Peter shot straight up and hit his head against the branch that was suspended above his resting place with a loud thump. He winced and held the now throbbing area, tears running down his cheeks. But the pain from the smack was short lived, though his tears continued to flow freely, glistening in the candlelight. He glances around the quiet fortress he calls home, the emptiness sinking in. It may have been days since he had said goodbye to the lost boys…and Wendy. It may have been weeks as well, and he dreaded the thought…years…
His tears still flowed, and the freshness of the dream he'd just woken from still haunted him. The more he let the horrid memory tamper with his thoughts the harder his cries became, and he turned into the blankets, sobs shaking his entire body. Never had he been so torn apart, and by such feelings he did not understand. What if it rang truth? Still, despite the way it hurt him so, he thought over the events of his dream once more…
Peter could not take it any longer. He missed Wendy so that he could care less about the confusion it brought to him to consider returning to her. He would do it. Tonight; he would return to England and rescue his Wendy from her world, take her to Neverland where she'll never leave his side. He thought not about her willingness; he must convince her.
There is no other way he can live in the world he does if she is not there with him. He cannot continue to cry himself to sleep. With no lost boys there with him he has no more adventures. No Hook to annoy, no Hook to battle, no Hook to taunt. No one to play with, and Tinkerbell… Well if not for her, Peter would have left for England sooner. She was the only think keeping his head level.
He stands from his throne made out of leaves and twigs, and goes straight for the drip drop sound he knew was the awfulness called 'medicine'. He would take it. And this time, it won't be poisoned. He would do anything to bring himself closer to her in some way, to his beloved lost friends.
"Tinkerbell," he calls when he is finished. She emerges from her spot not too long after, stretching and yawning from her night's sleep. Peter had gotten no sleep, not in some time. He could not, for the void in his heart was too large.
She answers him in an annoyed tone, wondering why he had woken her before the sun had risen completely.
"We're returning to England," he announces, reaching for his dagger. No matter the situation, no matter the destination, he must always have it on him.
She objects; Peter was well prepared for this, and turns towards the exit.
"If you don't come with me and give her pixie dust I won't return. I will be forced to stay in England forever," he retorts to her loud protests, smirking as she falls silent. He feels accomplished he was able to silence Tink like this, but it does not last long. She feels he would never sacrifice the island, and her, for Wendy.
"You see the way I am, Tink, if I do not return to her soon I may never be happy again. I don't know much of feelings Tink, but I know that the ones I do have are terrible. I don't know if I can be a boy any longer," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper as he finishes off his admittance. Tink says no more, and to Peters surprise, willingly will return to England with him.
It takes virtually no time to fly. They're up in the air in an instant, and in an instant more her bedroom window is in his view. It is open. Hook has been wrong. The window was not barred! It may not be too late! An odd feeling stirs around in his stomach, like a storm of butterflies were batting their wings against his insides, trying to break free from their cage. It was warm and frothy, and it made Peter giggle with anticipation at what he might find.
Landing on the windowsill, he hesitates as the reality of where he was sinks in. "Wendy?" he says curiously, his heart warming at the thought of her being asleep, right over there in her bed. He strides across the room. Reaching her bed, he places his hands on the posts and says, "Wendy I have come for you." He waits eagerly for her reply, hoping she was not too startled at his return. Or too upset that he wished to interfere with her plans for growing up.
"Hello Peter," a voice sounds behind him. He turns around and sighs, recognizing the soft wave of her hair that her silhouette shows in the firelight.
"Oh, there you are," he says with relief, stepping towards her. He turns back to the bed; curious as to whom he had seen sleeping there. "Is it John?" he questions, gesturing to the source of his curiosity.
"No, John is not here now," she replies, her voice this time seemingly different. But Peter brushes it off, turning towards the bed again; this time sure he knows who it must be.
"Then it is Michael," he proclaims.
"Michael has gone too," she says to him. Then he is struck with realization, turning back once more to make sure.
"Is it…a new one?" he questions, wondering if perhaps maybe she had a new brother or sister.
