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Tick. Tick. Tick.
The dish sparkled clean. Jack slowly scrubbed it anyway, dazed by the reflection of memories—always asking, never answering; fog where there should have been clarity.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
He heard only the clock. Clocks behave in ordinary houses, of course, but some take lessons from crocodiles. His body tensed. His eyes fixed on what his mind told him was there. One full circular motion with the cloth for every two ticks. His brain couldn’t manage more than that.
Tick. Tick…
Did the darkness just move?
“Away with the fairies again?”
Her voice cut through his haze of torment like the sweetest knife. Ellen: the guiding light in his perpetual darkness. Her arms around his waist grounded him, as always. Her cheek pressed to his back warmed him—body and spirit. He smiled; she was the only one who could make him genuinely smile.
“Away with The Unseelie Court would be more precise. You’ve rescued me from them again.” Jack turned to face Ellen, cuddled her back, and kissed her softly on the lips.
“Leave the dishes; come and sit down. You’ll be there all night otherwise.” She grinned coquettishly.
Jack nodded and reluctantly let her go as they made their way from the kitchenette to the sitting room. The dusk sky made a pretty sight for the brief instant he looked out of the French windows to the balcony, though the ticking of the clock grabbed his attention again.
“This is for the ticking that might have been.”
“Did you say something, Jack?”
“I was just… it doesn’t matter.”
Jack took a seat on one end of the couch. Ellen cuddled into him and he placed an arm around her shoulder.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Scrunching up his eyes, Jack willed the invasive sound away and raised his free hand up to his forehead.
It was barely perceptible, but there; he prayed Ellen hadn’t noticed.
“Jack, why did your shadow move differently to you just now?”
The softness and calmness of her voice opposed the dread he felt at her asking the question he hoped she’d never have to ask. Dry mouth. Clammy hands. Head spinning.
He chuckled. “You’re seeing things, babe.”
Ellen sat up abruptly, voice steady. “Don’t gaslight me, Jack Banning! I know what I saw.”
No sooner had she spoken than Jack’s shadow rose to a standing position, cascading on the wall across from where they sat. It waved at them, then pointed and laughed—soundless. Ellen’s jaw dropped and eyes widened.
Jack buried his face in his hands. “Maggie warned me this would happen again.”
“What do you mean?”
The Shadow mimed striking with a mallet. Jack glanced up at it, then immediately at the clock. It ticked on, as steady as ever.
“Jack, talk to me. Help me understand this.”
“My shadow sometimes isn’t… my shadow.”
Ellen held his gaze. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It thinks with me but not for me,” he said. “It feeds on fear—mine most of all—and it hates warmth. It touches as cold and pressure, and it can throw things when it must. It steals other voices—even mine—and keeps them for me alone. And when the clock quickens, it grows stronger.”
Memories washed over him—more vivid than in years.
The roughness of the frayed rope net that entrapped him and his sister; reaching out to the helpless, frightened figure of his father as he gripped the boom of the Jolly Roger—he wouldn’t save them!
Captain James Hook’s pride as the baseball careened into the exosphere—“My Jack!”
Standing alongside Hook as Peter Pan confronted him, dressed in Hook’s own finery, rapier at his side; “You see, Peter. He is my son! He loves me dearly and I’m prepared to fight dearly for him!”—and he did.
Flying home from Neverland with Peter and Maggie, looking back over the island of magic surrounded by a sea that never seemed to end.
“I am the son of Peter Pan.”
Ellen let out a derisive laugh, louder than she’d intended. “Don’t mess with me, Jack!”
In response, The Shadow wheeled around the room, setting the ceiling light swaying and the ornaments shaking. Jack heard his own childhood voice: “I believe in you!”
“Oh my God,” Ellen whispered. “You’re telling the truth. In the book… Peter Pan’s shadow…”
The Shadow stopped and struck a bow-legged pose with its hands on its hips. It was evidently enjoying the show it was putting on—not to mention Jack’s discomfort and Ellen’s amazement.
“What happened to your father? To… Peter Pan?”
