Author: ILove2Write13
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Title: i will try to love you
Rating: High T
Warning: There are some intense scenes of dialog, some hints to past abuse and death, and some implied Stockholm Syndrome
Word Count: 12,000+ words
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
Summary: Wendy knew he was broken, dark, and evil…but she loved him, even if he would never love her back.
A/N: This is a sequel/prequel hybrid to my other long oneshot, memories will taunt you. It will make so much more sense if you go read that one first (and maybe review it?) while this one waits here. Both titles are taken from the Bastille song Haunt (Demo). There is not so much Stella in it, but more Wendy/Peter centric, although they never get together.
Her body had been limp in his arms, her head nestled in the crook of his elbow.
Felix and Kellan just sat there with him in mute horror. Slowly, after waiting for hours and worrying, the rest of the Lost Boys crept up to the edge of the clearing, only to cry out in anger and grief when they saw her.
Their mother, their protector, the Queen of the Lost Boys…dead.
Slowly, Kellan was lured away from her body, the little boy's shoulders shaking with tears. Felix was led away next, his eyes wide and unseeing, like he had just been hit by a club and had no idea which was was the right way to go.
Peter refused to move, refused to let anyone or anything take her body away from him.
Her bright blue eyes were glassy, far away and seeing a land that Peter could only imagine. Her lustrous brown hair, almost to her waist and lightened with gold highlights from the Neverland sun, spilled across his arm and to the dirt ground.
It broke him, suddenly, the realization that she was gone, she was dead, and she was never coming back -
And one tear spilled down his cheek, and then another, and soon he was in full blown out sobs, sobs that he hadn't spilled since he was a child and running away from a home that broke him. He curled closer to her rapidly cooling skin and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, his arms wrapped around her limp form desperately.
She couldn't do this, she couldn't leave him like this, no, not now and not ever.
He stayed like that for hours more, until the sun rose again the next day. He clutched her tight to his chest, knowing that soon, he would never be able to hold her again.
In the early morning of the next day, Peter and the Lost Boys buried Stella on one of her favorite cliffs. They all stood around her final resting place and whispered words of loss and hope that she would be in a better place.
Little Kellan clung to Peter's side, clung to the only father figure he had known while he said goodbye to the only mother he had known. Peter had one hand gripping Felix's shoulder tight enough to bruise, trying desperately to hold himself together.
It was no use. The one thing that had held him together was buried under dirt and rock…the only thing that had kept him from tumbling head-first into darkness was dead.
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The next couple of weeks were surreal.
Every time that Peter went to sleep in his now-too-big hammock, he would wake up with one arm extended. In the bleary moments before he woke up completely, he could almost feel the weight of Stella's head on his shoulder or the smell of her skin or even the glint of her sun-highlighted hair in the dim light.
Sometimes, when his guard was down, he could imagine her right next to him, the energy humming between them in the air even when they weren't touching.
She was haunting him at every turn. He would think she was right there - standing next to Felix, her laughter echoing across the clearing, the soft sound of her breathing in their little home - and then it would hit him harder and harder that she was gone, that those little hallucinations were all that he would have left of her.
And he slowly, slowly started to crack.
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It started when a small door in the corner of his soul opened and spilled darkness and evil into his heart like an overturned cup.
He had dreams - like how he did before he found Neverland - of dark magic, soft curls of blue and purple and black smoke rising to blot out the sun, the sacrifices made to make the magic yielding things that should never be.
He saw a doctor of some sort in another world use science and magic to bring back his brother, although his brother was no longer human, no longer the brother he had loved and played with.
He saw a man bargain with the god of the underworld to try and bring his dead wife to the surface, only to lose her again when he fell into the temptation to look at her before they were safe.
He saw a man feed a girl his blood and then break her neck, only for the girl to come back to life as a vampire, trading her humanity for eternal life.
Peter saw all of these scenes and started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he would be able to work some magic of his own to bring her back.
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The Lost Boys knew something was going on.
Neverland had always changed to reflect Peter's mood and his soul, because he was the one who found it. It was tied to Peter in a way that was impossible to explain.
So when big chunks of it started changing - or even disappearing - they knew something was going wrong.
The jungle suddenly got more dangerous, and poisonous plants sprouted everywhere. The mermaids, who had once played with the boys in the cove, teaching them how to swim, would now lash out with sharp teeth and magic and fury against once friends.
Skull Rock, a place that used to be a jungle gym for the younger boys, a place they would go on full moons to tell scary stories and have bonfires, turned dark. Peter would disappear there for hours every day, conversing with his shadow about his plans. A giant sand filled hourglass filled up, showing how little time Peter had to find the way to bring her back.
He had gone dark side, and since all magic came at a price, he would no longer be immortal.
But he would do it. He would grow up, he would give it all up to be with Stella again.
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It started off small.
He learned the boundaries of his magic - what few boundaries he had - and pushed them. He turned the most innocent thing he could find - a newborn baby bird - and warped it.
He reached down deep into his chest for the blackness that had been creeping closer and closer to his heart. He pulled out all the black, hurting and rotting emotions that had been smothering him.
Grief, hurt, loss, anger, he let them pour out through his hands and to the tiny baby bird sitting there.
It let out a strangled noise before its neck contorted and snapped.
It should have been painful for him. It should have made him gasp and drop the little corpse, guilt and shame making him shake and cry. It should have been the huge stop sign that kept him from ever using his magic like that again. It should have been a stop, Peter, what are you doing? from Stella, but it wasn't.
It was a rush of power, of black and green smoke and tendrils of magic caressing his hands, making him feel powerful and in control, something that he hadn't felt since Stella died.
It was the first time that he felt in control, that he felt powerful since he had Stella, and even then the power was different. With Stella, it was the power of being loved, as cheesy as that sounded. With Stella, it was the power that came from knowing that she loved him, that he was always - he thought - going to have her love.
This power was addictive, powerful, insidious. It crept into his body and his heart and soothed the ache, filling it with darkness and evil but it made the pain hurt less -
And Peter knew that this was the beginning of the end.
He didn't care.
He didn't care if getting her back meant doing bad things.
He didn't fucking care how he got her back
He just wanted her back.
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He opened his eyes slowly, letting the warmth from the sun caress his face. Stella was curled behind him, her face pressed into his bare shoulder and her knees tucked behind his own. He could feel her bare breasts pressing against his back beneath his shoulder blades and her long hair falling against his skin, tickling it.
