A/N: This is my first fic of Peter Pan. I have read the book and absolutely
loved it, I was so thrilled when I recognized lines from it when I first
saw the 2003 movie, which was AWESOME! I can't believe how good those young
actors were! And I love James Newton Howard's Music, I just wish they had
on the soundtrack the music from when Wendy "thimbled" Peter on the Jolly
Roger. :) That scene was so sweet!! I did not like the way the movie ended
though. Even if they did keep the original book ending, it still would have
been too bitter because they gave the characters such chemistry! I mean, in
the book Wendy is obviously attracted to Peter, but he's not as receptive
in the book as in the movie, which I liked, and they do kiss in the book,
but it's in the beginning and Peter doesn't really have much of reaction to
it. The only thing that I thought was a little pushing it was Hook flying.
So, this is my fic on the way I would have like the story to continue,
don't we all? :) I know this has been done many times, but I just couldn't
resist taking my own swing at it.
The Return of Pan
". . . Peter Pan flew into the air and gave a triumphant crow! And that's how he defeated the King of the Mermaids!"
Wendy's two brothers and the Lost Boys erupted into cheers. She laughed with delight as she sat at the foot of her old bed, watching the boys pick up their swords and play out the story she had just finished.
Mrs. Darling then entered the nursery, followed by Aunt Millicent, who had come to take Slightly home.
"Good heavens!" cried Aunt Millicent when she beheld the chaotic room. Mrs. Darling gave a small chuckle then said, "now, now children, it is time for bed."
"Really, Wendy! This is not behavior befitting a young lady of sixteen years!"
Wendy rose quickly to her feet. "I'm sorry, Aunt."
Suddenly, her Aunt gave her a strange look. "Come here, child." Wendy obeyed and followed her out into the hallway. She had her stand under the gaslight in the hall. Aunt Millicent took a moment to study Wendy's face. All of a sudden she took on an expression of horror.
"Mary! George! Come quickly" She shrieked, then, taking hold of Wendy's wrist she led her downstairs and into the parlor.
Michael, John, and the Lost Boys crowded at the top of the stairs to hear what was going on.
"Look at Wendy's lips," they heard Aunt Millicent say.
Mr. and Mrs. Darling looked closely.
"I do not see anything," said Mr. Darling.
"Look closely. In the right hand corner . . ."
Mr. Darling wiped his spectacles with a handkerchief then made second inspection. "I still don't see anything."
"Exactly!" cried Aunt Millicent. "It's gone!"
"What is?"
"The hidden kiss, George," Mrs. Darling said, who had realized first.
"Oh, dear! Wendy—how—who—?" Her father appeared to be on the borderline of anger and wonderment all at the same time.
"I must have lost it!" cried Wendy.
"Nonsense!" Aunt Millicent declared. "You cannot loose the hidden kiss, you can only give it away."
"Wendy!" her mother breathed in astonishment at the thought.
"Wendy," he father said sternly, "I demand you tell me who you gave it to."
"I—" Wendy stammered.
"Well?"
The girl hesitated, "A boy . . ."
"Well, obviously!" said Aunt Millicent. "But, to whom, exactly, did you give it to?"
Tears formed in Wendy's eyes and the hearts of the adults relented.
"I think," said Mrs. Darling gently, "that we should continue this conversation in the morning. She's had a long and trying day and it is past her bedtime."
Wendy bade her parents and her aunt goodnight then went straight up to her room. After changing into her nightgown she slid into bed and extinguished the gas lamp.
Now Wendy's mother suspected it had been Peter Pan who had received her daughter's hidden kiss, but she did not say anything of her suspicions to George and Aunt Millicent. She believed in Peter Pan, most certainly, for she had seen glimpses of him many times in the late watches of the night before the children had disappeared. Mrs. Darling had suspected that it was with him the children had been and thus it was him that she thought was the recipient of the gift of Wendy's affection.
It must have been him, she reasoned to herself. For when her daughter had returned from "Neverland" as Wendy had called it, Mrs. Darling noticed that there was a light in her eyes that had ne'er been there before. It was a light that Mrs. Darling herself was familiar with for she herself possessed such a light in her own eyes, which first appeared after she had met Mr. Darling for the first time.
Another reason she thought that it was Peter Pan was the fact that each time Wendy would mention his name in her stories or it came from the lips of her brothers and the Lost Boys, the light intensified.
If he should come back for her . . . would she go with him and, this time, not to return?
