Straight on 'Til Morning

by Brandon D. Ray
publius@avalon.net


BEGUN:  October 19, 1999
FINISHED:  December 23, 1999

EMAIL ADDRESS:  publius@avalon.net

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:  Do not archive at gossamer; I've
already sent it there.  Anywhere else is fine, so long as my
name stays on it and no money changes hands.

FEEDBACK:  Go ahead; knock yourself out.

Ephemeral: *FEEDBACK*publius@avalon.net

SPOILER STATEMENT:  Anything through "The Goldberg
Variations" is fair game.

RATING:  NC-17

CONTENT STATEMENT:  MSR.  Explicit sex.  MulderAngst.
ScullyAngst.  Character death, sort of (not M or S).

IMPORTANT NOTE:  Several of the most important characters in
this story are children.  However, *all* NC-17 content
involves ONLY consenting adults.

CLASSIFICATION:  Crossover, Romance, Angst

SUMMARY:   All children have to grow up, eventually.

THANKS:  To Brynna, Jen, Paulette, Robbie, Shannon, Sharon
and Trixie, for the beta and brainstorming and all that good
encouragement stuff.

DEDICATION:  To Trixie, without whose threats, pleading and
cajolery, this story would not have been written. ;)

NOTE OF AMUSEMENT:          On December 27, 1904, Peter Pan,
by James M. Barrie, opened at the Duke of York's Theatre,
London.  So if coincidences are just coincidences, why do
they always seem so contrived?  ;)

DISCLAIMER:  In my dreams...

================END HEADERS & NOTES================


Straight on 'Til Morning
by Brandon D. Ray

=========
Prologue
=========

Somehow, I always knew it would come to this.

I'm not sure when I became aware of it.  Surely that day
when I walked into the basement office for the first time,
the connection was not already there.  That entire first
year we were just work partners, thrown together against our
own wishes, each pursuing our own goals.  We were like
children, really -- gay and innocent, and perhaps a little
heartless.

But all that has changed, and now we are children no more.
We have been through too much; we have seen and heard and
done too much.  We have finally grown up, as all children
must, and now, tonight, we are taking the final step to
adulthood.

Mulder is poised above me now, his body strong and warm and
masculine.  His weight is pressing me down into the
mattress, and the feel of his skin against mine electrifies
me.  All of my senses are alive tonight -- touch, taste,
hearing, vision, scent -- and all of them are contributing
to the arousal that is boiling within me.

I lift my gaze to meet my partner's, and I shudder in
anticipation at what I see there.  His eyes are dark with
passion, and the expression on his face is naked and
primitive with longing and need -- longing and need for me.
Just for me.  Only for me.  I feel my own desire surge as I
recognize the emotions on his face.  I 've been waiting all
my life for a man to look at me this way, and the knowledge
that it's finally happening is nothing short of
intoxicating.

I shift my hips restlessly, impatiently, trying to signal
with my body that I want him as much as he wants me.  A
smile of acknowledgement tugs at the corners of his mouth,
and his eyes darken even further as he leans down to capture
my lips with his.

Our tongues flirt with one another, exchanging intimate
caresses, and I tighten my arms around his shoulders, trying
to draw him closer, closer.  Mulder moves against me,
pressing the firm, unyielding planes of his chest against my
breasts -- and then his erection brushes my center, and I
moan into his mouth.

Instinctively, I lift my legs to embrace his hips, tilting
my pelvis in preparation for his entry.  I am completely
open and vulnerable, and I am so, so ready.  Truth be told,
I've been ready for years, but now I'm finally admitting it,
to Mulder and to myself.

Thank God.

With one arm I continue to hang on to Mulder, holding him as
tightly and as closely as I possibly can.  With the other I
reluctantly let go, and slip my hand down between us.  The
space between our bodies is hot and tight and slick with
perspiration, and my seeking fingers slide easily downwards,
downwards, downwards ....

At last, I reach my goal.  Mulder's cock is hot and hard and
a little rough, like raw silk, and as I take it lightly in
my hand he breaks the kiss and gasps his pleasure.  Despite
the urgency we both are feeling, I can't resist the urge to
take a moment to explore, and I focus my gaze once again on
his face as I let my fingers trail slowly up and down his
shaft.

And dear God, what a vision he presents.  His eyes are
closed, and his head is tilted back, with his mouth hanging
open.  His breath is now coming in short, sharp gasps, and
as I reach the very tip of his cock and gently squeeze it,
he whimpers, very, very softly.

It's time to do this.

Once again I lightly grip my partner's erection and tug
gently on it.  He immediately gets the message and lowers
his hips, even as I'm raising mine to meet him.  There's a
moment of breathless anticipation, and then, finally, I feel
the head of his cock lightly touch my entrance.

I promised myself I would watch Mulder's face at this
moment, but I find that I cannot.  I want to see his
expression; I want to drink in the emotions I know I would
find there.  But it's just too much, my senses are
overloaded, and as he slowly, slowly slips inside me, I find
that my eyes have drifted shut.

Gradually he moves downward and inward, stretching me and
filling me, sending new waves of pleasure racing outwards
through my body.  Finally, he's all the way inside, and for
just a moment we pause, completely and irrevocably joined
together -- partners in every sense of the word, at long,
long last.  I feel tears burning in my eyes, and I bury my
face against Mulder's strong, hard shoulder as I try to
adjust to the feelings that are bubbling and boiling around
inside me.

I want this; there is no doubt in my mind that I want this.
I have had lovers before; men I loved and cared about.  But
never have I experienced the intensity I'm feeling at this
moment.  Never before has it seemed so perfect and
essential.  I really do feel as if I'm finally leaving
childhood behind, and that the past thirty-five years have
just been preparation for this moment.

Then Mulder begins to move, drawing slowly out of me with
the same deliberation with which he entered.  Finally, only
the head remains, and he pauses -- and a moment later he's
easing back down and in, filling all my empty places once
again.

At last he's all the way inside again, and somehow it's even
more fulfilling and satisfying than it was the first time.
My face is now pressing into the hollow of Mulder's neck,
and I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with his scent as he
begins to pull back for another stroke.

This time his withdrawal is a little quicker, the pause at
the top a little briefer, the downward thrust a little
harder.  He does it again, and again, getting faster and
deeper and stronger with each new stroke.  And my hips are
now arching to meet his, my fingernails are digging into his
back, and my teeth are nipping at the hard outline of his
collarbone.

We are surrounded by the soft sounds of our lovemaking:
grunts and moans and happy cries of pleasure.  The mingled
scent of our mutual arousal pervades the room, filling my
lungs and nostrils, reminding me with every indrawn breath
of why we're here, and who we are.

Mulder's pace continues to increase, and from the frantic
neediness of his thrusts I think he must be almost there
already.  Unfortunately, although my own arousal still burns
hot within me, this is not a good position for me, and I'm
nowhere close to climax.

For a moment I'm unsure what to do.  There are other methods
-- other positions -- that work better and are more
pleasureable for me.  But Mulder is obviously so very near
to his own orgasm, and this is our first time, and I'm
feeling a little tentative about asserting my own wants and
needs.

And besides, I remind myself, he's already given me what I
most need, at least for tonight.  He's given me his trust
and his commitment -- and, yes, his love, although neither
of us has actually used that word as yet.  Just having
Mulder inside me, knowing that it's him, is making this
experience more profoundly intimate and emotional than any
act of love has ever been for me.

Mulder is slamming into me, now, and I'm throwing my hips up
to meet his thrusts.  His breath is hot and moist against my
ear, and with each stroke he makes a sound halfway between a
grunt and a moan -- and I suddenly realize that it's my name
he's trying to say, over and over and over, and that causes
yet another wave of love to go coursing through me.  This is
for me; he's giving it all to me ....

Then abruptly he shudders, and his body bucks against mine
once, twice, three times.  He inhales sharply, then finally
empties himself into me with a low, guttural groan.

For a minute or two I lie perfectly still, my arms and legs
still wrapped around my partner, his spent cock resting
inside me.  His body shudders intermittently as he gradually
recovers from his orgasm, and I'm gently stroking his back
and making soft, soothing sounds into his ear.

Gradually, he seems to settle.  The aftershocks die down,
and his entire body starts to relax.  I don't know exactly
what he's thinking, but even as I'm petting him and cuddling
him, I'm preparing a response in my mind for the apology
which he will almost inevitably offer.

I've been in this situation before, of course; I suspect
that most women have.  And in all honesty, when the man is
selfish about it, and just rolls over and goes to sleep,
oblivious to the fact that I did not reach climax, I do find
it irritating.  That was one of Jack's more annoying habits.

But this isn't Jack; this is Mulder.  And Mulder won't be
selfish; I know him well enough to know that it just isn't
in him to be that thoughtless.  If anything, he will be
overly apologetic, and I may have to soothe and reassure him
before he finally accepts the fact of my contentment.

I'm drawn from this introspection as my partner's body
begins to shake again.  For a few seconds I'm confused. This
can't be another aftershock; it's been too long, and he'd
become too still and calm.  But in another instant I realize
what's going on.

He's crying.

Mulder is crying.

I don't know what to make of this.  He can't be this upset
over the matter of my orgasm; that's a bit much, even for
Mulder.  I had expected embarrassment; perhaps a misplaced
sense of inadequacy.  But not this.

A chill passes over me as it dawns on me that there could be
other reasons for this reaction.  Automatically I tighten my
arms around him, seeking the security and reassurance of his
body's warmth even as my thoughts are turning to darker
places.

This was not a mistake, I tell myself firmly.  And Mulder is
not going to lift his head off my shoulder in a few seconds
or minutes and tell me we were wrong to do this, and that
everything has to go back to the way it was.  We've gone
through too much to get to this point, and it was so very
right.  We both need this; we both need each other.  And I,
for one, am not going to give it up without a fight.

I find that my hands have once again started stroking
Mulder's back, gently touching and caressing him, trying to
ground him.  His shoulders continue to shake in soundless
grief, but I still don't understand why.  I want to ask him,
but at the same time I'm afraid to ask him, because I don't
know if I will like the answer.  And so I continue to offer
silent comfort, trying to pour all the love and commitment I
feel for this man into my touch.  Trying to make him
understand that whatever it is that's upset him, we can face
it, and overcome it.

Together, we can do anything.

Slowly, so very, very slowly, he begins to wind down.  His
quiet sobbing ceases, and I reluctantly allow him, finally,
to withdraw from my body.  We wind up curled together in the
middle of the bed, Mulder lying on his back, my head resting
on his shoulder.  I have one arm stretched possessively
across his chest, and the corresponding leg is twined with
one of his.  I can feel, rather than hear, his heartbeat.

I still can't bring myself to speak, though.  The fear
engendered by Mulder's unexplained outpouring of grief has
drained me, and I find that some of my walls have gone up,
despite my best intentions.  I do take reassurance from his
continued presence, and the fact that he allowed me to
comfort him, and continues to permit this physical
closeness.  But past this point, I cannot go -- not right
now, at any rate.

His breathing finally steadies, and begins to deepen, and I
realize that he's drifting off to sleep at last.  This is a
good thing, I tell myself.  Falling asleep after an
emotional catharsis can be cleansing, giving your mind time
to adjust to whatever was upsetting you, so that you can
deal with it when you wake up.  And again, his willingness
to drop off into slumber in my bed, in my arms, helps me to
fight off my own worries and insecurities.

It will be okay, I think drowsily.  Mulder and I will be
okay, and when we wake up in the morning, we'll fix whatever
it is that's bothering him.  I slip my arm a farther across
his chest, and press myself a little closer to his warmth.
I'm mildly bemused at how easy this is, at how natural it
seems for me to follow Mulder into the land of dreams.

But my last conscious thought is that I shouldn't really be
surprised.  I'd follow this man anywhere.

================END PROLOGUE================


=========
Chapter One
=========

Dana awoke in near-total darkness.

For a few seconds she was confused; disoriented.  Her mind
was awash with strange, disturbing thoughts and images.
Images of monsters, both human and otherwise; thoughts of
pain and suffering and heartache.  And fear.  There was so
much fear pervading her mind, and she didn't know where it
had come from, or why.

And there had been a man -- tall, dark-haired, hazel-eyed.
His face was worn and lined, and so very, very sad.  He was
crying ....

