His name was Robert March and she loved him with all her heart; most of her heart. A small portion of it, right near the centre, belonged to a boy. A boy that smelled of the woods and adventure, with a smile that laughed in the face of danger, and rode the winds around his fantastic world, caring for lost boys and fighting devilish pirates in a whole matter of thrilling ways. That little part of her heart was one of the only things she still had from when she was a child, and it belonged to a boy her would never grow up, the one who stole her hidden kiss.

Wendy Darling, (soon to be Wendy March) thought of Peter many times in the years since her trip to Neverland. First her heart ached most of the day, as her mind always strayed to Peter Pan. Slowly, the pain turned into a dull ache, and eventually as she grew, her heart only mourned the lose of Peter at night, when she stared up into the stars, and found that special one that seemed to sparkle and glow extra bright with the very essence of Peter.

Though Wendy felt abandoned by Peter, she was almost sure that he never left her. Many people witnessed Wendy staring idly and something that had no great importance, such as a lamp, a garden path, or a clock that had stopped ticking. As Wendy was known for still telling stories make believe stories at the age of 19 as if she thought they were true (which was practically scandalise), many believed she just making up new stories in her head. The real reason Wendy was staring was she thought she saw a glitter of a fairy in the lamp, a shadow with no owner fly out of the tree, and the clock that stopped ticking reminded her so much up a crocodile and a certain pirate she often looked around in alarm, and would be surprised to see a silver hook glimmering menacingly in front of her.

As Wendy grew she met Robert, and as Wendy fell in love the shadows with no owner bothered her less. Her heart was no longer sent racing by them, filled with hope and expectation closely followed by disappointment. Instead she smiled and started reciting stories softy. Wendy was in love and she was happy, but she still had not given up on Peter Pan, and Neverland was still where part of her belonged.

Robert and Wendy were married in the spring, and Jane March was born almost a year later. She had red lips, soft curls, and eyes that seemed to search for something beyond her reach.

From the moment Jane came home to the old Darling house (which was now known as the March house) in a bundle of blankets, swept in with good wishes and many uncles, she began to here stories from her mother. There were many, many stories told in the nursery as Jane grew up, but her favourite was of Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up.

Robert thought his wife a gem, the way she made up these stories, as if she had always known them. He pointed this fact out to her many brother one day, but they all laughed in a knowing way. Robert thought it may be something they knew from growing up with Wendy, but when ever he mentioned the "Pan stories" he always saw hidden grins, sneaky looks at the walls which had shadows that seemed to disappear, a head turn suddenly as a bright glitter went through the room, or a glance shared buy the band of brothers which transformed them. In that one glance and the one mention of the stories they looked younger and wilder then Robert had ever known them to be.

Jane grew and grew, and as she reached an age where she declared she did not want to grow anymore, Wendy began to worry. She had noticed a hidden kiss form in the right corner of Jane's mouth and had heard her recite the stories of Peter to herself for years, but would he come for Jane? The pain that Wendy felt for so long after Peter left haunted her again every waking moment. It was only one night when Robert brought her home a present, a beautiful new thimble in a blue box that she smiled and laughed. In the next month she noticed Jane ate a little less and was a little more subdued, Wendy only worried a little. It wasn't until one night when she was tucking Jane into bed and she noticed that her kiss was gone, that she felt her heart flutter and saw a shadow jump out the window though nothing in the room had moved. Wendy was never sure if Jane had meet Peter, if the kiss had gone to another young boy, but Jane never spoke differently about Neverland, so Wendy decided she would let Jane keep any little adventure to herself.

Jane eventually grew and did not mind it, and after being married for a time she had a son. He was named Peter after someone Jane was always fond of, and he too grew up hearing tales of Neverland. Being a boy he especially loved hearing stories from his uncles. His mothers and grandmothers stories always had a bit of a sentimental part in them, but the uncles would all gather round him and tell him stories of pure adventure and bravery. It seemed to young Peter that the wilder the uncle looked, the more interesting the story seemed to be. He especially liked uncles Nibs' stories (he always called him uncle Nibs, though he was never quite sure whether it was his first name or a nickname from his childhood) as they were always about the most thrilling battles.

