Disclaimer: Peter Pan is Copyright to J.M. Barrie.
Full Summary: Peter Pan always knew his frequent trips to the real world would make him slowly age. What he didn't know is what would happen when the world stopped believing in him. Generations after his meeting with Wendy and during one of his many nightly romps in London, Peter makes a startling discovery: he can no longer fly. Trapped in a world he no longer belongs in and separated from his only friend, Peter must find a way back to his beloved Neverland before it disappears forever and show the world what it truly means to never grow up.

To Fly: Prolouge- Flightless

"... until the next time Captain Hook decided to strike."

"What happened next?" The small boy bounced in anticipation as he trained his large, blue eyes on the young woman perched on the edge of his bed.

"Why, Peter flew away, of course," the woman replied, her smile soft as she looked down at the boy in adoration. "To play with the Lost Boys, I'm sure. Even Peter needs to rest every now and then, especially after he fights Captain Hook."

"But that codfish doesn't fight good enough for Peter to need to rest, Mama!" The boy swung a small fist in the air, tumbling over as his wild swing made contact with the air.

"If you say so," the woman replied, picking up her son and tucking him into the covers. "But I know even Peter Pan has to sleep and right now, so do you." She kissed his forehead and pulled the navy sheets up to his chin.

"'Night, Mama," the boy murmured sleepily, turning on his side to face the curtainless window.

"Good night, sweetie." With a soft plunk the lights in the room went out, quickly followed by a soft click as the door was shut. As his eyes grew heavy and his vision grew more and more blurry, the boy caught a flash of movement outside his window. A light grin formed on his lips as his eyes slipped shut and sleep beckoned.

"'Night, Peter."

Aside from the leaves that shook beneath his feet, the world was still and silent. He crept along the sturdy tree branch in the tall oak tree, pausing only to take one last glance toward the dark window. A half-smile graced his lips as he continued onward, picking up speed the closer he came to the end of the branch. He knew that he really shouldn't have been there, not with all the chaos that had been going on back home lately. But then again, he had always had a flair for trouble; why should this be any different?

As he reached the end of the branch, he slowed, coming to a halt all together. He perched himself in a low crouch, peering back at the dark window with a certain fondness he hadn't felt in a long while. How long had it been since he had last heard those stories? He knew it had been ages but it felt like only yesterday he had perched on one particular rooftop and listened to someone else recite his heroic feats time after time. The soft jingle of what sounded like bells reached his ear and a frown twitched at his lips.

"I know, Tink," he whispered, tearing his eyes away from the window to glare up at the yellow blob floating leisurely above his head. "I'm going, I'm going!" The boy paused a moment longer to stare at the glass, the moon offering enough light to catch his dark outline. He let out a hushed yell as the yellow light tugged on his hat, snatching the green material back with a scowl. "Ok, I get it, I'm moving."

This time he really did move, taking the few low steps needed to reach the end of the branch and tugging his hat back over his ginger hair. His usual cocky grin returned and a moment later he leapt from his seat to begin the long flight home. Flying was his only means of travel, one that had served him well for as long as he could remember. As he spun in the air he regretted having to leave but looked forward to returning home again; the inhabitants of his homeland needed him as a friend, a leader and even an enemy.

He felt himself falling, the ground rushing up to meet him rather than shrinking away as per the norm. The young man did not realize what, exactly, had happened until he rolled onto his back, spitting out the mouthful of grass he had collected from the soft lawn that had broken his fall. The black sky loomed overhead, the stars almost mocking as they winked down at him. His eyes landed on one particularly bright star, his star, and an overwhelming sense of dread swelled up inside him. It wouldn't matter what he told himself and it wouldn't matter how much the panicking spot of yellow above him tried to help: he could not return home.

Peter Pan could no longer fly.