Hello. Welcome to "Wendy." So this has probably been done before, but hopefully not in the same way I'm planing to, so yeah. I sorta thought of this after reading that American McGee was hoping to make a game of "Oz" off the "Wizard of Oz" so I thought, what if he decided to make a game off "Peter Pan" and make it all about Wendy and her return to Neverland after Captain Hook takes complete control of her fantasy world. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think and whether you think I should continue. Thankyou, and enjoy! ~SJMcGee

P.S. I do not own anything from the Peter Pan universe, nor am I a representative of American McGee, just a fan.

Chapter I- Solitude

It had happened again.

It is funny though, it did not hurt this time. It happened so fast and then it was over. It was as if I spent days and days thinking about doing it, but as soon as I did it was over so quickly. It did not hurt as much as I thought, it wanted it to- I really did, but it did not help. Just like the last three times I tried it, it did not help one bit.

Sister Anthony says that I should stop. She says that it is wrong to injure yourself the way I do, and that it is not right to be the way I am and that is why father sent me to the institute in the first place.

As soon as I did it, I regretted it and then that bully Beatrice Ward burst into my dormitory room and then after seeing what I had done she ran off to tell Sister Anthony. After an hour with Nurse Winchester who smelt like musk and candle wax I was sent to Sister Anthony where she lectured me for hours about how much of a horrible case I was.

The worst thing about being in Sister Anthony's Institute for Troubled Young Girls was that no-one else was not nearly as troubled as I was. Whereas some of the other girls had issues such as they burped at the dinner table, or forgot to say please and thank you, I was the only one there that had tried something as desperate as the things I had done. I was the only one that had sunk down to the level of self-infliction. Everyone else had improved during their stay here; I however, had gotten worse.

The main reason why I was so very protestant about getting any better was the fact that there was nothing wrong with me to begin with. Father had just seen my ways as being "unheard of" and stated that I was "doing harm to the family with my incompetent rambling and know-it-all attitude." In a way he was correct; but it was not by my own means, it was all because of my dreams and they were getting worse and worse every night- some nights I did not even endeavour to fall asleep as I was too worried about what the outcome might turn out like.

"Wendy, I wish you would not do this... and I would also like it very much if you would look a me when I spoke to you."

I slowly lifted my head and looked over to Sister Anthony. Her face was old and tired and really wrinkly- so much so, that I generally spotted a new crease in her forehead every few days. She had a look in her eyes which gave me the impression that she was almost over my antics and that she, much like my father, had given up on me.

She sighed and lent forwards in her chair, looking over her dark wooden desk which was covered with piles of paper that almost reached the ceiling.

"Miss Darling this is a very serious matter," she continued, clasping her hands together on the desk. "If I do not see an improvement in you within the new few weeks, I may have to send you somewhere else."

"Good," I said, quickly. "I want to go somewhere else, I hate it here. I want to go home. I want to see my brothers."

Sister Anthony made a gruff sort of sound and sat back in her chair again, looking quite glad that I actually responded to her. Most of the time it was a very one sided conversation because I refused to converse with her or anyone else for that matter.

"Yes, but what about your mother?"

"What about her? She's dead. It is not like I can see her can I?" I retorted, glaring at her.

Another thing people always brought up was my mother, Mary. She died four years ago which left my father to raise me and my younger brothers John and Michael on his own. He worked at the nearby bank and he never had much time for us, even when mother was alive so generally I had to look after everything all on my own; from my brothers to the housework and the gardening. I did not really mind it, however it did get quite tiring and as soon as I started to have the dreams it meant that I was getting no sleep at night so it soon became even more tiring and I often fell asleep whilst in school.

Sister Anthony was quiet for a while. She just pursed her thin lips together and tapped her long, gritty fingers nails on the desk as if she was pondering her next inappropriate question.

"Are you still having the dreams?" she asked, finally.

I nodded and pretended to see something really interesting out the window to avert her gaze. All I managed to see was a couple of chubby children playing hopscotch on the street outside and a robin which was pecking at something in the grass. I chose to watch the robin.

"Are they getting much worse?"

