oh sweet darling

“I think I have a flyer in my bag.” Lance moves to the bag in question, beginning to dig through it. it’s slightly crumpled, but she offers it to Wendy, “One Saturday evening a month. If that doesn’t work I can fit you in another time.” Lance nods. “It’s always good to know some self defense. Regardless of what it is like, though I will agree, this time more than ever is cause for learning some.”

Wendy took the flyer from her, nodding along as the woman spoke. She wasn’t very good at fighting. She was more of a peacemaker than a fighter but she knew she had to give self-defence a shot. The town was becoming more and more dangerous and if she wanted to keep herself and everyone safe, Wendy had to try. “Of course,” she replied. “Thank you for the information.” She moved the flyer to her bag before returning her attention to the woman. “My name is Wendy, by the way. I don’t think I mentioned that before,” she said as she held out her hand.

The bell of the store hadn’t rung in many hours and Evelyn’s hands were growing restless at her sides now that there were no more menial tasks for her to occupy herself with. She had taken the opportunity to have a break, a warm cup of tea sitting next to her on the desk as she watched the seconds tick by ever so slowly. When the bell did ring finally it was all Evelyn could do not to jump at the sound.

She was all smiles, to greet her customer and her mood only improved as she recognized Wendy rounding the corner. Wendy being one of the few regular customers of the shop, Evie was delighted to see her. Stepping forward, she motioned for the other girl to follow her. “Wendy, hi! You’re not interrupting at all and I can do that, sure. What kind of flowers would you like in your bouquet, this time?”

Wendy chuckled softly at her enthusiasm. She understood the feeling. Countless hours of standing in an empty shop sometimes drove her mad, especially when she didn’t feel inspired to write. She followed Evie to the counter, pulling out a notebook from her bag and turning to the page where she had listed the flowers. “White roses, carnations, Peruvian lilies, and blue delphinium. I’ve been rearranging a few things in my apartment and I wanted to have a rustic-like bouquet this time,” she said with a smile. 

Evie was one of the few people she got along well with in town. She was kind-hearted, charming, and often visited her at work when she could. “I haven’t see you in awhile, by the way. How have you been? How are things here?”

Maera nodded understandingly. Their maps were outdated for the most part, and not the clearest things to read.  Maera was no artist or she would fix it herself. “If that map’s confusing, you aren’t going to like what comes next.” Maera sighed just thinking about it.  She swore that the paintings were going to be her next project, but honestly, she hadn’t the first idea of how to begin.  “You see, whoever set up the painting exhibit–not me–either didn’t know anything about art history or frankly didn’t care. All the paintings are organized alphabetically instead of by era.”

Her eyes widened in response. “Wait... really?” Wendy shook her head. She had never heard of anyone ever alphabetizing paintings in an art gallery. It didn’t really make any sense. “That is... a very odd way of organizing a museum. Never heard that method before,” she said with a chuckle. She looked at her map and sighed. “Well, that kind of defeats the purpose of my visit. I needed some inspiration for my book and I wanted to find some landscape paintings from the era.” She eyed the book in her hand. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at identifying paintings either. Is there any way you could guide me through some of them? Unless of course you’re busy. I don’t want to take you away from a task you have to do.”

This was why he preferred to come to the library. The quiet was settling, something he couldn’t get anywhere else. The bar was always full of people and music and noise, even his apartment had too thin of walls to be considered quiet. Someone was always doing something in one of the neighboring apartments. But here, here he could think again. There were plenty of times when thinking was not a good thing, it always put him in a sentimental mood. A dangerous thing to be around Wendy, especially when she was already looking for something. He doubted that she knew what she was looking for, but she was looking for something. For now though, in the silence, he tipped his head back and shut his own eyes as well. Her question took some time to settle, and he took even more time to answer. “The sea…” He finally said, an unintentional amount of ache in the words. But he did ache. For the sea, for the stars, for something that he didn’t know. Home called to him from a place he had never been. “The sea and the stars and the quiet at night.” There were too many things that he couldn’t say he missed. There was Peter, but he didn’t miss the version of Peter who had lived in Neverland. 