Peter sighed happily, turning over gently in her arms so her head was now pressed to his chest, her ear resting over his heart.
Stella let out a happy little murmur and tucked herself close to him, not opening her eyes.
Peter allowed his face to soften the way it wanted to as he stared down at her.
This was not the first time they had made love, but it seemed to be just as wonderful as the first time had been. He let his thumb rub circles on her bare shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
They had moved together like two pieces of a whole, slotting and fitting into each other like they were meant to.
He loved being with her like this. He loved being with her, period.
He loved how he was about a foot taller than her. He loved how easy it was to reach out and touch her, how it would always send shivers across his skin. He loved how her hands were so small but fit into his own large hands like a puzzle piece.
He loved how they could just look at each other and know what the other was thinking, and how they could hold conversations without ever saying a word. He loved watching her interact with the Lost Boys. He loved this little family he created with her.
He loved how they complemented each other, with her large heart and his slightly distrustful nature, and how they both would cross all lines for those they loved. He loved how she would be soft and gentle with the little boys but would shoot to kill those who came after them.
He loved how her hair would curl around his hands when he threaded his fingers through it, pulling her close to kiss her mouth. He loved how every curve of her body matched with his, hard and soft and warmth and cold meeting perfectly.
He loved how she would run her fingers through his hair when he had nightmares, calming him down like it was almost second nature. He loved how she would never make him feel ashamed for crying in front of her, how she would just bring his head down to the crook of her neck and hold him.
He loved how she looked under the moonlight and the stars, how she danced through the jungle, her laugh echoing through the trees. He loved how she would run right into the waves, shrieking with joy at the coolness of the water. He loved how effortlessly she fit into his life.
He loved everything about her.
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On the nights that Peter dreamed about Stella, a storm would descend on the island, and no one would be able to do anything but huddle in their rooms and wait it out.
Felix knew that Peter would be crying just as hard as the rain was falling.
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Felix was silent as he watched.
He watched his entire world fall apart as his sister died in his arms. He watched his brothers shatter into millions of pieces as their only positive mother figure was buried.
He watched as his best friend completely gave himself over to the darkness in an effort to get his love back. He watched as Peter Pan warped and twisted himself into something black and evil in pursuit of reviving the dead and gaining more power to do so.
He watched as Peter searched for the boy who would allow him to gain unlimited power - and unlimited time to find Stella.
He watched as Neverland turned dark and twisted and poisonous. He watched as the Lost Boys died - from accidents, fighting, or just plain despair - and watched as Peter seemed to lose more and more of himself as that continued.
He watched as Peter sent a shadow after these believers, how they came to the island with horror in their eyes when they realized what nightmare was happening right before them.
He watched as everything was turned on its head when one of the believers that was brought back was a girl.
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Wendy Darling had always dreamed about adventure, about far away lands and beautiful seas where she could lose herself, where she would never have to grow up and face the life of an adult that just seemed boring and droll.
She dreamed of handsome princes swooping in to save the day, of palaces and ball gowns and fancy parties.
She dreamed of beautiful jewelry decorating her head and throat, of riches and treasure hunts. She dreamed of mythical creatures - tiny fairies, beautiful mermaids, tall giants, fiery phoenixes - and the monster that were always defeated by the good.
So when that shadow came to her room, whispering about a land far away - a land called Neverland - where she could live out all her dreams and never grow old, it was not that hard for her to fall in love with the idea. Even when Baelfire begged her not to go, even when she knew that she would have to leave behind her beloved brothers and mother and father, she grabbed hold of that shadow's hand and let it fly her across the heavens.
And when she landed in Neverland, she instantly knew that she had made the wrong decision.
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The land was lush and beautiful, but beautiful in a way that hid the dangers.
The beautiful flowers all contained a deadly poison that would kill in less than a minute. The beautiful cliff and mountains crumbled beneath your feet or housed animals and monsters that would rip you apart.
The beautiful ocean and the beautiful mermaids would kill you without a second thought, dragging you down deep into the depths to drown you. The beautiful fairies scoffed at sneered at you before leading you through the jungle to a bog that would consume you.
The beautiful leader of the Lost Boys smiled with eyes like a snake, his heart empty and cold and cruel.
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Peter was surprised when he saw the young girl standing on the beach, hand in hand with his shadow, still in her nightdress.
She was pretty, but young, maybe physically five years younger than he was, possibly more. Her eyes were a large, warm whiskey brown that matched her auburn curls. Her eyes were wide as she took in Neverland, her red lips parted in awe.
She was not as beautiful as Stella - no one would ever be as beautiful as Stella - but she was pretty.
Peter stalked forward, curious to know why his shadow had brought this girl back.
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Peter showed her the wonders of Neverland, the wonders behind the danger and toxic beauty.
He showed her the view from the top of Skull Rock, telling her stories about bonfires he and the boys used to hold. He smiled and laughed but his eyes were a million miles away.
He showed her the lagoon that used to be the mermaid's home before they moved farther out to sea, and picked up seashells with her, smiling when a tiny crab scurried across her hand.
He brought her to a cliff face, one that looked all over Neverland. The setting sun made the entire island look like a picture from a story book.
Wendy was in awe, but she also was aware.
She pretended not to notice how his eyes would get far away, like he was thinking of another time. She pretended not to notice how sometimes he would look at her and it was like he was seeing someone else, someone he loved if the emotion on his face was any indication.
Wendy pretended not to see how far away his mind and his heart was.
She wanted to believe in fairytales. She wanted to believe in princes and heroes who fell deeply in love with the main girl. She wanted to believe that this place and this boy was the answer to her prayers, to her dreams and longings.
She wanted to believe in happily ever afters.
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The Lost Boys didn't know what to make of this girl.
She smiled at them, but she was timid, always afraid that she was doing something wrong or insulting someone.
There was one little boy though, whose name was Kellan, who came right up to her and asked her, "Are you our new Momma?"
The entire camp went dead silent.
Wendy looked up in puzzlement, and instantly tensed when she saw everyone else.
Felix sent an internal prayer of thanks to the heavens that Peter wasn't here to hear this.
"If…if you want me to be, than yes."
Wendy tried to quench the curiosity that rose in her when she realized that for her to be the "new" mother, there must have been an "old" mother.
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"Momma!"
Peter turned around, a soft smile on his lips. He and Stella had just come back from a hunting trip, and there was a heavy sack filled with rabbits and quails over his shoulder, thanks to Stella's sharp-shooting and his impeccable snares.
