A oneshot idea that came to me when I was daydreaming about Peter Pan. Yeah, and in the book, if you haven't read it, Tinkerbell is dead when Peter meets Wendy's daughter, Jane and Peter has forgotten about her.

Summary: It was always said that Wendy grew up without a problem. It was a lie. When Peter left her, Wendy struggled to gain her grip on reality again, and she began to wonder, was Peter Pan real at all? Or was it her subconscious trying to hold onto her childhood as long as possible, by making her believe in a fairy tale that wasn't actually real? And, how did Tinkerbell really die?

Word count: 2355

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan!

Blissfully Ignorant

"B-but Father!"

"No Wendy! Enough is enough! It is time to stop believing in this childhood nonsense once and for all!"

Her father's booming voice almost shook the Darling household as he lashed Wendy with harsh words that struck at her heart with the strength of ten men. The defiance in her forget me not blue eyes was slowly dwindling away like a candle that weakened, flicker by flicker, until it finally burnt itself out. The clenched fists that lay by her side were slowly loosening as Mr Darling's voice got stronger in sound level when he saw his daughter's willingness to prove him wrong was gradually breaking. She looked away as her faced turn red. Don't Cry, she thought to herself. The tears silently filled her eyes. Her shaking hands became clenched fists once again and she dug her fingers into her palms as she bit her quivering lip.

Mustn't let them see you cry, her mind spoke, as her eyes diverted over to John and Michael, their eyes were widened in fright, almost as if they were afraid of what she was going to do. John wrapped his arms around his younger brother and rubbed his shoulders soothingly. For a second, her heart swelled with pride as John was taking on her role of 'responsible sibling' for the benefit of Michael.

But suddenly, her heart no longer swelled with pride when Wendy's eyes widened in shock when she finally noticed the fact that John was growing up.

He was growing up.

If John was growing up, then...

The blank, emotionless expression swept over her face as the realization of the moment finally seeped in. The fear seemed to rise behind her eyes. As if she was about to be attacked, she stood, too frightened to move. Paralyzed by the tragic feeling of isolation, she closed her eyes and gazed into fields of nothingness. She felt the water creep out of her eyes once again, and she gently whispered to herself, "I'm growing up."

Apparently, her father had heard her.

"Why yes, you are Wendy," he said with a sigh, for a moment, though it didn't last long, Wendy thought that her father appeared to be also distraught by the fact that Wendy was growing up and leaving her childhood behind, this gave Wendy some hope, but when he continued, her theory shattered into a million and one pieces, "You foolish girl. Did you really think you could live in a world of ignorance, filled with dreams of a boy invented out of loneliness and lust for a fairy tale ending, forever?"

"George." The warning voice of her mother Mary, made Wendy turn to look at her. Her mother's eyes always told the story for her, what she was feeling. Whether it be happiness or anger. Mary Darling's feelings were just as plain as the nose on her face. And, right now, Wendy could clearly see what her mother was feeling, sadness. Never had Wendy 'seen' this feeling within her mother, and it shocked her. Why was her mother sad? And, why hadn't she backed Wendy's belief up? Surely she'd be the one too justify Wendy's points if no one else?

And, that was when Wendy discovered the truth.

She was not sad out of dismay.

She was sad out of guilt.

Suddenly, for the first time in her life, Wendy felt hate for her mother. Pure rage bubbled within her as she broke eye contact with her and glared daggers at the floor. Mary Darling was the one at fault. She made her children believe in childish poppycock in the selfish attempt to keep her own childhood dreams alive. Though she did what she did out of love, she did it out of ignorance, no matter how blissful that ignorance was.

"You're wrong father."

This time a different voice spoke.

"Excuse me?" George reeled round to face his youngest son, six-years-old Michael, who no longer clutched to his older brother John for comfort and reassurance. Instead, he stood as tall as his small form would allow him, and stared into the eyes of his father.

"Peter Pan is real." he proclaimed in a low, matter-of-factly voice.