"Every night."

"Hmmm."

I still did not look over at Sister Anthony and I probably would not for the rest of our 'little chat'. I never liked to discuss my dreams, after all they were the things that got me here in the first place. When they first started, I told John and Michael about them and they informed me that they already knew due to the fact that I had been talking in my sleep. It happened night after night and soon I did the right thing and requested I move out of the nursery into my own room so my brothers could get sleep. That helped my brothers, but not me. The dreams began to not just be images in my mind, but I could feel them. I could feel the heat as the trees burnt and fell to the ground. I could feel the dagger sink deep into my skin as the man attacked the little boys, each and every one. And I could also feel the pain, the dejection and the betrayal felt by each and every person there.

I did not have to be told it to be able to know that the place I was dreaming about was Neverland, and it was slowly dying. And since Neverland was dying, so was I.

"So tell me Wendy, what of last night's dream? It must have been horrible for you to do that to yourself?"

I could feel my eyes begin to well up, but I refused to cry. I was not sad for it was not a sad thing, I was angry. So angry that this could happen and that there was nothing I could do. Angry that this had ruined my life and cut me away from my family, but also angry because it made me feel vulnerable and stupid.

"Wendy. Please, help me understand," Sister Anthony said, quietly.

I slowly looked over to her and for the first time since I came here six months ago, Sister Anthony looked both genuinely concerned and incredibly interested.

"It was him, it was the first night I had dreamt of him."

"Who's him? Wendy, who is this man? Is he bad?"

"No," I shook my head, "he is good. He was good. Now, I am not so sure."

"What do you mean?"

"He was crying," I continued, looking down at the floor and remembering the image that tipped me over the edge last night. "It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. He was sad because, he was dead."

"But Wendy, if he was dead how could he be crying?" Sister Anthony interjected, puzzled.

"He was dead inside," I informed her, dazedly. "He had lost hope. He had tried all he could, but it still was not enough. And now he was dead."

"Who is this man Wendy? Tell me," Sister Anthony instructed, sternly.

I blinked my eyes a few times, but a few tears escaped my eyes.

"I can't," I stammered, angry at myself for letting her see me like this. "I can't."

"Okay, alright Wendy you do not have to," Sister Anthony assured me, quickly. "I am merely being curious, forgive me."

I nodded but would not look up at her.

"Here is an idea," Sister Anthony said, "how about I arrange for you to go home for the weekend? Spend some time with your father and your brothers? I'm sure that they would be very happy to see you back?"

I wiped my eyes with my hand and looked up as Sister Anthony, a slight smile appearing on my face and even though I tried to pull it back I could not help my grin.

"Really?"

Sister Anthony nodded, smiling.

"I would very much like that," I responded, eagerly.

"Yes? Well that is fantastic! I shall organise it for you," Sister Anthony said, pulling the brass telephone on her desk closer to her. "Get to your dormitory and pack your things. I shall arrange for a car to arrive tomorrow morning to take you back to your house, if your father allows it that is."

All of my excitement suddenly left my body and I sighed.

"He will not," I stated, listlessly. "He will think I will bring shame to our family, he pretends that I do not exist most of the time, he does not even write to me."

Sister Anthony bit her lip slightly before smiling at me once more.

"Well, I shall tell him how much better you are getting and I am sure he will want you back, just for the weekend," Sister Anthony replied, hopeful.

"But that would be lying Sister," I pointed out, refusing to get my hopes up.

"Not necessarily," Sister Anthony argued. "Today was the first of our chats that we were able to have a complete conversation. That is a big improvement Miss Darling."

I half-smiled at her before she dismissed me and I left her office.

I had missed out on most of the days lessons so I decided not to go to my last lesson of the day, after all, the students would just throw things at me whilst I was not looking. I didn't have any friends at Sister Anthony's. Back at my old school I used to have a very large group of friends and they would all listen to my stories during break times, however not so much now. The only person who really spoke to me was Beatrice and that was because she always caught me doing the wrong thing and told me she was going to tell on me.