Stella's face lit up as little Kellan came running across the camp, several other of the smaller boys - Stephan, Patrick and Fredrick, each of them younger than eight - to cluster around her legs. She hauled two of them onto her side and made sure the other two were right next to her before she lead them back to the fire.
"Hello, little ones. Did you behave while Peter and I were gone?"
Stella case a look over to Felix, who was sitting with some of the older boys sharpening swords and knives, a duty that was always delegated to them - Stella didn't want the younger ones forced to touch weapons of war unless absolutely necessary.
Felix smiled in response and called, "They did beautifully. They practiced some archery - with the practice arrows, Stella, calm down - and then they cleaned up their dens."
Stella smiled proudly down at the boys who were preening with pride.
"Good job, lads! Now, come on, help gather up some firewood, if we all ask nicely, I think we can have a bonfire tonight."
Squeals of excitement echoed across the camp and the two boys in her arms wiggled so they could swarm Peter, their voices echoing in a clamor above their heads. Peter shot Stella an exasperated look, but he caved to their demands.
There was a loud cheer of triumph before the boys sprinted out of the clearing, going to the forest to find branches and firewood. Felix and some of the older boys trailed behind them with smiles on their faces, excited but careful to keep an eye on their younger brothers.
Peter rolled his eyes but smiled at Stella as she stared fondly after the Lost Boys.
As she stared after their Lost Boys.
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That night at the bonfire to welcome her - something that made Wendy want to whoop with joy - Felix tracked down Peter.
He was perched in a tree high above the boys, his eyes reflecting the firelight as he watched Wendy try and dance with the boys.
"Why did you bring her here?"
Peter didn't look away from Wendy's form. He had a puzzled look on his face, like he was trying to figure her out.
"I didn't, my shadow did. I think he was trying to get her brothers and took her instead."
The two friends sat there in silence before Felix spoke up again.
"Are you going to let her stay?"
"It'll be better if she did, her brothers would come more easily if she were here."
"You're still looking for the heart of the truest believer?"
"I need it's power. I need the time."
"So Wendy is not just Stella's replacement."
Fury cross Peter's face and he glared viciously at Felix.
"No one is Stella's replacement. There is no replacement for her. Wendy is means to an end, Felix."
Felix sighed internally.
He had hoped that maybe Wendy could have…well, not become Peter's second love, because Felix was no idiot, he knew Peter would never be over Stella, but he had hoped that maybe Wendy would have kept Peter from going any farther down the dark road that he was on, maybe even coax him back a couple of steps, back to the light.
As Felix stared at the back of Peter's head, he wished that he could remind him that there were other people who missed Stella. He wished he could remind his best friend that he wasn't alone, even though he must have felt lonely.
But he said nothing as he turned and scurried down the tree.
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Wendy smiled at the little boy, Kellan, who kept to her side that night. His small hand was in hers and he just stood or sat calmly by her side, a comforting presence.
"I'm glad you're here Wendy."
Wendy squeezed Kellan's hand, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. This sweet little boy reminded her of her brothers, John and Michael, when they were still so little that they thought she had hung the moon.
"I'm glad that I'm here too, Kellan."
"Everyone has been so sad since Momma left. I hope that you can make them smile again."
"Kellan."
Both of them looked up and saw a stern faced Felix and a blank-faced Peter. Kellan lit up, happy to see his father figure. He launched himself at Peter, and Peter automatically picked him up even when the blank look didn't leave his eyes.
"Come on, you're missing out on the festivities."
Wendy squashed her curiosity one more time and turned back to the dancing.
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Not all good things last.
Peter knew it. Felix knew it. They had learned that lesson the hard way.
Wendy didn't know it before, too caught up in her ideas of romance and adventure.
But she did now. She knew now.
And that kind of information and experience can make a child grow up very, very quickly.
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She should have seen it coming.
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Ten years passed.
Ten years of being alone in a cage, only seeing the sun through the small gaps of the wood. Ten years of not knowing what happened to her brothers, to her family. Ten years of not knowing what happened to Baelfire, the sweet boy who had risked his life for her family.
It was ten years of being stuck in a child's body when her mind was so much older, so world-weary.
It was ten years of wondering how she could have been so stupid as to believe that Peter Pan would love her and really make Neverland her home.
It was ten years of knowing that she was going to be stuck in this existence for the rest of her life, a life that would never end as long as she was in Neverland.
It was ten years of being alone with her thoughts, her self-doubts, the knowledge that she would never be enough.
She would never be the girl that all the Lost Boys missed.
She would never be the girl that Kellan had called "Momma" first.
She would never be the girl that Peter Pan was in love with.
She would never be a girl who was free.
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"Come on, you run like a snail!"
Peter wrinkled his nose but sped up, chasing after Stella as she sprinted through the jungle to a cliff, a popular place for the boys to cliff dive.
Laughing, Stella stripped off her quiver, bow, and sword, letting them drop to the ground. She loosened her vest and yanked off her boots before continuing off the edge of the cliff, arching her back so she dove down deep into the water with almost no splash.
Peter sat on the edge of the cliff and laughed with her as she came to the surface, her hair wild around her shoulders and her clothes slick against her small frame.
They laughed together because they were in love, because this was just another moment in a long line perfect moments.
They laughed because they were both free, free from the life that had confined them like a cage before they found Neverland, before they found each other.
They were free together.
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Michael sighed wearily as he looked out the window.
The world had changed drastically in the centuries that he had been alive, frozen in a twenty-something-year old's body.
He should have been dead by now, his great-grandchildren roaming the earth happy and ignorant to magic and the price that must be paid for it. He should have married a sweet woman and had many children, nieces and nephews to his brother and sister. He should have been able to forget about everything he had lost, everything he had experienced.
He shouldn't have had to run away from home and break his mother and father's heart when it became clear they weren't aging. His brother, John, had deserved more than this as well. Baelfire, an innocent child who had sacrificed himself to keep together a family that shattered anyway, deserved so much more.
Wendy, his poor sister trapped in Neverland to force their cooperation, deserved so much more.
Michael glared at the skyscrapers and the buildings and cars in Boston and wished a fiery death upon Peter Pan.
Peter Pan had destroyed everything.
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Peter didn't know what he was doing.
All he knew was that he had fallen asleep and dreamed about Stella. Dreamed about her dead weight in his arms and her skin streaked with blood, her eyes open and blank and staring in death.
The worst part of it was that instead of an arrow buried in her chest, it was his dagger.