A cold, bitter haze enveloped Jack. “I don’t know. He abandoned me… us about fifteen years ago. Not for the first time; the second time was for good it seems. He could be dead. As I say, I don’t know.” His eyes shifted to the wall again as The Shadow clutched its chest and fell to the floor, soon sitting up and breaking into silent hysterics again.
“You really have no idea what could have happened? Did anything change around the time he disappeared?”
“He changed after Granny Wendy passed away. He went more distant than he even was when I was a young child. The joy left him. Self-pity; pure self‑pity!”
Jack was reminded again of Neverland—Hook’s unnerving warmth, the counterfeit safety that fed a starved confidence. Then he remembered the swing back: abandoning Hook the moment Peter seemed, briefly, to be the father he’d wanted—and abandoning Peter three days before that just as quickly.
“Maybe he was right to abandon me.”
Ellen leaned forward. The glint in her eyes spoke of rapt fascination, urging Jack to continue—for his own mental wellness more than anything. She’d almost forgotten that The Shadow was there, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by it as it stamped its foot with childlike impatience.
“The clock: I brought it with me from Hook’s museum.”
“You’ve been to Neverland?!”
“Hook… he kidnapped me and Maggie to coax dad back there. For his revenge. He took me under his wing; called me his son. Treated me like a son. He did it to draw dad out and it worked. Both of them… they fought for me.”
“What about the clock though, Jack?”
“I snuck it away with me as we flew back to Granny Wendy’s. It was broken, like all the other clocks in the museum. When dad disappeared fifteen years ago, I fixed it. I thought it might help me. Instead, it created,” Jack gestured towards The Shadow, “that! The clock isn’t of this world. Fixing it awakened Neverland magic.”
“Why didn’t you destroy it?”
“It spoke to me. It warned me that the magic will spiral out of control if I do.”
The Shadow grew ominously larger on the wall and nodded. The ticking quickened.
“Your mum; what became of her?”
“She…”
Jack hunched his shoulders and his glassy eyes looked downwards. Ellen said nothing and quickly wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her face against his. The Shadow grew larger still, looming over the pair, but they didn’t notice.
“You mentioned Maggie earlier. Is she your sister?”
Jack nodded. “I haven’t seen her for almost as long as my dad has been gone. Something happened, something bad. She said she couldn’t be around me anymore after—”
A sharp thud and the sound of broken glass cut Jack off. The Shadow was now behind them; the speed of its movement had caused a photo frame to fall from the wall. Its arms were outstretched menacingly, threateningly.
“You dark and sinister man, have at thee!” The voice of Peter sounded in Jack’s mind. He knew logically that The Shadow was playing its tricks; it didn’t stop them from working though.
“Ignore it, my love. Don’t be afraid. Carry on with what you were telling me.”
Lips quivering, hands shaking, Jack started again. “M… Maggie said that she had to leave because of—”
A vase smashed on the floor in another part of the room this time. The Shadow almost consumed the whole of that side of the apartment now.
Jack’s breathing was laboured; eyes filled with tears, teeth chattering.
“Jack! Stay with me! It can’t hurt you; I won’t let it.”
An ethereal screech preceded a flying ornament. It missed Ellen’s head by a mere inch and smashed against the wall next to the balcony window.
Jack, with a protectiveness he hadn’t known he possessed, was immediately on his feet and pointed at The Shadow. “Bad form!”
The Shadow shrank back to size and stood before Jack. It lingered like a spectre in the air, no longer cascading across walls or objects. “Is it you? My great and worthy opponent? But it can’t be…”
Jack froze, his soul penetrated by the mocking words accompanied by the clock, ticking louder and faster now than it ever had.
In that instant, The Shadow hit him like weather.
Jack skidded across the laminate and thumped against the balcony doors. Cold fingers—pressure with no flesh—bunched his collar and pinned him to the glass.
“Stop!” Ellen was up now. “Why are you doing this? Leave him alone!”
The thing turned, its head cocked at her. It hesitated, then loosed a sound between an eagle’s screech and an alien battle cry.