Neverland had lost it’s wonder for him when he had still been a boy. He could still recall life as a lost boy, all full of games and running and running and running. During the day, it had been magical, the stuff of dreams. During the night, that was when the nightmares came out to play and it was magical in all the wrong and twisted ways. “I don’t miss Neverland.” He said, surprising himself. He didn’t. That place held nothing but bad memories, the worst of his relationship with his brother. Neverland was his failure, materialized. It was everything he had ever done wrong, with Peter, in life, everything. This mundane world might not suit him, but he would be more than happy to hear that island had been destroyed.

She could almost feel the pain in Hook’s words when he finally replied. The sea was definitely one of the more breathtaking aspects of Neverland. For Wendy, it was a close second to the fairies that lived in the forest and the stars against the night sky. She let out of a soft sigh. It hurt to think about those sights now, especially when all she ever did was forget about them. She often wondered if she would ever return, if it was even possible for her to do so. Even if she could return, she’d hope she’d be accompanied by Peter or even Hook. Neverland was still home to her, even if she had only been there for awhile. “I miss the stars too,” Wendy replied, her eyes fluttering open. She turned to look at her page, eyes trailing to the margins where she had drawn stars awhile back. “And the adventures,” she added. “The only times I’ve ever felt like myself.” Wendy tended to share a lot when she was sentimental and though she knew he wouldn’t pay attention to any of those details—despite still believing he did—she liked sharing them anyway.

The moment Hook said he didn’t miss it, Wendy raised her brows. “Oh? Memories were too painful?” she asked before quickly adding. “You don’t have to answer that.” It was best to take it one step at a time if she wanted to know more about Hook. He didn’t seem to like the fact that she was nosy and she didn’t want to have to spend another two hours in silence, even if it did mean being productive with her writing. “I understand,” she said with a nod. She had way too many painful memories herself, not in Neverland but in London. “Sometimes forgetting is the easiest way to move on.”

The moment Wolf heard an apology leave Wendy’s lips, he let out a small sigh. Guilt ate away at him, bit by bit —– leave it to him to make someone like Wendy feel bad about wanting to help him. “No, it’s —-” another sigh left him, the wolf licking his lips before he looked at her again, trying to sound as reassuring as he could, “it’s fine, Wendy.” Although Wolf would rather she didn’t voice her support for him in a town where people either feared, hated him or wanted him dead, he knew he shouldn’t turn away any friends that he might miraculously gain. “I just don’t want the wrong people to hear you.” Wolf thought that was the best way to convey all his fears concerning her and her nature towards him and hopefully, he didn’t need to say any more; he wasn’t a big fan of voicing his emotions. His anxiety ran deeper than that, the thought of someone hurting her to prove a point to him never leaving his head, no matter how well his day was going. 

Wolf pressed his lips together. He knew she was right; if it had been him in her shoes, he would be a lot less nice about it but he would be feeling the same thing that she was: frustration, worry, perhaps even anger, though to a bigger and more aggressive degree. “Next time, I’ll tell you,” maybe it was a bad joke, implying that he would get into more fights, considering just how badly he took care of himself. But he didn’t matter, not when the big picture came into play. Wolf knew the whole Goldilocks thing affected everyone, in one way or another —- it was supposed to be a safe haven and no one deals with tragedy in the same way. Wendy is a worry of Wolf and would always be. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe.” Damned be the person that tried to hurt someone Wolf cared about. He had to wonder just how reassuring his protection was.

