The children were madly infuriatingly happy in the nursery. They danced, beat drums and sang. Mother, father and nana were an apt audience for their glee. What was lost had come home again and an almost unhealthy joy pervaded the room. The lost boys were welcomed with open arms and the treasure that accompanied this merry party was disregarded and had been kicked (quite by accident) into a corner of the room.

Peter Pan watched all this from the window, his toes several inches above the ledge, with an odd sort of smile on his face. It was not a smile of happiness or satisfaction of a job well done… in fact it wasn't really a smile at all. It was an expression of uncertainty and as that look faded away he bared his teeth and it became an expression of jealousy. All that had been his friends had abandoned ship so readily… and Wendy too. Had she forgotten already? Standing there in the protective circle of her mother's arms she looked sweet and content in her bedraggled nightgown while laughing gentle laughter at the boys' antics. Peter was so full of longing that he felt he would explode, unable to budge he just stayed and watched for hours.

Tinkerbell became increasingly anxious, all her pinching and buzzing in front of his eyes was completely ignored. She knew Peter better than anything else in the world and sensed that his weakness was about to become his downfall.

Peter entered the nursery at midnight (when he could no longer contain himself) and the eldest of the room raised their heads to watch. While most of the boys had fallen asleep Wendy had stayed up with her parents to speak of their adventures, John occasionally threw in a word but was drifting off as well. Silence had never been so loud until Wendy ran to him, taking his hands in hers she whispered, "Have you come to stay?"

And he had.

Years passed. The Darlings moved to a much larger home, the lost boys integrated themselves into society. John became a banker at his father's prodding. Peter was schooled and taught how to succeed in this form of life. He surpassed the others quickly because the hungry need to be first never left him. Wendy was courted but her suitors always mysteriously stopped calling and when spotted around town were always reported to have bruises and swelling. She had been his from the beginning, he had wanted her first and Peter had no qualms about protecting his possessions.

Tink would come to the house every night at first to see if the Pan had changed his mind but as time went her visits slowed to once a week and then only once per month. It was the journey to the Pan's home that made Tinkerbell stop coming all together. Inside the bedroom she could see Peter's arm clutched around a growing Wendy, her face pale even in the relaxation of sleep. Tinkerbell understood that it was too late for him now but not for her.

When the child was born Peter looked into the baby's small red face and felt not pride but something else. He looked at his wife and saw her joy but no matter how hard he tried he could not feel the same. They were children no longer and this baby was proof of that. Peter felt a dawning horror and hated Wendy for it. He hated his child for anchoring him and most of all he hated his life. He felt hunger for travel and tree hammocks and embittered battles. He began to sit by the window every night to watch for his faerie while Wendy cried herself to sleep.

The child grew rapidly, going from tiny and wrinkled to plump and mischevious. Wendy would rush to catch him when he attempted to walk too soon and sigh when the toddler pulled away from her, seeking independence, seeking adventure. Peter watched the pull between his great love and his offspring coldly, uninterested in attempting to establish a connection. He stopped going to work so that he could remain near the nursery's balcony, he felt sure that she would come, his faerie. Even in that far off island she would be able to hear his longing.

It happened the night after the baby's first birthday, Peter started awake at the sound of a thump only to see a neatly wrapped blanket being carried by what looked like a large sparkling dragonfly over his head to hover over the balcony.

"Tink!" Peter screamed it in panic, his adult reflexes slow as he rushed after them, the bundle already too high for his finger to catch it. "Don't leave me Tink," he begged her, unashamed. It was too soon for him to feel the sting of her betrayal.

Her blonde hair barely visible he saw the faerie cock her head to the side, appraising him silently. He waited with bated breath then saw her shake her head, as if in regret. "No!" He screamed as the bundle floated higher.

Behind them the door to the nursery burst open and light from the hallway flooded in. Wendy took in the scene; her child cradled in his own blanket by that hated Fae and her husband, hysterical and reaching on his tip-toes as if he actually had a chance of grasping it. She walked forward as if in a dream, her feet encased in a larger pair of black slippers and a similar blue nightgown that she had worn at age twelve when the Pan came for her.

"Peter," her voice came out hoarse and low. She reached for her husband's shoulder – the once indomntable Pan – as he collapsed to his knees sobbing wildly. "Peter," she tried again and this time her voice was stronger. "He'll come back. He'll come the way you did, to watch us through the window and maybe he'll change his mind." She watched the speck of white that was a baby and a faerie fade into the distance as they travelled toward the second star to the right.

Peter remained hunched over but his hand came up to squeeze hers. "They'll be back," he agreed.