Dana felt herself flushing as more of the dream -- it must
have been a dream -- started coming back to her.  She had
been in bed with the man, and she had been naked.  They both
had been naked.  And they had been doing ... things.  The
sorts of things that were in those magazines she'd found
hidden one day in the back of Bill's closet, wrapped up in
his football jersey.  Strange, terrifying things.

Wonderful things.

She stirred in bed slightly, and as she moved her legs she
noticed the odd, unexplained dampness between them which had
been there a few times when she woke up the past several
months.  She was pretty sure the dampness was associated
with sex in some way -- and in this instance it was also
associated with the dream she'd just had, and with the odd,
fluttery tremors in her abdomen ....

There was some surreptitious giggling about such things
among the other girls at school, but so far Dana had been
too embarrassed to pay much attention, and she hadn't been
able to work up the nerve to talk to her mother about it.
She had asked Melissa about it one day recently, but Missy
had just laughed, and said she'd understand when she was a
little older.

Darn Missy anyway.

Dana's eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, allowing her
to make out the familiar, comforting shapes that constituted
her bedroom.  There was her bureau, with her collection of
snow globes dimly visible on top of it.  Her study desk sat
in one corner, the small stack of school books making a
neat, rectangular outline.  Her father's old telescope, a
present given to her on her thirteenth birthday a month
earlier, stood by the window, ready to plumb the mysteries
of the universe.

Dana frowned as she realized the window was open, the
curtains fluttering in the soft evening breeze.  She had
closed the window before going to bed; she was sure of it.
But now it stood wide open, and as she gradually came to
full wakefulness she realized that there was a chill in the
air.  She shook her head and sighed; she must have just
*thought* she closed the window.

With a groan of protest Dana threw back the covers and
climbed from her bed.  The floor was cold and unforgiving
beneath her feet, even through the carpet, and she wasted no
time in crossing to the window and sliding it shut.  She
then turned and hurried back to bed.  She was about to slip
beneath the blankets once more, when she heard a quiet
rustling noise, coming from under her bed

Great.  Her room had mice again.  Just what she needed.  For
a second she considered turning on the light and looking for
the mousetrap she'd used last time, but then she shook her
head.  Morning was soon enough.

The bed suddenly shook a little, and Dana felt her eyes
widen as she stepped back in surprise.  Her back bumped
against the wall; instinctively, she reached out and flicked
on the light.

Nothing.  There was nothing there.  Dana took a deep breath,
and waited for her heart to slow down.  There was nothing
there, she repeated in her mind.  Nothing there.  She lifted
her hand to turn off the light again, her gaze drifted over
to the bureau ... and she furrowed her forehead in
confusion.

One of her snowglobes seemed to be missing.

Dana gave a sigh of frustration.  Darn that Bill!  He was
constantly coming into her room, moving stuff around,
borrowing things without her permission ....

She found herself standing in front of the bureau, looking
at the snowglobes in turn and counting under her breath.
There were supposed to be an even dozen, but now there were
only eleven.  And the missing one was the pegasus globe --
the one that was a gift from Grandmother Kinsella.

The one Bill was making fun of just the other day ....

She heard a rustling noise behind her, and Dana spun around,
her eyes narrowing into slits.  Her bed was definitely
shaking this time, but now she thought she knew who it was.

"Bill!" she said, sharply but softly.  No need to get Mom
involved in this -- yet.  "Bill Scully, I know you're down
there.  You come out of there this minute!"

Immediately, the bed stopped moving.  Dana took a cautious
step forward, and put her hands on her hips.  "Bill!" she
repeated, a little more loudly.  "Do you really want me to
go get Mom?  Or are you going to come out of there on your
own and give me back my snowglobe?"

There was moment of silence.  At last, a muffled voice said,
"My name's not Bill.  It's Peter."

Dana rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, whatever," she said.  "Just
give me my snowglobe back and get the heck out of my room!"

More silence.  Then:  "But my name really isn't Bill."  A
head popped out from under the bed.  "It's Peter."

Dana felt her eyes widen in surprise, and her mouth dropped
open.  It really wasn't Bill.  She found herself staring
down at a face she had never seen before.  It appeared to be
a boy, about her own age or a little older.  He had a full
head of chocolate brown hair, with a stray lock falling over
his forehead, and his eyes were a dark greenish-gray color.

Hazel, she decided.  His eyes were hazel-colored ....

Dana shook herself, and realized that she was still just
standing there, staring at the strange boy whose head was
poking out from beneath her bed.  She should do something,
she thought.  She should call for her mother -- or for Bill.
Ahab had told her that while he was at sea, Bill would be in
charge, like an executive officer.  That announcement had
hurt Dana's feelings -- *she* was supposed to be Starbuck,
after all.  But orders were orders ....

With greater ease than she would have thought possible, the
boy scrambled out from under the bed and hopped to his feet.
He was tall and lanky, and was wearing black denim jeans and
a dark gray t-shirt -- and there was now a broad grin on his
face, an expression that Dana somehow found reassuring
rather than menacing.  No, not reassuring.  It was more than
that.  A sense of ... something about him, almost like one
of Missy's auras.  He seemed interesting.  Intriguing.

Exciting.

Almost as if he were reading her thoughts, the boy's smile
broadened, and he took a step towards her.  That was enough
to break the spell Dana had been falling under, and she
stepped hurriedly backwards, maintaining the distance
between them.  This *was* a stranger, after all, and he was
in her room, in the middle of the night --

"What's the matter, Wendy?" the boy said with a frown.
"Don't you recognize me?"

Automatically, Dana shook her head.  "Recognize you?  How
could I recognize you?"  But even as she said the words, she
knew that they weren't entirely true.  The boy *did* look
familiar, in an eerie, deja vu sort of way.  She hadn't seen
him before; she was sure she hadn't.  Nonetheless, he did
look familiar.

But why was he calling her Wendy?

"Come on, Wendy," the boy said, breaking her concentration.
"You've got to recognize me!"  As he spoke, he moved a
little closer -- and this time Dana stood her ground,
despite the voice in the corner of her mind telling her that
this was dangerous, and that she should call for help.  She
*knew* this boy.  She didn't know how she knew him, but she
did.  She could trust him.

"Maybe I do," she temporized, "and maybe I don't."  Part of
her -- the part that wanted to call for help -- couldn't
believe she was standing here calmly talking to a stranger
in her bedroom in the middle of the night.  But the rest of
her -- the part that seemed to be governing her actions at
the moment -- was fascinated by him, and the exotic sense of
... something ... that seemed to surround him.

"You know me," he said, nodding wisely.  "I can always
tell."  He took two more steps forward into her personal
space, until he was standing directly in front of her.
Abruptly, he thrust out one hand.  "Here's your snowglobe."

Dana blinked in surprise at the sudden movement, then
reached out and took the snowglobe from the boy's hand.
Without really thinking, she gave it a couple of quick
shakes, then held it close to her eyes and looked at it.

It really was beautiful -- the most beautiful of all her
snowglobes.  It contained a small figure of a pegasus, its
wings outstretched and sparkling as it galloped along the
tops of the clouds.  She held it a bit higher for better
viewing and shook it again, and watched as the tiny flakes
swirled around the little winged horse.

"It's so lovely."

The sound of the boy's voice, right next to her ear,
startled Dana so badly that she jumped.  She whipped her
head around, and saw that he was now standing by her elbow,
peering over her shoulder at the snowglobe.  And how had he
gotten there without her hearing him move?

And why wasn't she moving away from him?

"Look," the boy went on, in a low, almost hypnotic tone of
voice.  "Look how the snowflakes swirl and swirl around the
pegasus.  See how his wings are beating against the wind?
Hear how his hooves are drumming against the clouds?  It's
so beautiful, Wendy -- so beautiful!"

The third use of the strange name jolted Dana back to
reality, and she shook herself and took a step away from
him.  "Who are you?" she demanded.  "What are you doing
here?  What were you doing under my bed?  And why do you
keep calling me 'Wendy'?"

"I told you," the boy said with a shrug.  "My name's Peter.
Peter Pan.  But just call me Pan, because I hate my first
name.  As for what I was doing under your bed --"

"Oh, right, Peter Pan," Dana said sharply, cutting him off.
"Like in the kid's book.  And I suppose you were under my
bed because you were looking for your shadow!"

Abruptly, all the energy seemed to go out of the boy, and
his shoulders slumped.  "No," he said, dropping his gaze
from hers.  "I was looking for my sister."  He shrugged,
then turned away and started walking towards the window in
slow, leaden steps.

Dana felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the sudden
change in his mood.  After a brief hesitation, she set the
snowglobe on the bureau, and hurried after him.  "Where are
you going?" she asked, suddenly as disturbed by the boy's
apparent leave-taking as she had been by his unexpected
presence.

"I've gotta go," he mumbled as he struggled with the window.
"I've got a lot of places left to look."

"Through the window?" she asked, not bothering to keep the
amusement from her voice.

"Yeah," he said, still struggling.  "That's how I got in.
Why'd you have to go and close it?"

"I was cold," Dana replied.  She sighed in exasperation, and
reached out and jiggled the window in its frame.  Bill had
promised a month ago that he'd fix the darn thing; she
really ought to just get Ahab's tools and do it herself.  It
probably only needed a little oil --

Suddenly, the window leapt upward in its track -- and a
small, golden ball of light zipped into the room, buzzing
angrily.  Dana jumped back in surprise, and watched in
amazement as the ball of light swept around the room,
finally arcing up towards the ceiling before diving back
down to come to a stop two inches from Pan's nose.

"So *that's* where you were!" Pan said, rolling his eyes. "I
should have realized.  Honestly, Tink, if you can't keep up
--"

The golden ball of light -- which Dana now saw had a tiny
human figure at its very center -- bounced up and down in
apparent agitation, and more buzzing was heard.  Pan seemed
to be listening intently.  Finally, he shook his head.

"It's not her fault," he said to the ball of light.  "She
was cold."  He glanced over at Dana.  "Weren't you, Wendy?
By the way, this is Tinkerbell.  She's a fairy."

The ball of light buzzed again, and swooped in a wide,
looping circle around Dana's head before coming to rest,
once again, in front of Pan.

"No!" the boy said sharply.  "I don't want to hear it."  He
batted lightly at the fairy.  "But we're done here, anyway."
His shoulders slumped again, and he turned once more towards
the window.  "C'mon, Tink."

"Wait."

The word was out of Dana's mouth before she quite realized
she was going to say it.  Again, part of her was horrified
at the indiscretion; he was leaving, and she should be
thankful for that.  But it was too late for second thoughts;
already, Pan was turning to face her again, wearing an
expression of surprise mingled with hope.

"Uh, I mean, you can go if you want to," she stammered,
suddenly feeling very awkward.  "That is, if you need to.
But ...."  Her voice trailed off.  She didn't know what she
wanted to say; how could she be expected to find the right
words?

Pan was looking at her intently, now, and Dana felt herself
flushing under his scrutiny.  He almost seemed to be peering
inside her, and Dana reflexively crossed her arms across her
chest.  Finally, Pan took a cautious step towards her, and
said, "Do you want to come with me, Wendy?  Do you want to
help me look?"

"Look?"  Dana's thoughts spun wildly as she tried to process
his question.  She shouldn't even be considering this.  But
she was.  "You mean help you look for your sister?"

Pan nodded, and stepped forward into her personal space.
"That's right," he said, his voice suddenly dropping into a
lower register.  Dana was distantly aware of Tinkerbell
chittering in the background in apparent agitation, but most
of Dana's attention was focused on the boy in front of her.

Pan was dominating her with his presence, now, looming over
her and gazing down at her with compelling, liquid eyes.  "I
need your help, Wendy," he said.  "I've been looking for her
for such a long time, and I can't find her anywhere.  Will
you help me?"

He slowly leaned down, until his face was only inches from
her own -- and Dana realized that he was about to kiss her.
Her hands twitched at her sides, but she didn't know whether
it was to grab onto him or push him away.  Then he stopped,
and for a few seconds neither of them moved.  At last,
although she was not quite sure what she was agreeing to,
Dana said, "Yes."

For just another moment, Pan seemed almost to hover over
her.  Despite her best intentions, Dana found her eyelids
starting to drift shut.  This was really going to happen,
she thought.  It was the most bizarre set of circumstances
imaginable -- but it was really going to happen.  Her first
kiss ....

