Redhawk Caldera I need somewhere to begin

ooc: happens within a subjective reality of Peregrine's mind. Maybe it's for real, maybe not...

It all begins with a pitch black darkness, pleasant nothingness. No sounds, no images, no senses. Just particles floating around in a chaotic movement, peculiar neverending dance. Then they assemble and a thought forms. I think, therefore I am.

The scenery suddenly bursts, nothing turns into shapes, colors and noise and there you are left standing in a vast green meadow, grass is tall, flowers are in full bloom, you hear the distant buzz of the bumblebees and the grasshoppers playing their violins. Birds are singing... you can feel the life around you. Living, breathing, it's heart beating. 

Should you choose to lift your head up you would see that the sky is not the regular blue shade. There are myriad of colors there, changing and shifting, reminding you of Northern lights in a bright daylight. Should you choose to look ahead, you would see a forest in a distance and hear voices singing. And before that, there is an old, magnificent oak tree, it's roots going deep in the ground, it's tall branches connecting with the sky above. It is emitting a faint golden light.

And should you watch carefully, you would see a tiny figure sitting under the tree. A bit taller than he had been, when living, a bit better fed than in the last weeks of famine. The bite marks on his neck beneath the tawny fur are barely visible, but his golden eyes are full of spirit and they are eagerly scanning the meadow. The pull towards the forest is strong, but he has a feeling that he has to wait. Not yet, not yet...

*rolls up sleeves...*

Either the yarrow is helping or he's recovering on his own. Peregrine can't be sure, of course, but either way, he's feeling a little better, day by day. It'll take some time before he's back to full capacity—if he ever gets there at all—and fevers still plague his sleep, yet he'll take what he can get, honestly. He's been through so much mental, emotional and physical torment lately that it's a wonder that he's alive at all (no thanks to Peregrine himself...).

It's late morning and he walks through the territory, taking it nice and slow, when he looks up and sees colorful lights shifting in the sky. Peregrine squints (both eyes work, though he doesn't notice) but then shrugs and keeps moving. His eyes dart ahead to the edge of the forest. Had that been there yesterday? Wait, what about the famine? Like the strange phenomena overhead, he simply decides to accept it. He meanders that way, toward an ethereal oak, suddenly aware that nothing hurts, not even his heart.

Then he sees him and Peregrine stops. He blinks. "Peter?" he says, his stomach somersaulting and his heart skipping a beat. He takes one step, then another, then starts running, no, flying. "Pete!" The name gusts out of him in breathless half-shout as he comes to stand over his youngest son. His eyes are gold. They're glowing. "Oh, Peter Pan..." the swarthy wolf croons, buckling so that he falls to his belly in front of the pup.

A dark shadow appears. First it's small and the distance between it and Peter is too great to tell, what it is. However, it moves closer and closer and, when the boy finally is able to make out the details, a smile appears in his lips. He gets up and with his tail wagging, waits for his dad to come. He had not known it before, but he knows now - Peregrine had been the one he had been searching. 

He comes near, calling his name and comes down before him. The boy looks down and regards his parent with a smile, though his eyes bear a sad look. "You have kept me waiting," he says to him calmly, acknowledging the parent's presence. Implying that there is more to come.

He tips his head back to gaze lovingly up at his son, just drinking in the sight of his familiar, happy, glowing (!) face. When Peter speaks to him, there's a momentary jolt of surprise at his articulation, but Peregrine quickly accepts it. It just is, like all the other inexplicable things going on around him. He has a lot of questions but he's not going to question anything.

A wave of sadness rolls over him, frothing with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Peter. I would never have left, if I'd known... I should've been there to protect you. I should've found you food, somehow..." He knows he did everything he could but that doesn't stop him from blaming himself, or the others. "We all should've looked out for you. We failed you." Peregrine's voice hollows out, drops, leaves him, and he can no longer look his son in the eye.

Peter listens to his father patiently, his golden gaze gentle, his lips smiling. For a person, who has known love all his life, there is no room for disappointment or sadness. He does not understand, why Peregrine is talking about failing him, when... no matter, how short his stay on Earth has been, he had been happy. Always. 

