he wants to guard us, that’s his prerogative. Truthfully, I’ll sleep better knowing that one of us is on guard. Get some shut-eye. We don’t know when we’ll stop next.”
Wendy followed suit, curling up on her side, her hand under her head. Within minutes, she could hear soft snores coming from John’s exhausted body. She was just as tired as Michael and John, but in the quiet darkness, the loss of Peter’s shadow came rushing back, dominating her thoughts with grief and worry that kept her wide awake.
Silent tears slipped down her cheeks, and she tried to wipe them away. She believed she had kept her sniffles quiet enough, but Jax leaned down and gave her a solemn look.
Wendy ignored him, until he sat down, legs extended out in front of him. There wasn’t a lot of room, and his thigh was touching hers. Leaning back against the wall, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her expectantly.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m trying to be a good friend,” he answered. “You’re hurting.”
Wendy looked over at him, squinting to see his expression in the dim light. “Are we, though? Friends, I mean.”
A moment passed before he murmured, “I guess that’s up to you.” He paused. “But Peter was my friend.” The silence became weighted with guilt.
“I know.” She did know. Even though she had probably loved Peter since they were kids, she hadn’t grown up with him like Jax. They were as close as brothers.
“And . . .” He cleared his throat and turned to look her in the eyes. “It’s not your fault. Peter or your brother.”
“If I hadn’t died back at Neverland, I wouldn’t have panned and forgotten that he even existed. I would never have left him that night. I would have brought him with me.”
“It’s not your fault, and you know it.”
“I brought the shadows to Neverwood.” She buried her head in her knees. “They followed me after we walked through the shadow realm. They brought the morph—”
“Stop,” Jax interrupted, placing his hand on Wendy’s back. “Neverland was always coming. We knew that they would find us one day. We’ve been training for years. You didn’t bring them to our doorstep. I did.”
She turned to hide her tear-stained cheeks from him and whispered, her voice filled with sadness, “I wish I had never met you.”
“Believe me, I feel the same about you. You complicate things. When I’m around you, things aren’t so black and white. I see gray areas, lines I shouldn’t cross, but I’m tempted. I don’t know how to—forget it.” He shook his head.
Her breath caught in her throat at his admission. Was he talking about double-crossing them again or something else? He was hard to read and understand.
With the hand still resting on her back, he gave her a few awkward pats, and she stiffened.
“Relax, you need to get some beauty rest.”
“Are you saying I’m ugly?” she tried to joke.
“On a scale of one to ten, with the crying, the red nose and the tears . . . yeah, you’re a four.”
“I never was a pretty crier,” she mused, reminded of her friend Brittney who could cry full out without ever turning blotchy or getting swollen eyes.
“Doesn’t matter. Your tears are from the heart, and that makes you beautiful.”
“You just said I’m a four?” she corrected, feeling her mood lighten.
“Yeah, to me. Peter obviously thinks you’re a ten when you cry.”
At the mention of Peter, the mood plummeted. They both stopped talking and Wendy lay down and turned on her side, giving Jax her back, tentatively putting her arm over her young brother. She took a deep breath and tried not to think of the horrible things that had happened and focused instead on building a new future with her long-lost brother and her adopted one.
A light sprinkle fell along the rocks and forest floor. The sprinkle evolved into bigger drops and with the rain came a sudden chill to the air. While John and Michael never stirred, Wendy shivered and curled into a ball, burying her head into Michael’s shoulder. It wasn’t helping. The constant chill became a plague and her teeth chattered when she inhaled.
Despite the cold, she still found herself drifting off, and somewhere between sleep and awake, she thought she felt a slight pressure on her arm, maybe the start of a dream, and she welcomed it and its heat, which slowly replaced the chill. She sighed and nuzzled into the warmth.
Birds chirping in the early daylight stirred her awake. Opening her eyes, she felt the brush of denim against her cheek. It was Jax. Sometime in the night she had turned over and burrowed her head into his chest for warmth. It was his arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close.
Startled, she looked up and discovered Jax staring down at her. “Shh, you’ll wake them,” he whispered.
Wendy turned her head only to see John sprawled out; his glasses had slid down his face, his mouth wide open. Michael had rolled over to him and was sleeping with his back against John’s side.
Feeling extremely self-conscious at being so near Jax, she moved away and he groaned.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. It sounded like he was in pain.
“My arm’s asleep. It’s been stuck in that position for hours.” He flexed his fingers and rotated his shoulder to bring the blood pumping back into his arm.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she accused, her face going red with embarrassment.
“Wasn’t planning on it, until you rolled over and helped yourself to my body heat. I can’t help it if my power makes me a living furnace. It wasn’t harming anyone, so why should I let you freeze?” His matter-of-fact way of stating that it was no big deal helped relieve her mind.
“Thank you,” she said, looking away, unwilling to make eye contact.
“I did it for Peter,” he said. “I failed him in so many ways. It’s the least I can do.”
“Peter?” Wendy turned back to face him, feeling uncertain. Jax was a mystery to her, full of contradictions. He could seem so hard and unyielding, with such a temper, but then he said things like this and she realized Jax was not someone she could easily sum up.
