The preacher stood before the sullen crowd, dressed mostly in black, save the occasional grey scarf or white sock. He cleared his throat, wiped a single tear from his bluish grey eyes, and began to read.
"Wendy Bishop, maiden name Darling, was a notable figure in our community. At the old age of 79, she has finally gone along to her forever home, where she will join her parents and her brother Michael. She is survived by her brother John, her husband Edward, her four children, and nine grandchildren."
All eyes were on the preacher, who stood before the closed casket covered in daisies, her favorites. No one noticed a glimmer of light in the bushes near the edge of the crowd. A being that seemed to exist only in fairytales, so named for the creatures like Tinkerbell, who sat obediently on the shoulder of a boy hiding with her.
Peter watched the scene from his well-picked hiding spot. It didn't make much sense to the boy that a place filled with so many flowers had a surprising lack of shrubbery and trees. He tried to count how many heads he saw… thirty? No, it had to be more than that. Eighty? No, that was too many. Probably somewhere around fifty. Yes, fifty sounded about right.
Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all.
Wendy hadn't been like the lost boys. She was… different. Creative. She had a cunning mind of her own, and wasn't always one to follow orders. She preferred to be the one spouting commands then the other way around.
There was an impatient tug on his ear. He looked and saw Tinkerbell pouting and pointing at the sky. She wanted to go back home. Back to Neverland.
"Tink, why don't you go find us a couple kisses to take back to the lost boys?" he asked, really just looking for a way to get rid of her for the timebeing. The fairy nodded and darted off. Peter thought he saw one of the little ones in the crowd turn his head when he saw the dash of light across the bushes.
There was one more thing that he felt for her, and the feeling never quite went away. Not after the thimble that she had given him, the powerful thing that still made his lips burn when he thought of it. The very thought of the action made him feel as if he could fight off ten Captain Hooks, just to see her again to ensure that it truly was his forever.
This belongs to you, and it always will.
She hadn't stayed, though. And Peter hadn't stopped her. She had asked to leave Neverland and he hadn't said what he really felt.
If you wish it.
Young boys were notorious for lying, and that time, the only time that mattered, had been no different. Had he spoken words he wished he could say, that he wish he said, he would have told her no. That she couldn't go home, because she was special and Peter wasn't sure how he could bear another day in Neverland without her there. But, she had. And he had. But with each passing day, it grew more and more meaningless. The pirate ship he stole from Captain Hook crashed into the shore because he hadn't been looking through his telescope at the proper time. The mermaids, who used to have so much fun swimming around but could never catch him, now caught up to him with ease. And Peter hadn't flown in a long time.
Finally, the boy had it and wanted to come back to the mainland and see her again, ask her to come back. He had flown the whole way, and at a very fast speed, because just the thought of seeing her again filled his heart with a happiness he couldn't quite explain.
Peter. You won't forget me, will you?
Me? Forget? Never.
He remembered the chair, the nursery. He recalled Nana, the dog, and the window that was always open for him. After finding the Darling house, window shut and rooms empty, he flew over London, listening for her name. When he heard the preacher in the cemetery say it, he hid in a bush, hoping to find her there.
She can't hear you… she can't see you.
She's forgotten all about you.
Captain Hook's prediction had come true. Peter hadn't forgotten, but she had. She had to, otherwise she wouldn't have left him for the cold ground, the only thing left her name written on a stone. He wouldn't ever see her again, never.
Never is an awfully long time.