Wendy cried herself to sleep, for on that night she missed Peter more than ever. She found herself yearning for a chance to "thimble" him again, at least, one last time before she grew up completely and forgot all about the boy who had granted her the greatest of adventures.
The latch of the nursery window turned and the window was slid silently open. The first leaves of spring blew in as Peter glided into the room. Tinkerbell followed brightly behind, a trail of fairy dust in her wake.
The boy of Neverland darted from bed to bed, hovering briefly with each stop.
"Wendy?" he whispered, "Wendy!" He was thrown into a slight panic when he saw that her bed was being occupied by Tootles.
"Tink, she's not in here!" he hissed. Tinkerbell clapped her hands joyfully and flew around his head, urging him to leave.
Peter waved her away and floated over to the door. He had never been anywhere in the Darling house except the nursery and was a little wary of venturing out of it.
Peter put his hand on the doorknob "On three," he said to Tinkerbell. "One, two, three!" He opened the door.
Wendy woke to the sound of her name being whispered urgently. Michael must have been having another nightmare. She opened her eyes to see Peter Pan perched on one of her bedposts, staring at her intently.
"Peter!" She shouted joyfully, bolting upright in bed. Peter started and jumped off his perch. He then resumed his confident fists-on-hips stance once he reached the ground.
Wendy leaped out of bed and ran to him.
"Oh, Peter! I knew you would come back someday!" She suddenly realized that she was looking up at him slightly. She frowned. Had he grown up since she last saw him? Impossible . . . but it had certainly seemed so. Wendy reached out to touch Peter's cheek, which was a little bit of a bigger stretch than it should have been. But, before she could touch him, Peter quickly flew backwards and hit the wall.
"Peter what is the matter?"
"Wendy . . ."
His voice sounded a little deeper.
"Peter you've grown!"
"I know!" he cried, "and it is all your fault!"
"What?"
Now, Peter had grown up a little bit before. Each time he visited London, he grew a little, but ever since he met Wendy, on his return visits he grew faster. He could not figure out why. Peter even started to think more. And the more he thought, the more his mind came to the "thimble" Wendy had given him, or the "hidden kiss" as he had also heard it called.
"But, Peter," Wendy said, feeling more than a little irritated at his first words of conversation to her since they last met. "How is it my fault?" She moved towards him and he backed up nervously. She heard him gulp.
"I . . . I'm not sure . . . but-but, I know it must be . . ."
Wendy stopped and frowned. Then, she moved away to the gas lamp on her nightstand. She lifted the glass.
"What are you doing?" Peter asked uneasily.
"I'm lighting the lamp so I can see you better."
"No!" Peter cried out, his voice cracking. Wendy giggled and pulled a matchbox out of the nightstand drawer. "
"Please don't!" Peter supplicated. Wendy ignored him and lit a match.
Suddenly Peter sprang into action. He darted over to Wendy and stupidly grasped the match with his bare hands.
"Ow!"
"Peter!"
"Ow . . ."
"Oh, Peter did you hurt yourself?"
"No." But Wendy heard the quiver in his voice.
"Yes, you did. Let me see it." With that Wendy lit the lamp and turned up the flame. She turned from the lamp to look at Peter and her breath caught.
He most certainly had grown! "just a boy" he was no longer. He had ceased to be a lanky youth and was now lean in an athletic sort of way. His build had changed quite a bit, too. His shoulders were broad now; all his baby fat had been replaced by muscle.
"Oh, Peter . . ." Wendy breathed.
Peter bowed his head and appeared ashamed. "I know," he said, "I look terrible."
"Oh no, Peter!" Wendy cried passionately, "You look absolutely magnificent!"
Peter looked up. "You really think so?"
"I do!"
The boy then looked mightily pleased with himself and his cocky trademark grin spread across his face.
Wendy felt her knees begin to buckle, so she quickly went back to the matters at hand.
"Well, that's enough gaping for one day," she said firmly, "let's take a look at that hand."
When Wendy gently took his hand to make her inspection, Peter suddenly felt a wave of joy, and affection towards Wendy, sweep over him, very much a akin to what he felt on the deck of the Jolly Roger after she had "thimbled" him. His eyes traveled from the top of her head to the sweet face hovering over his reddened hand.
Wendy, he reflected, had grown considerably, too and not only in stature but in beauty as well. He wondered what it would be like to be able to watch her mature and to mature with her.
Peter's thoughts were broken by Wendy saying, "You wait here, Peter I'm going to go fetch a basin of cold water."
