Forever Young

Chapter Thirteen

Iggy's eyes fluttered open, confused. The last thing he remembered was feeling his breaths come shorter and more shallow. The taste of his own blood flooding his nose and mouth. The grit of the forest floor under his nails, against his palms. Then darkness, drowning and thick.

As his vision came into focus, the faces collected around him swam into sharp relief. Tum Tum, Mikhail, Dirk, Roddy, Sneak, Alley...all of the Boys, all of his friends. They looked concerned, scared. Poor Dirk's face was all red and splotchy.

Iggy reached out an arm, or tried to at least, to pull the little boy in. His embrace didn't get far. Everything hurt. He smiled, a little shamefaced, and said, "Come here, Dirk, no need to cry."

Which just set the child into a new bout of wailing. He threw himself on Iggy's stomach, small arms wrapped as tight as they could get around the bigger boy's waist.

Tum Tum pulled him back, gently, and Dirk transferred his sobs to Tum Tum's leg.

"What's the matter?" Iggy asked. He realized that he voice sounded strange. He wasn't sure that he liked it.

"You was dead," Alley said, straightforward as always. "Or near to it."

Iggy nodded, which hurt too. "Yeah, I remember. Hook...Hook caught me off-guard." He rubbed at the place where the pirate's long, thin blade had slid into his chest like so much butter. It ached, and itched, but seemed to be in one piece. "I'm sorry I scared you all. Did Peter...?" He let the question hang. Of course Peter had healed him. His life belonged to the elfin boy, not to some filthy pirate.

Tum Tum nodded but it was solemn, not happy or relieved. And Peter wasn't with the Boys, wasn't in the leafy glade, wasn't at the side of the cot where Iggy had lain once before, when Quinn had cracked his skull.

Suddenly Iggy felt small and weak. How many times would Peter have to bring him back from the verge of death? It was ridiculous. Peter deserved a better fighter at his side, someone more talented and hearty. Someone that could keep up with him.

Completely unbidden, his inner voice completed that thought. Someone like Captain Hook.

Iggy shook his head, the pain bringing him back to himself. That was silly. Peter hated Hook.

Right?

The look on Tum Tum's face had gone from solemn to concerned. "Are you alright, Iggy?" he asked, softly

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little dazed." Iggy tried for a laugh. "I probably lost a lot of blood, huh?"

Dirk's wail answered that question for him.

"At least the blood lilies will be happy?" Iggy offered. They were the prettiest flower to grow on the island, even if they never fully bloomed. They only sprung up where blood had been spilled, though.

"We just didn't know if..." Tum Tum trailed off, shaking his head. "After...you might be different..."

Iggy's eyebrows came together, confused. He'd danced with death before, he didn't see why this should be different. If anything, head trauma would be more likely to scramble his brains than a pierced lung.

He didn't have time to question it further. The trees outside rustled, heralding Peter's arrival. The Lost Boys scattered, trying to look busy elsewhere, masking their concern with years of experience. Alley punched Mikhail in the face and the two tumbled to the ground, tustling and rolling. Iggy smiled at the sight.

Then Peter strolled into the clearing. He walked right past the wrestling boys, past the trembling Dirk, and past Iggy's cot, without sparing a glance for any of them. He sat on his rock, cross-legged, and surveyed the scene with only passing interest. He looked...tired.