Lost and Found

Alternative Tactics

Pan wasn't planning on letting Devin's little comment slide. Not by a long shot. But, for the time being, he wanted to see just how far this little charade would go. After dinner, he sat by the bonfire, playing his pipes, deep in thought. He wondered if Y/N could hear them. She had gone to bed early, claiming to be tired. Well, it wasn't really a claim. She was tired, but even so Pan was reluctant to let her go. She had basically become a mother figure for the younger lost boys, like Aravis and Caspian. He liked having her around to watch them.

He had had the lost boys build her a treehouse, and she spent a great quantity of her time there. It was far above camp and was furnished with a hammock, chair, desk, and a trunk. In the trunk, Pan had provided extra clothing and even a linen dress. There were pillows, and furs, and a woven mat on the wooden floor. When he had shown her the treehouse, she had simply thanked him without meeting his eyes. God, she was infuriating! What did she want? Why was she so hard to understand?

Later that night, after the lost boys had gone to bed, Pan decided to pay his favorite mermaid a visit. He snuck into her treehouse, stepping from the small balcony into her bedroom. There she lay, curled under the thin linen sheets, body trembling. He had hardly noticed until now, but it was fairly cold out. Normally, the nights in Neverland were comfortably warm. The kind of night that would make you want to sleep out under the stars. But not tonight. Tonight was chilly, and frost nipped the island air. A cool breeze rustled the curtains of the treehouse, and Y/N shivered. A pang of sympathy resounded through Pan's being, along with a sharp intake of breath. The feeling was foreign and unclean. So unfamiliar in fact, that he could hardly name it. He hadn't felt sympathy for anyone, ever, under any circumstances. But sympathy was what had tempted him to rescue Y/N in the first place, though at the time his actions on the feeling had gone unrecognized because of his sheer curiosity. Yes, that's all this feeling was. It was not sympathy, for he was incapable of feeling that. It was intrigue. He simply wanted to take Y/N apart like a clock. Figure out what made her tick. She was an enigma, a riddle, a puzzle to solve. His tactics thus far had proved unsuccessful, so perhaps it was time to develop a different ploy...

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Y/N breathed deeply then exhaled, feeling her body relax as she snuggled into the source of warmth that was keeping her in that comfortable place between waking and sleep. She nuzzled deeper into the close space, vaguely aware of the morning sunlight streaming through the curtains. She once again took a deep, contented breath, enjoying the scent of pinewood and fresh dirt, fresh and clean like a forest after a rainfall.

Her smile vanished. E/C eyes snapped open, only to see a hues of blurred tan and green. In her disoriented state, she tried to move backwards from the very human shaped source of warmth, the face obscured by a pillow. An arm slithered around her back, moving upwards, stopping once the fingers were tangled in her long, H/C hair. They gently gripped her head, pressing her back to the body and what she could only assume to be a neck. The other arm slid around her waist, keeping her from moving.

She was panicking ever so slightly, but counted slowly to ten, trying to get her wits about her. A plan. She needed a plan. Presently, she realized that her left leg was tangled between two others, and this, she realized, could be used to her advantage. She shifted her body ever so slightly, and placed her hands on bare shoulders. With one swift motion, she flipped them both over so she was straddling the boy. The hand that had been tangled in her hair fell to shield cruel green eyes from the morning sunlight streaming through a window. It was only then that she realized that she was not in her treehouse.

"What the actual hell, Pan!" She yelled at the boy beneath her, resisting the urge to slap him.

"Get off." He pushed her, sending her tumbling from the hammock to the ground.