In a few minutes Wendy returned with the basin in her hands. She bid him to sit on the floor and she put the bowl in front of him. She then instructed him to dip his hand in.
Peter put in a finger then swiftly brought it out.
"It's cold!" he protested.
Wendy giggled. "Of course it is cold, Peter!"
The boy blushed in embarrassment, but defiantly declared, "I'm not putting my hand back in there!"
"Yes you are." Wendy said firmly
"No I'm not!"
"Yes you are!" Wendy took him by the wrist, plunged his hand into the icy water and held it there.
A chill ran up Peter's spine from the shock of the cold, but then it was soon replaced by another feeling, a feeling which made him so uncomfortably warm that he was thankful for the cold water.
Wendy holding his hand in the basin forced her to be so close that their shoulders touched. Peter swallowed hard.
"Wendy . . .?"
"Yes?" she responded quietly, there was a tone in his voice that made her heart pound at a quicker pace.
". . . Is it better, yet?"
Wendy sighed in disappointment, picked up his hand and took a look. The redness had gone down considerably but, there was something else her mother always did when they would get hurt. What was it? Ah, yes! She remembered now.
"Almost . . ." The girl gently pulled his palm to her lips and softly kissed it. Then she gazed up at him.
"Now it's—"
Wendy was cut off by the wistful look she saw in Peter's swirling green eyes.
"I've missed you, Wendy," he finally admitted.
"Have you really?"
"Yes."
Wendy smiled adoringly up at him and Peter thought his heart had stopped.
"Oh, Peter, I've missed you, too! I can't even begin to describe how much." The girl reached up and brushed a stray golden lock out his eye. It was then that she noticed an ugly bruise sitting near the top of his forehead.
"When did that happen?" she asked, prodding it gently.
"Ouch!" yelped Peter.
"I'm sorry!" Wendy cried, swiftly pulling back her hand.
"That's alright," he said giving a pained grin.
"How did it happen?" asked Wendy.
"I bumped my head on the way out of the tree-house this morning."
"Oh, dear! You really have grown up!"
"Yes, and it's still all your fault! If you hadn't given me that "thimble . . ." I wouldn't be here, but I also wouldn't be growing up so quickly each time I visit. It seems that time wants to get revenge on me, or something."
"Or maybe, you just want to grow up?" Wendy supplied.
Peter gave her a cautious side-glance, "maybe . . ." But then he sighed. "The truth his, Wendy, I—"
All of a sudden the door opened and Mrs. Darling, having heard raised voices a few minutes before finally decided that she had better check on her daughter.
Peter was so startled he flew straight up and hit his head on the ceiling.
"Oh, dear!" cried Mrs. Darling. Instead of being frightened as any other mother might have been, she was thoroughly enchanted by Peter and took the fact that she had just seen a boy fly, in stride. She was more worried that he had injured himself.
"Oh, Peter," said Wendy, "are you hurt?"
Peter did not answer, but instead in a blind panic he went for the latch on the window. It was stuck.
Mrs. Darling moved excitedly towards him. "Peter, I am Wendy's mother, Mary Darling."
"I know," said Peter, resembling a cornered deer.
Just then, Mrs. Darling heard the sound of fluttering and the tinkle of tiny bells rush past her ear.
Tinkerbell had flown into the room to help Peter with the window. Peter was now watching Mrs. Darling from the corner of the ceiling near the window.
Mrs. Darling looked up at the boy and was able to make a clear inspection. In a matter of seconds she saw what she was looking for. In left hand corner of his mouth laid Wendy's hidden kiss.
"It was you . . ." she whispered.
Finally the window was flung open and Peter darted through it.
"PETER!" Wendy cried out.
Peter reluctantly stopped and turned around, staying a safe distance away from the window and Mrs. Darling.
"Take me with you!"
"Wendy!" her mother admonished gently.
"Take me with you, please."
Peter glided to the window until he was eye-level with the girl a worried look communicated to her his apprehensions.
Wendy turned to Mrs. Darling, "Mother can I go, please!"
Mrs. Darling looked at Peter and he looked back, his green eyes full of wishes. The woman had a hard debate with herself before she finally nodded her assent.
"Oh, thank you mother!" Wendy cried, throwing her arms about Mrs. Darling's neck.
"But, my dear, when shall you be back?" she asked.
"By the end of spring, this way I can do Peter's spring cleaning. He keeps an awfully untidy home."
Mrs. Darling laughed. "Very well, my dear one. By the end of spring."