He does not answer right away, he leans down and presses his cheek against his father's, it's so great to have him here with him. He puts all his love in this gesture, he wants his father to know that all is well and forgiven. But the time is ticking even in this timeless space. The voices in the forest join in one common song - it's a long howl. The boy whispers: "Do you hear them calling for us?"

At first, he wants to pull away from Peter's embrace, because he doesn't deserve his son's forgiveness. But Peregrine can't bring himself to draw back, instead enjoying the gentle press of the cub's warmth against his cheek. "I love you," he murmurs, his eyes suddenly blurry. It's not long before both their faces are damp. The father chuckles a little sheepishly as he finally separates them.

He doesn't hear anything, so in response to Peter's question, he cocks his head and listens. Reluctantly, he admits, "I don't hear anything. What do you hear, Peter? Who's calling?"

"I love you too, dad, I love you all so much," Peter replies, sensing the guilt in his father's heart as a dark shadow. He wishes he could make it disappear, but he knows that there is very little he can do, unless his father is ready to let go. Strange, how much life-knowledge an odd place like this gives to you. 

Asked about the voices, which he can hear clearly, he retreats and looks his father curiously in the eyes. "Them, in the forest. They call for me, for you... we have to go," he suddenly springs to his feet and regards Peregrine with an eager look. "Come, come and see!"

Hearing that Peter loves him is like a soothing balm to Peregrine's raw, aching, blistering heart. "Oh, Peter..." he breathes, unsure of what he wants to say. He's affected, overwhelmed. "I love you so much, it's retar—" he begins to say (uncouthly), but his son's eagerness about those calling for him stays his tongue.

His head tilts. He still doesn't hear anything, even though Peter insists they're calling for them both. Peregrine wonders if the message isn't actually meant for him, just his little boy. Maybe they're calling him home to Neverland, where little boys go and never grow old. He doesn't know where that thought comes from and, like with everything else, doesn't question it.

Thusly convinced he's not supposed to go, Peregrine considers it anyway. What if he follows Peter, goes with him into... the afterlife? Is that what this is? Maybe he could go with his son and see everyone else he's lost over the years. The idea comforts him. Peregrine seriously considers it (more carefully than during his abortive suicide attempt). But he also glances over his shoulder, as if he might see his living family there. He doesn't. But he senses them. Can he leave them behind?

It seems that Peregrine is in doubt and Peter furrows his brow and eyes him anxiously. He is not going to leave, is he? The boy had waited for his father to come. He had. Then why would he hesitate to follow him now? He takes a tentative move forward - raising to his hind-legs and resting his forepaws against his father's chest. He looks him in the eyes, his gaze sorrowful and tears brimming in his eyes. 

"You won't leave me, will you?" he asks. "I waited for you, dad. I waited for us to go together..." he pleads, honest fear in his voice.
"You can't leave me now... you can't..."

This is probably just a dream, meaning that whatever he decides won't have the least bit of impact on reality. But Peregrine isn't sure. He doesn't know. He can't say. So he weighs the decision heavily, though the moment Peter rears up and plants his little paws on his chest—right over his steadily beating heart—and begs, the choice is made for him. How could he possibly say no to that?

Nuzzling his little boy's face, Peregrine murmurs, "I won't, Peter Pan, I won't. I won't ever leave you again. I'll always be with you and you'll always be with me."

Peregrine's words comforts Peter - he leans against his father's chest, closes his eyes and sighs. His fear of abandonment has disappeared, he is calm and happy. "So will I, so will I," he whispers, yet his voice suddenly sounds as if from far away. A shadow, an echo. 

The scenery around them twists and changes and all of a sudden they are stranded somewhere in the universe. Pitch black darkness around them, billions and billions of stars, suns, moons and planets around them. And in the middle of it there is still father and son holding each other in embrace. 

"Remember me," Peter says, as he lifts his muzzle to look his father in the eyes one last time. Then the golden aura around him grows stronger and all of a sudden the boy's form turns into shimmering dust that is blown away by the wind. 

That was all.