She studied Jax’s gray eyes, which were a tad red. Was it from crying or lack of sleep?
He didn’t look her way again as he dug into his bag and handed her a chocolate chip granola bar. They tapped them together amicably and tore them open. It was a tenuous friendship, one they seem to have come to an understanding about. Even if he had just tried to kidnap her for Neverland a few days ago, he’d risked his life fighting to protect the boys. That had to count for something. For that alone, she could respect him and be grateful to him. Still, he had broken her trust, and she didn’t think he would ever fully gain it back.
They ate in silence as the sunrise crested the hill.
“It’s beautiful,” Wendy said in awe.
“It sure is,” Jax agreed.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Wendy asked, fidgeting with her granola wrapper.
“Yes,” Jax said confidently.
“How can you be sure?” She hated sounding weak, but she needed affirmation that Peter was alive, that Neverland hadn’t destroyed him, that he could come back from being a shadow, that his soul wasn’t gone forever.
“Because if I was Peter”—he looked over at Wendy, his voice growing husky—“nothing would keep me from the girl I love. Not even death.” He spoke with such grit and passion that she knew his words rang true. Jax had never spoken a word about a great love, but there was no doubt he had one.
“Who is she?” Wendy asked.
This time it was Jax who dropped his head and fidgeted like a middle schooler with his granola wrapper. “I don’t even know her name. Just the number on a pod. My friend nicknamed her Alice.”
“How—” Wendy began.
“Neverland,” Jax answered. “One day I stumbled into a
n area I wasn’t supposed to be in and I saw her. She was beautiful, floating, sleeping, dreaming. I wanted to stay, to try to find a way to free her from their grasp, but Candace says she can’t survive outside of the pod. That the machine she is hooked up to is the only thing keeping her alive.”
“That’s horrible,” Wendy added. “That’s why you kept going back, isn’t it? For her. For Alice.”
“Yes.” Jax nodded his head. “Even now I feel like I’ve abandoned her. And the sad part is she doesn’t even know that I exist. Stupid, isn’t it, to care for someone and have it be one-sided. I have a bad habit of loving people who don’t love me back.”
“No, not at all. I think to not care is stupid.” This time it was Wendy who extended her hand and gave Jax the awkward pat on the shoulder. His breathing evened out, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Wendy. About everything. Neverwood, Peter, and—”
“Don’t . . . please,” she begged. The wall around her heart began to break down and crumble and with it, her resilience. The flood of painful memories came whipping back to tear at her heart.
“Your parents.”
“Stop,” she commanded. She wasn’t ready to bring everything up when she had so carefully put her feelings in a box and mourned her parents already. It was too soon.
“It’s just that, I should have stopped them. I—”
“I said stop it,” Wendy hissed vehemently and stood up. “I can’t do this right now.” She needed to get away.
Wendy ran haphazardly down the path and followed the sound of water until she came to a stream. She kneeled beside it, wrapping her arms around her knees, and there with no one around, she let the tears fall. Deep sobs came forth, and she let the sound of the stream comfort her. When she had cried herself dry, and her heart was numb, she finally stood up, then realized she wasn’t alone. Jax had followed her. He reached out a hand as a peace offering, and she evaded it, giving him a wide berth. “I’m sorry. I just need a moment.”
Wiping at her eyes, she climbed the path back up toward John and Michael, who were awake and already going through their bags and eating all the food. Jax followed at a slower pace.
The hum of an engine could be heard in the distance, and Wendy and Jax stood in front of the outcropping, putting themselves as a barrier between Michael and John. The hum grew louder as the engine drew closer.
Jax muttered, “Four-wheeler.”
Twenty seconds later, a red four-wheeler crested the top of the hill and the driver hit the brake. With the sun shining behind the motorist, it was impossible to tell the gender of the driver—until she took off her helmet. Tink waved at them, and pointed to the black electronic box she had strapped to the four-wheeler.
“Found you!” she chanted enthusiastically. “Now, I’ll hide and you seek.”
John pushed his way between Wendy and Jax and ran up the hill to give Tink a huge hug, lifting her physically off the four-wheeler and spinning her around. “I’ve never been so excited to see you,” he said.
“I bet. Sorry we didn’t come sooner. Teleporting three full-sized adults that distance was rough on Tootles, and he was already emotionally beat. He collapsed after he brought us there, and we were busy trying to save Ditto.”
“How is he?” Michael asked.
“He’s stable, resting for now.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Wendy sighed.
Tink grinned like the Cheshire cat hiding a secret. “But let’s stop talking and get you to Neverfalls. I can’t take you all at once, so we will have to do this in turns. John, Michael, you first. Wendy and Jax, I’ll see you in an hour and a half, okay?”
“We’ll be fine,” Jax said.
“Wendy,” Tink whispered. “Watch out for him. Make sure he doesn’t try to run away or go back to Neverland. I still don’t trust him.”
“You got it,” Wendy agreed. “I’ll keep him in line.”
Jax gave her an incredulous look and snorted. “As if you could stop me.”
“I did it before. And I’ll do it again, but this time drop you in the shadow plane for good,” she warned him gently.