Wendy returned her gaze to him, lips pressed into a tight smile. She could tell she made him feel guilty and though she didn’t mean to, she had still forgotten how emotionally distant Wolf can be. His distance was reasonable. Many of the townspeople tended to be close-minded about others. Hiding your emotions was the only way to keep your enemies at bay. Judging from the fact that he got into a lot of fights as of late, Wendy figured there were a lot of people he was dealing with. The young woman placed her hand on the table, reaching across to pat his hand gently. She smiled softly. “I understand. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She thought about her next words before chuckling. “I do hope you know that you are a good person... to me anyway.” She nodded. He became her family in Fabletown and she hoped that would never change.

Wendy sighed and shook her head. “You can’t be serious.” The fact that Wolf had been getting into fights didn’t really help his reputation nor her concern. She tended to overthink scenarios when he showed up cut and bruised; many of them concerned death and other macabre situations. “You know by not calling me, I automatically assume the worst,” she said with a frown, as a few “what if” scenarios crossed her mind. Although she wasn’t very capable in the fighting department, she was more than capable in the caring department. She’d be damned if he ever got hurt and she wasn’t there to take care of him. She let out a small sigh. “I know,” she said before smiling again. “Otherwise, who else would you have lunch with?”

“It has been boiled down to an art through time and practice.” That part was true. They all ran as efficiently as they could, with so many people in one house. It was chaos, but it was organized chaos. “Don’t offer things you’re not willing to back up, I will take you up on it, and you may find yourself in over your head.” Kel had to warn. It had been years since he’d had a babysitter, or a night off. God knew he would take advantage of having that opportunity again, for however long it took Wendy to get tired of it. 

Abigail smiled, all teeth and pride in herself. She was clearly happy to have someone telling her about how great she believed she was. “I take good care of him.” She said, nodding solemnly. Kel couldn’t correct her when it was true. “You are more than welcome to accompany us through the store.” 

Wendy placed her hand over her chest. “I can back it up. I’ll do my best to help.” That was a promise. Although there was no guarantee she would do an efficient job of taking care of children, she was going to try her hardest to help. She knew what chaos looked like. If the children were just as troublesome as the ones in Neverland, she had no doubt of lasting at least a few hours with them.

Wendy beamed at the girl. “I’d love to know your tips on how to take good care of someone. I have a few I’d like to look after myself,” she said with a wink. She gripped onto her basket, adjusting her hold on the notebook in the other. “I’ll follow you to the next aisles then. I’ll most likely find the products I’m looking for with you.”

She was well into bothered by him now, something Hook took as a good sign. Some people took far too much effort to find their temper, just as some others came to it far too easily. He couldn’t say which was worse. Those who were easily upset made Hook’s like easier, but he couldn’t say that he didn’t prefer to be around Wendy, even if it was all dodging questions and slipping past near understanding that he was less of a villain and more of a…well he wasn’t sure what he was more of. To Peter he still considered himself and older brother, and maybe that had merely blanketed out over the rest of the lost children that came to Neverland. They didn’t have to know it for him to step into that role. Peter was really the closest he came with to acting like he cared, even admitting something like it, but that never ended well and Peter never listened. It was why he had stopped trying in the first place. Maybe why he preferred to keep it to himself now. 

No, this was not where he wanted his mind to go at the moment. It had been returning more often than not the past few weeks, and he blamed it on a combination of the holidays and the drama about. It forced a person to dwell on people more. They had fallen into silence, something James preferred anyway, and he finally selected a book and sat down a few feet off from Wendy. He still did very little reading, mind full of Neverland and body feeling the sway of a ship despite the fact that he was on solid land. He found himself sighing, without realizing it. This place did not suit him, with the walls and closed off sky. His fingers danced over an illustration of familiar constellations in the book he had chosen. He wanted to go home, though he wasn’t sure where home was. He was tired. 

