Author's Note: This story is dedicated to my friend and fellow author KatherineNotGreat. The characters in this story are based on a combination of the 2003 version of Peter Pan and KatherineNotGreat's "Stuart Family" stories. I was also inspired by the author of "Something Changed." I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING! Please R&R, but no flames. Okay, now...enough of me blabbing...Enjoy the story! :)

A Wendy's Farewell

Rain poured from the bleak, hazy London sky, drenching his coat and clinging to his dark curls like dew on a spider's web. He was nearly soaked to the bone, but at the moment he couldn't care less about ruining his fine silks. He was not thinking about the weather. He was thinking of the woman in front of him. The woman he loved. The beautiful, cold, still woman whose lifeless form laid in the coffin beneath a small tent in the graveyard. The Wendy-lady. His Wendy-lady.

The funeral had ended over an hour ago, but he simply could not find the strength to leave her side. Not yet. He could not bear to place her in the ground, to return her body to the earth and her soul to the Lord, though he supposed the latter had already happened. Still, he could not bear the thought of burying his beloved Wendy, for once she was in the ground, it would seem too real. Too final.

And where would that leave him, he wondered. What would become of him without his patient, caring wife to cool his temper when he was in a rage, to bring him comfort in his bouts of melancholy, to see past the man he had once been and to love the man he had become?

Alone and unloved. Once again.

Of course, he still had Jane, the product of their love and the pride of his heart, who had developed into a beautiful young woman and was now the mother of three. He still had Smee, the loyal, bumbling, kindly old fool who was perhaps the captain's one and only true friend who had stuck by his side throughout the years. No, he was not entirely alone, but at the moment, it certainly felt like it.

How he wished he could take her in his arms again! How he longed to kiss those full, pink lips, run his fingers through her golden, graying hair, and see her sparkling blue eyes flutter open once more! How he wished those fairytales were true! Ironic that he, who had loathed the realm of childish dreams for centuries, should suddenly long for fairy magic. But, alas! He was no prince, and this was no fairytale. This was not Neverland, and it was not one of her stories. This was real life. And in real life, not all endings are happy.

He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat and squeezing out a few more tears. He was thankful for the rain; at least now he could weep freely. He had done well in hiding his emotions during the service. He had to be strong for Jane's sake and for his grandchildren, but now he was alone and the sound of the rain drowned out his sobs.

But there was one sound that not even the torrential rains could hide.

"Wendy?" It was a soft, childlike voice. He'd recognize that infernal boy's voice anywhere. "Wendy?" he asked innocently. "Wendy, wake up! Wake up, Wendy! WAKE UP!" He began to shake her shoulders, hoping to bring her out of the eternal sleep.

Hook was up in a flash. That was going too far! "Pan!" he hissed. "Stay away from her!"

"What did you do to her? What's wrong with her?"

"I?" he asked incredulously. "I did NOTHING!" he roared.

"Then why won't she get up?"

"Blast it all! The girl is dead, Pan!" The words were out of his mouth before he even had the time to process them, and he quickly regretted it, turning his back to the boy as he realized the meaning behind them. Had he really just admitted that she was gone?

"Dead?"

Hook cringed as the boy echoed his words. Why did that boy always have to make every situation ten times worse than it already was? He turned slightly to face his rival. He was clearly cross, but his voice was defeated. "Yes, Pan, she is dead. Gone from this world and onto a better one…One that I may never see," he added softly.

"Well, when is she coming back? And how can she be gone when she's laying right here?"

The words sliced through his heart like a double-edged sword. Was the boy deliberately trying to make this more difficult for him, or was he truly that ignorant? (Or was it innocent?) "Do you not know what death is, boy? You, who took the lives of many of my crew, who cut off the hand of a man and fed it to a crocodile? You, who nearly sent me to my own watery grave hundreds of times? Who boasts that, 'To die will be an awfully big adventure!'? Surely you know what death is!"

The boy was crying now, huddled into a tight ball, his knees against his heaving chest. And the captain realized with a start that Pan truly had no understanding of the concept of death. Certainly, he had seen pirates die – die at his own hands – but, to him, it had only been a game. He had never realized the consequences of his actions, never considered that he was taking a life. And while that did not excuse his actions, it certainly made them easier to understand. Yes, Pan had killed pirates, but Hook grudgingly admitted, they had probably deserved it. Yes, the boy had killed animals, but that was for food and clothing. But he had never seen the death of a friend, never seen the cold, stiff corpse of someone he cared for. He did not fear death because he didn't know what it was.

Hook felt suddenly guilty, and he knelt, placing his good hand on the boy's quivering shoulder. Strangely, he did not pull away. "Peter."

"I – I loved her!" he hiccupped.

There was a brief flash of jealousy in his eyes, but it quickly faded, replaced with sympathy. The boy, he realized, no longer posed a threat, and while he may have loved Wendy, it was only with innocent, boyish admiration. He wrapped his arms around the boy, no longer seeing an enemy but simply a broken little boy who had lost his best friend.