"Yes," she replies, and he can hear the smile in her voice. He looks at the sleeping child once more, grinning widely at the new life he has encountered. He has been away from people from so long; any new being he comes across is a wonder. It is a joy. "I cannot come with you Peter. I have forgotten how to fly." Wendy sounds sad now, like she too has realized that they have been apart far too long.
He shrugs coolly, "I'll soon teach you again," he announces excitedly. But Peter has not prepared himself for Wendy to stand from the floor.
She rises, and continues to rise, until she is undeniably a child no more. "It is more than that," she tells him. It sweeps over him like a thick heavy wave, drowning him in sorrow and for a moment he cannot breathe. He can only watch in shock and sadness as she begins to lighten the room, so that he may see her face.
"No, don't turn up the lights," he pleads, voice nearly gone. But it is too late, and the room is lit. She turns, and he is no longer looking at Wendy. He is looking at a woman. A grown woman. His heart sinks, and he feels as though his entire existence had been a joke. He was broken.
"Oh Wendy, you shouldn't have," he nearly whimpers, slowly backing away from his only hope to be happy again.
"I couldn't help it Peter. I'm a married woman now," she tells him, sadness in her voice. Married…husband…Hook had been right…he had been right all along. This man, husband, was in his place.
"No," he protests, unable to believe it. "You're not." But he is on the verge of tears. She steps forward.
"The little girl in the bed is my daughter." Peter looks at the child, reality still refusing to sink it. How could it be? How had he stayed in Neverland so many years?
"No, she is not." He refuses to believe any of it, starting to become angry. He removes his dagger from the sheath and steps toward the child to investigate her appearance. She has long caramel hair that falls in silky waves around the pillow, her soft pale cheeks have a faint pink tint, and her plump pink lips prove, she is indeed, her mother's daughter.
Tears prick at his eyes and he tries to blink them away. He takes a deep, jagged breath, looking up at Wendy. She cannot assure him that things will be okay, and he slowly sinks to the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees and letting the tears flow free.
Peter sobbed and sobbed. He was sure he had been there lying in his bed for hours, and yet the tears still continued to flow. Mustn't he run out of tears sooner or later? He couldn't tell. It was midday before Tink finally sat upon his shaking arm, tapping her feet across his skin and urging him to join her in some sort of activity, anything but be hurt like this all day. It hurt her to so see him in this condition.
"Don't you see, Tink?" he sniffles, "I miss her so terribly! I must return to her," but he pauses, "what if I am too late…?" this brings him a new set of tears, as if it was possible. Tink pulls on his hair, forcing him to wipe his tears and stand, hiccupping and sniffling all the way to the door.
She says they must go.
"Tink…she may be grown up now… I can't stand to know I lost my chance." He wipes away the new tears, afraid to cry any longer. He promises himself he will never cry over Wendy again. It is what cowards do, and he is no coward. Still, Tink urges their leave. She is much easier to convince than in his dream. He was thankful for that, and he was thankful for her.
"What if, Tinkerbell," he stops as they make their way to middle ground, outside the fort. "What if Wendy grew up?" To this, Tinker bell has no answer.
Ooo_ooO
This time, the fly to England was much, much longer. Peter felt those butterflies in his stomach, the same ones he'd felt in his dream, but they were frightening. He was no longer excited at what he might find when he returns to her nursery window, but terrified. Never before in his hundreds of years living, has he been so afraid. But he is still no coward, and this is what pushes him to land on the windowsill.
He takes in the sight of the room, and Tinkerbell zooms about, golden trails of dust following her and lighting up certain areas. There were still three beds, and there was no woman sitting by the fire. The dog slept soundly in the corner, bonnet, snore and all. Peter's heart jumped, and for a moment he thought it might've stopped.
But this is when he noticed there were not just three beds, but several. There were many. He had not remembered Wendy having this many brothers, but as soon as he realized they were boys he remembered his friends. The lost boys; these were the lost boys.
