I love Peter Pan and Labyrinth. My mind was just begging me to marry the two, so here it is...my crossover! Enjoy!


What is this feeling so sudden and new?

I felt the moment I laid eyes on you!

My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling

My face is flushing, oh what is this feeling?

"What is this Feeling?" -Wicked

"I can't believe it, late again Wendy!" Mrs. Darling muttered as her daughter entered the house: soaking wet. Outside the rain fell in torrents, little rivulets forming on the sides of the muddy London road.

"Sorry mother," Wendy said sheepishly, casting her eyes downward, "Time got away from me again. I was reading."

"Of course you were, now go upstairs and clean up. Then I need you to baby-sit your brothers tonight. Your father and I are going on a date! We should be back by midnight," Mrs. Darling sent Wendy up the stairs with her instructions. Once in her room, Wendy peeled off her wet clothing. Her soaked brown hair was plastered to her forehead and she ran her hand through it to get it out of her face. Wendy opened her drawer and pulled out a pair of loose black sweatpants. If she was going to be running after her brothers all night, she'd need some easy-movement clothing. Out of the closet came her "Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens: The Musical" t-shirt. She looked at the front of it, a boy wearing a cape and green ripped shorts stood with his hands on his hips. On the left hand corner of the green t-shirt there was his signature. She smiled at the memory before returning to business. She ran a comb through her still wet hair and shoved back in a ponytail; flicking it back over her shoulder in her rush. Not caring about the little water marks she left on her oak dressing table. She headed for the nursery; where John, 11 and Michael, 6 were sure to be. As she entered, a book sailed past her head, barely missing her ear. "I didn't say you got to be the King of the Faeries John! It's not fair; you always get to be the King!" Michael complained. Michael hoisted another book angrily at the rapidly dodging John.

"Michael, the King of the Faeries is a grown-up! I'm oldest, so I get to play the oldest character," John retorted. Wendy interrupted their argument with a statistic.

"Actually John, I am the oldest. You are only 11, I am 16. So there. Now who wants to hear a story?" Wendy asked. Both boys cheered and rushed to sit in front of her. Wendy hushed her voice to a mysterious whisper and began to tell her magnificent tale, "The King of the Faeries is an evil yet mischievous man. If you say the magic words, he steals away a little child or children. If the unwitting Wisher wants the child back, they must solve the King's labyrinth. A twisting turning maze, inside it are many surprises. Around one corner you may find a camp of Indians, around another you may find a gang of ruthless pirates. Any which way you turn, there are faeries. The little creatures love mischief, but also love beauty. They collect shiny baubles dropped by Wishers. Sometimes Wishers will bribe the faeries with little trinkets, in return for help. As I said though, they also love mischief, but the Wisher never knows they are being deceived. Faeries are wonderful liars. If the Wisher fails to rescue the child in time, the King turns the child into a Lost One. A Lost One is a servant to the King. They must stay forever in the land of Fae and cannot return with the Wisher, not one person has yet rescued their Lost One. All of the children lost by Wishers have become Lost Ones. It's a terrible thing," Wendy ended on a dramatic note. Michael, ever curious asked a dangerous question, his eyes wide and sparkling.

"What are the magic words that Wishers use?" he asked innocently.

"Yes, Wendy, what are they?" chimed in John. It is here reader, that Wendy makes a fatal mistake. Instead of giving an introduction that will dispel any power; such as 'well John, the words are' or just 'They are' she simply says the words. The words in their true form contain all of the Fae magic; the real beginning of our story.

"I wish the faeries would come and take you away right now," Wendy answered their questions simply. All of a sudden, the lights in the room dimmed and went out. Wendy gasped; John and Michael gave frightened squeals. The window to the nursery burst open, standing on the balcony outside was a boy no older than Wendy herself. Suddenly Wendy whirled around, glancing behind her and all around the darkened room. There were no dark outlines of her two little brothers. Oh, no! Wendy thought.

WENDY'S POV

"You, you aren't the Faerie King are you? You are far too young! He is a man," I said as loudly as I dared to the mysterious boy on the balcony.

"Actually, Ms. Wendy, I am just as you say. I am the King of the Faeries. I am perceived to be older, but I am only…" he stopped talking. Taking the advantage I stepped in.

"How do you know my name, and where are my brothers?" the last came out in a jumbled rush. The magic words, I hadn't thought they actually worked! This…magic, it couldn't be real!

"You wished them away to the Neverland to become Lost Ones. Unless you want to attempt to save them…" The boy trailed off again.

"Of course I'm going to save them!" I shouted. I ran forward at the figure. He rose off the ground and flew around me. He could fly? Wait. No. Way.

"What is your real name? It can't be just King of the Faeries," I said, "Might it be Peter Pan?" I made the connection in my head.

"Yes, no one ever guesses that though. They are too busy running through my marvelous Labyrinth," he laughed.