Pan's war whoop took her by complete suprise.  Dana's eyes
snapped open and her head whipped around, to see him
*soaring* through a seemingly-impossible double backflip,
and finally coming to rest on the windowsill.  "Y'see,
Tink!" he exclaimed, as the fairy swirled erratically around
him.  "I told you she'd help us!"

Tinkerbell buzzed in apparent fury, and the golden light
around her thickened and brightened.  For a moment Dana
wondered if Pan might change his mind, but he just rolled
his eyes at the fairy, and batted her lightly away.  Then,
still crouching in the windowsill, he turned and extended
his hand to Dana, a happy smile on his face.

Dana hesitated, then started walking slowly towards him. The
fairy swooped past her, coming within an inch of her face,
and Dana flinched -- but she kept on walking.  She was no
longer able to question any of this.  As strange and
unfathomable as the night's events were, she couldn't stop
herself from going to join the boy.  Tinkerbell continued to
zip around her, chittering and buzzing without pause, but
the fairy seemed to be bent only on harrassment, and offered
no actual hindrance.

Finally, Dana was crouched in the window next to Pan,
balancing herself against the frame with one hand while he
clutched her other hand tightly in his.  Everything was so
strange tonight, she thought.  Everything was so different.
Even the moonlit vista of her own backyard seemed mysterious
and wonderful.  She was vaguely aware that she was still
wearing only her pajamas, but somehow that didn't seem to
matter.  She didn't even feel especially cold anymore.

"Ready, Wendy?" Pan asked in a murmur.  Now that the two of
them were together in the window, Tinkerbell seemed to have
given up on her campaign of harrassment, and was hovering a
few feet in front of them.

Pan seemed to be waiting for an answer, but Dana couldn't
find her voice.  At last she simply nodded.  He said, "Okay.
Just hang on tight.  You can do this yourself, but you need
to get the hang of it.  You just have to want to believe."

Dana felt doubt reasserting itself within her.  They were
perched in a second floor window, and the ground seemed a
very long way down.  It was only 15 feet or so, she reminded
herself.  And somehow, she knew she wouldn't fall, in any
case.  She could trust this boy; somehow, she just knew she
could trust him.

"Here we go," Pan said.  He slipped his free hand behind her
and lightly traced his fingers down her spine, finally
coming to rest on the small of her back.  She felt his body
tense slightly, and she knew the moment was here.  "On
three," he whispered.  "One ... two ... three!"

Dana closed her eyes and jumped.

================END CHAPTER ONE================


=========
Chapter Two
=========

For an instant, Dana thought she was falling.  Her feet left
the relative safety and stability of the windowsill, and the
bottom seemed to drop out of her stomach, as if she were on
a rollercoaster.  The cool night breeze was rushing by her
ears, and she felt a growing sense of panic --

And then as abruptly as it had started, it was over.  The
fear was gone, and so was the vertigo.  Dana cautiously
opened her eyes -- and gasped.

She was flying.

More accurately, *they* were flying.  Pan was still at her
side, his right hand resting on the small of her back, his
left hand lightly holding on to hers.  The warmth of his
body pressing against hers was strange and exciting, and
banished the chill she might otherwise have been feeling.

Looking down, she saw that the ground was already more than
a hundred feet away, and was rapidly receding.  For a moment
she was disoriented; it was dark, and she wasn't used to
seeing her neighborhood from above.  The streetlamps made a
grid of light against the darkness, like a network of tiny
diamonds, punctuated here and there by a lighted window.

Abruptly, her view of the ground was cut off, and Dana felt
cool moisture against her face.  Her field of vision was
restricted to only a few yards, and all she could see was a
mass of dark gray loops and whorls.  And Dana realized that
they had flown into a cloud.

It was like being lost in the fog, she thought -- only more
so.  In the fog, at least, she would have the ground beneath
her feet, but now, flying through the clouds, there was no
sense of right or left, forward or back, up or down.  No
sense of direction at all ....

Then as suddenly as they'd entered the cloud, they left it
again.  And for the second time in less than a minute, Dana
gasped in amazement.

They were above the clouds now, soaring ever upward into the
night sky.  And what a night sky it was:  the sky was clear
as crystal, and the stars shone down like thousands of
multi-colored candles twinkling in the darkness.  The stars
were so thick and bright that for a moment Dana had trouble
picking out the old, familiar constellations.

Gradually, things started to organize themselves into their
accustomed patterns -- but Dana only found herself growing
more confused.  Wasn't that Lyra, low on the horizon?  And
off a little to the right -- that was definitely Ophiuchus
and Serpens, and that meant that they were flying to the
east ....

But those were *summer* constellations, and it was just
barely spring.  It was impossible.

She turned her head to look at Pan, to see that he was
looking back at her, his face only inches from her own, a
small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "It's
always the first day of summer in Neverland, Wendy," he
said, as if that explained everything.

Dana found herself openly staring at the boy.  He really was
remarkably pretty, she thought -- despite his somewhat
bizarre way of thinking.  The large, fleshy nose and full,
almost feminine lips might have seemed out of place on
someone else, but on him, they were just right.  And his
eyes ....

Tinkerbell chose that moment to reassert her presence,
looping around Dana and Pan in a fast barrel roll before
flitting directly between the two of them and zipping off
into the distance.   Dana followed the fairy with her eyes
until the tiny golden light was no longer visible, then
turned to look at Pan once again.

"That Tink," he chuckled.  "Such a cut up."

Dana sighed; the moment -- whatever it had almost been --
was apparently past.  She looked away from Pan, and back in
the direction they were traveling.  As best she could tell,
based on those impossible stars, they were still flying to
the east.  She shook her head, and said, "So where are we
going, anyway?  I thought you wanted to look for your
sister?"

"I do," he replied.  Out of the corner of her eye, Dana saw
that Pan was now also looking straight ahead, the moment of
near-intimacy apparently completely forgotten.  "But first
we have to regroup.  I want to show you my hideout, and
introduce you to the Lost Boys."

"The who?"

"The Lost Boys," he repeated patiently.  "They're my men,
and I'm their captain.  And you're gonna love 'em, Wendy!  I
just know it!"

Before she had a chance to respond Pan abruptly angled
downwards, and they started to descend at a rapid rate.
Within seconds they had plunged once more into the clouds,
and Dana again felt the cool mists of water vapor blowing
against her face.  Then they dived out into the open air
again --

Into bright sunlight, under a nearly cloudless sky.

Dana was somewhat hardened to impossible things by now, so
she didn't gasp, but simply shook her head in disbelief. She
turned her head again and craned her neck -- and, yes, the
sky really was a brilliant blue, as far as she was able to
see.  There were just a very few white, fluffy clouds, way
up in the sky -- nothing like the gray, threatening overcast
she and Pan had just flown through.

"Look, Wendy!  There it is!"

Dana looked around to the front again, and saw that they
were over the ocean, and that they were rapidly approaching
an island.  It was roughly circular, and heavily covered
with dense, green jungle, and looked like nothing quite so
much as a brilliant emerald floating in a sea of sapphire.
As they drew closer she saw sparkling white beaches with
waves breaking along them --

"Look out!"

Dana's head whipped first one way, then the other, but even
as she tried to make out what had prompted Pan's shout, he
was wrapping his arm tightly around her waist and veering
sharply up and to the right.  She heard the sharp, distant
crack of an explosion; Pan changed course a second time, and
Dana had a brief, dizzying glimpse of what looked like a
sailing ship sitting just outside a small cove, far, far
below.  But the ground was rapidly dropping away, and then
the ship -- if it was a ship -- twisted out of her line of
vision, just as she and Pan plunged into a cloud.

Almost immediately they burst out the other side, but now
the cloud was between them and the island, and all she could
see down below was water.  They slowed to a stop, and then
Pan guided her to the left, skimming the surface of the
cloud until they came to the very edge.  Cautiously, he
peered out over and down, and after a brief hesitation, Dana
followed suit.

It *was* a sailing ship -- a Dutch flute, if she was reading
the rigging correctly from this distance.  As they watched,
a puff of smoke appeared next to the ship, and there was
another distant crack of what Dana now realized was cannon
fire.  Was the ship shooting at them?  If so, surely they
were safe here ... they were far out of any possible range.

"That's the Smoker's ship," Pan announced.  Dana glanced
over at the boy, to see that he was also looking down at the
vessel, a look of excitement on his face.  "I guess we got a
little bit too close."

"The Smoker?"

"Yeah.  The Smoker," Pan replied, sounding preoccupied as he
continued to peer down over the edge of the cloud.  "The
leader of the pirates.  He's the one who took my sister."

Dana felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.  "The Smoker
took your sister?  Then why were you looking in my bedroom?"

Pan looked at her in apparent surprise.  "Because it was
someplace I could get to," he said, as if it were the most
obvious thing in the world.  He gestured down at the ship.
"You fly too close to that ship, and they shoot at you.  You
try to swim --" and here he shuddered "-- well, let's just
say there are monsters in the water."

"Monsters?"

"Yeah."  Pan said absently.  He was once more staring
intently down at the ship, apparently calculating something.
Finally, he nodded.  "Looks like they're done shooting at us
for now."  He tightened his grip around her waist slightly,
and together they slid down off the cloud and resumed their
flight towards the island.

Dana was finally growing accustomed to this flying thing.
She still didn't understand how it was possible -- she
didn't understand how *any* of this was possible.  But there
was no denying what she was seeing with her own eyes, and
one thing Ahab had drilled into her was that denying facts
because they failed to mesh with your preconceptions was
unacceptable.  Of course, he probably hadn't had anything
quite this extreme in mind ... but the principle remained
the same, in Dana's estimation.

The cove with the pirate ship lay behind them, now, and they
were actually flying over the island, skimming low over the
treetops.  Pan was no longer holding her quite so close, but
merely had her hand lightly clasped in his.

Dana remembered his earlier comment, that she could do this
herself; she wondered what would happen if she just let go
for a minute?  Would she really be able to fly, all on her
own?  The very idea seemed ridiculous -- but so did a lot of
other things that had already happened tonight.  Or today,
considering that it was now broad daylight.  Whatever.

She glanced over at Pan again, and saw that he was paying no
attention to her at all.  She wished she understood what the
heck that was all about; one minute he was crowding her
personal space, and looking at her with a fascination and
intimacy that made her shudder inside -- and the next he was
totally ignoring her.

Dana wished he would just make up his mind which it was
going to be.  She could deal with either one, but these
lightninglike changes back and forth were making her a
little bit crazy.  Or more than a little bit, she amended.
Of course, if it had to be one or the other, she knew which
one she'd choose ....

She shook her head and pushed the thought away.  She wasn't
going to get into that, she told herself firmly.  She'd just
met this boy, after all, and although he seemed strange and
exciting, she really didn't know anything about him.
Besides, she wanted to find out if she really could fly on
her own.  And so she took a deep breath, and, forcing her
eyes to stay open, she let go of Pan's hand.

And she didn't fall.

For a moment Dana felt giddy at the experience.  She'd been
flying for quite some while now, but that had been under
Pan's control and guidance.  And this ... this was
completely independent.  She was actually doing it, all on
her own.

She could fly.

She looked to one side, wanting to get Pan's attention and
let him know about her accomplishment -- but he wasn't
there.  Frowning, she turned back to the front -- only to
see Pan moving rapidly away from her.  She growled in
annoyance, and increased her own speed in an effort to catch
up, but he was still pulling away, apparently completely
oblivious to the fact that she was no longer flying at his
side.

Even as she felt the annoyance at his disregard building
within her, Dana found her own speed increasing.  In a
matter of seconds, she was no longer falling behind; a few
seconds more and she was actually starting to catch up.
She'd show him; she could fly just as fast as he could.
Faster, maybe.

She considered calling out to him, letting him know that she
was catching up.  But that wouldn't be as satisfying. Better
just to go zooming past him, and let *him* try to catch
*her*.  She nodded slightly, and increased her speed
further.  That was the way to do it, she thought.

She was still gloating in anticipation when something struck
her full in the chest.  Dana cried out in surprise, then
doubled over in pain and plummeted towards the ground.

================END CHAPTER TWO================


=========
Chapter Three
=========

She's afraid.  It's dark, and she's afraid ....

The door opens, and he's standing in front of her, holding a
candle against the gloom.  He speaks to her, and she asks
him to look at something, and he invites her into the room.
She's still afraid, but somehow his company is already
making it better ....