“Touché,” he chuckled. “I remember. You won’t have to worry about me. I’ll be good.” Jax helped Michael secure his pack to the back of the four-wheeler. Wendy walked over and pulled the blindfold down over his eyes, and he gave her a reassuring grin, telling her it was okay, he understood.
“Just a little longer, I promise.”
“I know.” Michael reached for Wendy’s arm, but missed and hit her back. “You’ll find a way to fix me. I know it.”
The engine started, Tink driving, John sitting on the basket, and Michael wedged between them. She cut off up the hill she’d come down, and Wendy listened until she could no longer make out the roar of the engine.
She looked over at Jax and tried to judge the progress they had made in their friendship. He was trying to build a bridge, she just wasn’t sure if there was a troll lurking under it.
Wendy decided to head back to the outcropping and sit underneath it for shade. Tink said it would be an hour and a half. Well, she was pretty sure she could sleep for the same amount of time. She closed her eyes and Peter’s face flashed across her mind. Forget sleeping—she would focus on ways to bring him back. She had to.
Chapter 6
His head was exploding with pain. Flashing images burned into his subconscious. Fire, guns shooting, boys running for their lives. A beautiful girl, with flowing blonde hair, eyes of the palest blue—her hand reached for him, he reached back, and then she was gone.
Peter jerked in his chair as the current through his head stopped and the pain lessened, though his finger still twitched uncontrollably under the wrist restraint. What had he just seen? Who was the girl?
Hands pulled at his head—Candace was loosening the chin strap to remove the helmet. His neck muscles were jelly, his head rolling and bobbing like a lure in the ocean.
“What was that?” he mumbled through numb lips.
“Memories, although from when or from what, I couldn’t tell you. That is for you to figure out.”
“I saw someone. A girl.” Peter paused, unsure of how to continue. How much was he supposed to tell this stranger?
Candace’s eyebrows rose. “Really. Tell me about her.”
Peter became quiet. “Nothing, that’s all that I remember.”
“Old? Young? Pretty?” she continued to press, and Peter’s lips pinched into a thin line.
“I don’t know.” His slipped his right hand out of its restraint and he pulled the helmet off of her lap and put it back on his head. “But I’m going to find out.” He smiled at her look of utter surprise at seeing him slip from the restraint so easily. “I think it’s too soon,” she said, shaking her head as he struggled with the buckle on the chin strap of the helmet. She was shocked at his willingness to undergo more pain. “The damage it could do, and we’ve only started testing it out. I would hate to overdo it and—”
“Kill me,” Peter finished for her. “If what you said was correct, that’s not the end of the world for me. But I need to find out who she is.”
“Peter . . .” Candace’s voice lowered in warning. “You may not like the answers you find.”
“I have to find her. The answers are in there. I’ll do whatever it takes.” It was difficult to tighten the chin strap using only his right hand, and when he was finished, he slid it back under the all too lose wrist strap. “I’m ready.”
Candace chewed the inside of her cheek as she debated whether to help him or not.
He slipped his right hand out of the restraint and grabbed her hand. “Please, help me.”
She took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay, but be careful.”
“They’re my memories. What is so dangerous about what happened in the past?”
Candace didn’t seem convinced. “Memories can be a dangerous thing. What I wouldn’t give to wake up with a second chance at life without the weight of my past haunting me at every turn.”
“I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.” Peter leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I’d do anything to get rid of this empty and hollow feeling I have.”
He waited, as Candace buzzed the door and moved to her computer. He knew pain would come, and he was preparing himself mentally. He tensed.
The shock was worse the second time. His head snapped back hard into the headrest, his toes curled in pain. He tried to search the bits and pieces and flashes of memories, searching for her, but they didn’t come in a neat and concise timeline. He recognized Hook, saw the mercenaries in their uniforms that matched the one he was wearing. He saw a mansion, or what could be a boarding school filled with boys with special powers. He began to remember some of their names. Ditto, Slightly, and another girl with white-blonde hair—Tink. None of them were her.
“W—where are you?” he ground out between gritted teeth.
Flying through clouds of memory, he searched for her. And there she was, in some sort of sterile room. No—a hospital room. He instantly recognized her as a young child. He was there too—they were playing board games together. His heart beat faster with anticipation. He saw her again at a high school in a cheerleading uniform with her friend Brittney. Then Wendy and him were together on a rooftop. His heart was exploding with love. They kissed. And then he was flying above her, lighter than air and euphoric. He had done it. He found her. Found his Wendy.
But in the next moment—
Bang! A gun was fired, and Wendy dropped to the ground. Blood spread slowly from her stomach. He held her in his arms and watched her die. “NO!” Peter screamed in anguish, his breathing ragged, and he tried to hold on to her image, but the memory floated away and was gone. He ripped the headgear off. The machine stopped, and he opened his eyes. His head was brushing the ceiling of the room.
He was levitating, flying in the air, with the chair firmly secured to his backside, his arms still locked in the restraints.
“You’re flying,” she said in awe over the intercom, her eyes wide with shock. He looked down and his heart dropped—and so did the chair, crashing to the floor and breaking into pieces with Peter in it. He could have pulled himself up, but instead he crumpled on the ground and cried.