Winter ran through the cold rainy streets, dashing through the crowd. She was using the windbreaker she was wearing as a makeshift umbrella. The streetlights illuminated the damp streets with an amazing glow. Winter checked her wristwatch to confirm, as if she hadn’t already confirmed it several times, that she was running late. But the art gallery wasn’t too far now. As she ran, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and forced her to stop. She stood in awe of the Eiffel Tower, glowing as beautiful as the first time she had set her eyes upon it. It had been three months since she had moved here, and one expected her to look at it like any other building, but that effect hadn’t taken to Winter just yet.
She dashed back to the street and headed back to her destination. She couldn’t believe she was going to be late for her first art exhibit. There was already a line forming at the door when she arrived of eager spectators and, from what she assumed, would be buyers. She entered the small building with all white walls. The entire studio was decorated with various paintings and sculptures that were in simplest terms, breathtaking. “You’re late,” a man with rounded spectacles stated as she entered.
“I’m so sorry,” Winter began her apology, but the man didn’t bother with it and just handed her an apron and walked away. “It’s just my class got out much later than expected.” He clearly had heard it before and walked off.
“He’s in a mood,” Winter’s co-worker, Maggie, stated to her with a thick French accent. “You ready?” she said offering her a plate of hors d’oerves.
The spectators were let in and began their usual routine of being smug while criticizing work even though they had no talent. The guests were awfully quiet, whispering amongst themselves. Winter was stopped by a patron for one of her bacon wrapped dates she was carrying. “Oh my god,” the patron exclaimed. “This is just exquisite, such a work of art,” he said as he gobbled two more.
“Thanks, but the real art is right behind you,” she said referencing a painting. He looked and produced a disgusted look.
“Ugh, that’s beautiful to you?” he said in between handfuls of bacon. “The world must be so beautiful when you know nothing about the workings of true art,” he scoffed as he walked away. Maggie came up to Winter in her defense.
“Sheesh. I guess if it’s not wrapped in bacon it must not be great.”
“Eh, let him think what he wants,” Winter shrugged off as she continued admiring the painting. Maggie noticed how enamored Winter was with the painting.
“I know you think this is cool and all, but eventually this all shrugs off.”
“I don’t know if it will for me,” Winter stated. Another patron came up to them both.
“Excuse me, where is the loo?” she asked. Maggie was about to answer, when Winter added in.
“Second door on the right,” she said pointing down toward a hallway. Maggie was for some reason, astonished.
“Thank you,” the patron stated as she walked off.
“I keep forgetting just how amazing your French is. Especially only being here for a few months.” Winter was confused at first, and then remembered that Peter left her translation device in, deciphering all languages and allowing her to speak whatever language she needed to.
“Oh, yeah. Just kind of picked it up you know,” Winter said when she felt a vibration in her pocket. She checked and saw her dad was calling her. “Mind covering for me for a few?” Maggie nodded and Winter took off.
Winter found herself in an alleyway behind the gallery as she picked up her phone. “Hey Dad!”
“Good evening! Is now a bad time?” She looked over to the gallery and noticed no one had noticed she was gone.
“I can talk for a few.”
“How’s art school going?”
“Phenomenal. Mainly taking a few history courses first, but also still working on my craft!”
“Making anything your mother would like? Trick question, she would love anything you made. The real test is getting an ignorant fool like me to enjoy it,” he said jokingly.
“I think you would. I’m actually at a gallery right now and I’ll snap you some photos that I think you would enjoy.”
“An art gallery?”
“Yeah, I’m working it, with the catering company I told you about.”
“Winter, I love talking with you, but please put your job first in this situation.” Winter couldn’t help but smile at her dad, still being the same old dad. She knew he meant well.
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“Sorry will do.” As she spoke, she noticed a dark figure of a man waiting at the end of the alleyway, casted completely in shadows. He was just standing there, leaning against a wall, watching her. She was stunned for a second, thinking she may have to fight whomever lied at the end of the alleyway. Her whole face illuminated with bliss when the figure waved to her and then it hit her who was at the end. “Guess I should go then,” she said as she eagerly waved at Peter.
“Call me tomorrow then. And Winter,” her father said as she was about to head down the alleyway. “I’m so proud of you.” Winter’s face lit up even more. He had been saying that for the past six months since she returned, but it still hit the same every time.
“Love you, dad,” she said as she hung up. She began to head down the alleyway when Maggie called for her.
“Winter! We need your help! More trays to serve!” she hollered at her. Winter stopped in her tracks and did a double take at Peter and the backdoor to the art gallery where Maggie was leaning out of. She looked back to Peter and shrugged playfully. What was she to do?
Peter waved goodbye to her. She waved back and quickly ran back in to her job. He had been checking in on her whenever he had a reason to go back to Earth, but there were times when all he could do was show her that he was there for her.