"I know, Pan. I know. So did I." The rain had slackened by now, but the tears refused to stop.

The boy raised his head and sniffed. If he noticed the captain's tears, he didn't say anything. "I know. I wouldn't have left her with you if you didn't love her." He looked down. "I watched her, you know. I watched Wendy grow up, and I watched you get married. I watched Jane, too, and I watched Wendy tell stories. At first I was mad, but when I saw how happy she was…and how happy you were…I knew I couldn't."

Hook was stunned into silence. Was this the same selfish, arrogant boy who he'd fought all those years? Perhaps the boy did not understand death, but he had learned to put others before himself – and for Pan, that was saying a lot.

He was touched by the boy's kindness and started to say something when a horrifying thought came into his mind. His eyes slightly widened, and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

"And just exactly how much, pray tell, did you watch what happened in my bedchamber?" Hook could only imagine what he might have seen, but the confused expression on the boy's face was enough to calm any fears he had of being caught in a rather embarrassing situation.

"I only came to hear Wendy's stories and to see if she was okay…" He paused, looking down at the ground again. "I saw it happen," he whispered.

"Saw what happen?" Hook asked worriedly.

"I…I was there when she…when Wendy died."

That was certainly not the answer he'd been expecting, though it was not what he wanted to hear, either. Wendy had died in the night, quietly and painlessly. Hook didn't even know she was gone until he went to put his arm around her and felt her unnaturally cool skin against his own. He would never forget that feeling. It would haunt his dreams for years to come. But as horrid as that had been, he could only imagine how difficult it must have been for the child to watch her slip away. Secretly, he envied the boy for sharing her last few moments on earth, but right now was not the time to be enemies.

"Was…was it quick?" The captain averted his eyes, focusing on the same patch of grass that Pan had been staring at for quite some time.

"Yes. I think she saw me, but I'm not sure. I think maybe she was dreaming or thought I was a dream. She recognized me, but then she asked me if I had come to take her home. I tried to tell her that she was already home, but before I could say anything, she just closed her eyes…and…and she stopped breathing." He was crying again, and he leaned into Hook's chest.

"Now, now. None of that, boy. Wendy is in a much better place now." He swallowed hard again. The words were meant to reassure himself as much as Pan.

"Where's that?" the boy sniffed.

"Oh, heaven is a marvelous place, Pan."

"Better than Neverland?" he asked.

"Aye, much better. There are no more tears there…No more death…"

The boy seemed intrigued. "Have you been there?"

This caused the captain to laugh out loud. "Not hardly!"

"But, if you've never been there…how do you know it exists?" Strange, that this should come from the boy who didn't give a second thought to believing in fairies.

"You've never seen love or hate, have you? They exist."

The boy considered his words. "Can we visit there?"

Always so many questions. "I'm afraid not. Once you go there, you are there to stay, and it is not yet our time to go."

"Well…then…can I stay with you?" he asked timidly.

Hook was taken aback. "Peter, what about Neverland? What about the Lost Boys? The fairies?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't want to go back. The Lost Boys have all left and grown up, and the fairies have disappeared. Tink went to go get some berries one day, and I never saw her again."

Hook had a nagging feeling that he knew why Tinkerbell had not returned. Children were growing up fast these days, and few still believed in fairies. But he did not wish to upset the boy any further, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

"What about the mermaids and the Indians?"

"The mermaids are okay, but they don't know how to fight or fly…or tell stories. And Tiger Lily has been promised to a brave called Dancing Sun. She doesn't really have time to play anymore, and…"

"And…?"

"And it's just not as much fun without you there," the boy admitted.

Secretly, Hook was touched, but he would never let it show.

"You mean it's not as much fun living in Neverland without harassing me on a daily basis?" His voice was serious, but there was something in the crook of his half-smile that told Pan he was jesting. Peter smiled back.

"So can I? Can I stay with you?" He looked up hopefully.

"You'll have to go to school."

"I know." He was staring at the ground again.

"You'll have to wear proper clothing."

"I know." He still refused to meet the captain's gaze.

"You'll have to grow up."

Peter was silent for a moment, then turned to stare directly into the captain's eyes with a look of confidence and determination. "I know."

"Aren't you afraid of growing old…like me?"

"Yes, but…" He glanced over at the open casket. "If Wendy can do it, then so can I."

Hook looked at the boy in admiration and awe.

"I miss her," Peter said.

"As do I, but I believe that if she were here, Wendy would not wish for us to grieve. I think we've been here quite long enough." He stood to leave.

"Shall we go home, then?"

"Yes, son." He didn't realize what he'd said until the he felt the boy's arms locked around his waist. Years ago, he would have pushed him away, but now it just seemed right.

As man and boy stood in the churchyard wrapped in an embrace, tears streaming down both of their faces – though neither would admit it – the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. And somewhere in heaven, Wendy smiled.