Soon
...
Peter laughed, certain he was crazy now. "Wow! You're fantastic, little bug!
I can't believe my subconscious. I thought it would go for the demure type."
He laughed giddily.
The faerie glowered at him dangerously. "Stop it, Peter! Stop it right now!"
She darted at him. He caught a glimpse of the tiny dagger's blade as she
swept past his hand. He felt a sharp pain, and suddenly he was cut. He
stared in disbelief at the back of his hand, watching the blood flow in a
red ribbon from the wound.
His eyes went wide. "I can't believe you did that! I'm bleeding! Look at me!
What do... what is this..." He shuddered, the truth of what the pain and the
blood meant sinking in. "Oh, my God," he whispered.
The faerie landed again on the strut, emerging hastily from the light. "Are
you okay?" There was genuine concern in her voice. "Peter, are you all
right?"
Peter Banning lifted his eyes to stare at her, no longer seeing a light or
an image or some figment of his imagina-tion. Gone in an instant's time was
the misconception that he was in dreamland or anywhere else imaginary. Gone
was the dizziness, the belief that he would wake from dreaming when his head
cleared, the certainty that the world was as it had always been, as he had
always known it to be.
He stared at the tiny faerie and knew that she was real.
He tried to breathe, and his chest constricted.
The faerie's face was pretty and bright with youth beneath the frown lines
that etched her smooth forehead and the corners of her mouth. "Do you know
where we are?" she whispered to him.
He swallowed, then nodded. He couldn't speak.
"Who am I, Peter?"
He froze. If he said it, if he admitted it...
"Say it, Peter. You have to say it."
He managed to shake his head. "I can't," he breathed.
She bent close. "Why?"
"Because if I say it, if I..." He swallowed. "If I say it, it will be..."
"What?"
"Real."
The lines disappeared, and there was a strange new light in her pixie eyes.
"Please," she whispered. "Peter, please. Say it."
His face softened. The name was a feather on the wind. "Tinkerbell," he
said.
"And I live in...?"
"Neverland."
He gasped at the enormity of what he had just admitted, jerked away, and ran
to the window of the deserted kitchen to stare out into the pirate town. The
crocodile tower loomed before him, facing out through the wrecks of the
pirate ships toward the harbor beyond. Pirates jostled and shouted as they
crossed the square and swaggered in and out of the buildings.
Peter swung back again toward Tinkerbell. "I can't accept this! It's not
rational adult thinking! It's not possi-ble!"
Tinkerbell darted from the shelf to land on his hand and began wrapping a
handkerchief about the cut. "Listen to me, Peter. Jack and Maggie are here.
And you've got to do battle with Captain Hook to free them. For that, you'll
need the Lost Boys. And your sword. And you'll have to fly!"
Peter shook his head vehemently. "Just wait, just hold on one minute!" He
steadied himself. "Whatever this is all about, whatever is happening here,
I'm still me! I can't fly. I'm not going to fight anyone."
He spun away from her and strode toward the door. "Where are you going?" she
called after him.
"To find James Hook, Captain, and get my kids back and go home!" he shouted
back.
"No, Peter, it's too soon!" She flashed in front of him, trying to bring him
to a halt. "Hook is waiting for you. It's a trap! He planned it this way-the
kidnapping, the whole business. He'll kill you! You're not ready for him!"
Peter brushed past. He'd had enough of this nonsense. "I'm as ready as I
need to be." He paused at the kitchen door. "Besides, my kids can't afford
to miss any more school."
Tinkerbell stomped her foot on an imaginary floor, hands on hips. "Oh, Peter
Pan!" she muttered. "You are as stubborn as ever!" She whipped past him as
he tried to go out the doorway, seized hold of his shirt collar, and held
him fast. "A look, then!" she hissed in his ear. "Just a look, though. Then
you decide. But first let's dress you up a bit."
As he grunted irritably, she dragged him back inside.
...