She turns away from him and slips off her robe, and for a
moment she waits in nameless dread.  She can hear him moving
behind her; she can see the shadows shifting on the wall as
he kneels behind her, the candle still in his hand.  She
feels a touch on her lower back -- his fingers, she
realizes.  And then he speaks, and she can almost hear his
smile of relief ....

//Mosquito bites,// he says ....

//Are you sure?// she asks ....

And he is sure, and he reassures her with a few calming
words.  And then she turns to face him, and throws herself
into his arms ....

The first thing Dana was aware of was the pain.  Pain in the
center of her chest, radiating outwards to her shoulders.  A
dull, throbbing ache, that seemed to be everywhere all at
once, and was worse when she inhaled.

The second thing she noticed was the smell:  a damp, earthy
odor, like that of her mother's garden after a spring rain.
There were other scents mixed in as well:  the faintly acrid
smell of too many bodies in an enclosed area, and the
lingering, slightly stale odor of old cooking.  People lived
here, she realized -- wherever "here" was.

She opened her eyes to find that she was lying on a bed in a
small, curtained-off space.  The lighting was dim, but
enough illumination filtered in through the cracks in the
curtains to allow her to see the rough, earthen floor -- and
turning her head, she saw that the bed she was lying on was
set against a wall that was also composed of packed earth
and sod.

The bed itself was hard and lumpy, and was covered with
rough linen that irritated her skin wherever it touched her.
 The stuffing gave only slightly, and crackled as she
shifted her weight.  Straw?

Abruptly, the curtain was thrown partway open, and Dana's
eyes watered slightly at the sudden increase in light.
There was a figure standing in the entryway, but he -- or
she -- was backlit, and she couldn't make out --

"Hey, Wendy!"  Pan.  Even as she made the identification, he
was bounding across the two feet of intervening space,
bouncing to a stop in a crosslegged position on the foot of
the bed.  "Glad to see you're feeling better."

Automatically, Dana scooted up into a sitting position, and
as she did so she realized with surprise that the pain in
her chest was gone -- just like that.  It was almost as if
it had never been there at all.  She drew an experimental
breath.  Not a twinge.

"You sure slept long enough," Pan went on.  "I was beginning
to wonder if you were ever going to wake up."

"Wh - what happened?" Dana asked.  She touched her
fingertips to her chest.  Still no pain.  Strange.

"Oh, it was Tink," Pan said with a wave of the hand.  "She
gets a little weird sometimes, and for some reason she told
the guys you were a U.F.O., and convinced them to try and
shoot you down.  But I banished her, so hopefully she'll
learn her lesson."

"You *banished* her?"

"Yeah," he said, with apparent unconcern.  "Forever, too.
Or until next week, or something like that."  Dana could see
that he was rapidly losing interest in the topic, but before
she could say anything, he went on, "So anyway, now that
you're awake, what do you think?"

Dana felt her eyebrows rising up her forehead.  "What do I
think about what?" she asked.

"This place!"  Pan made a sweeping gesture with his left
hand.  "My hideout.  What do you think?"

Dana blinked, and shrugged.  "Well, I really haven't seen
enough of it to have an opinion --"

"Well, come on then!" he interrupted, jumping off the bed.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.  "I'll give
you the grand tour."

A moment later, Dana found herself standing in the middle of
a large room.  As had been the case with the curtained-off
sleeping area, the walls and floors were plain and
unfinished -- but there the resemblance ended.  Where the
bedchamber had seemed rude and primitive, the larger space
of which it was a part looked like something out of science
fiction.

Everywhere she looked, she saw scientific and technical
equipment -- from things as simple and straightforward as
microscopes and oscilloscopes, to strange and enigmatic
devices of unknown function and purpose.  The budding
scientist within her longed to fly across the room and delve
into all the wonderful mysteries awaiting her perusal.  But
she held herself in check.

Something else caught her eye:  across the room, hanging on
the wall above a slide projector, was a large poster.  It
depicted what seemed to be a flying saucer hovering over a
hillside, and the caption on it read, "I want to believe!"

Dana glanced at Pan and raised her eyebrow as she gestured
at the poster.  "That's not serious, is it?" she asked.

"Of course it is!" he exclaimed, gliding over to the poster
-- and Dana noticed that his feet didn't quite touch the
ground as he did so.  "Don't you believe in the existence of
extraterrestrials, Wendy?"

Dana felt her jaw dropping at the question, but before she
could muster a response she was distracted by a distant
thud.  It sounded like a heavy door being opened, and
suddenly there was a draft coming from the far corner of the
room.  Looking more closely, Dana realized that there was an
entryway of sorts in that corner -- a dark hole, about two
feet in diameter, and partly concealed by another curtain.

The curtain was now swaying slightly in the sudden breeze,
and Dana found herself walking slowly towards the entrance.
There was a babble of voices coming from the hole, growing
louder by the second -- and in the next instant a head
appeared.

It was a boy's head, Dana realized.  A boy's head with long,
stringy blond hair and horn-rimmed glasses.  As she watched,
the boy wriggled on out of what was obviously a tunnel,
winding up in a heap on the floor.

Even as the new boy was struggling to his feet, another
followed, and then another and another and another, until
finally there were five of them milling around the room and
all talking at once.  She heard snatches of conversation,
words and phrases such as "grassy knoll", "extraterrestrial
biological entity" and, of all things, "Elvis".  But there
was so much talking going on that she found it impossible to
make out the thread of conversation -- or even a coherent
sentence.

Dana glanced over at Pan, hoping that perhaps he would rein
the group in -- or at least provide an expanation.  But he
seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the chaos, and was standing
with his arms crossed and a happy smile on his face.

"Aren't they the greatest?" he remarked, as he finally
noticed Dana looking at him.  "These are my men -- the Lost
Boys!"

"The Lost Boys?"

"Yeah!"  Pan stepped forward and started cuffing the other
boys.  "C'mon, guys!  Straighten up!"

Somewhat to Dana's surprise, the blandishments worked, and
in short order she was facing an only somewhat-disorderly
row of boys, each standing at a vague semblance of
attention.  The effect was spoiled, however, by the
intermittent whispering and shuffling of feet which
continued unabated.

Quickly, Dana let her gaze skip down the line, as Pan
proceeded to introduce them.  First was Ringo, the one with
the stringy blond hair, who was wearing jeans and a Ramones
t-shirt.  Second was John, incongruously wearing a
three-piece suit.  Next to him was Melvin, who was frankly
staring at her with his mouth hanging open.  Fourth in line
was Jeff, who Dana thought looked vaguely like a ferret, and
finally a boy with the unlikely name of Pendrell -- "because
nobody knows what his real name is -- not even him," Pan
concluded.

"Report!"

Dana's attention was drawn back to Pan, who now was
strutting up and down in front of the other boys, his hands
behind his back.  Each time he came to the end of the line
he would pop in the air, spin about, and then resume his
pacing.

And of course, the babble immediately started up again.
"Faceless guys are --"  "Black oil aliens --"  "The
Trilateral Commission --"  "Found a plam in a table lamp --"
"She *is* hot!"

"Enough!"

Immediately the chattering stopped, and Pan came to the end
of the row and did the pop-and-spin maneuver one more time,
finally coming to a stop at full parade rest.

"Men!" he exclaimed.  "Do I understand that you are all in
agreement?"  There was a confused-sounding chorus of assent.
 "And you believe you've found the Rebel hideout?"  More
incoherent nattering.  "Then what are we waiting for?  Let's
go!"

Before Dana had time to react, Pan had her by the elbow and
was hurrying her towards the entrance to the tunnel.  It was
dark and musty smelling, and for an instant she hesitated --
but then Pan prodded at her, and she reluctantly started
crawling up the shaft, which was slanted upwards at a steep
angle.

It seemed to take forever, and with each foot she moved
forward, Dana felt more enclosed; more trapped.  She was
acutely aware of the harshness of her own breathing, as well
as that of Pan and the other boys, following along behind.

Why was she in the lead, anyway?  They were the ones who
knew where they were going, and what was at the other end of
this tunnel.  For that matter, it wasn't really clear to her
*why* they were doing this.  Pan had made that comment about
a "Rebel hideout", but she didn't know what that meant --
and she hadn't been able to glean anything coherent at all
from the chatter of the other boys.

At last she reached the tunnel's far entrance, to find that
it was covered by a heavy steel door, held in place with
half a dozen bolts, padlocks and other fastenings.  Dana was
rapidly losing her capacity to be surprised by anything, and
simply shrugged and began unfastening the locks.

Two minutes, and the job was done, and she pushed open the
door, climbed out of the tunnel and stood up.  She was in a
small clearing in the middle of a forest.  The trees made a
lovely, green canopy overhead, and bright sunlight filtered
down through the leaves.  The air was fresh and sweet, a
welcome change from the dank earthiness of the cavern from
which she'd just emerged.  Dana couldn't help smiling at her
surroundings.  It was so beautiful here --

Without warning, she was grabbed roughly from behind, and
she gasped as an arm was wrapped around her neck, nearly
cutting off her air.  She was lifted off her feet, and as
her assailant dragged her from the clearing, she
instinctively started to struggle.  But then a voice
whispered in her ear, low and harsh and menacing:

"Resist or serve."

================END CHAPTER THREE================


=========
Chapter Four
=========

For a few seconds after hearing those words, Dana continued
to struggle.  She was distantly aware of other people
rushing by her, and she heard shouts of alarm from the
direction of the tunnel.  But then the arm around her throat
tightened, and all she was aware of was the need to get
enough air.

"Resist or serve," the voice said again, more insistently
than the first time.  Dana didn't know what those words
meant, exactly; nevertheless, she felt a chill race down her
spine at their repetition.  Then the arm tightened still
further, and she saw stars -- and then everything went
black.

#          #          #

Dana was never sure, later, just how long she was out, but
it couldn't have been more than a few minutes.  She was now
slung over someone's shoulder, and that person was walking,
taking her somewhere, his shoulder digging into her abdomen
with each step he took.

Unfortunately, she had no idea *where* she was being taken.
Her captor had blindfolded her, and her hands were tied
behind her back.  Even her ankles were bound.  She was
completely helpless.

For just a moment, Dana felt panic building within her.
Things had moved so far and so quickly, and now events
seemed to be completely out of her control.  She didn't even
know who had taken her.

Somehow, she managed to fight down her fears.  From
somewhere, a phrase popped into her mind:  "I had the
strength of your beliefs."  It seemed to be her own voice
saying the words, but she had no idea who she was speaking
to.  Nevertheless, they seemed to be giving her strength and
comfort, and so she repeated them in her mind:  "I had the
strength of your beliefs."

As her racing thoughts gradually slowed down, Dana started
to be more aware of her surroundings.  She was still unable
to see, of course, but as she continued to calm down, she
was able to pick out sounds:  the breathing and footsteps of
her captor, and the rustling of underbrush and occasional
murmur of conversation that indicated the presence of
others.

She strained her ears each time someone in the procession
spoke, but try as she would, she couldn't make out anything
intelligible -- nor did she hear the one voice she was sure
she would recognize:  Pan's.  She wasn't sure what she
expected to hear him saying, or how it would help; probably
it wouldn't help.  But she desperately wanted to hear a
friendly voice.

It occurred to Dana to wonder if Pan had even been captured.
 She wondered about his "men", too, but she didn't really
know them the way she did Pan, and so it was on him that she
focused.

He could have flown away, she suddenly realized.  Heck,
*she* could have flown away.  She still could.  If only she
could get free of her bonds and whoever was carrying her,
she could just fly off into the sky.  Then if she had any
sense at all, she would just keep on flying, and head for
home.

She could do it.  She was sure she could do it.  All she had
to do was get high enough in the air that she could see the
whole island, and she was confident that she'd be able to
pick out the correct bearing.  Then she'd fly home as fast
as she could, leaving this strange place behind --

Dana was dragged abruptly from her thoughts, as her captor
suddenly heaved her down off his shoulder and dumped her
unceremoniously on the ground.  She was still trying to
catch her breath when a pair of hands grabbed her firmly by
the shoulders and dragged her a few feet across uneven
ground, before finally propping her up against something
hard and rough.  A tree, she realized.  She was leaning
against a tree.  A moment later, another body was deposited
next to her, and then she felt a thick rope being stretched
tightly across her chest.

Automatically, Dana began to struggle again as the rope was
drawn tighter and tighter, digging into her flesh through
the thin material of her pajama top.  Her wrists and ankles
were still bound, however, so there was really little she
could do --

"Relax, Wendy.  Don't try to fight it."