With his blood-smeared hand wrapped around the handle.
He stumbled through the jungle, not paying much attention to where he was going, just letting his feet take him.
He needed to get away from it, from the dreams, from the blood that painted his hands.
He needed to get away from the room that he had shared with Stella, the room that still bore traces of her - her clothing next to his, her hairbrush and that blue scarf he had taken from her the day they had finally kissed, the second pillow that she had only used to hold like a teddy bear because she always laid her head on his shoulder - and seemed to suffocate him with her presence.
Peter ended up by the trees that held the cages, only one of them occupied at the moment.
Wendy jolted awake when the branch her cage was situated on shook. She froze in fright, wondering if it was some wild animal that would try and eat her.
She peered through the gaps and saw a shaken Peter Pan sitting next to the cage.
She frowned a little.
In the moonlight, his skin looked pale, almost ashen. She could see the deep bruises and shadows under his eyes, his hands shaking the tiniest bit even when he clenched them hard on the branch he was on. He looked so lost and broken and terrified, his eyes reflecting the light and highlighting the pain buried deep behind his irises.
"Peter? What are you doing here?"
He didn't say anything, just turned away to stare up at the moon.
It was a couple of minutes before he answered, "I really don't know."
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It continued for a couple of months like that. Sometimes Peter would end up outside of her cage, and he would sit there for anywhere from an hour to all night to maybe just a couple of minutes.
Wendy was so deprived of human contact that she didn't care that he was her kidnapper, that he had all but ruined her life keeping her in Neverland. She didn't care that he had put her in a cage. She just wanted to talk to him.
She knew he had lost someone. She had put together those pieces from the comments and pieces of conversations that she had heard, and from the fractured, broken look in his eyes sometimes. She knew that evil people sometimes turned evil because they like it, but more often then not they turned that way from a tragedy.
Wendy longed to reach out to him and draw him close and have him whisper his troubles, his grief into her ear. She wished that she could help this boy, heal him from the hurt that was poisoning his heart.
She didn't know if it was because she was sympathizing with her captor, or if it was because she was so lonely. She didn't know if it was her mothering nature, or her desire to be free.
She just knew that she wanted to help Peter Pan, but she just didn't know how.
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One night, Peter asked her a question.
That itself was rare. They would sit in silence together most nights.
But this time he asked her, "Wendy, do you think there is such a thing as redemption? A redemption for people who have done awful things? And don't tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth."
Wendy didn't know what to say to that.
Eventually, she found her voice, and she whispered back, "I don't know. I guess it depends."
"Depends on what?"
He didn't sound angry, or even irritated by her response. He sounded curious.
"Depends on a number of things. Depends on what they've done, how badly they want to change…their motivation matters as well."
"Their motivation for why they have done what they did, or the motivation they have for changing?"
"Both."
"What if they did it for love?"
Wendy turned her head to look closer at him. He was tense, his eyes trained on the moon like it always was when he sat with her.
"They did the things they did for love, or love as their motivation to change?"
"Love was the reason they did those horrible things."
Wendy felt a pang in her chest. She didn't know what she had been hoping to hear. If she had been hoping to hear that love was their motivation to change - because that might mean that he was falling in love with her, that she had succeeded in helping him, that she could possibly be free - she should have been braced for the disappointment that came with his answer. At the same time, she admired that he was still so desperately in love with this nameless girl; it was the kind of devotion that belonged in an epic romance or tragedy.
"Love is pure, good. If it was really love, why did it drive a person to do horrible things?"
Peter sneered as he turned to face her, his eyes pinning her where she sat.
"You don't know anything about love."
"I know you were in love once."
Peter shook his head, his eyes softening a little as they got farther away, but the sneer never leaving his face.
"Real love doesn't end, Wendy, even if one of them is left behind, even if they are separated."
He slipped off the branch and left her for the night.
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Felix was in charge of bringing Wendy food.
He would place the food in a small box that was attached to a rope that lead to Wendy's cage. She would be able to pull it up and eat it, lowering the box when she was done.
They normally never talked. Felix was always so solemn and the scar on his cheek - a scar that came after Stella had died, when he had fought against a new wild animal that was born from Peter's darkness - had made her nervous.
But this time, she called down, her voice trembling a little, "What was the name of the girl that was here before me? The girl Peter Pan loved? The one who gave him that bracelet he tries to hide from me?"
Felix froze where he was standing, almost out of the clearing. He didn't want to answer Wendy. It wasn't his place - even though Stella had been his sister - to tell her about it.
But he found himself answering back in a flat voice, "Her name was Stella. And he still is in love with her."
He then walked out of the clearing, ignoring her other questions.
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Wendy didn't understand how Peter could still be so in love with this Stella.
Maybe it was because she had never known someone close to her that died. When she was taken from her home, her mother and father and brothers and Baelfire had been alive. She knew that they were probably dead now, but she still held out hope that even though a lot of time had passed in Neverland, not a lot had passed in England.
She knew that she would still love her brothers even if they died, and that she would still love her parents when they died.
But the way that Peter missed this girl, the way he was trying to do everything evil to gain power to get her back...it didn't make sense to her.
Maybe it was because she had grown up believing in Heaven. She knew that people would go to a better place.
Didn't Peter believe - or hope - that Stella was in a better place? Why would he want to rip her from that place just to have her back?
Maybe it was because the only love that she had heard about, the only kind of love that she had seen, was the kind of love that was pure and easy and innocent, and iff there was one thing she had learned lately, was that love is not always like that. Sometimes it's hard and bloody and rough and sometimes you need to lose a lot of other thing to keep your love.
Maybe it was because in her mind, Peter was falling to the dark, and people of the dark never loved like people of the light did.
Maybe it was just because some part of her was still that silly, little naive girl who believed that she could make the leader of the Lost Boys fall in love with her. The silly, little naive girl who still believed in happily ever afters and taming the bad boy and turning him good again.
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One night when Peter sat outside her cage, Wendy found herself asking the one question she had promised herself she wouldn't ask unless he brought the topic up first.
"Who was Stella?"
Peter stiffened so quickly that some of his joints popped under the sudden pressure. He didn't ask her how she knew about Stella, how she found out. He didn't ask her why she was questioning him about Stella, he didn't ask her why she wanted to know.
His eyes, wild and filled with long-festering grief, turned to pierce through the bars on her cage straight to her face
Wendy refused to back down. She kept her eyes trained on his even when her body demanded that she get as far away from him as possible.
