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NeverRememberLand	By : ClarySage Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Slash Views: 7728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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You should know this all by now, but just in case:

Title: NeverRememberLand
Author: ClarySage - ClarySage2000@aol.com
Rating: R for the moment
Fandom: Peter Pan/book
Pairing: Peter x Nap
Disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan, alas, I never will. I make no profit i do this only for your entertainment pleasure.
Reviews: I beg of thee!

NeverRememberLand3

When Pan awoke it was like the swing of a butterfly’s wings, gentle and serene. Always he woke in this way, memories sliding away to be taken up by the sun in its glory and the whisper of the winds through his treetop. On this morning, Pan was a bit surprised to see a boy asleep at the side of his bed, one arm curled against his chest, and his face a familiar thing. Pan carefully nudged the boy with a toe and grinned when he sat up, eyes wide and already his body curling up and into a defensive position.

“Nap!” Peter shouted, rather proud that he could recall the name of the boy, though he could not recall much of anything else. “Come, let us hunt.” Peter casually threw a quiver of arrows and a bow at Nap’s feet.

Nap wanted to say how they were not friends, and that if they should hunt together it would be more than likely that he would shoot Peter with an arrow rather than any beast they might hunt. Instead he let his face fall into a relaxed and happy expression, his eyes free from betrayal. “Of course.”

Down they flew from the little red house, light as feathers with happy thoughts. Peter at once crouched low, bringing a single finger to his lips, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the forest surrounding them. With a metallic glide of sound he withdrew his dagger from its sheath at his waist and crept across the grass silently as any other creature of the wilds.

It must be explained to the dear reader why Nap did not like Peter, and why his heart was so set on the death of him. Neverland had created after all the perfect enemy, for no enemy is greater than you yourself. In its scattered thoughts, if a land can be said to think at all, Neverland assured itself that this enemy would never die, nor would it truly ever kill Peter, and so forever a battle could rage, at the last leaving Peter with both a friend and a foe.

The opposite of everything Peter was, was what Nap had been made into. For each thing Peter had forgotten, Nap remembered, the only thing they shared were skills that cannot be forgotten. Such as hunting, flying, foraging, and the brutal innocence of a child. Nap knew the things Peter never would, and he remembered all the betrayals and hurts in a way that would never leave. For this, he wanted Peter to die, for no one can remain innocent with too much knowledge, the weight of it stretching limbs and forcing one into adulthood with all its horrible honesty.

There was no freedom for Nap, blissfully forgotten cuts and broken bones, pokes of daggers or swords, bruises and blood, all of it Nap remembered, when he knew by all rights he had never experienced any of it. There was only Peter to blame, free and wild as he was from any worry, everything about him that had so bothered Hook bothered Nap.

Yet, deeper down, Nap also knew as well as he knew these great pains and hurts, that he could never truly kill Peter, he couldn’t kill himself. Though Peter may have never seen a mirror nor known its name, Nap knew everything Peter did not, and knew as well they were opposites of the same thing. It was an agony he didn’t know what to do with, still freshly a stranger to Neverland, Peter’s presence and at times, his own mind.

Ahead of him Peter’s boyish grin and golden flame of hair surged through the underbrush with barely a rustle. Nap followed, just as silent, just as dangerous, his eyes calculating not the prey in the bushes, but instead the prey of himself just ahead. Neverland’s perfect enemy was neither friend nor foe at all, but instead a reflection. And as in all reflections all points are shown depending on the light. Some are dark and ugly while other features are beautiful and perfectly formed. In this way too does the mind work, at once a gruesome thing in a shimmering shell of gem.

Peter’s reflection was the darkness hidden in the light.

~~~

As they hunted, Nap grew vague and hazy within his own head; memories kept coming back to him with each new piece of scenery. Here was where the crocodile lived; there was the entrance to the fairy woods, beyond that was the path to the Redskin camp. Nap did not notice when he sank to his knees, eyes glazing with a memory so deep that it felt like falling into a hole.

Faintly he could hear Peter call his name, a hand shaking his shoulder, but already it was too late, for Peter’s memories were attacking. The things he’d forgotten, the things that would have ruined his innocence, now they surged through Nap’s head, battering at his consciousness with iron fists. With a shuddering sigh, Nap slowly slipped sideways, his eyes closing as his head bounced gently off the turf.

~~~

Wendy had asked after this adventure, when Peter had come home covered in mermaid scales, unable to say where he had been. Peter had then been unable to say what had happened other than an adventure, but Nap remembered.

He had been flying above the waters of the lagoon, eyes on the waves as they moved to and never fro. Upon circling and coming lower he’d seen then a sight that no one in Neverland had ever seen before, and so rightly, it was Peter that was the first to see it.

A cluster of mermaids surrounded something, and the oddest cooing sounds bounced off Marooners’ Rock, a strange call, endearing and entreating. As Peter flew closer and lower, he could see it was merely another mermaid that the others surrounded, and yet, there seemed a difference between this one and all the others.