Pan's voice.  Coming from the person sitting next to her.

Immediately Dana stopped struggling, and turned her head in
the direction the words had come from.  "Pan?" she asked.
"Is that you?  What's going on?"  She wished she wasn't
still blindfolded; she wanted to see his face.  It would
reassure her that he was really there.

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, his tone surprisingly light and
cheerful.  "As for what's going on -- we've been captured by
the Rebels."

"The Rebels?"

"Yeah," Pan said.  "The Rebels.  They used to be part of the
Smoker's pirate crew, but now they're their own gang."
There was a sharp jerk on the rope, as whoever was working
on it apparently finished tying it off, and Dana heard Pan
grunt softly.  Then he continued, "Anyway, they're not
really that bad; they'll turn us loose in a little while.
Won't you, Alex?"

Dana heard a light, menacing chuckle coming from directly in
front of her, and then the voice of the person who had
captured her said, "Not a chance, Pan.  This time you've
gone too far."  Suddenly Dana's blindfold was whipped away,
and she found herself staring directly into a pair of
malevolent green eyes.

For a moment the eyes simply stared at her, and Dana felt
herself becoming mesmerized and falling into them.  The eyes
were dark and intense; seductive and dangerous.  They
reminded her strongly of Pan's eyes -- but where Pan's gaze
had seemed enticing and alluring, the eyes now looking at
her were empty, and ultimately destructive.  Abruptly the
eyes pulled away, and as the figure standing in front of her
straightened up, Dana was finally able to focus her
attention on something other than his eyes.

He was, she realized, a man rather than a boy.  He was tall
and dark-haired, with features which seemed more pretty than
handsome.  He wore black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black
leather jacket, and on his face was a smirk which looked
rather permanent, as if the man had no other facial
expression.

"You've gone too far this time, Pan," the man repeated --
Alex, she remembered.  Pan had addressed him as Alex.  "I
don't give a good God damn what your reasons are; you're
going to give her back, and you're going to do it now."

Dana felt herself flushing at the use of profanity, but
before she really had time to process her own reaction, Pan
replied, "Sure.  Fine.  Whatever."  His voice was heavy with
sarcasm, and Dana craned her neck in an effort to see his
face.  But the tree the two of them were tied to was large,
and Pan was far enough around the trunk so as to be out of
her range of vision.

"I mean it, Pan!" Alex said sharply.  "I know we screw
around a lot, but this is serious.  What have you done with
Diana?"

"Diana?  She's missing?"

The sarcasm was suddenly gone from Pan's voice, replaced
with doubt and concern, and again Dana craned her neck,
trying without success to get a glimpse of his features.
Who was Diana?  Obviously, it was someone who mattered to
Pan --

"As if you didn't know," Alex replied.  Suddenly his eyes
narrowed, and he stepped forward until he was out of Dana's
line of sight, presumably directly in front of Pan.  "Where
is she?"  Dana shivered at the man's intense, menacing tone.

"Oh, please, Alex," Pan replied.  "This isn't my week to
watch her."  His words were flip, but his tone seemed even
more worried than it had been.  "Look, turn me loose, and
I'll find her for you."

"Yeah, right."  There was a moment of silence, and Dana had
the eerie feeling that Pan and Alex were communicating
somehow without speaking.  Then:  "Fine.  But you better not
screw this up, Pan.  Be a pity to have to send your friend,
here, to the boxcars."  Another brief silence, then Alex
laughed.  "Whatever, Pan.  Just remember what happened to
Cassandra."

There was a brief, quiet rustling sound, which quickly faded
away to nothing, and Dana realized that Alex must have left.
 For a moment she wondered if Pan had gone with him -- but
that couldn't be, because the rope binding both of them to
the tree hadn't been disturbed.  At least, she *thought*
they were both bound by the same rope.  She hadn't actually
seen it of course, so she didn't really know for sure.

One way to find out.

"Pan?" she asked, hating herself for the quaver in her
voice.  Still, she'd been through a lot today, she reasoned.
 Surely she was entitled to a *little* uncertainty.  "Pan?"
she repeated, more strongly.  "Are you there?"

"Yeah, Wendy."  The response was immediate, and Pan's tone
seemed to be surprisingly good humored.

"Pan, what's going on?" she asked.  "Who's Diana, and why
does, does Alex think you have her?"  She wanted to ask more
-- she wanted to ask what Alex had meant when he talked
about sending her to the boxcars.  But she couldn't quite
bring herself to ask that question.  She wasn't sure she
wanted to hear the answer.

"Oh, Diana's just this girl," Pan replied.  His voice
sounded casual, but Dana thought she also detected an
overlay of ... something.  As if there was more to it than
he was saying.  Dana felt an inexplicable surge of
annoyance, but quickly tamped it down.  There was no time
for that -- and no reason, either.

"Just a girl?" she persisted.  "But why does Alex think
you've got her?  And why does he care?"

"That's complicated," Pan replied.

Dana waited for a minute or so for him to continue; when it
became plain that he wasn't going to do so, she shook her
head in exasperation, and tried another tack.  "So why are
you still here?" she asked.  "I thought you were going to
rescue her, or whatever."

"Not now," Pan replied.  "We can't do it until morning; we
have to wait for low tide.  You know how it is."  Dana
raised her eyebrows at the use of "we" rather than "I", but
before she could comment, he went on, "So for now, we just
hang out and relax.  Alex'll be back in the morning."

"So we just ... wait?"  Dana didn't even bother to try to
keep the incredulity from her voice.

"Sure," he replied, the tones of good humor back in his
voice.  "Try to get some sleep if you can.  Tomorrow's going
to be a busy day."

And that, Dana realized, was all that she was going to get
out of him.  She'd only known this boy for one day, but
she'd already discovered him to be amazingly adept at
avoiding any serious discussion of anything.

Or was he adept?  She pondered that for a minute.  Despite
the fact that she frequently found him to be little short of
infuriating, he truly seemed to have a good heart.  He just
needed to find a little focus in his life, she concluded
sleepily.  A little direction.  He needed ... a partner.

She was still considering the matter when she drifted off to
sleep.

================END CHAPTER FOUR================


=========
Chapter Five
=========

She's bound and gagged, trapped in a small, confined space.
The trunk of a car, she realizes.  She's in the trunk of a
car, and it's hot and very uncomfortable.  She doesn't know
how long she's been here, or where she's being taken ....

He will come for her, though.  Of that she is certain.  He
will come for her, because he has to; they mean too much to
each other for it to be otherwise ....

The car comes to a gradual stop, and after a moment she
hears the murmur of voices, gradually increasing in volume.
A man's voice is giving orders, speaking harshly, but the
other is protesting, resisting:  //You don't understand;
they're waiting for me.  I can't be late .... Please, for
your own sake -- don't stop Duane Barry.//  Then she hears
two gunshots, and a moment later the trunk lid opens.  And
someone is looking down at her, but it isn't her partner
....

"Wendy!"  Dana was drowsily aware of someone shaking her
shoulder.  "Wendy!  Wake up!"  Dana reluctantly forced
herself to wakefulness.  She felt like she'd been asleep for
a week -- groggy, lethargic and lacking in motivation.  Her
eyes fluttered open, and she saw Pan crouched in front of
her -- and even as she processed that information, he gave
her shoulder another shake.

"Great," he said.  "You're awake.  Let's get going."

Pan proceeded to grab her arms and drag her to her feet --
and much to Dana's surprise, she saw that the ropes which
had bound them to the tree were gone.  Not just untied; not
just lying in her feet in a loose heap -- they were simply
gone, as if they'd never been there at all.

She had little time to ponder the matter, however.  In the
next instant, Pan had taken her hand in one of his and
placed his other hand on the small of her back.  Dana
shivered as she felt his warm, moist breath tickling her
ear.  "Remember, Wendy," he murmured, "you have to want to
believe."  And then they were rising off the ground and
soaring up past the trees.

And for the second time in as many days, Dana was flying.

The day before, on the flight from her home to Neverland,
she'd been too overwhelmed by what was happening to really
grasp the reality of it.  And then she'd been shot down,
ending any possibility of reconciling herself with the
experience.  But now ....

Some things she remembered, of course:  The wind rushing
past her ears; the ground dropping rapidly away beneath her;
the hollow, elevator-going-up feeling in the pit of her
stomach.  These things -- the simple, physical sensations of
flying -- these things she remembered.

What she did not remember was the almost intoxicating sense
of freedom and power that was now sweeping through her
system.  Her half-formed plan of the day before, to fly away
home at the first opportunity, was all but forgotten.  Dana
felt as if she could go anywhere; do anything.  It was
wonderful -- glorious --

"Isn't it great, Wendy?"

Dana glanced over at Pan, and saw that he was grinning like
a fool, his face only inches from her own.  And as had
happened in her bedroom, she felt a sudden rush of awareness
of his physical presence.  His body was nestled close
against hers, his hand was resting gently but firmly on the
small of her back, and those eyes ....

Dana shook her head sharply, trying to force the thoughts
away.  A distraction; she needed a distraction -- something
that would give her a chance to get these strange, swirling
feelings under control.  Everything had been happening so
fast, and she was so confused.  She took a deep breath,
looked down at the passing scenery, and tried to steady
herself.

They were flying about thirty feet or so above the treetops,
she saw.  It was an evergreen forest, and the trees were so
densely packed that she only had rare glimpses of the
ground.  There were no obvious landmarks, and Dana wondered
idly how Pan could possibly know which way to go.  The
thought worried her more than a little bit, as she realized
with a jolt that she had no idea at all where she was in
relation to Pan's hideout -- or even in relation to the tree
where Alex had tied them up.  If she became separated from
Pan, she'd be lost.

She glanced again at the boy flying next to her.  His face
looked calm and serene, his eyes closed to mere slits
against the early morning sunlihgt.  "Where are we going?"
she asked abruptly.

Pan looked at her, a puzzled smile on his face.  "We're
going to rescue Diana," he explained patiently, as if it
were the most obvious thing in the world.

Dana shook her head in exasperation.  "I know *that*," she
began --

"She's a really wonderful person," Pan went on blithely.  "I
just know you two will really hit it off!"

"Uh huh," Dana replied.  "I'm sure she's swell.  But how do
you know where to look?"

"Oh, she's on Marooner's Rock," Pan replied carelessly,
looking back to the front.  "In the cave."

"The cave?"

"Yeah," her companion replied.  "And we're almost there --
look!"

Dana suddenly smelled salt in the air, and as she craned her
neck to look ahead, she saw a break in the treeline.  An
instant later they were leaving the forest behind; they
passed rapidly over some cliffs, folllowed by a strip of
sparkling white beach, and then they were soaring out over
the sea.

"There it is!" Pan exclaimed, as he guided her through a
broad, sweeping turn.  For a moment they paused, hovering
only a few feet above the water, and for a few seconds Dana
let her gaze drift across the nearby shore.  And then she
saw it.

It was a cave; a dark hole in the cliff face, only a few
feet above the water line.  The beach had dwindled to
nothing at that point, leaving an array of sharp, ugly
looking rocks in its place.

"She's in there?" Dana asked doubtfully.  The hole in the
cliff was only three or four feet across, and wasn't very
accessible; it hardly seemed to be a likely place to hold a
prisoner.

"Yeah," Pan said -- and even as he spoke the word, the two
of them were swooping in towards the cave.

"How do you know?" Dana objected, trying not to flinch as
they approached the cliff at a dizzying speed.

"Where else would she be?"  Dana felt Pan shrug slightly,
but before she could respond, he added, "And here we are!"

And indeed, here they were.  Without quite knowing how it
had happened, Dana found herself perched precariously on a
small ledge just below the entrance to the cave.  Pan clung
to a similar outcropping a few feet away, and was peering
cautiously into the hole.

"Do you see anything?" Dana asked.

Pan shook his head.  "Nah.  Too dark."  He looked over at
her with a grin of childish enthusiasm.  "Looks like we'll
have to reconnoiter."  And before Dana had a chance to
object, he'd let go of the cliffside and plunged into the
hole.

Dana hesitated for a moment, unsure what she should do.  No,
she immediately corrected in her mind, she knew full well
what she *should* do -- she should fly away from this place,
try to gain enough altitude to get her bearings, and then
head for home.  On the other hand, she couldn't just abandon
Pan; who knew what sort of danger he was subjecting himself
to.  On the third hand, he had brought it on himself --

Dana shook her head in frustration.  Who was she trying to
kid?  She was going after him, and there was no point in
denying it.  And so she took a deep breath and murmured, "I
want to believe."  Then she jumped up off the ledge and
cautiously entered the cave.

