"Oh, sure I do." Peter drew himself up. "Ahoy, you lubbers!" he said in his wondrous imitation of Hook's voice. "Set her free! Yes, cut her bonds and let her go! At once, d'ye hear, or I'll plunge my Hook in you!" He laughed merrily. "We had the best adventures, didn't we, Tink?"
Tink's tousled head lifted. Without turning, she asked hesitantly, "Peter, do you remember your last adventure? The one to… to rescue your kids?"
Peter blinked in confusion, then mimicked, "Peter Pan's got kids?"
Tink went very still. "Answer me this: Why are you in Neverland?''
He laughed anew. "That's easy. To be a Lost Boy and never grow up. To fight pirates and blow out stars. Ask me another question. C'mon, I like this game."
"Oh, Peter," she whispered.
She rose to face him.
Then her light began to blaze, flaring so brightly that Peter was forced to back away from the door of the clock house, squinting his eyes protectively. As he did so, his shadow suddenly darted away on its own, startled by what it saw. Tink's clock house suddenly began to break apart. Peter gasped, and his eyes opened wide. The light grew bigger, taller, more radiant before him-as if a piece of the sun had come down from the sky.
And all at once there was Tinkerbell, no longer tiny but grown as large as he was, the remains of her house sitting precariously on her head and shoulders.
Her smile was wondrous. "It is the only wish I ever made for myself," she said.
Peter stared. She was so… large. She wore a lacy gown, long and flowing in the gentle night breeze. Her eyes sparkled and her hair shimmered as if it had been sprinkled with tiny stars. She was only standing there, but she was doing things to Peter inside that he didn't understand.
He tried to speak, but she brought a finger up to his mouth quickly to silence him.
Then she stepped up to him, her arms came about his waist, and her face pushed close to his own.
Peter, a boy now to all intents and purposes, gave her a puzzled look. "What are you doing?"
Tink put her nose against his. "I'm going to give you a kiss."
Peter grinned and squeezed one hand up between them to receive it. For in his boyhood, thimbles and buttons had always been kisses, and it was one of these that he expected to receive now.
But Tink closed one of her hands over his own, pressed herself against him, put her lips on his, and gave him a real kiss.
Then she stepped back again. "Oh, Peter. I couldn't feel this way about you if you didn't love me, too. You do, don't you? It's too big a feeling to feel all by myself, you know. It's the biggest feeling I've ever had. And this is the first time I've been big enough to let it come out."
She bent forward to kiss him again. Peter held himself motionless, liking the feeling that the kiss produced even if he was unsure why, wanting to share her biggest feeling because it was, in some way, his own. But as her lips brushed his he caught sight of the flower she was wearing in her hair.
It reminded him of another.
It reminded him of…
"Maggie," he whispered and pulled back. "Jack. Moira."
There was a shifting within him of time and place, of memories and dreams, and the boy and man readjusted their positions, the boy giving back something of what he had taken, the man accepting what was offered without feeling the need to ask for more.
"Please!" Tink begged, trying to bring him close again. "Please, Peter," she whispered. "Don't spoil it."
But she was too late now. The spell was broken. It was there in Peter's eyes, in the look on his face, in the way the wrinkles tightened at the corners of his mouth.
"Tink," he whispered back, keeping his hands on her arms so that they would not lose contact. "You are, you have always been, a part of my life. That will never change. But my children, Jack and Maggie, are part of me. My family, Tink. I can't forget them."
He looked out through the branches toward the lights of the pirate harbor and the Jolly Roger. "My kids are on that ship. I have to save them."
He turned back to her. There were definitely tears in her eyes now, and no number of pixie dust excuses could disguise them. Slowly, she nodded. For a moment her gaze remained fixed on him. Neither moved, as if each had been frozen to a statue.
Then Tink broke away. "What are you looking at? Go on-save them, Peter."
Peter tried to speak, but her hand whipped up sharply and flung pixie dust in his face. He sneezed and backed away.
"Go on!" she cried. "Fly, Peter Pan! Fly!"
And away he soared, swift as thought, rising up against the coming dawn like a bird, the memory of Tink's kiss already fading from his mind. It was Jack and Maggie who occupied his thoughts now. The three days were up. Hook would be waiting.
He didn't look back. If he had, he would have seen that Tink, almost hidden in the dappled shadows of the Nevertree, was growing small again.
Bad Form!
Resplendent in his scarlet and gold brocade captain's coat, his claw polished and shining in the early-morning sunlight, James Hook stood on the quarterdeck of the Jolly Roger and thought what a lucky man he was.
A smile creased his angular features as he gazed out over the sea of pirate faces staring up at him from the main deck below. Faithful, loyal dogs, these. Smee stood at one hand, his bespectacled face beaming. Jack stood at the other, a miniature version of his new mentor, dressed like Hook from tricorne to boots. It was the third day of the captain's wait for the reappearance of Peter Pan-the new, improved version, he hoped, but any version would do. Hook gave his mustaches a friendly twist. The final day, the day on which his lovely, wonderful war would at last commence, the day on which Peter Pan would meet his well-deserved end.
He danced up on his toes like a ballerina. Ah, he could smell the powder of the fired cannons and hear the ripping of the shot.
But first things first.
"Smee, the box, if you please," he ordered.
His bosun promptly produced a flat wooden box, which he opened to Jack, revealing a velvet-lined interior containing row after row of golden earrings. Jack stared down at them wordlessly.
Hook bent close. "There's so many choices, Jack. Which one will you choose? Which one, Jack?"
Jack hesitated a moment, thinking. Then he reached down abruptly with one gloved hand and snagged a 'hook' earring just like the one worn by the captain.
"Ah, good form, Jack!" Hook declared, beaming. "Excellent choice. You know, it's a very special time when a pirate receives his first earring." He glanced down at the crew. "Right, lads?"
"Aye, Cap'n," they cried as one, and many a rough face creased in contentment. What cattle.
Hook turned back to Jack. "Now, Jack, I'm going to ask you to mooove your head to the side-just a little bit-"
He turned Jack's head to expose the boy's ear. "There," he advised with a smile. He brought the point of his hook up to the exposed lobe. "Now brace yourself, Jack, because this is really going to hurt."
He laughed. Jack squinched his eyes shut.
A crowing sound brought Hook up short. All eyes lifted to the mainsail where a shadow had been cast by the sun's brilliant light against the canvas.
It was the shadow of Peter Pan.
A sword sliced neatly through the sail, and the outline of Pan fell away to the deck. The toughened pirate crew flinched.
Smee's eyes went wide as he crouched behind Hook. "Cap'n! It's a ghost!" he gasped.
But Hook gave a smile that was all iron and grit. "I think not, Smee. I think the doodle-doo has returned."
"Who is it, Captain?" asked Jack, frowning.
A figure leaped from behind the canvas and slid down the sunbeam as if skating on ice to land squarely on the image he had cast.