After furiously writing 10 pages of the chapter she was working on, Wendy felt a bit better about the entire situation with Hook. Writing wasn’t just a creative outlet for her. It was her lifestyle. Whenever she wrote or shared a story, there was an almost therapeutic feeling that came with it. Stories were sacred to her. They were parts of her and sharing them to anyone who cared was her way of sharing a piece of her. To be told that she was a bad storyteller did more than just discourage her; it destroyed her being. Even though Hook’s comment shouldn’t have bothered her too much—she always expected him to be rather hostile when he was uncomfortable—it simply reminded her of her father. After all, Mr. Darling was the very first person to ever discourage her passion. Their constant arguments and physical altercations over her fate were etched into her brain; it was his voice that echoed whenever she felt she wasn’t good enough. She scowled at the thought. She wouldn’t let him get to her now. He was gone forever and she would keep it that way for as long as she could.

Wendy flipped through pages of her journal, flipping to a memory from Neverland and immediately wiping the scowl off her face. She had spent so much of her life trying to forget about her adventures in Neverland that she had forgotten she even wrote about them. Gentle ocean waves... Blue skies mirroring that of the water... The sound of a ship in the distance... Wendy leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, imagining the landscape she described. Although she missed London for her brothers, she missed Neverland the most for its wonder. Her lips curved themselves into a blissful smile. “What do you miss most about Neverland?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

He was more than a little pleased to see that he had regained some control of the situation. Wendy might be offended, but it was nothing that would last for any real length of time. Perhaps it would also put her off of trying to understand him, which she so often did. He doubted it. She was nearly as stubborn as Peter, in some ways. But Hook had more experience than either of them in being stubborn. Then she went on, and Hook saw that it wasn’t going to be so easy to make her mind her own business. He crossed his arms. “If you’re getting at something, I suggest you go on and spit it out, otherwise you ought to put your nose back in a book where it belongs and out of everyone’s business.” Yes, he did have his moments of being nice, but it was unfair of Wendy to turn those against him. “I am not uncomfortable.” He most certainly was uncomfortable, but admitting such a thing would not help his cause. “Your words fail you again, I believe you were searching for ‘annoyed’.” 

The moment of feeling as though he’d finally made his point was ruined nearly as soon as it had begun as he watched Wendy struggling for words. His comment had hit home, a little more effectively than he’d anticipated. After all, he didn’t think that him of all people could actually make her doubt herself, he only intended to make her think poorly of him. “As I said, I never cared enough to pay attention to it.” He repeated with half of a shrug. Again, the book closed and this time James to it back to the shelves, sliding it into place. He stood there, looking over the lines of books and searching for something that might be able to take his mind off of how poorly his life was currently going. 

Part of Wendy was almost certain she was getting at something with Hook. She wanted him to admit that he cared about her, that there was a part of him that wasn’t all rough edges. Deep down, she needed the reassurance. Fabletown was becoming increasingly dangerous each week. She needed to know that the people she cared about were watching over her the same way she was. She huffed. Perhaps she’d crack him another day. “Fine,” she said finally, sliding a book over to her and opening it to a random page. “You are unbelievable,” she muttered, not looking up from her book.

Her fits of anger usually never lasted longer than an hour or so, no matter who she was speaking to. Even though what Hook said struck a nerve in her, her anger would most likely last for two hours. There were only a handful of people with whom she would hold grudges against and she only did so because they deserved it. She set her book down and reached for her notebook. Perhaps the only good thing out of their argument was the sudden flow of ideas that came to her head. She flipped to a page and began to scribble down some words, silently fuming.

Hook glanced down at her, the look on her face confirming his suspicion. He scowled. He might have been a lost boy at one point, but that was so long ago that he could hardly recall it and he was much smarter now. She was getting at something, but mostly she was trying to rile him, and he wasn’t so old and decrepit that he couldn’t see it. “You know you’re not half as cute as you seem to think you are.” He told her, voice a little sour. She was getting ahead of herself, after all, but it was Wendy and she usually did. “I hardly think the fact that we both frequent the same place is proof of anything. Unless you’re under the mistaken impression that I come here only for you, in which case I must inform you that I’ve other things to concern myself with.” He would never admit to the contrary, even if the lie was staring him straight in the face. 