He turned away from the alley and headed into the crowded public streets. “Hey Tink,” he radioed. “Let’s get out of here shall we?” His feet stopped moving when he saw a cello player that had just started a tune.
“I’ll be ready to go in one moment,” Tink radioed back.
“Take as long as you need,” he said to her as he basked in the glory of the live music that was filling the streets of Paris.
When the music was done, Peter headed into a different alleyway. He looked both ahead and behind him to make sure no one was watching. When he confirmed it, he accelerated his boots, casting him up in the sky. Right as he cleared the roofs of the two buildings he was sandwiched in between, he found himself in the Jolly Roger.
He made his way to the cockpit and sat down. He was about to press the button to launch on his console, but stopped, not exactly sure where he was headed next. “Where should we head next, Tink? Our little two week vacation here was nice, but let’s get back on course! Where do you wanna go? Your choice!”
“Peter?” Tink said in an unsure voice as she flew to him.
“Yeah?” Peter asked thinking he had done something wrong.
“I reviewed the memory you deleted. Thank you for restoring it.”
“I was wrong to do it. Don’t ever let me do it again,” he said as he turned back to his console and prepared to take off.
“And Peter?”
“Hmhmmm?” he said, still continuing with his console.
“These past few weeks have been great and you’ve seemed so happy. But I need to know. Are you really happy again? Or is this just a façade? Like last time?”
Her questions hit Peter hard. He didn’t want to brush her off with a simple response. He looked deep inside himself for the most honest answer he could find. A huge smile creeped upon his face as he opened his mouth to answer when a new message appeared on his holoscreen. It was blinking red and urgent. Peter looked at who the message was from.
“Tiger Lilly? What’s she up to?” Peter asked as he opened the message and read it. “Interesting. You ready for an adventure, Tink?”
“Only if I go with you.”
Peter grinned as he grasped the throttle. “Let’s fly!” The Jolly Roger broke off from the night sky of France and zoomed toward the Second Star to the Right. Peter flew the Jolly Roger as if he was on a joy ride, barrel rolling and zipping through the stars. “Wooohoooo!” he exclaimed as the Jolly Roger disappeared into the night sky, leaving the brightest twinkle of where it was.
He laid down on the cold London pavement, clutching his blanket as if it was his only treasure. The past few months hadn’t been exactly what he planned. He was now a beggar on the streets. Quite the opposite of the king he thought he would be. Slightly picked himself up from the streets and headed toward the park. People were usually much nicer over there. It pained him to get up, hurting both his arms and legs, both of which hadn’t fully healed since his disgraceful battle with Winter.
It turns out, Hook had taken the cheap route on his ship and the escape pod malfunctioned, causing a crash landing on Earth. Slightly barely made it out alive. And to make matters worse, it had damaged nearly every piece of medical supplies on the ship. Once it crashed, he escaped just in time to see it blow to pieces.
When he got to the park, he found a nice bench to make camp. The park was emptying as it usually did around nightfall. There were a few locals and a group of senior citizens that seemed to be on their way out. A woman came up and handed Slightly a note. “Thank you,” he said graciously, tucking away the money in his pocket.
Slightly couldn’t believe the situation he was now in. He used to be a leader, and now he was at the mercy of the local human beings. With their crappy technology and primitive diseases.
“C’mon let’s go,” he heard an orderly command to the group of seniors. There was one who stayed behind with a bewildered look on his face. Slightly thought he may have seen the man before, but knew it was only his imagination. He had truly been going mad these past few months. He disregarded the feeling when the old man said something that proved it wasn’t just a feeling.
“I think I see some fairy dust over here,” he said to the orderly. Slightly’s full attention turned toward the old man. Could it be? The orderly came over and placed his arms on the old man, trying to motion him toward the group.
“I’ve told you this before, fairies don’t exist,” he said as if he had told him this several times before.
“They do, not how you think though,” he rambled on. “They’re more like tiny robots that light up.”
“Tootles, come on, I’m tired,” the orderly said, trying to get him to go with him. Slightly couldn’t believe it. It all made sense now. His crazy wiry hair, the look in his eyes. Age can’t change those things. Not to mention the name! Slightly was looking on his old friend Tootles, no older than ever!
Tootles began to comply with the orderly that was shortly lived when something in the night sky caught his eye. “Wait! Wait!” he yelled with excitement. “Do you see that! It’s a ship!”
“No, it’s not, it’s a shooting star old man,” he said pushing Tootles back toward the group. Slightly looked up and saw the shooting star Tootles spoke about. He was correct, it wasn’t a shooting star, but a ship heading toward the Second Star to the Right.
Slightly glared knowing it was Peter. The ship disappeared with a twinkle in the sky. He would get him back, Slightly thought. He looked to Tootles and a plan started forming in his head. He looked back to the twinkle that was now fading and his glare slowly turned into an awful, malicious, nefarious grin.