It was, as she had expected, almost completely dark inside,
the only illumination coming from the three foot wide
opening she had just traversed.  For a moment Dana simply
hovered there, just inside the entrance, waiting for her
eyes to adjust to the small amount of available light.

There really wasn't much to see, she gradually came to
realize.  There was bright morning sunshine outside, but the
opening was so small that the light was focused into a
single, narrow shaft, which didn't really serve to
illuminate much of anything.  About all she could tell for
sure was that the cave had rapidly opened up once she'd
passed through the entrance, and that she was now hovering
along one side of a rather large chamber.  Quiet, lapping
noises coming from below told her that the bottom of the
cavern was filled with water, and Dana realized that at high
tide the entire place might be flooded.

Where the heck was Pan, anyway?  Once again, Dana shook her
head.  He'd been the first one through the entrance, but
he'd only been ahead of her by a few seconds.  Surely he
hadn't just flown off into the darkness.  Had he?

Abruptly, Dana heard a sound, very faint and far away.  She
held her breath and listened intently, and after a moment it
was repeated.  It was a voice, she realized; a female voice.
 And then she heard a second voice -- a man's, low and
rumbling, and somehow filled with menace.

Dana strained her ears, trying to make out what was being
said, but the voices were too quiet, and the acoustics in
the cave were producing strange echoes.  Without really
thinking about it, she started drifting slowly forward, in
the direction she thought the voices were coming from.  And
finally, she was able to make out the words being spoken.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" the woman's voice was
saying.  "What if he doesn't come?"

"Don't worry," the man replied.  It sounded low and
sibilant, like a snake hissing in the grass.  "He'll come.
What else can he do?"

"You know how he is," the woman persisted.  "Erratic.
Undependable.  Spooky.  He could --"

"Diana, you worry too much," the man said sharply, cutting
her off.  "He'll be here."  There was a brief pause, and
suddenly Dana smelled cigarette smoke.  "He'll be here," the
man repeated, "and the Project will continue according to
plan."

"That's easy for you to say," the woman answered, a tinge of
anger in her voice.  "You're not the one being used as a
decoy.  You're not the one who'll drown if he *doesn't* show
up."

Dana heard an evil chuckle.  "You worry too much," the man
said again.  "Besides, you won't drown, Diana.  Remember --
there are monsters in the water."

"Hey, Wendy!"

Pan's whispered exclamation made Dana jump, and it was all
she could do not to shriek in surprise.  "Where have you
been?" she demanded.  "I thought --"

"I just finished reconnoitoring," he said, as if he hadn't
heard her.  "Looks like the place is clean.  And Marooner's
Rock is dead ahead."

"Pan, wait!"  Dana said.  "There's something you need to
know."  She wanted to tell him about the converation she'd
overheard; she wanted to warn him that this woman, Diana,
was apparently in league with his enemies.  But before she
could utter another word, he was speaking again.

"There's no time," Pan said.  "We have to rescue Diana now,
before the tide comes in.  There are monsters in the water,
you know."  With that, he moved forward into the darkness --
and Dana had no alternative but to follow.

"Peter!"  It was Diana's voice again -- but now it seemed
more high pitched and tremulous than it had been before.  "I
knew you'd come for me!"  Dana growled at the phoniness in
the woman's voice.  Surely Pan would see through that --

"You bet, Diana," he replied cheerfully.  "Just give me a
minute with these ropes."

Dana continued to fly forward, until a huge, hulking mass
loomed up out of the darkness, ahead and slightly to the
right.  Marooner's Rock, she thought.  It had to be
Marooner's Rock.  She altered course slightly, and a few
seconds later she came to a bumpy landing, a short distance
from two shadowy figures.

"Pan --" she started.

"Wendy!" he exclaimed happily.  He hurried towards her,
dragging Diana along by the hand.  She was tall and
large-busted, Dana saw, with long dark hair, and her mere
presence was making Dana's hackles raise, as well as making
her feel oddly inadequate.  But Pan was still speaking --

"Wendy, this is Diana.  Good thing we got here when we did,
huh?  Now let's get out of here before it's too late."
Then, without giving her a chance to respond, Pan and Diana
took off in the direction of the light that marked the
entrance to the cave.

Fine, Dana thought in annoyance, as she flew off after them.
 Just fine.  They did need to get out of here -- heaven
alone knew what dangers were lurking out there in the
darkness.  But once they were clear, she and Pan were going
to have to talk.

But even as she thought the words, Dana had a sinking
feeling that it was going to be easier said than done.

================END CHAPTER FIVE================


=========
Chapter Six
=========

The trip back to the Rebel encampment was uneventful.

At least, Dana assumed they were returning to the place from
which they had departed, but to be perfectly accurate, she
was unable to recognize any landmarks.  Just pine trees, as
far as the eye could see.

Not that she was spending a great deal of time admiring the
scenery.  She had other things occupying her mind -- not
least of which was that Pan and Diana were flying ahead of
her, hand in hand, and no matter how hard she tried, she
couldn't seem to catch up.  The two of them were also
evidently talking more or less nonstop, although they were
far enough ahead that Dana wasn't able to pick up more than
a word or two out of any given sentence.  And occasionally,
they laughed.

She tried to tell herself that she shouldn't let it bother
her.  Pan had obviously known Diana for some time; they were
friends.  It wasn't surprising, then, that they would have
things to talk about, especially considering the harrowing
circumstances of the rescue.  Dana, on the other hand, had
known Pan for only a little over a day, and there was no
real reason why she should be upset that he was paying
attention to someone else.

Or at least, so she kept telling herself.

Of course, there was the small matter of Diana's apparent
disloyalty.  There had been no opportunity during the flight
to the Rebel camp for Dana to bring this to Pan's attention,
but *that* was something she intended to rectify as soon as
possible after their arrival.

And now, finally, Pan and Diana were angling downwards,
towards a clearing in the trees, and Dana followed suit.
She had a brief glimpse, off to her left, of a small group
of structures scattered through a section of forest where
the trees were a bit thinner, but then Pan and Diana made a
slight course change and slanted even more sharply
downwards, and Dana had to concentrate on her landing.

This time it was a bit easier, although she still stumbled a
bit upon reaching the ground.  She found herself in a large
grassy space that was almost large enough to be called a
meadow.  She glanced around quickly, intending to find Pan
so she could unload some of her annoyance at his recent
behavior -- and, incidentally, tell him about the
conversation she'd overheard in the cave.  But it was
already too late.

Pan and Diana were standing close together, about 30 yards
away -- but it might as well have been thirty miles.  The
two of them were surrounded by a group of at least a dozen
people, with more streaming out of the treeline with each
passing second, and a happy babble of voices was filling the
clearing.

As Dana watched, Alex burst out of the trees and elbowed his
way through the growing crowd, a happy smile on his face.  A
moment later he was hugging Pan and Diana and pounding on
their backs, and then the crowd was lifting the three of
them off the ground and carrying them into the trees --
leaving Dana, once again, with little alternative but to
follow along behind.

The trees in this part of the forest were fairly thick, but
the brush seemed to have been cleared, which made the
walking fairly easy.   And it wasn't very long before Dana
found herself entering another cleearing.

This one was smaller and cozier than the previous one, and
there was a bonfire roaring in the very center.  People were
milling about, talking and laughing and obviously having a
good time -- but Pan, Diana and Alex were nowhere to be
seen.  Dana frowned as she walked slowly through the happy
throngs.  Where could they have disappeared to?  And then
she glanced into the treeline, and what she saw there caused
her frown to deepen.

There were more people back there in the forest.  At least,
they seemed to be people; they were shaped like people.  But
try as she could, Dana couldn't get a good look at any of
them.  Everytime she moved close to the treeline, whichever
of the figures she was closest to drifted away, remaining
little more than dark shadows skulking among the trees.

"Wendy!"

Dana spun around in surprise at the sound of Pan's voice, to
see him bearing down on her, still dragging Diana by the
hand.  This was her chance, then.  She was a little hesitant
to raise the issue with Diana standing right there, but it
didn't look like she was going to have another opportunity,
anytime soon.  And so she took a deep breath, and said,
"Pan, I --"

"Dance with me, Wendy!"

Before Dana could respond, Pan had let go of Diana's hand
and taken hold of both of hers, and in another instant he
was whirling her about the meadow, apparently moving to
music and a rhythm only he could hear.  Despite herself,
Dana found herself being swept up in his movements, and soon
the two of them were dancing madly about the clearing.  Dana
was distantly aware that the crowd of people had gathered
into a large circle around them and were watching -- but all
she could really see was Pan's face.

He was looking at her, staring down at her intently with his
large, unblinking, hazel colored eyes.  He seemed to be
staring right through her skin, right down inside of her,
into her very soul, and she was helpless to look away.  A
small part of her was scared of the loss of control, and
wanted to pull away, but most of her was simply captivated
and enthralled.  No boy had ever focused this much attention
on her -- not in this way.  She realized that she could no
longer feel the ground beneath her; glancing down, she saw
that they were a good five feet in the air.  Pan had
literally swept her off her feet --

Somehow, that enabled her to break free, just a little.  She
looked back up at the boy, and said, "Pan, we need to talk."

"Not now, Wendy," he replied, shaking his head, a dreamy
expression on his face.  "Not now."

"Yes, now!" she said sharply.  "There's something you need
to know."  Before he could object, she proceeded to rattle
off a summary of the conversation she'd overheard in the
cave.  As Pan realized what she was talking about, his
forehead furrowed, as if in thought -- but by the time she
finished, he was shaking his head.

"No," he said.  They were no longer dancing; they were
simply hovering in midair, about ten feet off the ground.
And as Pan spoke, they slowly started sinking downwards.
"No, you don't understand.  Diana's not like that.  She
wouldn't --"

"Pan, I heard her!" Dana snapped.  "I heard her talking to
someone, and I ... I smelled cigarette smoke."  Dana wasn't
sure why that last was so important, but somehow, she knew
that it was.  "And they were talking about 'the Project',
whatever that is, and about how they were sure you'd come
for her."

"Well, they were right, weren't they?" Pan said blithely.
Dana felt her mouth falling open in disbelief.  He went on,
"Wendy, you're making this personal."

"That's because it *is* personal," she replied.  She was
shocked to hear herself saying those words, but she seemed
to be unable to stop herself.  "Because personal interest is
all that I have.  And if you take that away, then there is
no reason for me to continue."  And with that, she pushed
herself out of his arms, and turned and stalked away, across
the clearing, through the happy crowds of people, and on
into the forest.

"Dana!  Wait!"  It had only been a little over a day since
Dana had heard someone call her by her right name;
nevertheless, she almost didn't recognize it.  The call was
repeated, and she stopped and turned around, to see Alex
bearing rapidly down upon her, a concerned look on his face.
 For a moment she was tempted just to turn away and keep
going -- she had no real use for Alex, after all -- but then
she shook her head and folded her arms across her chest.
What did she have to lose by listening to whatever he had to
say?

"I'm glad I caught you," Alex said, puffing a little as he
came to a halt a couple of feet in front of her.  "Where are
you going?"

"I don't know," she said, gesturing vaguely into the forest.
 "Away.  Home, I guess."  As had happened the day before,
Dana felt a sense of uneasiness building within her simply
from being close to Alex, and she took a couple of steps
back from him.

"That's not the way home," the man said with a smirk.  The
man who was so like Pan, and yet so different.  Dana
shivered, shook her head, and backed away a few more steps
-- but this time, Alex followed her.

"I -- I just need to go," she said, now steadily
backpedaling.  She bumped into a tree and winced in
surprise, but then moved around it and turned and started
striding determinedly away.

"It's about Pan, isn't it?"  Alex's voice was close to her
ear, and she turned her head briefly, long enough to see him
walking along next to her, an amused look on his face.
"It's about Pan," he repeated.  "He really can be hard to
get along with, can't he?  Erratic and undependable.  And a
little spooky, sometimes, too."