The last thing James wanted to be thinking about was Peter, but now here he was, his brother filling his head. He was tired of worrying over Peter, but that was all that filled his head most of the time anymore. Despite the centuries of proof that Peter would not change, he still found himself trying, hoping, fighting the same fights with Peter over and over. He wanted his brother back, but he didn’t think that boy existed anymore. Realizing he’d spent too long in thought, James did his best to pull the tired lines of his face into something closer to his usual expression. He would save thoughts of Peter for later. “Yes you do.” He said sharply, glad to have something he could focus his negative thoughts on. “Perhaps I’m wrong and that’s not the problem. You might just be a very bad storyteller, I’ve never cared to pay enough attention to tell you.” 

His shift in tone was concerning and Wendy realized she was crossing the line. Her bravado sometimes got the best of her. When she knew there was something that ought to be explored more, she set her mind to it. In this case, it was dissecting Hook for the parts of him that cared. A part of her was curious to know what had happened to him all those years ago. She knew the stories, at least the ones from Peter’s perspective, but that was it. His life before piracy, before Peter even, was a mystery and she wondered if she would ever find out about it. “I’m not necessarily saying you come here for me,” she began. “You could have chosen to leave me be and let me reach the book from the shelf by myself. But you didn’t,” she pointed out. Wendy shook her head and shifted in her seat. She thought about her words carefully for a moment, not wanting to ruin future chances of speaking with him again. “I’m sorry. I misjudged my words. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” At least with her, she was willing to own up to her actions against Hook.

Upon hearing his response, Wendy frowned. If there was one thing she prided herself on, it was her storytelling. She practically threw her old life away to pursue her dream of becoming a writer. So when Hook mentioned the possibility that she was a bad storyteller, a terrible feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again. She swallowed hard, trying to contain whatever was rising in her throat. “I’m not... I’m not a bad storyteller. I refuse to believe that.” She worked too hard in her old life to finally live out this one and she wasn’t going to have someone tear that down. Not again.

“You say that now,” Kel replied, with a good-natured smile. In all honestly, he wouldn’t subject anyone else to the chaos he lived in, not on any permanent basis. Some people came and went, and it was nice to occasionally have some extra hands, but they would always fade out with time. Even with all of that, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the life he’d chosen. Who needed friends when they had a house full of kids that had no choice but to at least pretend to laugh at his jokes? “That’s what it’s become, yeah.” She’d put the pieces together eventually on who he was, and move onto that horrified assumption that he had kidnapped these children. Laughable, really. What idiot would seek out this life? 

Abigail glanced up at Kel in silent question, the back to Wendy. “Daddy needs my help, or he’ll forget what else we need.” “-hey!” Kel interjected, only to be talked over by his small daughter. “But you can walk with us.” 

“Well, you seem to be doing well with them... For the most part?” She chuckled. “I promised not to lie to you.” She pointed out. Taking care of children was a tough job and Kel seemed to be the living embodiment of that. She was curious to know how he was able to do it, which required befriending him first. Based on their conversation, that fate was a bit up in the air. “If you ever need help, and I hope it wouldn’t be too much to offer, I’d be more than happy to help you.”

Wendy laughed at Abigail’s response. “He’s very fortunate to have you then. I’m afraid I tend to forget some of the things I need as well.” She picked up her basket and nodded at Kel. “Do you mind if I join then?”

“And that’s your problem, now isn’t it?” He was not going to continue to defend himself around her. Wendy was a fair sight brighter and far less inclined to be looking for ill-intentions when it came to him, and he supposed that was why he was finding that he had to be more careful with his words. He had gotten lazy over the years, with so many people who were happy to leave him with the age-old label of pirate and move on. “You make the mistake of assuming I have paid that much attention.” He pointed out. 