With a whoop of joy Peter shot straight into the air then came down and after helping Wendy out the window he took her in his arms and carried her into the air.
"Goodbye, mother! Tell the same to Michael and John and the Lost Boys! See you in the first day of summer!"
Mrs. Darling waved goodbye and watched her daughter and the boy, Pan, get smaller and smaller until they were finally out of sight.
After that, she ducked her head back into the window and with a worried wring of her hands she wondered, "What shall I tell George?"
Well what do you think so far? Send a review!
The Return of Pan
". . . Peter Pan flew into the air and gave a triumphant crow! And that's how he defeated the King of the Mermaids!"
Wendy's two brothers and the Lost Boys erupted into cheers. She laughed with delight as she sat at the foot of her old bed, watching the boys pick up their swords and play out the story she had just finished.
Mrs. Darling then entered the nursery, followed by Aunt Millicent, who had come to take Slightly home.
"Good heavens!" cried Aunt Millicent when she beheld the chaotic room. Mrs. Darling gave a small chuckle then said, "now, now children, it is time for bed."
"Really, Wendy! This is not behavior befitting a young lady of sixteen years!"
Wendy rose quickly to her feet. "I'm sorry, Aunt."
Suddenly, her Aunt gave her a strange look. "Come here, child." Wendy obeyed and followed her out into the hallway. She had her stand under the gaslight in the hall. Aunt Millicent took a moment to study Wendy's face. All of a sudden she took on an expression of horror.
"Mary! George! Come quickly" She shrieked, then, taking hold of Wendy's wrist she led her downstairs and into the parlor.
Michael, John, and the Lost Boys crowded at the top of the stairs to hear what was going on.
"Look at Wendy's lips," they heard Aunt Millicent say.
Mr. and Mrs. Darling looked closely.
"I do not see anything," said Mr. Darling.
"Look closely. In the right hand corner . . ."
Mr. Darling wiped his spectacles with a handkerchief then made second inspection. "I still don't see anything."
"Exactly!" cried Aunt Millicent. "It's gone!"
"What is?"
"The hidden kiss, George," Mrs. Darling said, who had realized first.
"Oh, dear! Wendy—how—who—?" Her father appeared to be on the borderline of anger and wonderment all at the same time.
"I must have lost it!" cried Wendy.
"Nonsense!" Aunt Millicent declared. "You cannot loose the hidden kiss, you can only give it away."
"Wendy!" her mother breathed in astonishment at the thought.
"Wendy," he father said sternly, "I demand you tell me who you gave it to."
"I—" Wendy stammered.
"Well?"
The girl hesitated, "A boy . . ."
"Well, obviously!" said Aunt Millicent. "But, to whom, exactly, did you give it to?"
Tears formed in Wendy's eyes and the hearts of the adults relented.
"I think," said Mrs. Darling gently, "that we should continue this conversation in the morning. She's had a long and trying day and it is past her bedtime."
Wendy bade her parents and her aunt goodnight then went straight up to her room. After changing into her nightgown she slid into bed and extinguished the gas lamp.
Now Wendy's mother suspected it had been Peter Pan who had received her daughter's hidden kiss, but she did not say anything of her suspicions to George and Aunt Millicent. She believed in Peter Pan, most certainly, for she had seen glimpses of him many times in the late watches of the night before the children had disappeared. Mrs. Darling had suspected that it was with him the children had been and thus it was him that she thought was the recipient of the gift of Wendy's affection.
It must have been him, she reasoned to herself. For when her daughter had returned from "Neverland" as Wendy had called it, Mrs. Darling noticed that there was a light in her eyes that had ne'er been there before. It was a light that Mrs. Darling herself was familiar with for she herself possessed such a light in her own eyes, which first appeared after she had met Mr. Darling for the first time.
Another reason she thought that it was Peter Pan was the fact that each time Wendy would mention his name in her stories or it came from the lips of her brothers and the Lost Boys, the light intensified.
If he should come back for her . . . would she go with him and, this time, not to return?
Wendy cried herself to sleep, for on that night she missed Peter more than ever. She found herself yearning for a chance to "thimble" him again, at least, one last time before she grew up completely and forgot all about the boy who had granted her the greatest of adventures.
The latch of the nursery window turned and the window was slid silently open. The first leaves of spring blew in as Peter glided into the room. Tinkerbell followed brightly behind, a trail of fairy dust in her wake.
The boy of Neverland darted from bed to bed, hovering briefly with each stop.
