Disclaimer: I obviously own nothing.
Summary: Wendy Darling has grown up and grown past Neverland. She's an example of society's woman, awaiting marriage to a man who is, himself, an example. Little did Wendy expect to go back to Neverland because of a little blue Forget-Me-Not.
"I can't believe this!" The girl, now a woman of eighteen years, shook with tears as the boy before her laid out the truth. This girl paced back and forth while the boy watched his feet shuffle, a guilty look upon his face. "How could you keep this from me?" The girl stopped long enough to glance at the boy for more than a fleeting second. "Peter?"
This boy, who was covered in leaves and twigs, whose hair stuck up at odd ends, and whose face the girl had not seen change since she first met him six years previously, looked up from his feet, to her. He worried his lip, seemingly pouting to garner sympathy from the girl. The girl gave him nothing, and in fact, her own lips pursed in impatience. The boy huffed after only a few seconds, unable to hold his constitution for long, and he did not do so often. Peter Pan was far more impatient than any girl, and surely the boy thought this to be quite an achievement.
"Well?" Hands fell upon hips. Uh oh. Her comes mother, Peter thought anxiously. He did not want to deal with the mother. He had become so utterly bored of mother, why, he ought to banish it! Yes, as Peter was thinking of plans on banishing the boorish mother, the girl called his name in harsh exasperation, expecting him to answer.
Peter flinched away from his thoughts, forgetting them in an instant. His petulant answer, thus, "Why does it matter, Wendy! You were happy before I told you, can't you just be happy now?" He flailed his arms around, expecting her to see the ridiculousness of her behavior.
Wendy, as the girl was called, grew tense, but did not reply. Her shoulders drew tighter, drawing closer, closer in, as if to shield her breaking heart. How could she have been so blind? She was known for her sense, even if she was fanciful in spinning tales. Wendy was the type of girl to act properly, and with a great deal of rationality. She was not one to ignore tell-tale signs of something so utterly remiss as what Peter had just told her. And yet, she had. She had turned her head at just the right moments, ignorance reigning willfully in her mind, as if her subconscious was working to protect her from the dangers.
Growing up never seemed more terrible than in that very moment.
Wendy let a soft sigh escape her in long, stalled manner. What had she to say to someone who did not – could not understand? There was nothing to say. "Peter… just go. I don't think I could ever stand to look upon you again. Please…" Wendy's voice broke and she looked away from the boy she had fallen in love with so long ago, tears falling from her eyes.
"Go? Wendy, y-you can't mean that!" His voice was full of panic as Wendy steadily walked to the nursery's door. "Wendy! Don't leave!"
Wendy could hear the tears in his voice. She knew that if she turned around and saw the look of innocence, no matter how put on it was, she would cave in and beg him take back what he'd said. And he would; Peter would laugh and say, that of course, he was only kidding. Why would he be serious? He's Peter Pan! He is anything but serious.
But this matter… was serious. It was unnatural for the likes of Peter, yet, not false.
Wendy felt a hand grasp her own, and jolted hard. "Leave! Just leave Peter!" Wendy cried out desperately, refusing to look at his face. She could not stand to see it. She would not see heartbreak, but petulance and annoyance. She could not stand to see herself be nothing but a bother to her beloved.
The hand let go, flinchingly. The patter of feet, slowly backing away and the hitch in the boy's breath were the only sounds in the room, along with Wendy's heaving breaths and sobs. Wendy knew this was the last time she would see him.
No more, would there be trips to the brilliant realm of Neverland, stories of dashing heroism against crooked pirates, or flights by pixie dust. No more, would she be a child. But her lost childhood had once been a veil; a veil ripped from her eyes only moments previously. How could she have been so, so blind?
"I hate you! You were always boring anyways!" Peter's voice threw a twisting arrow of hatred to her heart and she gasped. She had reached the door, but at his words, she felt against it, catching the handle and clutching it tightly for balance. Her heart ached at such hatred. The windows were thrown open, and a gust of wind was all that was left of the boy she had loved.
She turned quickly, to catch even a glimpse of fading pixie dust, but saw nothing. Wendy's knees felt weak as she rushed to the balcony, grasping the railing and looking to the sky with straining eyes. Minutes pass, and there was still nothing for her eyes. Wendy swallowed the stubborn lump that had formed in her throat, looking down to the flowers placed on the nursery's balcony. White daisies moved ever so gently in the breeze, seeming to exemplify a never-aging boy that had just left her. The flowers had never looked so wrong in all her life, until that very moment.
How could she have been so blind?
A/N: I have posted this onto AO3 as well.
This story is not complete, so updates will be as I finish a chapter, or rather maybe, a part. I intend to have at least 3 parts, with several chapters to each.
I'm doing quite a bit of research into Edwardian Society, and my, is it fascinating! The S bend corsets alone seem absurdly interesting, but unfortunately, will not be making an appearance in this story. No, if a corset were to make an appearance in this story, that would be the Long Line corset. It was a rather newer design around 1908. I don't see Wendy being particularly fond of corsets, so they just might make a little cameo. In later chapters, try to think of the women of London wearing clothing similar to the women that rode the ill-fated Titanic.
Daisies represent innocence, according to AboutFlowers.