Peter's eyes searched hers desperately, trying to find something in her. Trying to find Stella in her.
He answered her in a voice that, for the first time, sounded as broken as his eyes looked.
"She was the first and only Lost Girl," and Wendy would be lying if that didn't hurt, "and I loved her. I still do. I'm going to get her back."
Wendy cocked her head to the side before shifting forward so that she could be closer.
"Even if it means going dark? Becoming evil? Would she still love you if you were like this?"
Peter sneered at her, but there was something in his eyes that made Wendy think that that was a question he asked himself all the time.
"Love doesn't have qualifiers, Wendy. Wouldn't expect you to know that, being young and naive."
Wendy felt her backbone stiffen, and she hissed out in a voice that didn't sound her own, "Who is to blame for that then? Because it is certainly not my fault."
Shock and - dare she hope? - shame fluttered across his face before his mask slammed shut and he jumped off the branch and disappeared into the jungle.
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Peter had been so rattled by the conversation that he didn't see where he was stepping until a cloud of pollen hit him in the face.
He cursed internally. The mushrooms gave off a powerful hallucinogen drug, and that was the last thing he needed right then.
He stumbled away from them and tried to find his way back to the camp, but the drug was already affecting him, turning his limbs heavy and his mind foggy.
Trees twisted and warped around him, the stars spun and fell from the sky, brilliantly pink bugs descended on him. He stumbled, grabbing onto a tree before leaning against it, sighing heavily. This was going to be a great night full of horrible nightmares amplified by the mushrooms, he could see it now.
Peter.
He froze, his hands clenched around a sapling. His knees gave out and he collapsed to the ground, his head bowed between his arms, hands still gripping the bark of the tree.
Peter, please.
"No," he rasped desperately, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated.
Peter, why?
"You're not real, this is not real, you're gone…"
And you crossed a line to try and bring me back.
"I couldn't let you go, Stella…please…"
He didn't even know what he was begging for.
Suddenly, she was right there, her eyes trained to his and her hands resting lightly on his cheeks. He could feel her, he could smell her, she was right there -
Peter, please, don't do this to yourself.
"I can't live without you," he whispered back, his vision blurring due to his tears.
Stella smiled sadly at him as she ran her fingers though his hair in such a familiar gesture that it made his heart clench.
You can…you can be happy without me, Peter, you can move on.
He scoffed, but it sounded more like a choked sob.
"If you think I can move on from your, then I clearly didn't tell you I loved you often enough. If you think that I can be happy without you, then I obviously never made it clear just how much I needed you. How much I do need you."
I don't want you to do this to yourself…you know all magic comes with a price.
"You are worth any price I have to pay."
And if you lose yourself? What if the price is your soul? Your humanity?
"It's my price to pay, and I will gladly pay if it I get to have you again."
Stella leaned forward and kissed his forehead gently. His eyes squeezed shut and he gripped her arms tightly. He could feel the softness of her skin, could feel her hands on his cheeks and her warm lips on his skin.
Please, Peter, don't do this. Live for me.
"But I can't live without you."
Suddenly, she started fading. He gripped her tighter, panic and fear rising in his chest.
No, no, no, no, no, not again, she couldn't leave again -
And he knew it was a hallucination, he knew she was dead and this was just an effect of the mushroom drugs, he knew it but she was there and he could feel her and he couldn't -
"No, please, Stella!"
I love you, Peter. Always.
"Then don't leave! STELLA!"
But she disappeared from his grip like water through his fingers, and he was left alone on his knees in the darkness of the jungle, the spot where his heart used to be hollow and black.
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Wendy jerked when Peter Pan's roar of pain and anguish flowed through the jungle, startling birds into animals into running and birds from their perches.
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That night was the worst dream of all.
Peter didn't know if it was a psychological affect from the hallucination he had suffered, but this dream was the worst of all.
It was the worst of all because he saw their life together, the life they would have had together if neither of them had been born in the Enchanted Forest, if they had both been born in a world without magic.
He saw their lives play out in flashes in front of his eyes, every scene just another stab to his already broken heart.
At this rate, what would he have left in his chest?
Stella and Peter would have been neighbors, growing up together. Their parents would make bets on when they would get together, laughing it up, not realizing how true it really was.
Peter would lead the small girl by the hand on adventures, both of them dreaming of a faraway land - ironically enough, the land that Earth-Peter always dreamed of was Neverland - and the adventures they would have. When Felix was born, he joined their party as well, toddling adoringly after his sister and the boy he saw as his brother.
Later on in life, Stella was with him throughout all those awful nights when his parents divorced. She was the one to sneak in his window and curl up under the bed with him, putting his head on her chest as she pressed her hands to his ears, trying to block out the hurtful words and screaming downstairs.
Peter became bitter and jaded to the world after his parents split, and even more so when his father died in a car crash. He ignored his alcoholic mother and spent his days over at Stella's house, where she mothered him and Felix in equal measure.
When they went to high school, Peter fell in with a whole bunch of "loser" boys, boys who had been thrown to the side and declared trash by people who had never known true suffering. He took them under his wing, teaching them the things their own parents should have taught them. He protected them and loved them and was their brother and leader and father in every way that mattered. As a joke, a little nod to the games he used to play with Stella and Felix when they were children, he called his little gang the Lost Boys.
Stella's heart was as big as the sky, and she helped these boys too. She ignored the jealous looks she got from other petty girls who didn't see anything other than a lucky girl hanging around an adoring group of boys.
High school passed quickly, and Stella went off to college, tears falling down her cheeks when she had to say goodbye to Peter, who was staying in their hometown, and to the Lost Boys and her brother. She was scared; she had never been anywhere without them before, and not having their support everyday was daunting.
Communicating through emails and phone calls and all-too-short visits, Peter and Stella kept their strong friendship together. Peter had moved out of his house, all but disowning his mother, moving into another home that he shared with several of the Lost Boys who were thrilled that they were out of their own abusive homes.
When Stella came back four years later, older, wiser, a degree in hand and a scar on her chest from an attempted mugging that made Peter furious to think about - their play fighting throughout the years helped her fight them off, landing one of the attackers in the hospital because she knew just how to throw a punch at the perfect angle to inflict a lot of pain and broken bones, something that made him immensely proud of her- and oh so happy to be with him, to be back with her family.
When she had come back finally, he had thrown his arms around her, smiling and laughing before they were pulled down into a giant puppy pile by the boys and her brother who were so happy to see her home for good.
