Panic

Interlude Four

Interlude Four

            John and Michael sat at the dining room table, cups of hot tea in front of them.  “Well,” John said, breaking the silence.  “I suppose we finally know what’s going on.”

            “Yes,” Michael said.  “Yes, I suppose we do.”

            They sat in silence for a long moment.  “So what should we do?” John finally asked.

            Michael set his hot tea down on the table in front of him with a gentle clink.  “I’m not sure,” he said, tracing the pattern on the tea cup.  “If she left, there had to be a reason.”

            “Or she was convinced there was a reason,” John said.  Michael nodded his agreement.  “So I wonder,” John continued, and then he bit his lip.  “Should we even poke our nose in this business?  It might be dangerous.”

            “It might be dangerous,” Michael said in a sarcastic tone.  “Wouldn’t that be even more of a reason to go and help her?”

            “But then again, wouldn’t it be better to have someone on the outside here to help her?” John asked.

            “John, she won’t come for us for help, not unless Neverland was literally taking its dying breath,” Michael said.

            John sighed, frustrated, and then threw his cup at the wall.  It shattered into tiny pieces, the porcelain fragments raining down like hail onto the wooden floor.  “What are we supposed to do then?”

            “I think the best thing to do right now would be to ponder this further,” Michael said in a soothing tone.

            “Do not antagonize me, little brother,” John said darkly.

            “I was not trying to do anything of the sort,” Michael reassured his brother.

            “We’ve already spent days pondering the matter,” John said.  “I need my sister back.  I may not always act like I love her, but if anything happened to Wendy, I would just fall apart.”

            “And I would be right there with you,” Michael assured him.  “But we need to decide whether rushing in head on would help or hurt.”

            “How could it hurt?” John asked.

            “It could hurt her pride,” Michael said.  “She might be upset that her brothers came in like heroes, thinking they could rescue her.  She doesn’t always need to be rescued.”

            “No, of course not,” John said.

            “Also,” Michael said, cutting John off before he could say any more.  “She is with Peter Pan.  Think about that.  Last we knew, Peter was head over heels for Wendy.  He’d take a dagger for her, and you know it.”

            “I know but-”

            “Also, do not forget James, Edward, and Thomas, and Percy,” Michael continued.

            John snorted.  “Percy?  He was a spineless prat.”

            “He was also smart,” Michael reminded John.  “He’s very good with strategy.”     

            “I never said he wasn’t,” John said.  “I just said he wasn’t going to be much help in protecting Wendy.”

            “Hook is there, along with his gang of pirates,” Michael continued on as if John hadn’t added his two cents on Percy’s ability to protect Wendy.  “And let’s not forget that Wendy could disarm Hook, the best swordsman on the island, by age ten.”

            John slid his tongue over his teeth, obviously at a loss.  He let out a huge breath through his nose, bearing a startlingly uncanny resemblance to a fire-breathing dragon.  “I just hate sitting here, doing nothing,” he said.

            “You aren’t the only one,” Michael said.  “We just need to think about this logically.  And that’s what you’re good at John.”

            John slid back down into his seat.  “Yes, usually I am when fury and worry are not clouding my judgement,” he said.

            “We’re both worried,” Michael said.  “And we should be.”

            “What should you be?” George asked, entering the kitchen.

            “Nothing,” Michael and John said together.

            “Come now, boys, share with your father,” George said, joining them at the table.  “What should you be?”

            “Nothing, Father,” John said, giving Michael a look that clearly said, let me handle this.

            “Your sister will be found,” George Darling said in a monotone voice, as if reciting a speech to a group of bored audience members.  “There is no need to fret about that, if that is indeed what you are worrying about.”

            Michael’s face was rapidly turning red, and John knew he had to say something to diffuse the tension.  Unfortunately, he never had the time.

            Michael leaped up from his chair.  “You are showing a remarkable amount of concern for your daughter’s whereabouts,” he yelled.  “What have you done since she went missing?  Absolutely nothing, as far as I’m concerned.  In fact, you haven’t seemed concerned about her in the least.”

            “Michael William Darling, don’t you take that tone with me,” George Darling said in a dangerous sort of voice.

            “I’ll take whatever sort of tone I want with you until you find my sister!” Michael shouted.

            “You can’t expect me to find her myself,” George said, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

            “No, I can’t,” Michael said.  “I should have realized you were much too stupid for that.  Come, John, we are going to Neverland ourselves.”

            George visibly stiffened, and his eyes turned stormy.  “I do believe I told you never, ever to mention that Peter Pan and Neverland nonsense under my roof,” he said.  “In fact, I recall telling you I would throw you out of the house if you talked about it.”

            “Fine,” Michael said, walking away from the table.  “Consider me gone.”

            John stood up also.  “Consider me gone as well,” he said, walked out of the room after Michael.  “Get some money and your jacket,” John said.  “We’ll go to my rooms at Oxford.”

            They left the house.  As they turned their backs on their childhood home, they heard George yelling and pleading with them.  But those shouts faded into the fog as the house on a busy street in London was swallowed up by the grey air.