As Jane grew into her role as a mother and young Peter grew more adventurous, Wendy grew older and frail, and once again she had to say goodbye to someone she loved, as she buried her husband Robert. After Robert's death Wendy seemed to grow even frailer, and Jane saw that her wishes were met, afraid that they would be her last. She even allowed her mother to move into the nursery, where the window was always left open. When Jane told this request to her uncles they shared a saddening look, and Jane thought she knew what they were saying, so she returned to the nursery that night to tell her mother tales of Peter Pan, some her mother thought she had "made up" herself, with an eager little Peter sitting on the arm of his grandmother's chair, and a shadow with no owner that made the grownups smile in a way that made the little boy believe he had missed out on a secret little joke.

One blustery morning, Wendy knew the end was near, and thought it might come that day. She requested a walk in Kensington Gardens, and though the weather was perfectly horrid Jane agreed, as she to could sense the end of something.

Jane insisted that her now very frail mother only go out with them riding in a wheelchair with a blanket on her lap.

"I feel like a baby in a pram," replied Wendy, with a sudden glint in her eye. "And you shall have to watch me like you are my nurse."

As the party of Jane her husband and her son, the many uncles and Wendy reached their destination, Wendy pulled her brothers aside.

"Boys, I'll be leaving soon, and I want you to know that I love you all dearly and that our adventures together have been perfectly thrilling. Take care of our little Peter for me when I'm gone." John, Michael, Tootles, Nibbs, Slightly, Curly and the Twins suddenly looked so much younger to Wendy's eyes, like little boys who are about to lose their mother.

Wendy finally settled herself a little way from a gorgeous looking old tree. It reminded her of the hideout, and that's why she loved it so. She reached into her blouse and pulled out an old tarnished chain. It had a acorn hanging from it, with a little whole punctured through it. As she took the acorn out to look at it, she saw a shadow fly away and a gasp that escaped someone's lips, though nobody was near her. She looked up into the sky, but was distracted as she saw a lamp lit, though it was not even dark. As she looked closer, Wendy noticed the lamp glitter, and if she really focused her eyes, she could just make out a little face blowing raspberries at her.

Wendy looked around. Her brothers were all playing with little Peter. He was playing the hero that flew while they played the pirates, as Jane and her husband looked on. No one was looking at her. Slowly she lifted her self out of the wheelchair and used all her energy to walk towards the tree and sit down underneath its branches. As she did so, a boy flew out of the trees at sat beside her. "Oh, the cleverness of me." Wendy said as he settled himself down and a fairy landed on his shoulder.

"My Wendy-lady grew up, but she still has my kiss." Peter replied. Wendy smiled.

"It turns out you were wrong abut girls Peter. There aren't to smart to fall about when the nurses aren't looking."

"I know you didn't fall about Wendy, you are much to smart for that. But you knew I'd come to claim you. Oh, the cleverness of you."

Peter paused, and Wendy took him in. He looked just the same, as adventurous and wild, just as he had looked all those years ago.

"I'm old Peter Pan. I'm going to leave this world soon."

"Come away with me. Come away with me to Neverland. You've worried about grownup things for to long Wendy, and its time you never worry about them again. The new Lost Boys need a mother, and there are more adventures to be had." Excitement flooded his boyish face.

"I suppose that death is a grownup thing, and I would never want to worry about that." Wendy mused, taking Peters hand.

"You remember how to fly?" Peter asked, as he felt Wendy grow colder.

"With all my heart, Peter Pan."

With her last breath she kissed him. She gave him a thimble, a special thimble. In a shower of fairy dust she saw her grownup body left behind, under the tree, saw her brothers, her daughter, little Peter, and knew they were to have a happy life. As it darkened she flew into the stars as her thirteen year old self, second on the right and straight on till morning, she looked down and saw Jane wipe away a tear as the ownerless shadow caught up with them. She was hand in hand with Peter now, he gripped her so tightly and she could tell that he never did forget her. She flew towards the star, towards the greatest adventure of all, towards Neverland, a place of dreams and childhood wonders, to live forever more with the owner of her special thimble, Peter Pan.