FicWad

Wendy drifted into sleep filled with nightmares about her hands being chopped off. She was at a wooded beach, admiring the reflection of the trees on the water, when the cold swish of steel sliced through the skin and muscle and bones of her wrists. She could see her hands on the ground, but had only pained, bleeding stumps with which to try and pick them up. As her dripping arms slipped over her hands and turf, she would cry out, and she must have been doing it out loud, because she awoke to the noise of her own tears every time.

One time that night, however, her cries were not because of the dreams. She cried out in earnest in the very darkest part of the night because there was a sudden, sharp pain in her left ear. She sat up immediately and touched her hand to the spot of pain. It was warm and slippery, and the stinging feeling of her fingertips against what she could only guess was an open wound made her gasp in horror. She was bleeding, badly. It wasn't a dream. Her eyes flicked up to the only thing that could distract her: a small glowing form glittering in its own light. Tinkerbell was flying in front of her face and having the good nature to look appalled, not by Wendy, but by what she certainly knew was her fault. What Wendy could guess from the state of Tinkerbell's face and the wound was no more than the fairy's involvement, but the small knife covered in fairy dust that lay next to where Wendy's head had been on her pillow, and the red spots of blood on the blade brought it all together for her. At the moment it all clicked, Wendy did the only natural thing for someone in her situation. She screamed.

"What?! I'm awake! What is it?" Peter yelled, and he was already standing to fight, eyes fierce. He looked confused by the absence of enemies, but soon realized Wendy was bleeding. "Wendy, did you fight without me?!"

"No, Peter! No, I did no such thing!" Keeping calm was out of the question for Wendy at this point, and she shuddered as she tried to explain what was going on. Her ear was hurting badly, and ignorant as she was of medical procedure, she knew the cut was bad.

"Oh, it's okay, Wendy," Peter said, smiling and sitting on her bed. "Tink says it was only an accident! She was just trying to cut your hair, you know, to make you uglier she said. She dropped the knife and it hit you! That's all!"

"That's /all/?!"

"Well, what do you want, Wendy?" he asked. "I mean, you're hair didn't get cut."

Wendy used all her remaining strength (after stopping her tears) to ignore his idiocy and say what was important. "Peter, I'm bleeding. I need to see a doctor."

"I'll go wake up one of the boys."

"Not a pretend doctor, Peter, a real doctor!"

"I don't know what you mean," Peter shrugged, and he went to wake up a Lost Boy, still laughing lightly about Tink's joke.

Filled with rage, Wendy only shook silently while tearing her pillowcase off of its pillow and pressing it to her left ear. Not only did she have no desire to stay in the house with Peter at the moment, but she knew she was desperately close to permanently depriving him of his best friend, who at least had the good sense to hide in her tiny apartment near Peter's chair. She was feeling ill from the pain, but she had to find someone to help her, and the closest thing she could think of to a doctor was one of the Indians. They had medicine and health practices, and she could only hope that they would remember her, and that she could remember how to find them. Peter was going to be no use, as he thought it all a funny prank, anyway. She slid uncomfortably up her tree and stumbled into the woods.

After walking aimlessly for nearly a half hour, Wendy knew she had no idea where the Indians lived. The sun was not completely out of the sky, but it was dark in the forest, and she wouldn't have seen well even if she wasn't in pain. Would calling for help be of any use? Would they come to her aid? She didn't have much time to think about this option because just as she stepped into a clearing, a dirty hand covered her mouth. She tried to jerk away from its grip, but she was too weak and began to swoon. It was as she tipped backward slightly that she realized there was no one directly behind her, and that the hand over her mouth came from someone hovering-or flying-behind her.

"Hold still," Peter whispered, and he sounded as serious as it was possible for him to sound. "Don't make any noise. There are pirates just on the other side of the trees." Wendy noticed that this serious tone was still filled with excitement. She tore at his hand until he moved it and turned slowly to face him. His eyes were shining and his mouth was turned up in a thrill-seeking grin. "You almost walked right into them, Wendy." He almost looked annoyed as he considered the possibility that she was sneaking out of their home to do battle with the pirates and not asking him along. That was beyond reproach, as far as he was concerned, but something distracted him from this feeling. It was the sound of pirates talking, and Wendy, too, turned her unharmed ear to listen through the trees.

Wendy didn't know if Peter could make sense of anything coming through to them, but she couldn't. Either it was too quiet a conversation or her pain was too great, but she only heard bits and pieces of their talk, though she could clearly hear that the words were spoken by pirates, and some of the voices, when she heard them, were vaguely familiar. She pressed the pillowcase harder against her wound and strained to hear more; Peter did the opposite and redirected his attention to her.

"They're not doing anything interesting," he whispered, "just picking berries." He seemed to be considering an attack anyway.

"You're not going to fight them, are you?"

"Why not?" Peter asked. "They're pirates."

Wendy, incensed both by his cavalier attitude (which only served to remind her of Hook's hand) and Tinkerbell's careless prank, nearly slapped his face. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it all over, and the left side of her head pounded in unison. An idea was creeping into her mind, whether a good one or a bad one she did not know, but she was certain it wouldn't work if Peter was with her. How was she to distract him from pirates, though? She tried appealing to the love of a devoted son he claimed to have for her. "Peter," she said through her teeth, "As your mother, I demand at this instant that you go home and go straight to bed. No fighting is allowed past bedtime." She didn't know if it would work, but it was worth a try.

Conflict arose in his face immediately, but the grin across his lips as he sheathed his sword told her she won. He flew silently away from her, not even thinking to ask why she was out and, more importantly, why she was not following him home. His lack of interest didn't bother her at the moment, though, because she was preoccupied with her quickly-formed plan. One of the voices she heard was the familiar tone of the pirate Smee. While none of the words were completely clear, the voice was, and it carried the only hope she had.

'Okay, Wendy,' she thought, 'just go out there and ask to be taken to the ship.' Pirates had doctors, didn't they? Would they help her, though? Would they kill her? Would they do worse? She had no reason to believe that running into the clearing full of pirates in the late evening would be safe, but in her current state, she was convinced it was the only option. What she didn't lack in certainty, though, she lacked in nerve, and it took her several minutes to stand up straight, dust off her nightdress, and step quietly through the trees, hoping she wouldn't startle anyone and be shot.