Watching her laugh, seeing her smile, he realized just why she had turned his entire world on its head.
Peter was no fool; he knew that he had been in love with this girl since before he could talk. Every single one of his happiest memories were tied up with her - the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the way she cared for him - and he knew it was only a matter of time before his dirty little secret spewed out for her to see.
He was terrified that she would run, that almost twenty three years of friendship wouldn't be enough to make her stay when she found out how desperately he wanted to kiss her, to love her, to worship her body and make her arch beneath him in pleasure.
It all came to a head one night when the two of them were the only ones up, hidden in a treehouse they had built together behind her house so many years ago. Stella was laughing, waving her hands in the air as she explained some crazy situation she had gotten herself into, and his self control just snapped.
He had her on her back pinned beneath him, his mouth attacking hers, before he could regain control of his emotions and impulses.
And for one heart stopping moment, she froze underneath him. He was about to pull away, terrified that he had hurt her or scared her, but then -
Then she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back just as hard as he had kissed her to begin with, hooking one leg around his waist before flipping them over so that she was on top.
And as Peter stared up at her bright blue eyes, whiskey colored hair and swollen lips, he smiled dumbly as he realized this is the girl that I am going to marry.
Marry they did. Years in the future, Peter asked Stella to marry him and she said yes. They eloped, not wanting a huge wedding, just themselves and then a small party with friends and family. They moved into an apartment building, all the Lost Boys buying apartments around them until they had commandeered almost the entire building. That way, they still were close to their own little make-shift family but still had the privacy to make their own in the future.
After about three years of marriage, they adopted Kellan, a poor little orphan who had seen his father kill his mother and sister. The little boy had clung to them the moment they had walked into the orphanage, and there was never a question if they were going to adopt him or not. It was just a question on how soon they could get the papers legalized.
Two years later had Stella dropping the bombshell on Peter that she was pregnant. Peter had stared at her in shock for a couple of moments before letting out a loud crow and grabbing her, swinging her around the living room, his shouting enough to wake up the whole damn floor. The Lost Boys and Felix came running in, thinking that they were being robbed or something. When they found out that they were just going to be uncles, they joined in the celebration with glee, ushering the two older adults into the backyard of the apartment building for a bonfire.
Their precious baby girl, Luna, was born early in the morning in their own apartment, too impatient to wait for a trip the hospital. It had been one of the most poignant moments of Peter's life to catch his daughter as she was born, and a completely life-shattering one after that when he looked into her eyes - the same brilliant blue as her mother's - and realizing that he would do anything he could to catch her when she fell.
Together, on Earth, Peter and Stella lived out the life that they should have had. They watched their brothers, their Lost Boys, go off into the world happier and healthier, start their own families and forget the trauma of their past. Stella got to see Peter grow old with her - even when he fussed over every gray hair - and they got to see their son and daughter grow up and get married and start families of their own.
They got to die together, peacefully in their sleep at a ripe old age.
And Peter Pan in Neverland thousands of worlds and possibilities away, mourned the loss of the long, full life that he and Stella could have had.
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Peter waited almost six months before he found himself outside Wendy's cage.
Wendy had almost given up hope of seeing him again. She thought that when she had asked about Stella, she had crossed an invisible - well, not really invisible, just unspoken - line that would cause him to never want to talk to her again.
They sat in silence for a couple of moments before she said, "I'm sorry."
Peter was still staring at the moon.
Wendy tried again, "I'm sorry for bringing her up."
She was in a fucking cage and she was apologizing. Maybe she had finally lost it.
Peter turned his head but didn't look at her. He stared out at the jungle.
"Her name was Stella, as you know. I found her when I was searching for Lost Boys. I brought her and her brother here, and she just…she just fit."
Wendy was enthralled; the way he talked about her, the way his entire being seemed to be lost in the memory of her…that was the kind of love epic legends were made out of.
"God, I love her…she was killed in a raid. Some men from the Enchanted Forest got here somehow trying to find someone else and they stormed our compound. We got the majority of the boys away, but Stella…she stepped in front of an arrow to save her brother. There was nothing that I could do to save her, nothing anyone could do to save her. Her brother watched her die, Kellan watched his only mother figure bleed out…I held her as she died. I had to look into her eyes and see the light and the life fade out of her."
Wendy longed to reach out and hug him, but she couldn't.
"Tell me about Stella. Tell me what you loved about her."
Peter smiled sadly, but he did turn to look at her for the first time that night.
"Everything, Wendy. I loved everything about her."
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As more days passed by, Wendy learned more details about Stella.
She heard about what a great mother to the Lost Boys she was, how much they missed her. It explained why they were so excited to see another girl, hoping that this was the start of a new chapter in their life, even though no one could ever really replace Stella, not with how much they loved her, not with how big of a pair of shoes she had left to fill.
She heard about how brave Stella was, how adventurous and spontaneous. How she would run right into fights and emerge the victor, sometimes bruised and bloodied but never felled.
She heard about Stella every night.
And every night it hurt more and more.
Wendy didn't know why, but she wanted to be like this girl that she never met. She wanted to have the opportunity to mean so much to a group of people, she wanted the love that never died, she wanted the adventure and the bravery that this girl carried around.
She wanted the life that Stella had. She wanted to be loved and cherished and have a spot in the lives of many.
Wendy wanted someone to talk about her the way that Peter talked about Stella. She wanted the look in his eyes, half-awe and half-fear, like the emotions that they were feeling were so all-consuming there was a point that it almost took over their bodies. She wanted someone who would miss her so much that they would cross all lines between right and wrong to get her back. She wanted the kind of love that she had only read about in books, the kind of love that she never got - and would probably never get - the chance to experience
And as she heard more and more about Stella, the more hate grew in her chest.
Wendy deserved to be more than leverage in a cage, she deserved a boy who would love her, who would do anything for her, she deserved a family that loved her. She deserved to be free, to have her own happily ever after wherever she wanted it. She deserved to be happy.
And it was all ripped away, all taken from her by a boy in his quest for his own happily ever after.
It was all Stella's fault.
Wendy had never even met the girl, but she hated her.
Wendy Darling hated Stella.
But she knew she would have given anything to be that girl as well.
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Peter stared at Wendy, wondering that if she thought of him as a monster, would Stella as well if she came back and found out all he had done in its entirety?
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"You remind me of her sometimes."
"What?"
"You remind me of Stella sometimes."
Wendy tried to ignore the heat of content emotions that pooled in her chest when she heard that.
