They had all come home. As if by a miracle, the children had been returned to the world. The Lost Boys, whose true identities were a secret and had completely lost their memories, clung to the Darling family for support. The Darling family, too soft to not rise to the task, had tucked them in cozily into every corner of their home. What would the neighbors say? Wendy wondered.
And although she was the one who had asked to go home, it was horribly plain that Wendy counted heavily on visits from Peter Pan. She had fallen in love, she feared. Wendy had given her kiss to an impossible boy, and as she was a Darling, she was too soft to not rise to the task. She would love this boy, and always, no matter what the consequence.
It was for this that even though the winter continued to grow colder, Wendy insisted on keeping the window open, and Mrs. Darling obliged. What was a mother to do, after all, if her child requested it?
"It's a matter of life and death!" Wendy had moaned when Mrs. Darling tried to shut the window one icy night. In fear for the health of the other children, Michael and John had been pushed from the tiny nursery to sleep warmly by the fires. Wendy, on the other hand, waited with bated, icy breath for the return of her true love.
He came, frequently in fact, but it was not always that Wendy would be awake to know. Every once in a while, he would walk inside to caress her cheek, or to touch her hair softly. She would know, of course, but she pretended to be asleep to continue lavishing in his presence. On a brisk autumn night, she woke up happily to find that her Peter Pan had fallen asleep strewn lightly over her like a heavy human blanket. Her heart was alighted with butterflies.
"Peter?" She whispered to him. He woke groggily, and upon realizing his position, flew back so quickly in shock that he hit the wall behind him and knocked over two small picture frames. Wendy leaped from her bed to chase after him, but he rebounded quickly from his fall and scampered out of the window like a frightened cat. She looked sorrowfully out the window to find that he had quite disappeared, and the sky was barren. How tall he had gotten over the past year! She thought. It was shameful that she could not deny that her feelings for Peter had grown, rather than diminish in time.
Another two years passed and Peter never dared to come into the house again, but Wendy saw his shadow cast by moonlight looming in over her every once in a while, and for now, that was enough. In the Darling household, boys were being sent away to take on trades and corners began to pop up empty in the home. Mrs. Darling was in tears of joy to see off her children, and waved them all away with pride. Wendy remained, but began to outgrow her nursery bed. The threat of a husband grew larger and darker over her, much like the Shadow of Pan.
Then one night, Wendy awoke sweetly to the sound of Peter piping on his pipes. She rose slowly, as not to startle him and peeked at his form leaning lazily over the window. He was tall and lean with adolescence. His arms and chest had outgrown his leaves and he had covered himself with a fabric that hung haphazardly from his shoulders. His hair had lost its boyish golden glow, and was replaced with a resplendent brown that hid within it an angry shade of red. Beside him, laid a long pole, which she had never seen him carry before. Peter looked at her from the corner of his eye, in which he kept Wendy's kiss carefully tucked into the crease. He did not startle when he saw that she was gazing at him, but instead stopped his piping, and stared back.
"You've grown." He said plainly. His voice was dark with deepness, and Wendy felt a thrill run through her as she beheld the man to which she had given her kiss to.
"So have you." She said. He shrugged, as if unfazed, then stood to approach her. The length of his shadow overtook her form as she fully took in his being. He took the pole, then held it lazily in his hand, as if it had always been a part of him.
"You've kept the window open." He said, coming face to face with her. She looked up at him, paralyzed by his beauty and wonder. It was strange that she had once been so confident in his presence. Now, she almost cowered from it.
"For you." She responded meekly. He cocked his head to the side.
"To tease me?" He asked. Wendy shook her head in bewilderment.
"No!" She denied.
"Then why? Do you wish to go away with me again?" Peter said, reaching softly for her hand to pull her towards the cold winter night.
"But… I can't…" Wendy moaned, and she pulled her hand away. Peter dropped his hand and it turned to a fist beside him.
"Then why?" He asked, the boyish rage bubbling up beneath his grown-up exterior.
"Well…" Wendy started shyly. "You must know that I love you, Peter." She admitted. He rolled his eyes.
"Love…" He said mockingly. "What do you know of love?" Wendy flushed.
"More than you." She shot back.
"Ha!" He said, pounding the staff-like pole into the ground. Small amounts of fairy dust spouted from the end, and Peter twirled it in his hands easily to shoo them away. Wendy's eyes burned through the glittering haze.
"You do not love me Wendy Darling." Peter said, under a thin veil of hurt. Wendy opened her mouth to protest, but he kept on. "If you did, then you would come back to Neverland with me."
"Oh, Peter, but I do love you!" She persisted.
"Do not offend me with such lies!" He cried out. His voice breaking back to the voice of his boyhood. Wendy was silent, stricken, and scared.
"I love you, Wendy." Peter began. "You belong to me, and I will have you back. It was foolish of me to ever have let you leave."
"What would you have done? Kept me by force?" She said, her anger mounting. He stared at her calmly.
"Yes, I should have," He replied. Wendy stepped back in shock. "But I would much rather you come on your own." He finished with a softer tone.
"Peter- I… You know I must grow up. There is so much life that I need to live!" She begged. He took in a deep breath, stung by her desire to grow up.
"You cannot grow up, Wendy. I will not let you." Peter said. "Your brothers, the Lost Boys… I let them all go because you wanted me to, and all I ask in return… is your hand." He said extending his hand to her. Wendy knew that he must not have known the meaning in taking someone's hand, but then again, did he? This character was much stranger, much darker than the Peter she knew, and still… she was pulled even more towards him. His presence was magnetic, mysterious and strange to her. He was a secret that she must know, but at what cost? She looked at his hand and clenched her own to her chest. When she did not take, Peter dropped his hand and stepped back towards the window.
"You have some time." He said. "Think it over. I will come back, but wait too long and I will break this window to steal you from here." He warned. Wendy shivered in the sudden chill that overtook her. Peter looked into the emptiness of the night, then back to Wendy's stricken face and he clenched his jaw. Peter groaned in frustration, then stamped his way towards her and pulled her harshly into a kiss. Wendy was too shocked to react as she we crushed by his lips. He wrangled his hands into her hair and held her face to his, then suddenly, released her. Wendy gasped at the suddenness of the kiss, but found that her heart had begun a rapid tattoo and her stomach had filled with toxic want. She stepped forward to claim another and he laughed at her.
"I told you, Wendy. You belong to me." He said, thoroughly pleased at his effect on her, before he flew back through the window and into the night.
Wendy was left in her cold room, to think about what had happened. She could almost not remember their words, as Peter's kiss had violently wiped away her thoughts. She made to crawl in her bed, and found that she was shaking. From the cold, from fear, or from excitement, she did not know. Maybe it was a little bit of all three. Her heart did not settle that night, as she could absolutely not take her mind from Peter. She wanted him. She wanted to be taken by him, even, just to experience more of his wild nature. But dear god at what cost… at what cost?