The Boy Who Never Grew

Chapter Three- News that is Life Changing

Living with the robotic boy for a month had been surprisingly uneventful. Benjamin Pan had been sure that James Hook would have made some sort of move by now. The longer no sign came, the more and more paranoid he became. His wife did a very good job of keeping him calm, but he still was a bit twitchy. Finally it came to the point where he needed to go see a doctor. Another point to add that he did know was the fact that this is exactly what James Hook had wanted to happen, it was all a matter of time.

"Now I trust you and Peter won't burn the house down, but it you have any trouble call me," said Mrs. Pan as she put her jacket on and her husband was putting his shoes on.

"We'll be back soon, shouldn't take too long," he said and smiled at the two watching them as they prepared to leave. His wife gave him a worried glance that Socrates did not miss. She kept a straight face but couldn't help but worry inside for her father. The two adults left and Peter turned and looked at Socrates.

"People only go to doctor's when they are sick, is father sick?" he asked with a worried expressions. His way of picking up things and the way he could show emotion on his face still amazed Socrates after a month and she could only look at Peter and shake her head before walking into the kitchen.

"Go play with Tinkerbell for a while, I'm going to get a snack," she said and put her head into the refrigerator. This was a usual routine. Since Peter could not eat while she was or while the family was, he would play with Tinkerbell. The two had actually become quite close. Tinkerbell did have a memory chip installed so she could remember things, but she was only the first product that led to Peter so her emotions could only turn on one at a time. She was also incapable of conversation since that was one of the more difficult parts that couldn't be put in doll as small as she. Instead she used charades and had a bell in her that would tinkle when she was trying to talk, so the recipient could at least tell when she wanted to say something.

"Hey Tink, how are you today?" asked Peter as he turned her on in his room. He didn't have many things in it. A bed with blue sheets and comforter, a wooden desk and dresser, and a side table that had a lamp and one of Socrates' fairy tale books on it. The walls were painted a deep green with brown stripes; every time he looked at them he would remember when he and his father, as Benjamin had insisted to be called, painted them in their first father son bonding moment. Mrs. Pan, or mother, and Socrates came to check up on them at one point and laughed at them as they saw the paint that was all over them from when they were painting the ceiling to look like the night sky.

Tinkerbell nodded her head and smiled at Peter. She had grown very attached to him and was always happy when he would play with her. Peter smiled at her and held his hand out for her to walk onto it. She skipped the walking and flew all the way up to sit on his shoulder, her wing tickling his cheek and he laughed at the feeling.

"I wish I could fly, it would be so cool," he said then his eyes lit up and the turned to look at Tink who jumped at the suddenness of his movements. "I just had a wonderful idea," he said with a large smile on his face. He glanced at his bedroom door and then turned to Tink and began to whisper in her ear. The smile on her face grew to match that of Peter's as he finished telling her his plan. She nodded happily and took off through the door that Peter had held open for her.

Socrates had just finished making herself a BLT minus the B. She never cared much for bacon, and the smell was too potent for her senses. She sat down at her seat at the table with her sandwich on a plate in front of her. Right as she was about to take a bite into it, it flew out of her hand and into the air.

"Tink, that isn't funny!" she exclaimed as she stood on top of the table and tried to get the sandwich. She heard giggling from the hallway and looked over at Peter who was watching the scene; amusement etched in his eyes. He ducked behind the wall when he made eye contact with Socrates. She fumed and sulked back into her seat, crossing her arms.

"Tinkerbell," she said in a stern voice, "may I please have your sandwich back?" Tinkerbell popped her head up from behind the sandwich and pretended to think before shaking her head 'no'.

"Peter, please," said Socrates turning to look at the hallway where all you could see were Peter's eyes and the top of his head sticking out.

"What if Tink wanted your sandwich?" he asked walking over with a playful grin on his face.

"She's like you, you two cannot eat and you know it," replied Socrates following her floating sandwich that was flying near the ceiling now.

