khriskin: Peter Pan Icon (Peter Pan)
Title: Lost and Found
Rating: 
G, Gen
Summary: All bargains have their price. Written for [community profile] 100words  Prompt #052 - Lost.
Notes: 
Too Old For Neverland is an Urban/Suburban Fantasy 'verse that focuses on not!Wendy and her quest to save children from not!Peter Pan. For a while I thought this was a Peter Pan AU, but the more I looked at it the more I realized it had no real ties to the source universe-- so I spun it off


Archie was eleven when Peter's promises and Campana's songs started him down that long lonely path to the neverlands of Underhill. He's still eleven when Wendy wins him free, with a hundred years of childhood behind him.

Archie's been fighting ever since he realized what Peter's bargain cost, but it took more than he had to win free and he doesn't know how to face that failure.

That first sunrise after a century lived in twilight is his tipping point. He's so quiet and still that Wendy thinks they've lost him again...

But when she calls his name, he comes.
khriskin: (Default)
TITLE: Five for Silver, Six for Gold
FANDOM: Peter Pan
AU: Too Old For Neverland
LENGTH/RATING: 379 words, PG, WIP
SUMMARY: Rough start to something, not sure yet where it is leading.


There is something in the shadows. She can't see it, not quite, just the hint of something that doesn't belong. Behind her John and Greg wait, silent and still as the shadow-that-isn't. After a moment the feeling fades and Wendy straightens, frowning at the spot where it had been.

"What was it?" Greg still has his gun up and pointed at the empty space. They know better than to bring lights so he's just another shadow in the darkness.

"Who was it?" John's been with her longer and knows what is never as important as who.

She ignores both of them, focusing on tracking down the faint taste of other. When she finally finds it, sandalwood and lime, she curses in a language she's forgotten she knows. "It's Odelina."

"Again?"

Greg is beginning to grate on her; he asks too many rhetorical questions and she's used to silence. She'll talk to Beck when they get back, there must be other things they can have him do.

"Wen," the voice over the headset is just loud enough for her to hear, pitched well below the normal ranges. "Red team bagged two stragglers, looks like the rest of the nest is long gone."

Which meant someone had warned them. Again. Only this time the list of suspects was down to one. He'd already holstered his gun by the time she turned, meeting her gaze with the same faint smile he used whenever she caught him in a lie.

"You still need me."

She was tempted to point out that he'd be just as useful bound into a dog instead, but Greg was taking the abrupt change in conversation badly.

"That's not--" The gun wasn't quite pointed at John, but it was close enough. She took it from him before he noticed she was moving.

"It is and it isn't," she flicked the safety on and handed it back to him. "Why don't you go help Warren." She had never been good at subtly, but he reluctantly took the cue and headed back out of the warehouse.

"In all honesty, what did you expect me to do?" It was still John's voice, but the inflections were Roxanne's. "Letting you slaughter my relatives was never part of the bargain."

"No, it's not."

_______________________________

PETER PAN is possibly still under copyright to Sir James Matthew Barrie and the Hospital for Sick Children, Great Ormond Street, London, but apparently it depends on who you ask. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.

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khriskin: (FollowYourMuse)
TITLE: Momentum
FANDOM: Peter Pan
AU: Too Old For Neverland
LENGTH/RATING: 100 words, PG
SUMMARY: Like ripples in the pond...


Over the years Wendy collects her own band of unLost Boys. Those precious few coaxed away from Peter's siren song and into Growing Up. They keep her fed and housed, and as the world grows older they give her tools she'd never dreamt of. On a phone with too many buttons she can reach halfway 'round the world, or all the way, and see the notes they've left her.

It isn't until their grandchildren show up at her door, armed with weaponry as old as Underhill and gadgets too new for names, that she realizes what her bargain has created.

_______________________________

PETER PAN is possibly still under copyright to Sir James Matthew Barrie and the Hospital for Sick Children, Great Ormond Street, London, but apparently it depends on who you ask. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.

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khriskin: (FollowYourMuse)
TITLE: The Tao of Names
FANDOM: Peter Pan
AU: Too Old For Neverland
LENGTH/RATING: 100 words, PG
SUMMARY: There's a power in names...