Once more, he frowned. He knew who she was thinking of, and he wouldn’t bother to point out the fact that he had said it first. Whether or not Peter picked it up an used it was no business of his. He didn’t respond, knowing he had nothing to say about the subject that wouldn’t give Wendy more truth than he cared to be giving away at the moment. “Hmm.” He was beginning to regret coming to the library today, though it was a relief to see that all those hailing from Neverland in some way or another were still in one piece. Were it just him, he wouldn’t care at all about the mess going on with Goldilocks, but the years had worn away some of his rough edges and he had to be sure that certain people were still okay. And in a way, he did understand what she was saying. This modern world was full of too much noise, too many voices. Even back in their world, he had retreated to the sea where things could be quiet. It wasn’t so much about the physical sound, as it was the noise that people left behind like litter. “You bother me.” He said, though he failed to sound as mean as he had intended. “Perhaps you’re talking at the wrong people.” 

“Not necessarily. I know enough to not believe what you’re arguing,” she said with a smirk. She wasn’t sure if the sentence actually made any sense but if it meant confusing him for a bit, it would do. She learned how to be a little mischievous and playful every now and then, and she learned it from the best. Wendy tilted her head slightly, chuckling softly as she did. “Well, you seem to know where I spend most of my time,” she replied, her hand gesturing to the books on the table. “I would say that’s enough for me to know that you do pay at least a little bit of attention.” Wendy hoped she was coming off as playful and that her intentions weren’t to spite him. She enjoyed Hook’s company and she was only seeking out the parts of him that actually did care about things.

Her eyes caught the slight frown at her words. He knew who she was talking about it and though she knew he wouldn’t bring it up any further, he did give her some indication that he was still watching over him. Wendy knew Hook’s relationship with Peter wasn’t the best. Despite the unspoken agreement between them, she wished they would be less hostile with each other. If her own brothers fought the same way they did, heaven knew she would be broken-hearted. She looked up at him as he replied, smiling softly. Although his intentions were supposed to be mean, it didn’t sound that way in the context of the situation. “Do I? Again, I don’t mean to but...” She shrugged and chuckled. She was grateful that he listened when he could. He was from home and he understood how different and crazy this world was. “Perhaps. It’s hard to find the right people these days.”

Kel knew his sense of humor was a touch too caustic for some people. He had learned to be blunt because he didn’t have the time not to be. That with a healthy dosing of cynicism left him a bit bolder than some people liked. But, the girl wasn’t running off on him just yet, so apparently he hadn’t crossed a line. Yet. “Only if you can keep up.” Here was the real reason Kel didn’t really have any friends. He was always going, always doing, he couldn’t stop and talk with anyone. They would have move with him, and it tired people out. “Well, more or less. Most of them call me dad, if that counts.” The complicated bits of it all were details Kel didn’t care to get into. They were his. If they hadn’t been at first, years of them being together had made them his and now his chest would start to ache at the idea of losing any one of them. That was not a good line of thought to go down, if he didn’t want to start tearing up in a grocery store. 

Abigail, beside him, narrowed her eyes but didn’t challenge it. The girl was too bright for her own good, and Kel just knew she was going to get herself in trouble one of these days, if everyone who met her didn’t instantly fall in love with her. After a moment, the girl decided to smile again. “It’s good to meet you too.“

“I’ll try my best,” she said with a nod. Wendy had a way of sticking to even the most blunt people. Spending time with the Lost Boys did that to a person. That and Wendy was very tolerant for the most part. She was raised to be a lady and she didn’t like to be very rude. Then again, there was room for surprises and the young man before her seemed to have more to him than she was seeing. She smiled at his response. “Oh? Are you a foster parent, then?” Her eyes gleamed with excitement at the thought. Children were near and dear to their heart. It broke her heart to know that some children weren’t fortunate to have a parent or two to watch over them. It was why she was so willing to take care of the Lost Boys in Neverland. It was one of the reasons why she cared about Peter so much.

Wendy smiled at Abigail. “I couldn’t help but notice you helping your dad here with groceries. If it’s okay with your dad, do you mind helping me with finding some of the aisles?”