Peter Pan and the Airship Darlings

John stood on the deck of the airship, wiping the sweat from his brow as he stared down at the tangle of wires and gears that had once been part of the ship’s main engine. He had spent hours inspecting the damage, tracing the lines and mechanisms, but the longer he worked, the more it became clear that nothing made sense here.

Back in London, John prided himself on understanding how things worked. Machines were simple, logical. If something broke, you found the problem and fixed it. But in Neverland, even the simplest mechanics seemed to defy reason. The pipes were still solid, the gears intact, but something was off, as if the island itself refused to play by the rules.

He knelt beside the exposed engine, peering into the maze of cogs and levers. “This shouldn’t be this difficult,” he muttered to himself, frowning as he turned a small wrench in his hand. The ship had taken a beating when it crashed into the banyan tree, but that didn’t explain why nothing was working the way it should. Every time he thought he was making progress, something slipped out of place, leaving him back at square one.

John’s fingers tightened around the wrench as he tried again to adjust the broken part, but the metal seemed to resist him, as if Neverland itself was working against him. Nothing was straightforward here. Everything felt just a little... off.

He stood up, glancing around the clearing where the ship lay half-embedded in the tree. Wendy and Michael were off exploring with Peter, swept up in the magic of the island, while he was left behind to fix things. That’s how it always was. John, the one who had to make sure everything worked, the one who had to get them out of this.

A breeze rustled through the branches above, and John sighed. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up this charade—pretending that Neverland was just another problem to solve, just another puzzle he could piece together. But even if the island’s magic frustrated him, he couldn’t ignore the sense of responsibility that weighed on his shoulders. They needed to get home, and it was his job to make sure they could.

Interruption by the Lost Boys

A rustling in the bushes behind him pulled John from his thoughts, and he turned to see Nibs and the Twins emerging from the undergrowth, their faces covered in dirt and grins stretched wide across their faces.

“Peter said we should come help you,” Nibs announced, hopping up onto the deck of the airship without waiting for an invitation. The Twins followed closely behind, one of them already poking at the pile of broken parts John had set aside.

John raised an eyebrow, trying not to let his irritation show. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure how much help you’ll be,” he said, carefully eyeing the way the Twins were handling his tools.

Nibs shrugged, undeterred. “Peter said we need to fix the ship, right? So we’ll fix it. We’re good at fixing things.” He reached out, grabbing one of the gears and spinning it in his hand. “I mean, we’ve never fixed an airship, but how hard can it be?”

John’s frown deepened. He had been hoping for some quiet so he could focus on the repairs, but with the Lost Boys here, that was out of the question. They were already rummaging through his tools and poking at the airship as if it were a toy to be tinkered with.

One of the Twins—John never could tell which was which—picked up a small metal rod and began inspecting it closely, his brow furrowed in concentration. “What’s this for?” he asked, holding it up to the light.

“It’s part of the engine,” John replied, his patience wearing thin. “Put it down.”

The Twin looked at the rod again, then shrugged and tossed it aside. John winced as it hit the deck with a clatter.

“Maybe we could use some pixie dust?” Nibs suggested, hopping onto the airship’s control panel. “That would fix it fast.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “We’re not using pixie dust. This is a machine. It needs to be fixed the right way.”

Nibs rolled his eyes. “The right way is whatever works, isn’t it?”

One of the Twins nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Peter says there’s no such thing as right or wrong in Neverland.”

John’s frustration was starting to boil over. “There’s a right way and a wrong way to fix an airship,” he said through gritted teeth, “and magic is not the right way.”

The Lost Boys exchanged amused glances, clearly not taking John’s serious tone to heart. They were used to Peter’s carefree leadership, where rules were more like suggestions and nothing was ever as important as having fun. But to John, this was different. This was about getting them back home, to their parents.

Nibs leaned over the side of the ship, dangling his legs over the edge. “You’re really worried about this, huh?” he asked, his voice softening slightly. “It’s just an airship. You can always build another one, right?”

John set his wrench down with a sharp clank, finally looking up at Nibs. “It’s not just about the airship. It’s about getting home. Don’t you understand that?”

The air between them grew heavy for a moment, and Nibs stared back at John, his usual carefree expression fading. “Home?” he repeated, his voice quieter now. “We don’t have a home. Neverland is our home.”