Dana stopped in midstride, and turned to look at Alex.
Erratic and undependable?  The words were familiar; she had
heard them before -- only a little while ago, she thought.
//You know how he is,// Diana had said to the man in the
cave.  //Erratic.  Undependable.  Spooky.//

But was Alex's choice of words just a coincidence?  He and
Diana both obviously had known Pan for some time; it
shouldn't really surprise her that they would use the same
words to describe him.  They had probably even talked to
each other about him.  But somehow she felt that Alex had
chosen the words with care and deliberation -- almost as if
they were a code of some sort.

A code which Diana's mysterious companion in the cave had
also been familiar with.

She shook her head violently, and turned and hurried on
through the forest, trying to ignore the fact that Alex was
still walking next to her, matching her stride for stride.
She was so focused on ignoring him, in fact, that she didn't
notice that the footing had changed until she tripped over a
root and almost fell.

"Damn!"  The word was out of her mouth before she could stop
herself, and she felt a strong hand grasping her upper arm
and steadying her.  Alex, of course.  She shook him off, and
continued on through the woods, now having to pick her way
through increasingly dense brush and undergrowth.

"You really don't want to be going this way," Alex
commented.

Dana glanced at him, then looked back to the front.  It
occurred to her that she could just fly away, and maybe Alex
wouldn't be able to bother her anymore.  She hadn't seen
*him* fly, after all -- and besides, she was going to have
to fly, if she ever wanted to get home.  But for some reason
she didn't want to fly just then.  For some reason, it
seemed to be important to keep her feet on the ground, at
least for the moment.

"Dana!"  The man's tone was sharp, demanding, but still Dana
ignored him.  It seemed to her the trees were a little
thinner now, and the undergrowth was getting easier to deal
with again.  Perhaps that meant they were coming to a
clearing ....

And then, suddenly, she burst out of the treeline, and found
herself on the edge of a large-ish open space -- almost as
large as the one she and Pan and Diana had landed in, upon
their return from Marooner's Rock.  But unlike that
clearing, this one was not empty -- it was filled with
buildings, scattered in a haphazard way across the meadow.
And her eyes widened in fear, and her heart beat faster as
she realized what they were.

Boxcars.  Railroad boxcars.

"I *told* you that you didn't want to come this way," Alex
said, his voice now low with menace.  "I told you, but you
didn't listen.  Now you have to choose."  And he grabbed her
upper arm, squeezing so hard that it hurt, and repeated the
words Dana had first heard when she was taken captive the
day before.  "Resist or serve."

================END CHAPTER SIX================


=========
Chapter Seven
=========

As soon as Alex touched her, Dana started to struggle.  The
sense of uneasiness she'd felt at his initial approach
rocketed in seconds to full-blown panic.She shouldn't be
here, she thought wildly.  She shouldn't be with this man or
allowing him to touch her.  Without quite knowing why, her
free hand flew to the small of her back -- but there was
nothing there but the shirt tail of her pajamas, and in
another instant the instinct driving the motion had
evaporated.

Alex laughed.  "It's too late for that, Dana," he commented,
almost as if he knew better than she what she was reaching
for.  Then his grip on her arm tightened further, and he was
dragging her across the clearing, in the direction of one of
the boxcars.

Dana renewed her struggles as she realized where he was
taking her.  She didn't know *why* she was so terrified of
the boxcars, but she was.  A scrap of something Alex had
said the day before flashed through her mind:  //Be a pity
to have to send your friend, here, to the boxcars,// he'd
said to Pan.

//Be a pity to have to send your friend, here, to the
boxcars.//

Then her body was slammed up against something hard and
unyielding, and for a moment Dana saw stars.  When her
vision cleared again, she saw Alex's face, hovering a few
inches from her own.

"Can you hear them, Dana?" he murmured, his voice low and
rough and threatening.  "Can you hear them now?"  He moved a
little closer, pressing her against the wall until she could
barely breathe -- and, yes, Dana could suddenly hear them.

Voices.  Women's voices.  Crying out, screaming, shrieking
in fear and agony and despair, pleading and begging for it
simply to stop --

"There's a place for you here, Dana," Alex whispered, his
breath hot on her ear.  "A nice, warm, comfortable bed, just
for you.  And you can have any roommate you want:  Penny ...
Cassandra ... "  He pulled back slightly and looked into her
eyes again, and the perpetual smirk he always seemed to wear
deepened.  "Emily ...."

"No!"  Dana's knee jerked upwards, catching Alex full in the
crotch, just as Bill had taught her to do.  She saw his eyes
widen in pain and surprise, and he grunted softly as he let
go of her, doubling over and clutching at the offended area.

And then Dana was running, running, running ... across the
clearing and into the trees once more.  Behind her she heard
Alex's voice, once again calling her name, but that just
made her run faster, ducking under low-hanging branches and
jumping over roots and small bushes.  At any second she
expected to hear him crashing through the brush behind her,
his longer legs making up ground until finally he would lay
his hand on her shoulder and drag her to a halt.  But try as
she might, she couldn't hear him following ... and after a
few more moments she realized that even his voice had faded
away to nothing.

Nevertheless, Dana kept running.  A few more minutes, she
thought, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.  Just a
few more minutes, so she could put a bit more distance
between herself and Alex -- and the boxcars.

Just a few more minutes ....

Finally, she came to a stop at the base of a towering pine
tree.  She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees,
and tried to catch her breath.

This was getting ridiculous, she thought, as her pulse and
breathing slowly returned to normal.  In fact, it was well
beyond ridiculous.  In the last 24 hours she had been lured
away from her home by a total stranger, taught how to *fly*,
shot out of the sky, taken prisoner, left tied to a tree
overnight --

Dana shook her head sharply and cut those thoughts short.
Rehashing the whole, unlikely adventure wasn't going to get
her anywhere.  Going over it all in her mind was simply
going to overwhelm her, and make it that much harder to come
to any rational conclusions.  And what she really needed,
right now, more than anything else, were some rational
conclusions.

But even as she thought the words, she found her mind
drifting back to what had just transpired.  And as she
remembered what had happened, and her own reaction to those
events, she felt a sudden wave of shame flooding through her
system.

She was afraid of the boxcars.  No doubt of that.  Even
yesterday, when Alex had mentioned them in passing to Pan,
Dana had felt an unexplained shiver of fear.  And of course,
now that she had actually seen them, and heard the screams
of agony and despair coming from within, her terror was even
stronger and more concrete.  She was afraid ... she was so
afraid ....

But that was not enough to excuse how she had acted -- not
in Dana's own opinion, anyway.  There were human beings in
those boxcars -- living, breathing human beings -- and they
were suffering something that sounded very close to mortal
agony.  They needed succor; they needed to be rescued; and
Dana should have found some way to help them, rather than
fleeing blindly into the forest.

She was going to have to go back.

Ahab would expect it of her.

"Are you lost?"

Dana had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she
hadn't heard anyone approaching.  Now she spun around at the
sound of the man's voice, and automatically took a couple of
steps back.  If Alex had found her again --

"Don't be scared, girly girl."  Dana felt herself relax a
little bit.  It wasn't Alex; it was a stranger.  And while
ordinarily being accosted by someone she didn't know was
cause for worry in and of itself, under the circumstances --

"I just want to help," the man continued, taking a step or
two closer.  There was a friendly smile on his face, and
Dana couldn't help but respond with a small smile of her
own.  "My name's Donnie.  What's yours?"

"Dana."  The answer was out of her mouth before she could
stop herself -- but even as she spoke, all her anxiety was
zooming back to the forefront.  Despite his easy smile and
friendly manner, there was something wrong here.  Something
about Donnie --

She quickly suppressed the emotion.  Ever since Pan had
arrived in her room the day before, she'd been responding to
that sort of visceral reaction -- gut instinct, her father
and brothers would probably call it.  And she had to admit
that in the case of Alex that seemed to be the correct
response.

But Donnie had done nothing to her; he seemed friendly
enough.  He said he just wanted to help -- and hadn't she
just concluded that she needed to pay more attention to
logic and rationality?  Of course, he *was* a stranger, and
that meant she would have to be cautious --

"Dana," the man repeated, apparently savoring the feel of
her name on his own lips -- and despite her new resolve to
be sensible about all this, Dana shuddered.  "Dana.  That's
a lovely name.  I knew someone named Dana once.  She was
such a lovely person.  She looked a lot like you, in fact,
girly girl -- although, of course, she was older."

Dana nodded slowly, still trying to work out what she was
feeling, and why.  Donnie looked so normal, and ordinary --
yet, at the same time, just being in his presence was making
her uneasy.  The way he was looking at her --

"Look," she said suddenly, "I'm fine.  I don't think I need
any help.  I just got separated from my friends.  I'm fine,"
she repeated, wincing at the weakness of her own words.

"I think you look lost, girly girl," Donnie said, moving a
little closer -- and Dana had to fight the urge to back away
from him.  "And you have such lovely hair."  He reached up
and touched a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his
fingers ....

And Dana broke and ran.

She wasn't even aware of whether she was being followed,
this time.  She just ran.  Through the trees she ran,
unmindful of lowhanging branches that slapped and grabbed at
her, stumbling over roots and forcing her way through the
undergrowth.

He had to be following her -- she was sure of it.  Donnie
was following her, and probably Alex, as well.  He'd been
behind her all along.  She was breathing in short, sharp
gasps, now, and her vision was blurred by the sweat pouring
down off her brow.  Somehow it had gotten dark in the last
few minutes, and not just from the thick canopy of pine
trees overhead; the sun had actually set, and it was so dark
now that she could barely see where she was going.

It was dark.  It was dark, and she was lost, and she was
alone ....

Suddenly there was a flash of light in the rearview mirror
-- and Dana realized with terror that a pair of headlights
was rushing towards her.  She barely had time to brace for
impact before the other car struck her.  She fought for
control, but then it struck again, and then a third time,
forcing her from the road ....

Everything went black.

================END CHAPTER SEVEN================


=========
Chapter Eight
=========

She's riding in a car, and she's consumed by guilt ....

She should have remained silent; she shouldn't have said
anything.  All her training and experience tells her that
her captor is using her to get what he wants.  He's using
her, somehow, someway, to hurt her partner.  To hurt Mulder.
 She should not have cooperated with this plan; she should
have refused to speak, even if it meant her death.  But he
thrust the phone in front of her, and she couldn't help
herself ....

//He's got my gun,// she'd said, trying to ignore the blood
trickling down her face.  //He says he's going to kill me if
you don't give him what he wants.//  Already knowing what
her partner's response would be ....

//All right,// Mulder replied.  //Tell him we'll negotiate
....//

//He doesn't want to negotiate.//  Trying and failing to
keep the desperation from her voice.  //He says he wants to
make a trade ....//

And now they have arrived.  She's dragged from the car with
a gun to her head, and her partner is there, he came for her
-- as she knew he would.  The dark-haired woman gets out of
the other car and walks slowly towards her.  It's Samantha,
she realizes; he's exchanging his sister for her.  And even
as she brushes past the other woman and hurries to the
safety of her partner's car, her feelings of guilt and
culpability rise a thousandfold ....

Dana awoke slowly; so very, very slowly.  She was lying on
the ground, she realized, and she was cold.  And she was
hungry.  And it was dark.

Suddenly she was wide awake, and struggling to a sitting
position.  Her gaze flitted about, trying to make sense of
the shadows looming all around her.  Something moved, and
Dana rolled to her hands and knees and scuttled frantically
away --

From a tree branch, swaying gently in the cool, night
breeze.  Just a tree branch.  Only a tree branch.  Not Alex,
and not Donnie.  And not a cold, implacable man, come to use
her as a weapon against someone she loves.  Just a tree
branch.

Dana remained where she was for a pair of minutes, crouched
down in the underbrush, trying to get her thoughts in order.
 It had been a dream; she knew that much.  And yet, at the
same time, it had seemed so real -- almost as if it were a
memory.

She shook her head sharply.  It was impossible.  None of
those things had happened to her.  It was only a dream, and
she shouldn't be wasting time worrying over them.  She
needed to get herself oriented, find her way out of this
forest and fly away home.  That should be her first, last
and only priority.

Dana took one more deep breath, still trying to steady her
nerves, and then she stood up and looked around.  While
she'd been crouched there, thinking, her eyes had adjusted
to the dark, and now she was able to make out a fair amount
of detail.

She was, of course, still deep in the forest; that much was
clear.  The trees in her immediate vicinity were packed
closely together -- so closely that she couldn't help but
wonder how she'd been able to run between them without
tripping over a root or in some other way injuring herself.
She remembered low-hanging branches slapping against her
face, and she carefully stroked her cheeks and forehead with
her fingertips.  It was hard to tell in the dark, but it
didn't look like there was any blood.

