Releasing Wendy Darling

The trapdoor groaned on rusted hinges as I threw it all the way open. The air that wafted up was stale, smelling of damp earth and neglect.

I reached down into the dark. "Take my hand."

A pale, trembling hand reached up from the gloom. It was thin, the skin almost translucent. I grasped it - it felt fragile, like bird bones wrapped in parchment - and pulled. With a gasp of effort, the figure climbed out of the hole and collapsed onto the floor of the Captain's Quarters.

It was Wendy Darling. But not the girl from the storybooks. Not entirely. She was older now, a young woman on the cusp of adulthood, frozen in time by the magic of the island but worn down by captivity. She wore a nightgown that was now little more than grey rags, hanging loosely off her emaciated frame. Her brown hair was matted, hanging over her face.

She coughed, shielding her eyes from the soft glow of the moss-lanterns. "Peter?" she rasped, squinting up at me. "You... you grew up?"

Then her vision cleared. She saw the heavy coat, the broad shoulders, the dark eyes. She saw the Keyblade in my hand. She scrambled backward, pressing herself against the wooden wall, terror in her eyes. "You're not him. You're... a pirate? Did Hook win?"

"Hook is gone," I said, my voice calm but authoritative. "And so is Peter."

"Gone?" She blinked, her lip trembling. "But... he said he’d come back. He said I was in Timeout. He said I had to stay in the box until I promised not to grow up."

On the bed, Tinkerbell shifted. She had wrapped the velvet fur throw around her body like a royal robe, sitting up straight. Her hair was messy from our lovemaking, her lips swollen, her skin flushed. She looked every inch the Queen of the hideout. She stared at the girl on the floor with a complicated expression, recognition, pity, and a lingering, instinctual spark of jealousy.

"He forgot you," Tink said. Her voice was cold, human, and absolute.

Wendy’s head snapped toward the bed. She stared at the blonde woman wrapped in furs. She squinted, confused. "Who...?" Then she saw the wings draped over Tink’s shoulders, twitching slightly. She saw the familiar blue eyes. "Tink?" Wendy whispered, horrified. "You got big. You got... big."

"I grew up," Tink declared, lifting her chin. She crawled to the edge of the bed, looking down at her old rival. "Peter left. He ran away when the darkness came. He left me to die, and he left you in a box."

Wendy slumped against the wall, the fight draining out of her. She pulled her knees to her chest, sobbing quietly. "He told me it was a game," she cried. "He said mothers stay in the house. But he locked the door. I waited... I waited so long."

I looked at the two women. One was a victim of Peter’s refusal to mature, a toy discarded because it threatened to change. The other was a survivor who had **** her own evolution to find a new master.

I walked over to Wendy. She flinched, but I didn't strike her. I knelt down. "You're free now, Wendy."

She looked up, tears streaking the grime on her face. "Free? But... where do I go? The Lost Boys... they turned into monsters. Shadows. They scratched at the floorboards."

"The Shadows are gone," I said. "Me and Tink banished them for good. The island is under new management. And... Sorry about your boys."

I stood up and looked at Tink. "She needs food. And water."

Tink hesitated. The old fairy instinct was to pinch Wendy, to pull her hair. But Tink wasn't that petty creature anymore. She had been filled; she was secure. She looked at the pathetic, broken girl on the floor, and then she looked at me, the man who had just claimed her body and soul. She realized she had already won. She didn't need to be jealous of a broken toy.

"There's fruit left," Tink said, her voice softening. "And dried meat." She slid off the bed, clutching the fur sheet around her breasts, the hem trailing on the floor like a gown. She walked over to the small table where our earlier meal lay. She grabbed a blue fruit and walked to Wendy.

She crouched down. "Here," Tink said, offering the fruit.

Wendy looked at the fruit, then at Tink. She took it with shaking hands and bit into it ravenously, juice running down her chin. "Thank you," she mumbled between bites. "Thank you, Tinkerbell."

Tink watched her eat, then looked up at me. "She smells worse than Peter did," Tink noted, wrinkling her nose. "She smells like the hole."

"She needs a bath," I agreed. "We all do, honestly."

I looked at Wendy. "Can you walk?"

Wendy nodded weakly, using the wall to pull herself up. She was shaky, her legs atrophied from the confinement. "I think so."

"Good. We're leaving this tree," I stated. "The air is better outside. We’re going to the Mermaid Lagoon."

Wendy froze. "The mermaids? They... they try to drown me."

"Not anymore," I said, resting my hand on the hilt of The Solar Zenith. "Nothing drowns what belongs to me. And right now, you are under my protection."

I turned to Tink. "Get dressed, my Queen. We have a guest to clean up."

Tink beamed at the title. She dropped the fur sheet, unashamed of her gorgeous nakedness in front of Wendy, and began to rummage through the pile of pirate silks Peter had stolen over the years. She found a white silk shirt, too big for a boy, but perfect as a dress for her, and a leather belt. She pulled the shirt on, cinching the belt tight around her tiny waist. It was short, showing off her long legs, looking far more pirate-chic than her old leaf dress.

She walked over to me, wrapping her arms around my arm, staking her claim visibly for Wendy to see. "Ready, Master," she purred.

Wendy watched us, her eyes wide as she processed the dynamic. She saw the way Tink touched me, the way I looked at Tink. "You're not a Lost Boy," Wendy whispered, half to herself. "You're a man."

"Come," I ordered.

We led Wendy out of the Captain's Quarters, through the healed roots of the Hangman's Tree, and out into the fresh night air of Neverland. The stars were blazing. The silence of the grave was gone, replaced by the gentle lap of water and the rustle of leaves.

Wendy took a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh air for the first time in... god knows how long. She looked at the sky and wept silently.

I looked at the lagoon. The water was clearing, the oil slick fading as the heart of the world pumped clean magic back into the ocean. "Time to wash away the past," I said.