"How so?"
"Your love for your brothers. Your willingness to see the good in people who don't deserve it. Your spirit."
And although the compliment made her feel so much better, Wendy also knew that it didn't mean anything deeper for him.
He didn't love her. She knew he never would.
She wanted to believe though, that he liked her. That he found some comfort in her presence or he never would have come to the tree to talk to her - even though she knew that there was another tree where he spent some of his time, a tree that meant much more to him than this because he kissed Stella for the first time in that tree - but maybe it could have come to something more, if Stella's shadow wasn't still there.
Wendy knew that he didn't love her. She knew he never would.
But he could have.
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Wendy.
Wendy jerked up from sleep, casting her eyes around her dark cage.
Wendy Darling.
Her eyes went to just outside the cage to where Peter normally sat, where mist was gathering. When it dissipated, someone was there. The moon illuminated the figure of a young girl, one who was maybe five or eight years older than her, around the same age as Peter.
The girl had long, curly brown hair with blond highlights shot through from sun exposure. Her eyes were a luminescent blue, almost like little chips of the sky. Her face was beautiful - tanned skin, bow lips, straight button nose - and she was dressed in pants and a puffy white shirt that looked suspiciously like something a man would wear. The collar slipped down a little and she saw a large, ugly red scar to the right of her breast, like something had stabbed her while aiming for the heart. On her neck was another small scar, this one in the shape of a star. Some freckles and marks peppered her bare shoulders.
She was beautiful, and Wendy knew who she was instantly.
Stella.
Wendy stared in shock at the spirit - or memory, or hallucination, or whatever - and felt fury and hate rise up in her chest.
"You."
I know you hate me, Wendy Darling, but you need to help me.
"Why would I help you!? You're the reason I'm here, why my family was torn apart! If it weren't for you, then Peter would never have become evil! He never would have done all these horrible things!"
I know. I don't regret my death, Wendy. It saved my brother. You know that, right? You should know what an older sister would do for her brother.
That was a low blow. Wendy would have done anything to keep her brother safe from harm, and this girl knew it.
"Go away."
I can't. I need you to give a message to Peter, please, to try and stop this madness. I love him and would love nothing more than to come back to him, but all magic comes with a price and the one he would pay is too much. You need to tell him that.
"I need to tell him that the magic comes with a price? Shouldn't he know that already?"
Stella smiled wryly, and replied, Yes, he should, but tell him that he can't pay this price. You need to tell him I love him, okay? Tell him I'm here, I'm safe and I'm watching over them, protecting them. I'm being a fierce Tiger Lily like he taught me, tell him that. Tell him I love him so much.
Wendy glared at the girl, but Stella's eyes were slowly filling up with tears that streamed slowly down her cheeks.
You may hate me Wendy, but you don't hate Peter. Not as much as you would like to. So don't think that you're doing this for me. Do this for him.
Stella stood up silently, displaying bare feet that were caked with mud like she had just been running through the jungle. Silently, she slipped a slim hand into the cage to cup Wendy's cheek. Wendy leaned into the touch even though she didn't want to; it had been so long since someone had touched her.
You might not understand it now Wendy, but you will. Someday, when you're free, you will.
Stella disappeared into a thousand small molecules of light and dispersed, leaving behind a smell of ocean waves, cotton, and magic in the air.
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Peter knew something had changed when he came back. Wendy was curled up in a small ball, her eyes wide with wonder and apprehension.
"What happened?"
"I saw…I saw Stella. It was her spirit or something that came to me last night..."
Peter almost fell off the tree branch. He scrambled over to her cage and grabbed her arms through it, bringing her close to his face as he shook her gently. He didn't ask her to validate her claim; one look at her and he knew that she had just seen something that she couldn't explain, something that seemed too magical to be real. He didn't even allow himself to consider why Wendy had seen Stella and he hadn't.
"What did she say? What did she come to see you? Is she okay?"
Wendy's heart broke a little at the look of longing and fear and love in Peter's eyes.
You may hate me Wendy, but you don't hate Peter. Not as much as you would like to. So do this for him, not for me.
She wouldn't do it for Stella.
She would do it for Peter.
Because no matter how much she tried to deny it, she was in love with Peter Pan.
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She told me to tell you that you need to stop looking for her, that the price to bring her back is too much for you to pay.
The words rang hollowly through his head, and Peter felt the black, aching pain rise up in his chest again.
"No."
"Peter, that's what she said - "
"You're lying. That wasn't her. She wouldn't have you tell me that."
"I'm not lying!"
"PROVE IT! Tell me something you wouldn't know, tell me something that would make me trust you!"
Wendy blinked back tears and shut her eyes tight. Her voice was weak and raspy like she had spent too much time screaming.
"She had a scar on her chest, a bright red one, and a smaller scar on her neck in the shape of a star…there were freckles all over her shoulders…she…she called herself a Tiger Lily…she said that she was being a fierce Tiger Lily like you taught her - "
The hands that were wrapped around her arms loosened in shock, and Wendy opened her eyes to see the completely shattered look on Peter's face.
"Tiger Lily…that's what I used to call her when I was teaching her to fight, to protect herself and others…fierce and beautiful…"
That horrible scar on her chest, probably left over from the arrow that killed her…the scar on her neck from when she accidenly burned herself with a star shaped metal charm that had been in the sun for too long, the freckles on her shoulders that he used to kiss and nip at, making her arch into his touch -
Wendy freed one hand and cupped his face, summoning the courage to say the words that were almost suffocating her.
"I love you, Peter Pan, and if you let her go like she wants you to, I think you could love me too."
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"No."
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The rejection hurt. Wendy felt it hit her in the chest with as much force as a blow as Peter drew back, putting distance between them, his eyes a molten mix of painful emotions.
"I don't care that you love me, I don't care! I don't love you, I love Stella, I will always love her, I never will stop! I'm going to get her back, I don't care about the price! I can't love you because I can't love anyone but her! I've never loved you and I won't! I can't! You're not her!"
And then he spun and jumped from the branch, leaving behind a shattered girl, angry words, and the foul smell of evil magic.
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He never came back.
She never saw him again.
Not until centuries later, when he had her pretend to be dying to manipulate a little boy named Henry to do what he wanted.
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I'm sorry.
The soft voice of the first Lost Girl washed over her dreams, bringing with it a soothing smell of ocean water and cotton and love and magic.
Wendy whimpered and curled up tighter, wishing for once she could be strong and brave.