"Wendy?" he whispered, "Wendy!" He was thrown into a slight panic when he saw that her bed was being occupied by Tootles.
"Tink, she's not in here!" he hissed. Tinkerbell clapped her hands joyfully and flew around his head, urging him to leave.
Peter waved her away and floated over to the door. He had never been anywhere in the Darling house except the nursery and was a little wary of venturing out of it.
Peter put his hand on the doorknob "On three," he said to Tinkerbell. "One, two, three!" He opened the door.
Wendy woke to the sound of her name being whispered urgently. Michael must have been having another nightmare. She opened her eyes to see Peter Pan perched on one of her bedposts, staring at her intently.
"Peter!" She shouted joyfully, bolting upright in bed. Peter started and jumped off his perch. He then resumed his confident fists-on-hips stance once he reached the ground.
Wendy leaped out of bed and ran to him.
"Oh, Peter! I knew you would come back someday!" She suddenly realized that she was looking up at him slightly. She frowned. Had he grown up since she last saw him? Impossible . . . but it had certainly seemed so. Wendy reached out to touch Peter's cheek, which was a little bit of a bigger stretch than it should have been. But, before she could touch him, Peter quickly flew backwards and hit the wall.
"Peter what is the matter?"
"Wendy . . ."
His voice sounded a little deeper.
"Peter you've grown!"
"I know!" he cried, "and it is all your fault!"
"What?"
Now, Peter had grown up a little bit before. Each time he visited London, he grew a little, but ever since he met Wendy, on his return visits he grew faster. He could not figure out why. Peter even started to think more. And the more he thought, the more his mind came to the "thimble" Wendy had given him, or the "hidden kiss" as he had also heard it called.
"But, Peter," Wendy said, feeling more than a little irritated at his first words of conversation to her since they last met. "How is it my fault?" She moved towards him and he backed up nervously. She heard him gulp.
"I . . . I'm not sure . . . but-but, I know it must be . . ."
Wendy stopped and frowned. Then, she moved away to the gas lamp on her nightstand. She lifted the glass.
"What are you doing?" Peter asked uneasily.
"I'm lighting the lamp so I can see you better."
"No!" Peter cried out, his voice cracking. Wendy giggled and pulled a matchbox out of the nightstand drawer. "
"Please don't!" Peter supplicated. Wendy ignored him and lit a match.
Suddenly Peter sprang into action. He darted over to Wendy and stupidly grasped the match with his bare hands.
"Ow!"
"Peter!"
"Ow . . ."
"Oh, Peter did you hurt yourself?"
"No." But Wendy heard the quiver in his voice.
"Yes, you did. Let me see it." With that Wendy lit the lamp and turned up the flame. She turned from the lamp to look at Peter and her breath caught.
He most certainly had grown! "just a boy" he was no longer. He had ceased to be a lanky youth and was now lean in an athletic sort of way. His build had changed quite a bit, too. His shoulders were broad now; all his baby fat had been replaced by muscle.
"Oh, Peter . . ." Wendy breathed.
Peter bowed his head and appeared ashamed. "I know," he said, "I look terrible."
"Oh no, Peter!" Wendy cried passionately, "You look absolutely magnificent!"
Peter looked up. "You really think so?"
"I do!"
The boy then looked mightily pleased with himself and his cocky trademark grin spread across his face.
Wendy felt her knees begin to buckle, so she quickly went back to the matters at hand.
"Well, that's enough gaping for one day," she said firmly, "let's take a look at that hand."
When Wendy gently took his hand to make her inspection, Peter suddenly felt a wave of joy, and affection towards Wendy, sweep over him, very much a akin to what he felt on the deck of the Jolly Roger after she had "thimbled" him. His eyes traveled from the top of her head to the sweet face hovering over his reddened hand.
Wendy, he reflected, had grown considerably, too and not only in stature but in beauty as well. He wondered what it would be like to be able to watch her mature and to mature with her.
Peter's thoughts were broken by Wendy saying, "You wait here, Peter I'm going to go fetch a basin of cold water."
In a few minutes Wendy returned with the basin in her hands. She bid him to sit on the floor and she put the bowl in front of him. She then instructed him to dip his hand in.
Peter put in a finger then swiftly brought it out.
"It's cold!" he protested.
Wendy giggled. "Of course it is cold, Peter!"
The boy blushed in embarrassment, but defiantly declared, "I'm not putting my hand back in there!"
"Yes you are." Wendy said firmly
"No I'm not!"