Tink pounces on one of their heads, waking him with a groan. As the boy sits up to swat away the fairy, he knows that this boy is Michael. But Michael is not much of the young boy he was…he is much older. At least two, maybe three years. He could be almost thirteen. Peter's heart sank again as he realized he had missed a few years of their lives, but still…could those years be so different…? Would Wendy be too grown to return to the life they knew?
"Bloody hell…," Michael mumbles, the tone of a man hinting faintly in the back of his throat. It is not as deep as Peter had expected, and this relieves him.
He flies to the foot of Michael's bed and places his hands proudly on his hips. "Tell me, where is Wendy?" he asks, leaning towards the boy in hopes that Wendy was not gone. Had not yet found a husband.
"Peter Pan," he says, shocked. "My god, it's you!" he sits up and rubs his eyes, hair no longer hanging in his face. The striking orange hair had been cut short. He was nearly grown into a young man, nearly. But not quite. There were still many qualities of boy in his features. Peter waits for an answer.
"She was moved from the nursery four years ago, after we returned," he stutters in disbelief. Peter himself was still in awe at where he was, so he tried to play it cool like Wendy and the boys he knew had not grown four years. It was still far better a situation than them growing up completely.
"To where was she moved?" Peter urges, reminding himself to visit the boys after he is reunited with her.
"The room down the hall, at the very end." Michael can barely get all the words out before Peter is flying out the room, rounding the corner and down the hall. He stops short and Tinkerbell almost runs into him.
"Stay here," he instructs firmly, "I won't have your jealousy spoil this moment," he says, opening the door and slipping into the room, closing it before she can follow or protest.
Peter turns towards Wendy's bed and brings himself closer curiously. He hovers above her, taking in her appearance with admiring eyes. She is simply beautiful. Her hair was much longer, and much silkier. It cascaded around her face same as the moment he first saw her so many years ago. Her lips were still as beautiful and plump as when he'd first traced them with this fingertips. He must do it again, just because the urge in his heart was too heavy to resist.
She woke at the touch, and her eyes shot open, startled blue orbs looking the same as before. She gasps, and Peter nearly flies back against the wall but doesn't. It takes every ounce of his strength to stay put. He must've move, for if he does he may never have the strength to move again. He wasn't too late. He could feel it, Wendy would be his.
"Peter," she whispers, astonished. He moves back slightly as she begins to sit up. She fumbles around with the sheets, getting her hands free to turn the lights up in the room, so that he could see her and she could see him.
"I have come for you," he announces proudly, or he intended to, but all that comes out is a choked whisper as he loses his breath and his ability to speak, and without further hesitation she wraps her arms around his neck. They fall into each other's warm embrace, and the tighter he holds her, the harder he feels her shoulders shake.
"Oh Peter," she cries, tangling her fingers in his long golden hair and pulling back to look at him with shining blue eyes. He grins with happiness. This Wendy was not too old for him. In fact, she seemed more perfect than ever.
He doesn't know what it is that causes him to do this, but the force generated in his body pushes him forward, and she tightens her arms around his neck, both of them pressing their lips together for the first, second time.
A warm feeling envelopes them, and he is no longer afraid of those feelings he and Wendy had talked about. In the honest truth, he had lied to her when he told her that the very sound of the word love had offended him. It intrigued him, and though he did not know what it was, he knew it was something powerful. Something just as powerful as this thimble they were sharing, and four years ago that kind of power shook him to his very core. He could not comprehend it. But somehow, after losing her, he had come to welcome it. He craved it.
"Wendy," he whispers as they pulled apart for air. She pressed her lips to his again greedily, not having the separation. He has never felt so happy. This was the greatest joy of his life; Hook had been wrong. Nobody had replaced him, and nobody ever would.
When they finally separated for good, and their lips stopped moving with each other, his lips felt numb. They felt weird, and wet. It was an odd sensation and yet he found himself to like it very much.
"My, Peter, look at you," Wendy says with a laugh, wiping away the last of her tears and hugging him tightly once more.
"Look at you," he answers, gesturing to her body. "You've grown," he adds sadly. She looks down for a moment before looking back up at him.
"Well, so have you."