"Now Michael..." George Darling began but he was cut off by his son.

"No father! You listen to me for once! I-I may be little but I know what's real and what is not, and Peter Pan IS real!" Michael stamped his small bare-foot for emphasis, "Peter Pan taught me how to be brave, and laugh in the face of danger, because no one can harm you when you are untouchable by the 'evil ones'. He proved this to me when he finally beat Hook even though it seemed hopeless! A-and, he taught John how to be a leader, John was the one who led the battle of the Jolly Roger alongside Peter himself! Also, Pe-eter helped Wendy when she needed him most, so she learnt how to hope! Peter taught her to dream! So, tell me father, how could we possibly have learnt all of this if Peter wasn't real?!" Michael yelled the last sentence, glaring up at his father.

"Michael Darling!-" George Darling began, but once again he was cut off by one of his children.

"No father." Wendy spoke, "Michael was only helping me, I'm the one at fault, not him."

"Wendy." Michael whimpered, running to hug her, but John pulled him back, and held onto him, letting Michael cry onto him instead.

Michael stared at Wendy as tears streamed down his face.

"I'm fine." Wendy lied through her teeth, forcing a smile, before turning around to leave.

"Where do you think you're going young lady?!" Her father demanded.

"I don't want you to see me cry." she said, her back still facing them, as she slowly left the room, and ascended the stairs quietly.

A single beam of moonlight entered Wendy's room through a break between the curtains. The curtains rustled about in the wind, reminding Wendy of how the curtains in the nursery use to move about in the wind, although they did it much more gracefully, the curtains she had in her room she was forced to move into mostly just seemed out of time with the rhythm of the wind, and it made her scowl at them.

Wendy looked up to the ceiling, her thoughts wandered to her room. She stared blankly at her surroundings. Her room was barely two-years-old, and it already looked like she had lived in it for twenty years. Chipped and Cracked plaster made up the walls, along with the faded pink paint that was covered in black marks and scrapes. Her room was very dull, much unlike the nursery, where toys would be scattered upon the floor, and night lights would be turned on around every dark corner because Michael was afraid of the dark. Wendy only ever saw her brothers at meal times because she was always busy with extra tuition classes, homework, and other such nonsense. Her father did not like her spending too much time with her brothers because he thought she was a bad influence for them, and they were a bad influence for her. Ye, occasionally Wendy would sneak in to the nursery to tell her brothers amazing stories, and sometimes, she would sing them an old lullaby that their mother use to sing to them long ago:

Once upon a time and long ago

I heard someone singing

Soft and low

Now when day is done

And night is near

I recall this song I used to hear

My child, my very own,

Don't be afraid, you're not alone

Sleep until the dawn

For all is well

Long ago this song was sung to me

Now it's just a distant melody

Somewhere from the past I used to know

Once upon a time

And long ago...

Deep down, Wendy always knew that she was growing up. Ever since she left the magical world of Neverland, she had noticed changes within her, physically, mentally, and emotionally. She always approached each situation with a logical mind instead of a foolish mind, and she constantly felt on edge, she felt that her emotions were all over the place now and she didn't have any clue why.

For some reason, people around her treated her differently, especially the boys in her class. They acted nervous around her, and she always felt like she was being watch. They seemed to hang onto each and every word that left her perfectly shaped lips. She also looked different, her hair had gotten longer and a lot darker too, She lost her puppy fat, and she was much more shapely now, attracting a lot of male attention. Wendy's eyebrows were perfectly groomed and her cheeks now had a rosy tinge to them. People often complimented her eyes whole-heartily, as they were a very beautiful color, and they tended to hypnotize and intrigue those around her.