"Yes you are!" Wendy took him by the wrist, plunged his hand into the icy water and held it there.
A chill ran up Peter's spine from the shock of the cold, but then it was soon replaced by another feeling, a feeling which made him so uncomfortably warm that he was thankful for the cold water.
Wendy holding his hand in the basin forced her to be so close that their shoulders touched. Peter swallowed hard.
"Wendy . . .?"
"Yes?" she responded quietly, there was a tone in his voice that made her heart pound at a quicker pace.
". . . Is it better, yet?"
Wendy sighed in disappointment, picked up his hand and took a look. The redness had gone down considerably but, there was something else her mother always did when they would get hurt. What was it? Ah, yes! She remembered now.
"Almost . . ." The girl gently pulled his palm to her lips and softly kissed it. Then she gazed up at him.
"Now it's—"
Wendy was cut off by the wistful look she saw in Peter's swirling green eyes.
"I've missed you, Wendy," he finally admitted.
"Have you really?"
"Yes."
Wendy smiled adoringly up at him and Peter thought his heart had stopped.
"Oh, Peter, I've missed you, too! I can't even begin to describe how much." The girl reached up and brushed a stray golden lock out his eye. It was then that she noticed an ugly bruise sitting near the top of his forehead.
"When did that happen?" she asked, prodding it gently.
"Ouch!" yelped Peter.
"I'm sorry!" Wendy cried, swiftly pulling back her hand.
"That's alright," he said giving a pained grin.
"How did it happen?" asked Wendy.
"I bumped my head on the way out of the tree-house this morning."
"Oh, dear! You really have grown up!"
"Yes, and it's still all your fault! If you hadn't given me that "thimble . . ." I wouldn't be here, but I also wouldn't be growing up so quickly each time I visit. It seems that time wants to get revenge on me, or something."
"Or maybe, you just want to grow up?" Wendy supplied.
Peter gave her a cautious side-glance, "maybe . . ." But then he sighed. "The truth his, Wendy, I—"
All of a sudden the door opened and Mrs. Darling, having heard raised voices a few minutes before finally decided that she had better check on her daughter.
Peter was so startled he flew straight up and hit his head on the ceiling.
"Oh, dear!" cried Mrs. Darling. Instead of being frightened as any other mother might have been, she was thoroughly enchanted by Peter and took the fact that she had just seen a boy fly, in stride. She was more worried that he had injured himself.
"Oh, Peter," said Wendy, "are you hurt?"
Peter did not answer, but instead in a blind panic he went for the latch on the window. It was stuck.
Mrs. Darling moved excitedly towards him. "Peter, I am Wendy's mother, Mary Darling."
"I know," said Peter, resembling a cornered deer.
Just then, Mrs. Darling heard the sound of fluttering and the tinkle of tiny bells rush past her ear.
Tinkerbell had flown into the room to help Peter with the window. Peter was now watching Mrs. Darling from the corner of the ceiling near the window.
Mrs. Darling looked up at the boy and was able to make a clear inspection. In a matter of seconds she saw what she was looking for. In left hand corner of his mouth laid Wendy's hidden kiss.
"It was you . . ." she whispered.
Finally the window was flung open and Peter darted through it.
"PETER!" Wendy cried out.
Peter reluctantly stopped and turned around, staying a safe distance away from the window and Mrs. Darling.
"Take me with you!"
"Wendy!" her mother admonished gently.
"Take me with you, please."
Peter glided to the window until he was eye-level with the girl a worried look communicated to her his apprehensions.
Wendy turned to Mrs. Darling, "Mother can I go, please!"
Mrs. Darling looked at Peter and he looked back, his green eyes full of wishes. The woman had a hard debate with herself before she finally nodded her assent.
"Oh, thank you mother!" Wendy cried, throwing her arms about Mrs. Darling's neck.
"But, my dear, when shall you be back?" she asked.
"By the end of spring, this way I can do Peter's spring cleaning. He keeps an awfully untidy home."
Mrs. Darling laughed. "Very well, my dear one. By the end of spring."
With a whoop of joy Peter shot straight into the air then came down and after helping Wendy out the window he took her in his arms and carried her into the air.
"Goodbye, mother! Tell the same to Michael and John and the Lost Boys! See you in the first day of summer!"
Mrs. Darling waved goodbye and watched her daughter and the boy, Pan, get smaller and smaller until they were finally out of sight.
After that, she ducked her head back into the window and with a worried wring of her hands she wondered, "What shall I tell George?"
Well what do you think so far? Send a review!