Jack drove off the glass and swung. His fist carved through smoke. No impact—only a rush of cold.
He reeled. The answer arrived at once: a blow like hail with intent. His head snapped sideways; the floor leapt to meet him.
The Shadow hovered over him, a stain with weight. It pressed down—not body to body but will to nerve—and Jack felt himself draw out, thinned to a thread. The magic took a new and dreadful turn.
“Death is the only adventure you have left!”
James Hook, Mr Smee; Rufio; Tinker Bell… faces Jack had known sped past and vanished, replaced by others in relentless succession.
“You need a mother very, very badly!”
Darkness took the room, sparing only the faces and the voices.
Then a male figure appeared—clearer, lingering. Green. Back turned. Familiar.
“Home run, Jack!”
The man spun slowly. Smiled. Saw Jack. The smile broke into fearful recognition.
Peter Pan? Dad?!
“Run home, Jack!”
Hope needled through the black.
Ellen watched the colour and life pour out of Jack like vapour. The clock’s ticking rose to a rattle; its hands whirled. Inspiration struck.
She tore the clock from the wall. The Shadow was too absorbed to notice. She raised it high and brought it down with all the strength love can lend.
Clunk! Clang! The case split. Gears jumped their seats. A shriek tore the air.
The Shadow melted to the ground and went still. The silhouette cascaded unnaturally across the laminate, still attached to its owner.
Ellen rushed to Jack, relieved to see colour already returning to his face.
“Jack! Oh, my love! Are you okay?”
Jack’s eyes fluttered open wearily. On seeing Ellen’s face, he smiled. He felt himself pulled upward. Unlike the deathly sensation The Shadow had inflicted, this experience was a welcome one. Ellen’s arms were his salvation.
“It was… sucking the life from you.”
“Ellen, this was why Maggie abandoned me.” Though his voice was weak, he was determined to tell her. “The Shadow… it attacked her son; my nephew. She said she loved me and always will, but she wasn’t going to allow her children to come to any harm again.”
He took a series of deep breaths as he willed himself to continue. Ellen waited patiently, respectfully.
“It hasn’t acted out like that since then. Until now. Only the odd thing to remind me it’s still there and ready to return when it needs to. When it wants to. It’s never attacked me before, though.”
“Why do you think it’s chosen to lash out now?”
“Because of you. Because you’re a threat.”
Silence followed as Ellen digested Jack’s words. She understood—both Jack’s words and The Shadow’s motives.
Jack rose to a sitting position. “Maggie was right. Cutting ties with me was the right thing to do.”
“Well, I assure you that I’m not going anywhere, Mr Banning.”
“Even after all of this?”
“Especially after all of this!”
Jack’s heart fluttered in a way it hadn’t in many years; The Shadow convulsed briefly.
He turned to the window and saw something—so poignant, and yet he hadn’t heeded it in years; perhaps not since his heart last fluttered as it just had.
Taking Ellen’s hand, Jack stood, opened the French windows, and led her to the balcony.
The sky had arranged itself properly tonight. They found the old star without meaning to—the second to the right, still keeping its small blue promise.
“The second star to the right,” Jack almost whispered.
“And straight on ‘til morning.”
“I saw him, Ellen. When The Shadow was… I saw my dad—Peter Pan. He spoke to me.” He looked at her. “I think he might still be alive. His shadow; my shadow. I think it did to him what it tried to do to me. He might be trapped in Neverland… or somewhere between there and this world.”
Ellen looked at Jack, defiance and determination in her eyes. “If he’s out there, we’ll find him—together!”
Jack smiled and nodded as a tear rolled down his cheek before they both looked out at the star again.
Behind them, The Shadow rose to its knees and stared at the couple, clawed fingers outstretched towards them.
“Jack, Jack; he’s our man!”
And like all games in that other world, where clocks misbehave and shadows have opinions, it remembered to smile widely before pretending to be ordinary. It flattened, neat as a lesson learned, and clung to Jack’s heels as if nothing had ever happened.