She wasn't Wendy, but she never had been; that much she could remember. Whatever name she'd worn, whatever life she'd lived before these shadowed years, it had all been traded away for the threadbare immortality that clung to her skin like cobwebs.

She'd spent a day once trying on names, but none of them fit. Helen was too small and Clarabelle too wide. Miriam, Amy, Shea, they rolled from her tongue and slid off her skin like raindrops, puddling at her feet. She shrugged and left them there; still human enough to feel the loss, but not enough to care.

_______________________________

PETER PAN is possibly still under copyright to Sir James Matthew Barrie and the Hospital for Sick Children, Great Ormond Street, London, but apparently it depends on who you ask. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.

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khriskin: (FollowYourMuse)
TITLE: Too Old For Neverland
FANDOM: Peter Pan
AU: Too Old for Neverland
LENGTH/RATING: 632 words, PG
SUMMARY: Echoes of an underlying story...


They were too old for Neverland, those lost scarred souls that balanced on the edge of Growing Up. The runaways, the cast-offs, the stumbling death of innocence and faith. They were His Lost children, and He gathered them home.

He was too old for names, but they always tried to name Him. He wasn’t sure what comfort it gave them, none had ever fit Him well. Old man, Peter, Gabriel, and once Ford Prefect, although that boy had been laughing when he said it. The young had no grasp over the power of names.

A soft crescendo of chimes brought His attention back, focusing on the here and now. Focusing on the scruffy boy who watched the cars go by with calculating eyes. As He slowed and pulled over, Campana shivered and in a heartbeat she was dusty blue sedan, and always had been. Safe, she sang. Comfort. Peace. The car knew somehow, to lure them closer with a soft mimicry of home. Feral and fae, she was His fair Campana just so long as it pleased her.

"Did you want a ride?" He had his own magic, a sympathetic twist much like the car. He looked familiar, comforting, a canny mimicry of someone they had trusted once. The boy eyed Him, with frank assessment of the possible threat, then ambled over.

"What?"

"A ride. I’m headed out on a cross-country trip and my partner called in sick. I just need an extra pair of eyes." He didn’t take them all, only the ones who’d stepped past hope and were already on the long descent. "You don’t have to come the whole way, I just need help until I hit the interstate." The others, He simply chatted with, passed on a few dollars to help them on their way and left. "I can pay, if you need it."

"Where’re you going?"

"California." Away.

There was the measuring look again, then that brief flash of sorrow in the eyes that signaled the end. The death of one life and the birth of another. He could almost see the last bits of home flake off and fade away. The boy was his now, as soon as he stepped into the car.

"Wait!" she came running from the alley, frantic in her haste. "Wait!" Brown haired, brown eyed, in faded jeans and battered t-shirt. Her. Young enough for names, she’d sold hers for the chance to follow Him.

He could feel the boy waver and snarled deep below the crest of hearing. The engine revved in sympathetic fury.

"Don’t go, please," she came closer and he edged closer to the car.

"Why?" Skeptical and harsh. His, His.

"You won’t come back." She leaned a hand against the car and caught her breath, "They never come back." Mortal eyes, tinged with something fae, made him pause one foot inside the car.

"Who says I want to?" the boy snorted "Got nothing to hold me here."

"Nothing?" There was that proffered hope, the chance to step back over the hill. It shone, bright and searing and the car and driver dimmed before it. Home. Family. Remember.

"Nothing." Flat and angry, a declaration against the world. Against the anguish of what was, instead of what could have been. His.

As the door closed, He grinned at her in predatory triumph. "You can’t win them all."

"I can try." She stepped back as he shifted out of park.

"Hey pops, are we going or not?" The boy kicked the back of His seat, glaring at the woman standing sadly outside.

With a whirr of windchime gears He left her there, the man who wasn’t Pan. And the woman who wasn’t Wendy watched him go. They’d met a thousand times before and they’d always meet again, as sure as starlight.

_______________________________

PETER PAN is possibly still under copyright to Sir James Matthew Barrie and the Hospital for Sick Children, Great Ormond Street, London, but apparently it depends on who you ask. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.

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