Her whole world was changing, Wendy had no idea what she could turn too, as she no longer had Neverland there to comfort her. It was so hard to believe, and she found herself slowly forgetting the minor details of her life changing trip that supposedly took place two years ago. Every supposed memory was more of a blur now, and Wendy often struggled to picture the simple things, like the lost boys. She was slowly forgetting their names too. At one point, the lost boys had wanted to come with her and her brothers back to London to grow up, but they changed their minds and decided to stay with Peter Pan. Sometimes, Wendy wished that she had made that same choice as well, to stay in Neverland and never ever have to grow up.

Even though, she could sometimes picture the actual land of Neverland perfectly in her head if she tried really hard, she always wondered...What if?

What if her father was right about Neverland? Had she simply led herself to believe that Neverland, Peter Pan, the lost boys, the pirates, the Indians, the mermaids and the fairies, were all real, out of sheer loneliness?

Wendy stood, up and took a few shaky steps towards the window, opening it, she spread her arms out and embraced the wind. It almost felt as if she was truly flying again, she could briefly remember what that felt like. Although, she had long ago forgotten how to fly as she had run out of pixie dust. A sudden thought suddenly found it's way into her head. What if she suddenly jumped out of the window? Would Peter swoop down and save her? He did that when she had to walk the plank, when all hope was lost, there Peter Pan was, cradling her in his arms as if she was the most precious thing in the whole wide world, to Peter she was at least. Michael was right, Peter had taught her how to hope and dream.

But, now... it seemed as if that teaching, was all in vein, as she felt nothing but hopelessness, and the cruel slap of reality.

When Wendy stepped back, she trod on something. Bending down to inspect what she had stepped on, she suddenly came face to face with her old Peter Pan doll, discarded, and long ago forgotten. She had made it after she had met Peter Pan with the help of her mother. Picking it up, she swiped the dust off of it with a quick hand, and studied it's petite face. The curved black line that represented his smiling face, was beginning to fray, so he didn't appear to be smiling, he almost looked as if he was sad because of the lack of smiling. One of the eyes was missing, and there was a hole in the stomach of the worn out doll, causing some of the stuffing to fall out.

Her eyes grew misty. She hugged the doll and dropped to the floor as a bitter gust of wind coming from outside the widow lashed against her face. She tried not to, she really did, but one perfectly round drop edged down her numb cheek. It fell onto the rough, carpeted floor and she threw the doll away from her, almost as if she was hurt by it's mere presence. Burying her head in her hands out of shame and sorrow, more salty droplets seeped from her eyes. Wendy looked weak, the one thing she did not want to look. But worst of all, she felt weak, she felt powerless and all she wanted to do was cry.

"I guess there's no such thing as faith, trust, and pixie dust." She choked between sobs.

"Peter," Wendy said, slowly looking up at the open window, "I am not a child now. I can take care of myself, as much as I hate too say so, Peter. I'm growing up, okay? I'm sorry! I can't help it! But, you don't know what it's like! To live in a world that is not filled with blissfully ignorant dreams that a child would dream of and a grown-up that would not dare dream of!" Wendy yelled.

I'm too tired, Peter. I'm tired of having to prove to my father that you are real when I'm not even sure if you actually are myself." Wendy hiccuped as she continued, "I'm too old to believe, all of these childish stories..." Wendy trailed off, "Why can't you come save me again, Peter? I thought you were a hero, but it turns out, you're not. You're just a silly child who will never grow up." Wendy sobbed loudly,"Peter Pan!" she screamed, "You promised you wouldn't forget me! You promised!"

"Me? Forget? Never." a voice echoed throughout her bedroom, but Wendy did not bother to look up, for she knew it was only her cruel imagination playing tricks on her again.

"Leave me alone, Peter Pan, I don't need you!" Wendy exclaimed in pure anger, standing up and furiously wiping away her tears before continuing,

"I guess you could say, that I don'tbelieve in fairies anymore."

…

Ha, yeah, I used lyrics from the lullaby from the Peter Pan play entitled 'Distant Melody' , but I do not own this beautiful lullaby ! Please don't sue me! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it and pllllleeeeeeaaaasssssee review, and make sure to read my other stories!

Carpe Diem!