In all the life of Neverland, no one before had seen a male mermaid, only ever were the females visible, with their shining hair and small breasts, the opalescent scales shimmering up their backs and over their shoulders like small, flat gems. Peter had never really wondered where then the baby mermaids came from, for he has seen them, playing with the older ones, tiny and much like a school of fish in their play.

Like most fish the mermaids mated by the laying of eggs, and then the fertilization of such. Only, no one had ever seen it of course, nor had they seen the mermaid eggs. It took Peter a moment to realize what he was seeing, and in the instant of his recognition, a shrill thrill of fear echoed down his spine.

Staring up from the circle of mermaids was the only male of the species, the father of all, the King of the Sea. Unlike the others, he did not appear to have scales at all, but instead the smooth roughness of sharkskin. His eyes were the endless depth of black found in the deep trenches of the ocean, his hair a mass of silver that looked as smooth and dangerous as his skin. And when he opened his mouth, to roar a challenge it was filled with the danger of a shark’s mouth as well, deadly teeth pointed and sharp.

Peter circled warily, lower and lower, noticing then too, the large fin that protruded from the male’s back, the tail beneath the water that wavered like that of a shark as well. It was Peter’s mistake to fly even lower, always after the better look, the knowledge no one else had.

He had just circled again, nearly able to touch the strange creature, when suddenly the Sea King let out a terrible howl, scattering the mermaids that surrounded him as if they were a startled school of fish in the presence of a predator. At that Peter decided not to look any closer and shot upwards, only, something held him back. The clamp of cold hands on his ankles, and in the deepest fear Pan had ever felt, he was dragged downwards by the shark-like King of the mermaids.

The water had closed over his head, his heart hammering within his chest as if it would burst free and run away of its own accord. But instead of the sharp pain of teeth ripping him apart, he merely was held against the prickly scales of the King, almost gently. The water broke over his head and he drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes.

The dark, obsidian eyes of the King looked more chilling up close, their blankness and depth so bottomless Peter felt he’d fall into them. Then, as Peter watched, the eyes seemed to shrink, until Peter realized it was not the eyes, but the blackness rolling back, circling until it became only a dark pupil surrounded by a vivid blue.

Peter glanced down in the water, finding too that the King’s scales were no longer that of sharkskin but in an echo of his eyes had become a stunning subterranean blue, the fin on his back looking now more like that of a sailfish, wave shaped and streaked with blacks and purples, teals and even a shot of yellow. Peter once more looked into the King’s eyes, and shivered with the ecstatic terror of it all.

This time, when the King opened his mouth, no longer was it filled with the horror of a shark’s mouth, but instead it had normal pearly white teeth, straight and even. The King’s breath smelled not of fish but of ocean, salty and hot like the sun on the water on a hot day. His voice seemed to whisper within Peter’s head, soundless and yet a vibration that trembled down his spine. The powerful arms hauled him closer still, until he was eye to eye with the King, the colour again changing, the blackness of pupils fading and roiling like clouds in a storm.

Peter closed his eyes again, unable to meet that mystical gaze, terrified beyond reason. It was then that he first felt the strange tug between his legs, as if some gentle force had pulled at his inner being, as if it meant to drag it out of his body. A wash of pleasure suffused Peter, a swirling in his gut that at once felt sickening and yet delightful. Fearful and curious Peter opened his eyes and glanced down to find the King’s palm resting low on his belly, the large hand curling over the little protuberance of Pan’s abdomen. It flexed and Peter screamed, a wash of pleasure so great suffusing him that he felt he might faint from it.

The King dragged him closer still, arms stronger than tides pulling him in, until almost gently Peter felt a nuzzling against his forehead, could smell the salty breath against his cheek. Without meaning to, his legs wrapped around the King, his arms cut as they tried to hold onto the King’s dorsal fin, the spines of which tore into the tender skin of his arms. In an abandoned state of debauchery, Peter rode the waves of pleasure that the King sent through him, each one greater than the last, until it felt as if he might wash away with the tsunami of it all.

It seemed as if it might never end, only growing greater with each flex of the King’s fingers, scales plastering Peter’s body as he writhed against the cold flesh. The waves of pleasure were cresting now, higher and higher with each one, until at last Peter felt as if his body had burst, uncontrollable shivers and shakes twitching him into a mindless frenzy.

When he opened his eyes, it was the find again the eyes of the King changing, now the colour shifted, a golden shade falling over them, a sliver of silver invading the pupils. The scales upon the King’s body shimmered and changed as well, becoming as golden as the rays of the sun; and his hair, no longer the gray and silver of a shark, echoed Peter’s own head of hair in all its golden glory. With a soft murmur the King released Pan; nodding gravely to the boy before with a flip of an enormous golden tail, he sank beneath the waters as if he’d never been.

For a long time, Peter floated on the water, salt glazing his lips, his body still throbbing in curious ways. Hours passed and eventually Peter found that when he opened his eyes he was staring up at treetops, waving greenery and the azure blue of the Neverland sky. He could not remember what had happened, though he knew it had to have been a great adventure, and the scales coating his skin, though not like any mermaid’s he’d seen before, could only wink at him in the dying light of the sun, as if to tease him for his lack of memory.

tbc...
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NeverRememberLand