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Peter didn't know what to think about Wendy's confession.
He wasn't an idiot, he had suspected that her feelings towards him had changed from complete loathing into something more, but he didn't know that she was - or thought she was - in love with him.
She was only physically eleven years old to his physical eighteen. She had been kept in a cage - something that he had grown to dislike but he knew it was necessary - and had seen him at his worst.
And she was still in love with him.
For a couple of moments, he allowed himself to entertain the idea of what would happen if he allowed himself to love her back, if he allowed himself to let go of Stella.
The idea hurt more than he thought. Letting go of Stella was like letting go a huge piece of himself. He rubbed hard at the bracelet tied tight around his wrist, a habit he had picked up the longer he had talked to Wendy, the more he remembered and talked about Stella and the memories that they shared.
He could try to love Wendy, but he knew that it would be a weak mockery of love. It would be like trying to compare seeing illustrations of Neverland than seeing the actual thing in technicolor, the glittering magic heavy in the air. It wouldn't be enough to keep him from the darkness.
No one was enough to keep him away from the dark, expect Stella.
And if he was being honest with himself, the moment that he stopped trying to get Stella back, the moment that he allowed himself to think he could live for something else, would be the moment the blackness took him over and he was gone for good.
Because Stella was his light; she always had been.
There would be no way for him to continue if he didn't have her, or if he wasn't continuing trying to get her back.
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When his plan fell through, when his game with Emma and their families and Killian Jones and Rumplestilskin and Henry was done, he hoped that they would kill him.
No such luck.
They took his bracelet - his last trace of Stella - and locked him away.
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It's ironic, he thought to himself, that I'm the one in the cage now.
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Wendy was freed. For the first time in almost five centuries, she was free.
But some part of herself would always be in that cage. That innocent, naive, trusting girl who thought that she could love the bad boy back to health was left behind.
What emerged was a bundle of nightmares, shattered dreams and wishful thinking.
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Wendy went to visit Peter this time.
He was sitting in the corner of his cage, his hand gently tracing the bracelet he had just gotten back. She knew that he had gotten it from Stella, but she didn't know at the time that it was pretty much a symbol of marriage.
Looking at it hurt, so she turned her eyes to lock with his own.
She wished that she was a crueler person, that she could lash into him with all the centuries of hurt and pain that were locked up in her chest, the emotions that that no session, no matter how long, with Dr. Hopper would erase. She wanted to make him hurt the way that he made her hurt, she wanted to make him fall in love with her only to throw cruel words in his face and walk away.
But as much as Wendy had changed, she hadn't changed that much.
"Hello, Wendy."
"Hello, Peter."
She sat down gingerly on the ground, crossing her legs underneath her. She hated enclosed areas now, thanks to those centuries in a cage, but she could handle being in this prison for a while to talk to him.
She wanted closure. She wanted to move on with her life. She wanted to go back to England, finish school and move on. She wanted to forget.
She wanted to let go.
"Why are you here, Wendy?"
"I…I don't know."
Peter tilted his head to the side and just studied her.
He knew her well enough to know what she really wanted.
"I'm not sorry for what I did to Wendy, and I am sorry that I will never be sorry. But…but when you find someone worth your love, when you find someone that you would burn down worlds for, someone whom you would cross every moral line for…you'll understand why I did what I did. You might not forgive me, but you'll understand, and that's all I can give you."
Wendy felt something breaking in her chest, but it wasn't bad. Because he said all the words that were needed to break up the hurt and the emotions and the loss in her chest.
She could leave those shattered shards here in the prison and walk away free now.
"Thank you, Peter."
"I hope you get what you deserve Wendy. You're doing something that I could never do, something that I never wanted to do…you're letting go and moving on."
Wendy Darling was no longer an innocent little girl, but she wasn't like Peter, who could no longer let go of the one that he loved. She was no longer the girl who wanted adventure, but she wasn't going to hide away from it now.
Maybe she had turned a little in Stella, maybe she had gotten the courage and the bravery and the strength that she so desired.
Because Wendy Darling - finally starting to age and dressed in strange clothes and ready to leave with her brothers away from magic and all its damage - left behind all her anger, her grief, her fear, and walked through the doors into the sunshine.
She was taking her life back now.
A breeze came in from the harbor, bringing with it the smell of salt water and the tiniest touch of cotton and magic, a familiar smell that made her smile broader.
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Wendy, Michael and John left America not three hours later. They said goodbye, said their thanks, and left.
England was different, a heck of a lot different, but Wendy didn't care.
She was home.
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She went to school, graduated with honors, and took every day growing up as a new adventure. She let John and Michael take on the role of raising her, a role that took a little adjusting to get used to. She let herself go where she needed to be, let fate guide her to where she needed to be.
Maybe she had been searching for the wrong kind of adventure the whole time.
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Wendy didn't find out about Peter's death until almost five years had passed.
He had died from a gunshot that had been meant for Felix when they fought against those who wanted to eradicate magic. He had died in his best friend's arms, begging for the release that would give him to Stella, that would finally clean his hands and his heart of all the horrors and evils he had done.
Wendy went out to the seashore three days later, a tiny flower in her hand. It was a pure white flower with a small piece of ocean cotton on the end. She let the water lap over her feet as she dropped the flower into the water.
It drifted over the waves and into the sun, bobbing gently and peacefully before it became waterlogged and sunk down to the blue depths.
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"I hope that you're together, and happy."
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When Wendy was twenty five years old, she walked down the aisle with her brothers on either side, dressed in a pure white dress.
When she was twenty seven years old, she got a letter from a-now-older Kellan - who had been brought back to the world without magic on the Jolly Rodger with all the other Lost Boys, who now had a family of his own and a life that he had always wanted - with one sentence on the middle of the page. It read, I wish you the best.
When she was twenty nine years old, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.
She named her Luna.
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Every day, on the anniversary of the day that Wendy went to Neverland, she had dreams of the mythical island, only it was different.
The beauty didn't hide horror, and it wasn't scary. It was beautiful, the kind of paradise that she knew would draw Lost Boys in when a new leader emerged. A kind of paradise that was safe, that had the potential to be a home.
When she walked through the island that she still sometimes longed for, she smelt that beautiful fragrance of ocean waves, fresh cotton and magic.
Laughter, masculine and feminine, echoed through the trees, and even though she could never see the figures, she knew they were happy and together.
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"You were right, Peter. I might not have been able to forgive you, but I understand now. I understand."
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"You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than the other girls."
-J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan