Lost In Neverland

Chapter 9: Shadows of Doubt

Gwen

When I woke, I was cocooned in warmth. For a moment, I didn’t move, letting the steady rhythm of Peter’s heartbeat beneath my ear lull me into a false sense of security. His arm was wrapped around me, firm but careful, as if he were afraid I might break if he held me too tightly. The fire had burned down to embers, casting a faint orange glow over the dirt walls of the lair.

It was almost easy to forget where I was. Almost.

I shifted slightly, and Peter’s arm tightened instinctively around me. His warmth was a stark contrast to the chill that lingered in the air, and I found myself hesitating before pulling away. I tilted my head to look up at him. His face was relaxed in sleep, the usual tension gone, and for the first time, I noticed how young he looked. Not a boy, not really, but there was something unguarded about him like this. Vulnerable, even.

I’d kissed him. The memory surged back, unbidden, and my cheeks burned. What had I been thinking? Peter Pan, the boy who didn’t grow up, wasn’t supposed to be… this. He wasn’t supposed to make my heart race or make me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

And yet, here we were.

“You’re staring,” Peter murmured, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. His blue eyes blinked open, meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“I wasn’t,” I said quickly, sitting up and pulling the blanket tighter around myself.

His lips curved into a faint smirk, and he propped himself up on one elbow. “Sure, you weren’t.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. “You’re imagining things.”

He let it drop, sitting up fully and running a hand through his messy blond hair. The movement drew my attention to the lines of his chest and the way the firelight played over his muscles. I looked away quickly, my face heating again.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was something in his expression—a softness that felt out of place in a world as harsh as this one.

I nodded. “Better than I expected.”

He stood, stretching, and moved to stoke the fire. I watched him silently, the way he moved with a confidence that seemed second nature. Everything about him screamed survival, from the way he handled his dagger to the way he constantly scanned the room as if expecting danger to spring from the shadows.

“Do you miss it?” I asked suddenly, my voice breaking the quiet.

Peter, who had been adjusting the fire, glanced up at me with a puzzled expression. “Miss what?”

“Being younger,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “You came to Neverland so you wouldn’t have to grow up, right? Do you ever wish things could go back to how they were before?”

His expression shifted, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place crossing his face. He sat down across from me, his blue eyes thoughtful. “I used to think that staying young forever was the best thing in the world. No rules, no responsibilities… just adventure. But the island has a way of… changing things.”

“How?” I pressed, curious.

Peter sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. “It’s not the same as it was. Back then, it was all fun and games. But now…” He trailed off, his gaze distant. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve changed, too.”

“You’ve grown up,” I said softly, and his eyes snapped back to mine.

“Not all the way,” he said with a faint smirk, but there was no real humor in it. “The island won’t let me. Not completely. But I’ve seen enough to know that being young forever… it’s not as simple as I thought it would be.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “Do you regret it? Coming here, I mean.”

He hesitated, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his dagger. “Sometimes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But if I hadn’t… I wouldn’t have met you.”

My cheeks flushed, and I quickly looked away, my heart skipping a beat at his words. The warmth of the fire seemed to intensify, or maybe it was just him.

I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse. “I’m worried about Hook and what he might be up to.”

Peter’s gaze darkened, and he sat back down across from me. “He asked questions about you. About where you came from.”

My chest tightened. “And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” Peter said firmly. “I told him to stay away from you.”

There was a weight to his words that made my throat constrict. “Why does he hate you so much?”

Peter’s lips pressed into a thin line; his blue eyes clouded with a mix of frustration and something deeper. He hesitated before answering. “Hook wasn’t always… Hook. Before the island changed him, he was James. He was bold, brave, and determined to prove himself. We used to go on adventures together, pushing the limits of what the island could throw at us. He was like a big brother to me, in some ways.”

I blinked, surprised. “What changed?”

Peter’s expression darkened. “It was an accident. We were exploring one of the more dangerous parts of the island—a place even the Lost Boys avoided. There was a fight with the crocodile. It came out of nowhere, massive and relentless. We were outmatched, and James tried to save me. He lost his hand in the process, its jaws snapping down before I could stop it.”

My breath caught, and a mixture of wonder and sadness washed over me. “That’s the part of Hook in the Peter Pan story,” I said softly. “The crocodile bit his hand off.”

Peter nodded, his jaw tightening. “The crocodile took his hand, and I couldn’t stop it. I fought it off, but by the time I got him back to safety, he… he wasn’t the same. The island’s magic twisted the wound, and the pain changed him. He blamed me for bringing him there, for not saving him in time. No matter what I said, no matter what I did, he wouldn’t forgive me.”

I studied him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Is it true?” I asked softly. “That you can hear the crocodile tick like a clock?”

Peter’s lips twitched in a faint smile, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah. You can. It swallowed a clock once, and you hear it before you see it. It’s like the island’s way of letting you know it’s coming. But sometimes, you hear it too late.”

I shivered at the thought, the weight of it settling over me. “Do you blame yourself?”

His gaze snapped to mine, sharp and unyielding. “I didn’t make him lose his hand. But I… I took him there. So maybe, in a way, I do.”

The rawness in his voice made my chest ache. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive you?”

Peter shook his head. “His hate has consumed him. He’s let it define him. Even if he wanted to forgive me, I don’t think he knows how anymore. All I can do is make sure his bitterness doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

There was something raw in his voice, and for a moment, I saw the weight he carried, the shadows of a past he couldn’t outrun. I wanted to say something, to ask more, but the look in his eyes warned me to stop.

“Okay,” I said quietly, leaning back against the wall. “But if he comes near us again, I want to know.”

Peter’s gaze softened slightly, and he nodded. “You will. I promise.”

The words settled between us, and for a moment, the tension eased. The fire crackled softly, and I found myself relaxing despite everything. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the shadows Hook had warned about were already closing in.