"Oh, well, I guess there's only one thing to do if that's the case," said Peter with a mischievous smile on his face, "Tink, give you heard the lady. Give Socrates her sandwich back."

Just as the front door opened, Tink dropped the sandwich and it landed smack on the top of Socrates' head. Tink and Peter both burst out laughing and were clutching their sides in pain while Socrates just stood there in shock.

"Do we want to know?" asked her mother following the laughter to the kitchen.

"No," said Socrates as she took the sandwich off her head and threw it away before walking to the living room where her dad looked up at her.

"You have tomato seeds in your hair, did you know?" he asked trying to suppress a laugh.

"It's her new shampoo," said Peter walking out with Tink on his shoulder.

"Strange shampoo," mumbled her father. That made Peter and Tink laugh some more.

"Peter and Tink thought it would be fun to play with my sandwich," explained Socrates.

"Oh, really now?" he asked as a smile broke out over his face.

"Darling, don't you think we should tell them?" came the calm voice of Mrs. Pan.

"Right, well, Socrates, why don't you go take a shower before we tell you," he said. She nodded slowly and then left to her room.

"Peter can you please go clean up all the tomato seeds that are over the kitchen from your joke?" asked Mrs. Pan. Peter dropped his head and reluctantly walked to the kitchen. No matter how old he got, having to clean, anything, was a horrible experience. It was work, all Peter wanted to do was play. He hurriedly cleaned up everything and then jumped and landed on the couch with a bounce.

"Be careful on the furniture, don't want to hurt yourself of the furniture," said Mr. Pan not looking up from the newspaper he was reading on the recliner next to the couch.

"Fine," grumbled Peter. Another thing he loathed: rules. There were always so many. Don't do this, you can't do this. He was still trying to learn it all.

"So Peter," said Mr. Pan folding his newspaper and putting on the coffee table, "how have things been going lately. I've been working really hard on another invention, so I haven't really been able to check how you're working."

"I'm fine, nothing seems wrong," said Peter quickly putting a smile on his face.

"That's good, I think after dinner I will do a full computer check on you," said Mr. Pan before turning to look at his wife you just entered the room.

"She should be out soon," she whispered to her husband and he took her hand a squeezed it. Peter observed the look on their faces and saw the worry and saddened details on their faces.

"What's wrong?" he asked. The two turned their heads to look at him.

"It still amazes me how he is so observant," said Mrs. Pan. She smiled toward Peter and then looked at her daughter who just entered the room drying her hair with a towel.

"Socrates, please take a seat," said her father. She walked over and sat next to Peter.

"So how did it go at the doctor's office?" she asked still drying her hair.

"Fine, but the doctor told us a few things that everyone in this family needs to know," said her mum.

"Well I went there and they ran a few tests," said Mr. Pan standing up and facing everyone, "and they discovered an irregularity in the flow of my blood through my heart."

"Are you going to die?" asked Peter, fear on his face and he was leaning as far back in the couch as possible.

"No, there is a way to cure this, but it involves surgery. And it is risky, about a fifty percent chance of surviving. If I don' do the surgery then more and more symptoms will slowly come and eventually I will…" he trailed off. They remained silent for a while; Peter and Socrates taking it all in.

"So what are you going to do?" asked Socrates.

"Well, your mother and I both agreed, and have already set a date, that I will get the surgery done. Now I need your full support on it, both of you," he said looking back and forth between the two.

"I want you to live!" said Peter.

"Of course I support your decision, it is a good one after all," said Socrates.

"Thank you," said her father and he pulled both of them into a hug. Mrs. Pan smiled at them and then she and her husband went into the kitchen for a small snack.

"What was that?" asked Peter turning to Socrates.

"What was what?" she asked returning to drying her hair.

"What father just did," he said confusion laced into his words.

"That was a hug," said Socrates with a little bit of a laugh. She was still unsure what he knew and what he didn't. It seemed her father programmed a bit of knowledge into him, but basic things like signs of affection were not present in his mind.

"Oh, a hug. That was nice," he said smiling. Socrates just laughed and stood up and left down the hall.