Chapter 1: Of Thimbles and Colds

Rain pelted the windows, attempting to break the glass with their small, spindly fingers. The other two children were asleep in their cozy beds, dreaming of Pirates and Mermaids and Redskins and fighting Buccaneers with flashing swords. Only one child did not succumb to the dreamsand of the Sandman. And that was Wendy Moira Angela Darling.

She was sitting wide-eyed among her crinkled bed sheets, listening intently for the rustle of a tunic made of skeleton leaves, the high-pitched ringing of a fairy. She coughed and checked her watch, which her mother had given her for her birthday. It was small and round and shiny, and looked like something someone sophisticated and proper would have. Wendy had put it on a string around her neck, along with the Kiss that Peter had given her the first time he had come to her window.

The little hands on her clock ticked softly and lazily, not, Wendy observed, like the loud, clunking 'thunk-thunk-thunk-' of the clock that had inhabited the belly of the Crocodile. But it was not just any creature... this was The Giant Crocodile, who had swallowed up Captain Jas. Hook as he fell to his watery doom.

Wendy looked up at the window again, her dark brown eyes scanning the Heavens, as if searching for a needle in a pile of pins, or perhaps a pin in a pile of needles. Her eyes were starting to get terribly sore and tired, she had a horrible cough, and she presently rolled over and thought about going back to sleep, when she felt hot breath tickle her ear. She pretended not to notice, angry that he had taken so long.

"Wendy?" asked a quiet voice in her ear. "Are you awake? Wendy?" She turned slowly over, and found herself looking into the lovely young face of The Miraculous Boy, Peter Pan.

Wendy, so overcome with joy at the sight of Peter, reached out and put her hands on his cheeks. "Wendy, I must not be touched so hastily!" he screeched pompously and in protest. "Tosh," said she, and gave Peter Pan a thimble right on his rosy cheek.

With this little thimble, Peter's hair stood on end and his eyes widened and he felt a sensation much like someone had put a hot water bottle on his bare feet (which were, in truth, very cold. Peter was not used to the temperatures of London).
The warm feeling zoomed up his body like one of those fantastic firecrackers, and he felt quite dizzy in the head. When he could finally recognize his surroundings clearly again, Wendy was once more lying in her bed, her eyes closed. Peter crawled over to her.

"Wendy?" he asked. "Are you asleep?" She made no reply. "Wendy!" he said, a little more forcefully. "Wake up! Oh, Wendy, you must come! There are new Lost Boys who I have told about you, and they are now so dreadfully yearning for your wonderful stories!" Still, she made no response. Now, Peter, getting angry himself that Wendy was ignoring him, shook her violently. "Wendy! Get up or I shall make you!" She turned her head over to face him.

Her usually-rosy cheeks were quite white, and she looked even more so in the moonlight. Peter gaped down at her. "W...Wendy...?" he whispered. Wendy spoke, but when she did it was like a rusty wheel on an old bicycle. "I...believe I have become sick-" she coughed horribly, and wheezed: "You must go back to Neverland, Peter, or you'll catch this dreadful cough." Peter shook his head. "A gentleman never leaves a lady in distress," he said, quoting John.

Wendy smiled weakly. "Please go, Peter, for if you catch the disease, you cannot return to Neverland." Peter remained sitting by her. "Don't be a silly girl, Wendy, for what illness could harm me?" and at once he jumped up and gave a loud COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO! And there was such a brightness on his face that he could have lit a whole street with his radiance.

John and Michael grumbled and moved in their beds but did not wake. Wendy looked imploringly at the boy. "Please, Peter," she said. "I implore you, go back to Neverland!" and she sniffled terribly.

Peter, feeling he should do something to comfort the lady (according to John's lady advice) put his arm around Wendy's shoulder and said, "I shall go back to Neverland, Wendy, but I will return to your window. I can't leave the Lost Boys waiting too long for their story, or there will be mutiny." Wendy laughed, and lifted her fingers to his own. "Oh, Peter..." she whispered.

There it was again, that strange feeling like a hot water bottle was being applied to his frigid toes. He gulped. "Wendy...?" he whispered back. They looked into each other's eyes, and then - and then a little puffball of light and glittering dust came zooming in between their heads. It saw Wendy, and proceeded to kick her repeatedly in the nose, seemingly determined to break it.

Wendy shrieked, despite her cold, and swung her hand at the pixie. Peter reached out and grabbed the little thing, as it struggled and yelled nasty words at Wendy. "Tink," said Peter reproachfully. "What do you think you're doing?"

The little fairy kicked and yelled, and it was probably saying some pretty offensive things, yet Wendy heard only the sweet tinkling sound that fairies make. That noise is actually them talking, but unless you're Peter Pan you cannot understand fairy language.

Peter frowned at Tink. "Don't say things like that, Tink!" he cried. "That's rude!" Tink seemed not to care. She continued tinkling and chattering. "What does she say?" asked Wendy, though she was not quite sure she wanted to know.

Peter sighed. "She says that if you thimble me again, she'll kill you. Also, I belong to her, and you are a-" -he glared at Tink as he said this- "silly ass, that I would be better off without you and that she is much handsomer than you." And Tink nodded her head smugly at Wendy.