"Speaking of the Labyrinth, lets go…I kind of have to save my little brothers." I pointed out. Peter didn't answer; he was staring at my t-shirt. He flicked his fingers and the lights went up. "They made a play, about me?" he asked. Astonished.

"Yeah, you even have a statue in Kensington Gardens, you are kind of famous I guess," I said. Impatient to rescue my brothers. I wouldn't leave them there to be Lost Ones.

"Lets get on then," finally! With yet another flick of his fingers we were standing on a stretch of open beach. In front of us loomed a wall of stone and climbing flowers, it went on forever in both directions. "You have 7 days to solve this Labyrinth. Let me warn you, it's dangerous." he said.

"How do I get in?" I asked, but he was gone. Great, I'm stuck with a mythological psychopath on an enchanted island in the middle of nowhere. I'm dreaming, in a few minutes, John will run in and jump on me, and beg me to wake up so I can quiz him about Napoleon. I stood there and waited for about 10 minutes,but no one jumped on me, or woke me from this nightmare. I was really truly standing on the shores of Neverland in front of the King of the Faerie's Labyrinth. "Best get a move on," I muttered to myself. I ran my hand along the wall, feeling for a crack, crevice, button or opening. Nothing. Dang it. A movement to the right caught my eye; it was a small ball of jingling light. A faerie! I waved at it, and it turned from a ball, into a small person. It was a little girl faerie; she was wearing a violet flower petal dress. Her dainty feet were bare, but wrapped around her legs and ankles were flower stems. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. She jangled and jangled, smiling brilliantly. Don't trust her, my mind screamed at me. Her musical noise turned slowly into words, "I…like…shiny," she pointed to my earrings. Her words clearer with each one she spoke. "Violet will guide you, if you give Violet a shiny," she said; referring to herself. All faeries must be named after a flower or plant, I thought instantly. I took out both my earrings, pocketing one, and handing the other to Violet. "Where is the door Violet?" I asked. She flew up to the wall and tapped her tiny knuckle against it three times, a door slid open with a groan. I thanked her and quietly stepped inside. Instead of the brick walls I had envisioned: it was all greenery. Impenetrable forest surrounded me on all sides, small paths here and there led in circles and into dead ends. I took one of the paths and noticed to my great surprise Violet was still following me, clutching to her my rather large cubic zirconium earring. I offered to let her sit on my shoulder; she flew over and sat down with a little puff of sparkling dust. "Violet loves shiny, shiny heavy. Thank you silly…" she paused, "What is human's name?" she asked.

"I'm Wendy," I said.

"Wendy…Violet like Wendy. Wendy is much nicer than Peter. Peter mean to Violet, wouldn't give Violet a shiny!" the dainty girl pouted on my shoulder. "Wendy, no take that path!" she squeaked suddenly, pointing to the left of where I stood. There was a small opening in the dense foliage.

"Why not Violet?" I asked, on my guard for tricks.

"Bad men with smoke and lightning. Bad men Wendy. Violet no likes them, they have no shiny!" she looked scared, then mad. Mad at the mysterious men for not being shiny, they might be dangerous. I trusted her, but I had to prove it to myself first. I snuck silently down the path, the little faerie trembling like a leaf on my shoulder. She grasped a piece of my hair, and began to worriedly fiddle with it. I came around a corner, and heard bawdy singing. "What do you do with a drunken sailor?" to my utter surprise Violet had told the truth. I turned to retrace my steps, but the wall had closed behind me. Curse the King of the Faeries, curse that Peter Pan! I kept walking, silently. Violet was a little ball of nerves, she had braided my hair, unbraided it and resumed to braid it even more intricately. The singing of the men became louder and louder, pirates! The forest around them glowed a yellow-orange, fire. They had a fire. It wasn't until now I had realized it was rather cold outside. I shivered and took another tentative step forward. Not making a single sound I approached the voices. I turned a corner and saw them; they all clutched a bottle to them as they sang off-key. The leader stood motionless, stroking a large metal hook with one hand. I realized with a start that I was staring at Captain Hook, the infamous leader of Neverland's motley crew. All of a sudden he yelled, "Silence, I have come up with a grand idea for escape. We will find the next Wisher. This Wisher will be our hostage, without the Wisher, Peter cannot make a Lost One. If the Wisher so chooses, we can follow him or her out of here! At last, free of that accursed King of the Faeries!" he ranted at his crew. At the end of his speech they burst into applause. In all the confusion I burst through the camp into a path on the opposite side. Soon enough I heard them trampling the forest in their wake to find me. They must have been in here a long time, because they didn't give up chasing me for what seemed like hours. I'm sure it was only about a few minutes. I lay down, and curled up in a ball, Violet; who had clung to me all of this time, was snoring gently by my ear. I pulled a broken pine bough over me for warmth and settled down to rest, one day down; 6 more to go. I had to do this.