forever a lost boy

[lost_boy]

I woke with a start, my eyes open suddenly, instantly awake and without the slightest bit of grogginess that sometimes followed me into the morning. In Darrow, I had allowed myself to relax. When I slept, especially the nights I snuck into Eddie's room, I slept heavily. I slept like someone who felt safe, but this morning as I came awake, I knew everything had changed.

Somehow, I had known it even before my eyes were open, but now that they were, I could see everything in the dim sunlight that filtered in through the roots of the tree.

Slowly I sat up. The animal skins and furs piled on top of me fell away and it was a strange sort of relief to discover I was still wearing the t-shirt and striped pyjamas pants I had fallen asleep in. If nothing else, that meant Darrow hadn't been a dream, I hadn't gone there in my mind in some desperate attempt to escape Peter. Darrow was real and I was no longer there.

The very thought of it broke my heart.

I inhaled shakily, stifling the sob that wanted to slip out, then looked to my left. If I was here, it would be time to wake the other boys. Time to tell them what Peter was really like, but as I reached for the shape I thought would be Charlie or Nod or Crow, I realized the person lying next to me was familiar, but not for the reasons I would have thought.

I gaped at them, then turned to my other side and flung back the animal furs. I stood, stepping over shapes, pulling back the furs and skins so I could see those around me and another sob almost slipped out of me as I realized I wasn't alone. My friends were here. My friends from Darrow. I was overwhelmed with relief and gratitude for just a second before an absolute terror the likes of which I had only felt once before replaced my pleasure.

If they were here, they weren't safe. Not a single one of them. Peter would know I cared for them far more than I could ever care for him. He would see them as a threat.

As if my very thoughts had summoned him, a shape from the other end of the tree moved. Peter, holding a sharp blade in one hand and a rough piece of wood he'd been carving in the other, stepped into the midst of bodies, most of them still groggy, having just been pulled from sleep. He looked them over, a king surveying his domain, then smiled at me.

His teeth were perfect, tiny white pearls; his baby teeth. The ones I had knocked out the last time I'd seen him.

"Hullo, Jamie," he said cheerfully. "Welcome home."

[Initial post for anyone under 18. Feel free to use this for explanations, adventure, run-ins with fairies or mermaids or Peter, who will be outwardly cool to everyone, but won't be violent yet. In a few days I'll post a new top level for Jamie and Peter's fight.]

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[finally_ahead]

Stan stares back at the kid, feeling his skin crawl. For a moment, the look he's getting makes him actually reach for the back of his head in case someone tries to grab the kippah that's not really there. It's the same feeling he'd get from Bowers.

The feeling scares him, of course, just like the change in surroundings scare him, but Jamie's here and he can tell that Richie and Bev are here too, at least. With the time they'd all left him so fresh in his mind, Stan can't help but connect the two. He can't help but think that at least Jamie made it so Stan could come too, somehow.

It means that even though Stan's scared, he still fixes the weird kid with an irritated look, and then follows Jamie out, gulping in fresh air when he crawls into the light.

"What's happening?"

[lost_boy]

I waited until we were a little further from the tree, until we had some distance from Peter and he seemed distracted by someone else. I knew better than to think he wouldn't try to listen in anyway, but I had to take my chances. It wasn't fair to leave Stan or anyone in the dark about what I thought was happening.

"Remember how we were all asleep?" I asked. "Just after you arrived? I think this must be the same thing. We're all still back in Darrow, probably in our beds, all of us just looking like we're asleep, but somehow we're here, too."

I paused, then looked at Stan. "This is where I..." I paused again. I couldn't say I had grown up here, when I hadn't at all except for those last weeks. "Peter brought me here a long time ago. From London. This is where I lived for about fifty years before I came to Darrow."

[finally_ahead]

Stan knows he should be, at minimum, terrified and furious that this would happen to them, to him, but then he realizes that Jamie's the one dreaming it, just like Richie's girlfriend had. For a moment, he can't be scared or mad at all. Instead, he launches his arms around Jamie gratefully.

"You brought me with you," he says, his tone unsure but definitely something brighter than it had been. "I came with you guys, you brought me along." Stan finds that he feels a little like crying, but it's not the fucking time. He steps back from Jamie, the wheels turning in his head.

"Wait. London. Peter. This whole-- growing up thing-- is that--" He turns to look back at the tree. "Was that Peter Pan?"

[lost_boy]

I was surprised by the hug, but not ungrateful for it, and I hugged Stan back, laughing for what felt like the first time since I had woken up this morning. It was a rather nice feeling, being able to laugh on this Island even with all I knew now about Peter.

I used to love this place. I used to laugh here all the time, but he had taken that from me.

When Stan mentioned Peter's name, though, his full name, my smile faded. It was possible Eddie or Richie had told him, but still, I hated that he already knew. I hated that any of my friends had to know. I wished I could have kept them far away from here.

"He's Peter Pan," I answered with a nod.

[finally_ahead]

"I always thought that story was fucking weird," Stan says, part stubborn loyalty and part complete irritation. "He's-- there's something weird, and not just that he's a creepy little asshole. I mean, you know that, right? Like there were some really fucked up kids in Derry, you could just feel them thinking their evil shitty thoughts."

He crosses his arms, working himself into the full on annoyance and trepidation that had marked his summer.

"Is that why he was so weird about you?" Stan suddenly looks horrified. "Did he kidnap you?"

[lost_boy]

It felt so good to have someone recognize there was something wrong with Peter so quickly. I knew others would, too, I knew Beverly would never trust him, I knew if Eddie had been here, he probably would have tried to hit Peter by now. But it was still such a comfort and I let out a long, shaky exhale before smiling gratefully at Stan.

"He... well, sort of," I said. "I went with him willingly, but only because he- he-" I stopped and had to take in another breath. Even after all this time, remembering what Peter had done, knowing how long I had forgotten it, pressed the memory away and refused to deal with it, it hurt.

"I was eight," I told Stan. "He killed my mother and made me believe I would get into trouble for it because I was the one who found her. Her blood was all over me and he said they would put me in jail, so I ran away with him. I came here so I would be safe. I didn't know he was the one who had killed her, not for a long time."