The Lost Boys and her family rejoiced around her, the sheer force of their joy filling the room and bringing a smile to her cheeks and tears to her eyes. Yet, she had a strange heaviness in her chest, for a heart seems to weigh as much as the feelings inside them, happiness feels like bubbles, regret similar to lead.
She knew why she should be sad, for she had said many goodbyes that night, but not why she should regret. This is what she had chosen, it was what she wanted. To have a family, to grow up. But the bitter was ruining the sweet.

For this reason, she stood slightly apart from the furious hugging and kissing and exclaiming of bliss, hence why only she saw the flicker of a shadow from the window on the carpet. She had already ran to the window and yelled, "Peter!" before she even thought what that shadow might mean.
She was right. She saw a flicker of beautiful blonde curls and heard the rustle of his leaves, and said quietly again his name. That single word was filled with all the longing and love that she felt, which was so much that her small body could not contain it, so it burst out with every breath.

He turned, and she saw the same feeling etched all over his perfect, youthful face, a face which had never before held emotion tinged with such sorrow.
"You won't forget me will you, Peter?"
He visibly flinched, then schooled his features into a familiar cocky grin, but it did not quite reach his eyes, for he was not a very good actor.
"Me? Forget? Never!" But his grin slipped, and Wendy knew that was the kindest of lies. For he would forget, it was both his blessing and his curse. For the same magic which kept him young and kept him innocent, also kept him heartless, for that was what it meant to be Pan. All the feelings he had discovered, and the adventures they had had, no matter how dear they were to his heart at that moment, would fade. For all heartaches and unfairness and sad thoughts must leave a child's mind, for it is those that make him grow up. She held onto a desperate thought.
"Will you come back?"
His smile did warm his eyes then, for this he believed he could do, while he remembered at least.
"Of course, to hear stories .. About me!" At that he puffed up his chest and placed his hands on his hips, for he knew he was the best there ever was and did love to hear it too. This lightened her heavy heart for only a moment before she realised another awful truth.
As Neverland would steadily cloud the memories in Peter's head and replace them with other adventures and fun, London would do similar to her. She would tell the story of Peter Pan and Wendy many times, but as the years went by and her mind became less free and less joyful, details would slip, time would fade them, and eventually she would doubt if such a fantastical adventure had happened at all. She would wonder if she had but dreamt it and feel silly for believing such a thing to be so.
Peter suddenly flew back a foot or two, because a broken expression had crossed his dear Wendy's face, and it hurt his heart to see it. But that was fleeting and was quickly replaced by a look of steel, which would have made grown men quake in their boots.
Abruptly she said, "Stay there a moment Peter, I shan't be long."
He had no time to react or consider, he merely watched in dumb shock as she smartly turned around on the windowsill, and coughed loudly.

The family stopped their celebrations immediately and stared at the girl in shock, for they had not even realised she was not still among them.
"I am terribly sorry to say this, but I really must be on my way. I do truly love you all, each and every one. I will surely be back to visit often, for Peter and I shall have each other to remind ourselves. I am afraid I cannot stay and be a grown up, I find I have decided I should rather be in the stories that I return to tell you boys."
Now the faces of her dear family, larger now even as it was, were easy to read. The Lost Boys were not surprised at all, they had already had their many years of adventure, but the lure of the Neverland was a call they knew well, and they would be glad for Peter to have the company, even if they would miss her so. John and Michael were frightfully upset, but the determination and excitement in their dear sister's eyes was just enough to soothe their souls. They did not consider joining her, a house full of new brothers was quite enough of an adventure for them.
Father blamed himself, he fully remembered how he tried to force Wendy to grow up, all that time ago, and he wondered if she blamed him too, but deep in his heart he knew she did not, but she would possibly resent him if she stayed, so he said nothing and tried to accept that his daughter would make her own decisions whether he willed it or not.

Mother's face was the hardest of all to look upon. The single tear on her cheek, slowly rolling towards the hidden kiss that still waited there ungiven, spoke volumes. It spoke of her love for her only daughter, it spoke of her gratitude for bringing all these wonderful boys into her home to fill her heart, and it spoke of her sadness that an ordinary life would not satisfy her child. But most curiously of all, it spoke of a heart deep understanding, and as her mother switched her gaze from her beloved daughter to the grinning, flying boy behind her, she smiled. A smile of fondness for memories remembered, and Wendy thought she now knew why her hidden kiss was still there at the corner of her mouth.
"Go my Darling," she whispered softly into the silence that had befallen the room, "be free. But I do expect to hear of these adventures quite shortly!"

With that, Wendy gave a watery yet heartfelt smile, turned again, and promptly stepped out of the window.

Across London that evening, many complaints were made to neighbours about a curiously loud crowing sound coming from the rooftops. Some people accused the neighbourhood children of stealing a cockerel and causing mischief. But yet others, who were looked at with incredulity and disdain by those they spoke of it it to, others swore on their lives they had saw a beautiful boy and girl, hand in hand, soaring around the chimneys in delight, the boy throwing his head back and calling his war cry, before dashing off into the clouds in a golden spark. But of course, that couldn't be, there's no such thing as flying children after all.