And this still wasn't getting her anywhere.  The real
question that needed to be examined was which direction she
should walk to find her way out of the forest -- or at
least, to find a place where the trees were thin enough to
allow her to take to the air.  Unfortunately, she could see
no clue of the answer -- the forest looked equally dark and
menacing, no matter which way she turned.  Finally, she just
chose a direction, and started walking.

Almost immediately, the ground clutter began to diminish,
giving Dana a clue that she had chosen correctly.  She
carefully controlled her emotions; however.  She'd jumped to
quite enough unfounded conclusions in the past two days.  A
few more minutes, and the trees started to thin out, just a
little -- and Dana began to walk a little faster.  This
really was the right direction; somehow, she could tell.
And now she could hear something that sounded very much like
surf pounding on a beach, and suddenly there was the smell
of salt in the air.

Dana started running, but this time she wasn't fleeing from
the strange and terrifying -- she was running *towards* the
familiar and friendly.  The ocean, the sea -- it had always
been her friend, for as long as she could remember.  It
reminded her of so many, many happy times; it could never
mean anything to her but goodness and joy.

And then, with almost no warning, she burst out of the
forest, and found herself running across a wide beach
towards the water.

She slowed to a walk as she approached the waterline,
finally stopping just short of the high tide mark.  She was
here; she was home.  Not literally home, of course --
although her real home, her parents' house, was surely
waiting for her, just across the horizon.  But the soft,
white sand sifting between her toes and the gentle surf
dancing softly at her feet -- these things said //home// to
her as surely as if someone had whispered the word in her
ear.

And yet, something wasn't quite right.  She had run up to
the waterline intending to wade out into the surf, just a
little ways -- just far enough to get her feet wet, and feel
the water rushing around her ankles.  Just far enough to get
reacquainted with the sea.

But she couldn't do it.  She'd come to a stop here, just
past the reach of the incoming tide, and something wouldn't
let her go any farther.  Something was making her shy away
from it.

//Let's just say there are monsters in the water.//

That was Pan's voice, she realized, echoing inside her head.
 He'd spoken the words to her casually, the day they'd
arrived at Neverland, as part of the explanation of why he
didn't dare approach the pirate ship.

//Let's just say there are monsters in the water.//

Dana couldn't keep herself from shivering at the memory.
Monsters.  In the water.  She didn't believe in monsters.
But somehow, she had believed Pan when he told her, in an
offhand, by-the-way manner, that they exist.

The water slipped up the beach a little farther, dark and
glistening in the moonlight, and now filled with nameless
menace.  The cold wetness lightly kissed her toes, and Dana
stepped back hastily, suddenly not wanting any contact with
the sea.  She realized she was standing transfixed, staring
down at the waves, and she forced herself to look away ....

And she saw the ship.  It was an old-style sailing vessel,
several hundred yards from shore, moving up and down on the
incoming swells, its motions deceptively gentle at this
distance.  A line of breakers, frothy and luminscent in the
dim lighting, marked the presence of a reef -- and Dana
realized that, somehow, she had found her way to the cove
where the pirate ship was anchored.

The pirate ship.  It never occurred to her that it could be
a different ship.  She'd only had a brief glimpse of it, the
day she and Pan arrived in Neverland, but that brief look
had been enough to burn it into her memory.  And this was
the same ship, she reassured herself, as she allowed her
gaze to travel over the shape of the hull -- and the
rigging, silhouetted against a night sky filled with stars,
confirmed the identification.

It was the pirate ship.

The one that had fired on her and Pan that first day,
driving them into the clouds to hide.

It was the Smoker's ship.

//Yeah.  The Smoker.  The leader of the pirates.  He's the
one who took my sister.//

Once again, Pan's words rang in her head.  The Smoker was
the leader of the pirates, and he had taken Pan's sister.
Samantha -- that was her name.  Samantha.

Dana shook her head in frustration.  No, no, no.  That was
from the dream; it wasn't real.  She didn't know what Pan's
sister's name was -- but it didn't really matter.  What did
matter was that she had been taken, and she was on that
ship.

At least, that's what Pan believed.  He could be mistaken,
after all -- although he hadn't been mistaken about Diana.
At least, she amended, he hadn't been been mistaken about
where the woman was being held, although he certainly did
seem to be blind to her evident treachery and disloyalty.

Dana shook her head again, and pushed thoughts of Diana from
her mind.  This was about Pan's sister -- Samantha, or
whatever her name really was.  And she *was* on the pirate
ship; Pan had been sure of it, and for reasons she wasn't
able to articulate, Dana was also sure of it.  His sister
was there; she was being held captive -- in durance vile, to
quote those old sea stories Ahab was so fond of reading to
her.

Pan's sister was there, and she needed to be rescued.

But how to go about it?  All thoughts of returning home were
banished as Dana considered the matter.  There were only two
ways to gain access to the pirate ship, she thought:  she
could fly, or she could swim.  And Pan had warned her
against either approach.  What was it he'd said, that first
day, as they perched together at the edge of a cloud?  //You
fly too close to that ship, and they shoot at you.  You try
to swim -- well, let's just say there are monsters in the
water.//

Monsters in the water.  So it was back to that again.  She
knew she couldn't fly -- the pirate ship *had* fired on
them, after all; she'd seen it with her own eyes, and heard
it with her own ears.  That left swimming -- but she
couldn't swim either, because even though she hadn't seen
any of these monsters, somehow Pan's words had penetrated
all the way to her marrow.  She hadn't seen them, and she
didn't want to believe in them -- but she did.  And that
made them real, somehow, whether they were actually there or
not.

Dana found herself pacing along the beach -- pacing,
stalking, prowling.  There had to be an answer; there had to
be a way.  And she, Dana Scully, was going to find it -- or
die trying.

She realized that she had stopped pacing; she'd stopped her
implacable movement along the waterline.  She was standing
still now, hands on her hips, staring blindly ahead of her,
looking, staring --

At a small field of driftwood, scattered carelessly across
the sand, looking like a child's collection of Lincoln Logs,
left strewn about the living room carpet at the end of a
long day of playing.

A field of driftwood.  Dana's eyes widened as she realized
what that meant, and she ran eagerly forward.

It was the answer.

================END CHAPTER EIGHT================


=========
Chapter Nine
=========

Wrestling her chosen piece of driftwood down to the water
turned out to be easier said than done.  But somehow, Dana
managed.

She had, of course, picked the largest piece she could find,
in hopes that she might be able to completely avoid touching
the water.  Which was pretty unlikely, she realized, as she
stood there at the water's edge, hands on hips, surveying
her impromptu boat.  She'd been on enough small boats to
know that it was going to be impossible to stay completely
dry.

Well, she could only hope that the aforementioned monsters
needed more than a little sea spray in order to be a threat
-- assuming, of course, that they couldn't just climb up on
her makeshift boat with her ....

Dana shook her head sharply, banishing the thought.  No time
for that.  She needed to get out to the pirate ship; she had
no time for irrelevancies.  And before she could
second-guess herself, she picked up the flat piece of wood
she'd chosen as her paddle and tucked it under one arm, then
pushed and dragged the larger piece of driftwood out into
the water.

A few moments later Dana was perched precariously atop her
tiny craft.  Her lips quirked slightly; using the word
"craft" to describe this arrangement was more than a little
ridiculous.  Still, as Ahab had said to her on more than one
occasion, the sailor is what makes the difference, and she
was nothing if not a sailor.  She was Starbuck, after all.

And Starbuck needed to get to moving, she thought, nodding
to herself as she dipped her paddle into the water.  It was
at least three hundred yards to the pirate ship, and the
tide was still coming in.  She had her work cut out for her.

But much to her surprise, the first part of the journey was
fairly easy.  Her body quickly fell into the old, accustomed
patterns, paddling first on one side and then on the other,
in deep, even strokes, as she'd learned to do at summer
camps, and on those rare canoe trips with BIll and Charlie
and Ahab.

As she paddled, she tried not to pay too much attention to
what was going on in the water.  It was still night time, of
course, and the sea was black as pitch, seemingly
impenetrable.  Yet there were shapes down there, moving
about -- strange, angular shapes that were even blacker than
the water, but that were nevertheless clearly alive.  They
were little more than shadows, deformed charicatures of the
human form, that flitted and darted on either side of her,
sometimes diving deeper into the water until they almost
disappeared, then turning and rushing towards the surface --
but never quite breaking into the open air.

They seemed to be pacing her, she thought.  Waiting for her
to make a mistake, and fall off into their domain.  If she
did, what would happen?  She didn't know, but she had a
horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that it would not
be as quick and simple as being torn to pieces -- and
suddenly, she could again hear the women screaming in the
boxcars --

Dana forced herself to look away from the water, and stared
ahead into the gloom in the direction of the pirate ship.
She had already made considerable progress; in fact, she was
more than halfway there.  And so, keeping her eyes fixed on
her destination, she redoubled her efforts.

Sooner than Dana would have thought possible, she found
herself bumping up against the pirate vessel.  As far as she
could tell, she hadn't been detected -- at least, there had
been no outcry from on board as she approached.  And so she
began paddling quietly around the ship, looking for a means
of access.

She briefly considered the possibility of flying up the side
of the ship.  Surely *that* would be safe.  Wouldn't it?
And yet, Pan had warned against flying:  //You fly too close
to that ship, and they shoot at you.//  Pan knew more about
Neverland than she did -- and he'd been right about the
monsters, after all.  Dana supposed she should heed him in
this, as well.

And in any case, here was the anchor cable.  Without further
thought or hesitation, Dana moved carefully to the end of
her tiny craft, rose to a crouch and leapt across the small
intervening stretch of water.  Her hands slipped for a
moment, but then her fingers found their purchase, and she
began to climb laboriously up the cable.

This turned out to be no mean task.  The cable was cold and
wet, and seemed to go up and up and up, forever.  Every foot
of progress was a battle, and several times she almost lost
her grip on it entirely.  Don't look down, she told herself
firmly, and don't look up.  Don't think about how much
farther you have to go, and don't dwell on how far you'd
fall if you let go.  Just climb.

Finally, she reached the top.  Still clinging to the cable
with one hand, she cautiously reached out for the gunnel
with the other, and a moment later she was chinning herself
up and over it.  At last, she dropped lightly to the deck of
the pirate ship.

For a pair of minutes she simply crouched there, gasping for
breath and getting her bearings.  She was fairly close to
the prow -- perhaps a fourth of the way back -- and not too
far from the first of three masts.  She remembered that upon
first seeing this ship from the air, she'd thought it looked
like a Dutch flute, and now, as she studied the rigging,
silhouetted against the starry night sky, she saw nothing to
make her change her mind.

She turned her gaze back to the deck.  It was plain and
flat, made of hardwood planks -- but as she looked more
closely she realized there were dark, man-sized lumps
scattered all around her.  The crew, she realized.  The men
who crewed the ship were taking advantage of the balmy
weather by sleeping sprawled around the deck.  Which was
very understandable -- from what she'd read, the below-decks
area on a ship of this sort were not exactly the Hilton.
But it did mean she was going to have to be very careful not
to make any noise at all.

Slowly, carefully, Dana straightened to a standing position
and surveyed the deck.  As such things went, it seemed to be
unremarkable.  Even the sleeping crewmembers seemed
perfectly ordinary.  Well, as ordinary as a band of 18th
century cut throats could be expected to be, she amended.

She started moving carefully towards the stern, staying
close to the gunnel and watching where she put her feet.  In
addition to the sleeping men, the deck was cluttered with
partially coiled ropes, abandoned tools, scraps of lumber
and other bits of this and that.  Once, she accidentally
kicked a hammer, and it went skittering across the deck,
making enough noise that she was sure it would wake the dead
-- not to mention the sleeping pirates.  But nobody stirred
or made any noise, and after a moment, she continued on.

After what seemed like an eternity, she came to a hatch, set
in the deck a few yards from the main mast.  It was standing
open, and an eerie, blue-white light shone from down inside.
 Cautiously, and very, very slowly, Dana approached the
opening and peered down inside.

And gasped.  It was nothing like what she'd expected.  No
makeshift, unsteady ladder; no narrow, badly lit
companionway; no barrels of half-rotten food or chests of
stolen treasure.  No, the view that greeted her looked<