Fade Me Away
Summary- Neverland may only exist in the dream of children. When children grow up, such dreams may fade away. The boy who never grows up, may fade away just as well.
Disclaimer- I own nothing involved with any form of Peter Pan, and that close for Jeremy Sumpter who is currently tied up under my bed (just kidding.he's in the basement)
Chapter One
George Darling pace the living room of his beautiful England home. His long robe floated behind him. His narrow eyes darted between the floor and the antique grandfather clock that stood in the hallway.
His wife, Marianne, sat perched on the edge of the velvet armchair, angelically watching him, " George, darling, she's only a few minutes late, it's nothing to get worked up about".
" I do not care!" he furiously stopped in his tracks, his booming, echoing voice traveling to the second story where both his sons were asleep, " she knows what time she is to be home at, and knows to be home at exactly that time".
Marianne rose, her silk nightgown landing on the carpet, " she's a teenager now dear. She's searching her limits, testing the waters. George, the boys will do the same thing when they get to her age, that's what children do".
" Not if I put an end to it now!" he hissed, " Wendy is not a child, she will not behave like one nor will she be treated like one. We decided this years ago". Just then, Wendy Angela Moira Darling stepped through the front door, unaware of the rage her father was in at her expense. She stopped dead in the doorframe, a look of fear drooping across her face. " Young lady, do you have any idea what time it is?!".
Her jaw slightly dropped, hopefully not enough for her father to notice that she was scared of him, " the play went late, we came home as fast as we could Father".
George lunged towards his daughter, " it is bad enough when you arrive late alone, but for the neighbors to see you walking down the street at this hour.with a boy".
A hint of pure dare erupted in the pit of her stomach, rising into her throat. " That's all it is, isn't it?" her voice was rather weak, " only what the neighbors think, only what other people think. Why don't we all just sit properly on the sofa for the rest of our lives! Or will that be considered negative to the neighbors?".
With that, Wendy made a dash for the staircase, racing out of sight. George attempted to go after her, but Marianne held him back. " You two must learn to stop bickering at each other" he still tried to get away, " no, you both need to calm down. She'll still be there in the morning".
Wendy had locked the door to her bedroom. Her bedroom, it was no longer the nursery, it was her own room. She'd often wonder what her brothers did now that she was there, even when Michael would complain during meals that it was boring without her stories. Even at sixteen, she still did care for the things she did when she was younger. Everything, despite what the teenaged years were doing to her.
She sat in front of her mirror, the only illumination streaming from the moonlight and drifting through her curtains. Perhaps she was merely at the age where she was against her parents, and was suppose to be that way. Then again, with someone like her father, that could be an excuse all its own. Tired and bored with her own thoughts, she had decided to save the rest until morning, when the state of affairs were to continue with her father.
In fact, she was just about to slip under the covers, but she was distracted when she thought something had just flown by her bedroom window.
Summary- Neverland may only exist in the dream of children. When children grow up, such dreams may fade away. The boy who never grows up, may fade away just as well.
Disclaimer- I own nothing involved with any form of Peter Pan, and that close for Jeremy Sumpter who is currently tied up under my bed (just kidding.he's in the basement)
Chapter One
George Darling pace the living room of his beautiful England home. His long robe floated behind him. His narrow eyes darted between the floor and the antique grandfather clock that stood in the hallway.
His wife, Marianne, sat perched on the edge of the velvet armchair, angelically watching him, " George, darling, she's only a few minutes late, it's nothing to get worked up about".
" I do not care!" he furiously stopped in his tracks, his booming, echoing voice traveling to the second story where both his sons were asleep, " she knows what time she is to be home at, and knows to be home at exactly that time".
Marianne rose, her silk nightgown landing on the carpet, " she's a teenager now dear. She's searching her limits, testing the waters. George, the boys will do the same thing when they get to her age, that's what children do".
" Not if I put an end to it now!" he hissed, " Wendy is not a child, she will not behave like one nor will she be treated like one. We decided this years ago". Just then, Wendy Angela Moira Darling stepped through the front door, unaware of the rage her father was in at her expense. She stopped dead in the doorframe, a look of fear drooping across her face. " Young lady, do you have any idea what time it is?!".
Her jaw slightly dropped, hopefully not enough for her father to notice that she was scared of him, " the play went late, we came home as fast as we could Father".
George lunged towards his daughter, " it is bad enough when you arrive late alone, but for the neighbors to see you walking down the street at this hour.with a boy".
A hint of pure dare erupted in the pit of her stomach, rising into her throat. " That's all it is, isn't it?" her voice was rather weak, " only what the neighbors think, only what other people think. Why don't we all just sit properly on the sofa for the rest of our lives! Or will that be considered negative to the neighbors?".
With that, Wendy made a dash for the staircase, racing out of sight. George attempted to go after her, but Marianne held him back. " You two must learn to stop bickering at each other" he still tried to get away, " no, you both need to calm down. She'll still be there in the morning".
Wendy had locked the door to her bedroom. Her bedroom, it was no longer the nursery, it was her own room. She'd often wonder what her brothers did now that she was there, even when Michael would complain during meals that it was boring without her stories. Even at sixteen, she still did care for the things she did when she was younger. Everything, despite what the teenaged years were doing to her.
She sat in front of her mirror, the only illumination streaming from the moonlight and drifting through her curtains. Perhaps she was merely at the age where she was against her parents, and was suppose to be that way. Then again, with someone like her father, that could be an excuse all its own. Tired and bored with her own thoughts, she had decided to save the rest until morning, when the state of affairs were to continue with her father.
In fact, she was just about to slip under the covers, but she was distracted when she thought something had just flown by her bedroom window.