My boyfriend actually inspired me on this one. He asked me to write something where Peter Pan returned to Neverland. Well actually, he asked for someone else to go to Neverland, but that someone is the true Peter Pan, the only Peter Pan the world ever needs.
Disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan, and I most definatly don't own the true identity of him.
He sighed one long last sigh, and looked around the room once more. It had been a hard life, he reflected, but not all together a bad one. He had gone happy, and he knew his family could live knowing that. Finally, with one last breath, he closed his eyes for the last time, and let himself sink into oblivion. He knew his time had come, and he was grateful in a way, because he knew somehow in himself that dying wasn't a bad thing, there was nothing to be afraid of. And in a way, he felt almost as if he was going home, as if he'd just been waiting for this day his whole life. His last breath left his body and he sunk into death.
He lay silently in the darkness and reflected upon his life. It hadn't been a bad one, he decided. He'd had some good friends, some good people who shared his waking moments with, and vivid dreams when he slept which always left him feeling like there was nothing to worry about, like everything would go right in the end. He never doubted for an instant that his family had loved him, no matter how hard they might have treated him at times, and he always knew that there was something for him, something that was missing. But a part of him knew and believed that one day he would find that something, the something that escaped his mind in his concious moments but was with him so strong when he slept. It was something that left him feeling somehow content, like some presence that never truly left him, but was only in its strongest form while he was sleeping.
And as he lay there, he remembered it all. Everything he had forgotten in his time on earth, everything that he should have rememebered but never did. He had returned, he remembered, with only one mission, to find his Wendy and live happily ever after like everyone in her stories always did. But when he had got to the nursery window, he had found it locked and some strange children living in the room. And when he questioned them, like he knew he had to, he found out the truth. He had been too late, for his Wendy had passed on many years before, was in a better place. The children he met had been her great great grand children, who now lived in the house which had been in the family for generations. He was bitter about his loss, and he wept, even though he knew in his heart that he shouldn't have done so, because he knew where she was even if she didn't know it herself. He knew that she had returned to Neverland, he just didn't understand how he had never found her, and a tiny little bit of him believed that maybe she hadn't come back at all. Maybe she had forgotten him. Or maybe, just maybe, the fates had decided it wasn't their time to be together. Maybe he had to make this pilgramege to the normal world, maybe he had to grow up, before he could finally realise just what she was to him. Because how could a boy who had never experienced the harsh realities of life ever hope to truly love someone, as he knew he loved his Wendy.
Oh there had been other women, other loves, but they had never lasted. He even had three children, and his thoughts flew to them as he lay and contemplated over things. They would grow up, he knew that, and they would live their life knowing about their father and all the great things he did. They might even live in Neverland, or the replica at least, the home he had created in a desperate attempt to recreate the homeland he only knew in his dreams. But they would never really know the truth, they would know the father the world knew, they would know him as their father who had been world famous, who had made such a huge impact on so many. But they would never know the real him, the boy who never grew up. They would never know that the stories he had read them as young children were actually about him rather than some fictional character.
He woke up some hours later to find himself lying on a bed of leaves and ferns, under the shadow of a large oak tree. Sitting up, he looked around and smiled to himself, recognising instantly where he was. Standing beside the tree he could see her, the girl he had always waited for, watching him quietly and smiling softly to herself. And around her, around her were all the faces he never thought he'd see again, his lost boys. They were all there, all the old lost boys, the ones who he thought he would never see again, and they were all smiling at him, laughing and joking and pushing each other around just like old times.
Standing up, he took one hesitant step towards her, and the next thing he knew they had almost flew into each others arms, and were holding each other closely, as if they could never let go again. And in that instant he knew that he would never have to, for Peter Pan, who on earth had been known as Michael Jackson, had returned home to Neverland, the world where little boys need never grow old. He was home, and he neverh ad to leave again.
so... its over... reviews greatly apreciated :D