John felt a pang of guilt at the look on Nibs’ face, but he didn’t back down. “We do have a home. Wendy, Michael, and I—we can’t stay here forever.”

Nibs didn’t respond right away. Instead, he glanced out at the forest surrounding them, as if he was seeing it differently for the first time. After a moment, he nodded, but there was a shadow in his eyes that John didn’t fully understand.

John’s Doubts and Isolation

As the afternoon stretched on, John worked in silence, trying to shut out the Lost Boys’ constant chatter. They were still rummaging through the spare parts John had brought over from the maintenance room and occasionally tossing out wild ideas about how to fix the ship with pixie dust or some other outlandish solution, but John had learned to tune them out. The more time he spent in Neverland, the more he felt like he was the only one who cared about getting back home.

Wendy seemed torn between her role as the responsible older sister and her growing fascination with the island. Michael had fallen completely under Peter’s spell, and John had barely seen him since they landed. The little boy had made it clear he didn’t care about going home—he was too enchanted by the mermaids, the pirates, and the endless adventure that Peter promised.

John’s frustration only grew. He knew his place was to keep them all grounded, to be the one who made sure they had a way to leave when the time came. But Neverland was starting to get to him too. The longer he stayed, the harder it became to think clearly. It was like the island itself was trying to pull him into its spell, making it impossible to concentrate on anything except the present moment.

But John couldn’t afford to live in the moment. He had to think ahead. He had to make sure they had a way to leave this place before it swallowed them whole.

“You’re really serious about going home, aren’t you?” Nibs asked, his voice cutting through John’s thoughts.

John glanced up at the Lost Boy, who was sitting cross-legged on the deck, fiddling with a piece of broken metal. Nibs was staring out at the jungle, his expression unusually serious.

“I don’t have a choice,” John replied, setting down the wrench. “I have to make sure we can leave.”

Nibs nodded slowly, as if weighing John’s words. “I used to think like that,” he said quietly. “Before I got here.”

John frowned. “What do you mean?”

Nibs tossed the metal scrap aside, leaning back on his hands. “I didn’t always live here,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I had a home once, like you. But then I ended up here. And now... this is home.”

John looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in Nibs’ voice. He had never thought about the Lost Boys’ lives before they came to Neverland. To him, they had always seemed like they belonged here, like they had never known anything else.

“You really don’t want to leave?” John asked.

Nibs shook his head. “Where would I go? Back to where I came from? There’s nothing there for me. But here... here, I have everything I need. I’m free.”

John opened his mouth to argue, but he stopped himself. He realized that for Nibs—and probably the other Lost Boys too—Neverland wasn’t a trap. It was an escape. And as much as John wanted to go home, he couldn’t blame Nibs for wanting to stay.

But that didn’t change the fact that John couldn’t stay. He had to get his family back home. Even if it meant leaving Neverland behind.

A Glimmer of Hope

Just as John was about to give up for the day, one of the Twins let out an excited shout from the other side of the airship.

“John! Look at this!”

John straightened up, wiping his hands on his pants as he made his way over to where the Twins were crouched. The boy was holding up a piece of metal, a small, shiny object that glinted in the fading sunlight.

John frowned, leaning in closer. “What is it?”

The Twin handed it to him, grinning. “We found it stuck in the tree when we were climbing earlier. Looks like part of the ship.”

John turned the object over in his hands, examining it carefully. It was a small gear, finely crafted and made of a material that didn’t quite match the rest of the ship. It was as if the piece had been altered by Neverland’s magic, subtly transformed into something that didn’t belong.

But it might work.

John felt a flicker of hope. He knelt down, pulling out the blueprint of the airship and spreading it out on the deck. “Let’s see if it fits,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the diagram as he searched for where the gear might belong.

Nibs and the Twins crowded around him, their earlier distractions forgotten as they watched John work. For the first time since the crash, John felt like he was making progress. The gear was small, but it might just be the piece they needed to get the ship working again.

After a few minutes of adjusting and testing, John carefully placed the gear into the engine, holding his breath as he tightened the final bolt.

“Please work,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

He pulled the lever, and with a low, mechanical hum, the engine sputtered to life. It was weak and unsteady, but it was working.

The Lost Boys let out a cheer, and even John allowed himself a small smile. It wasn’t a full repair, but it was a step in the right direction. And for the first time in days, John felt like he had a real chance of getting them home.