I made my way along the deserted hallway and then climbed the main staircase, turning left and walking along the hallway of all the different rooms until I reached room 2. I unlocked the door and walked into my room before locking it behind me and slotting the key into my breast pocket.

My room was damp and dark which was mainly due to the fact I rarely opened my curtains. I had a small rickety bed in the centre of my room with a bedside table on either side which supported two lamps which were currently unlit so the room was pitch black. I had a small little chest of draws opposite my bed which had my only picture of my family in it, however in a rage after my mother died I had cracked the glass in front of her face with a stick so it was all frail and I rarely moved it in case more of the glass broke.

I got a box of matches from my bedside table and lit both of the lamps before blowing out the matchstick. I was quite sure that my father would never let me back home so I did not bother with packing.

I sat down on the ground under my window and peered out through the bottom of the curtain. It was such a lovely day outside, but I had not been outside in so long so I began to wonder if I truly knew what a 'lovely day' even was. I often sat under the window to do my homework but since I did not have any tonight I just sat. Dinner was in a couple of hours, but I was not really hungry so I figured I would just sit all night until tomorrow morning.

I was scared of going to sleep.

I always got like this after a night of the dreams being really bad. Some nights I can handle them, and Sister Kenneth who monitors the dormitories at night says that I did not even talk, whereas others- like last night- made me go to a place in my mind where I did not like to venture into.

I closed my eyes and tried to wipe the image of the crying boy out of my mind, but it would not seem to go. I began to wonder if the dreams would ever stop, and before I knew it I was not thinking of anything at all.

"Come little Wendy,

It won't hurt at all.

Just like a bird,

from the sky you would fall.

Sing a little tune,

just to make things better.

Things get rough,

but keep it to the letter.

When you find him,

a battle you face.

Be as brave as you can,

begun has your race..."

It hurt for a second, but then it just stopped.

I sat up as placed my hand on my throat. My throat was in immense pain and as I tried to speak no voice came out.

"Wendy! Wendy! Open the door! Are you alright!"

I stood up and went over to the door, unlocking it with the key from my pocket.

Sister Anthony, Sister Kenneth and four of the other nuns were standing outside my door, all looking petrified.

"Wendy what happened!" Sister Anthony cried, looking as if she had seen a ghost. "I had just dozed off to sleep and all I could hear was your frantic screaming, child. Whatever was the matter?"

From behind the nuns I could see a few other girls in the hallway that had come to see what had happened, including Beatrice Ward.

"She is a nutter sister," she snapped, pushing past everyone else and grasping her pink raggedly bear close to her. "I do not feel safe knowing this lunatic is right across me. She interrupts my sleeping almost every night. If my father knew about this-"

"If your father cared you would not be here Miss Ward," Sister Anthony retorted, sternly before looking back to me. "Come now Wendy, you shall sleep in the Hospital Ward tonight; it is further away from the dormitories. Now, off to bed! All of you! Not ONE word!"

Slowly, the other girls returned to their rooms and the other nuns looked once at me and then over to Sister Anthony before they too returned to their rooms.

"Hurry up, get your things," Sister Anthony said, quickly.

I was very grateful for the way Sister Anthony had defended me and I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated it but I could not find the correct words so just gathered my nightgown, blanket and pillow before leaving my dormitory room and locking the door behind me.

"I spoke to your father earlier on and he said that he would be honoured to have you back for the weekend," Sister Anthony said quickly, looking down at me.

I smiled a thank you, but still was not able to say anything. She had been so lovely to me over the past few weeks, regardless of how horrible I had been to her and I had let her down night after night.

Sister Anthony walked me down to the Hospital Ward and settled me down on the bed furthest away from the door, wishing me goodnight and leaving me to sleep. There was normally no-one else in the Hospital Ward so I generally was taken here when I had an issue at night-time or if I knew I was going to have trouble sleeping.

I changed into my nightgown and crawled into bed, hoping that instead of having another terrifying dream about Neverland, I would perhaps dream about tomorrow and going home to see my brothers. I would finally have someone to talk to, someone to love, someone to be with. I would no longer be lonely, desperate Wendy. I would become happy, creative Wendy once more. I really missed her.