Author's Note: This what happens when you think too much about anything....but the idea of little fairies wouldn't leave me alone....so I wrote this....and Voldemort had no hand in this I assure you. ~.^
Disclaimers: They're really mine...although they're behaving rather oddly in this fan fiction.
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Anima
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"So, how do you like my dress?" she asked modeling of the deep emerald sheen of her low cut silk dress to him in the moonlight.
"It's nice," he said concentrating on walking scarcely looking up to see it.
"You really don't even care, do you?" she said pouting , eyes darkening to math the dress' faint glow as she moved into shadows.
She shook her head silently and looked across to him as he strolled listlessly under street lamps. "You've never been nice to me. Not once."
He sighed pausing in his hurried walk to nowhere, running a hand through his wavy, long red hair. "I'm not nice. No one is nice."
"You could at least be happy," she said shrugging moving closer to him. "You chose this. I warned you, but you wouldn't listen."
"You only warned me because you're selfish," he pointed out tugging on the flaps of his dark leather trench-coat that concealed a brilliant green suit that almost matched his companion's dress.
She sighed gliding over to his shoulder on shimmering wings. She perched there gently folding her wings behind her. "No...no selfish, Peter. No completely selfish."
"Well, no one asked you to come here, Tink," he said in a low growl.
"No. No they didn't," she said softly gazing up at him with a wistful look on her face. "But they would like to know how you are."
He sighed clearly exasperated and collapsed roughly onto the park bench.
"Hey!" she said moving off his shoulder to hover in mid-air. She examined her wings in efforts to make sure they hadn't been crushed. "Have you no manners?"
He chuckled in spite of himself holding out his palm to her.
She glared at him momentarily but glided over to his pal, and sat upon it gazing at him warily.
He sighed a bit grateful for the slight warmth her minute body provided to his nearly-frozen fingers.
The wind blew in steady icy streams and she shivered, teeth chattering loudly, purposefully. "H-how do you put up with this weather?"
He shrugged, "Growing up means putting up with a lot of unpleasant things."
He reached into one of the many useless pockets his trench-coat provided and pulled out the wool lining there. He gently draped it over her tiny shoulders to form a make-shift blanket.
She sighed contentedly and smiled up at him. "I missed you."
He shook his head causing his hair to fall into his face, he brushed it aside. "I missed you too, Tink."
"But you're going to stay here aren't you? No matter what I say?" She said sadly pulling the wool lining tightly around her lithe body.
"It looks that way," he said stroking her cheek with one finger.
"You've changed," she said brokenly, shivering but not from the cold.
"I suppose I have. I hadn't really noticed. This world changes people, it changes everyone. Yet I can't go back. No matter what you say. I can't. I'm not a child. I...I don't want to be grown up but at the same time...."
She nodded. "I wish...I wish I had...been more helpful..."
"Aw, Tink don't be like that," he said sighing. "Silly little fairy girl. You were helpful. You were also really annoying, but I don't think I would have been able to get this far without you."
She giggled bitterly. "And that's good how?"
"I guess because I had to grow up. I've changed but not that much. "
"How is she?" The name didn't need to be said.
"Even more decrepit and senile than usual," he said smirking but it faded away rather quickly.
"I'm sorry," Tink said gliding over to his face and wiping at the tears there, both shed and unshed. She kissed his cheek and looked at him worriedly.
"I am too," he said stroking her cheek with his ring finger.
She hugged it and looked up at him.
They remained that way for awhile. Both feeling the same gnawing that had always been there. it had grown somehow. Like a freakish child hidden in an attic since birth that somehow managed to nourish itself long enough and grow even more hideous rather than die. Like it was "supposed to."
She was the first to look away. He remained almost frozen as he stared after her as she moved away to curl up again on his palm now resting on his knee, cupped like a beggar's, though Peter was looking for something ore valuable that other people's change.
"Hey, Tink?" he asked her softly, voice sounding a bit more childish than before. He stared at the ground allowing his hair to veil his face.
"Yes?" she said softly, drawing the wool lining around her. She brushed back wisps of baby blonde hair and looking up at him with gentle green eyes.
"Have I really changed that much?" he asked shivering a little.
"No," she said softly looking up at him adoringly. "You're still my Peter."
He nodded and silence took over the conversation again.
"Tink?" he asked after a few minutes.
"Yes?" she said looking at him hopefully.
"When....when I'm old and senile like Wendy.....would you still.....would you still come find me? Would you still..." He cut himself off as his voice snapped like a twig.
"Yes," Tink said smiling. "I would always come see you, Peter. I love you."
He nodded mutely biting his raw lips as the wind blew.
"And...and...when I'm dying, Tink? What about when I'm dying?" he asked sounding like a lost child, no longer sure of himself or full of cocky bitterness.
"I'll be there, Peter. If.......if you choose to follow this course. I can't leave you. You know that," she said sadly shivering as well.
"I...I don't know what I'd do afterwards, Peter. Not many people. No one believes in fairies anymore."
"I do," Peter said. "I...I'll always believe in you....I.." He allowed tears to fall silently splashing down onto his coat. "..Tink?"
"Yes, Peter?" she said softly fluttering up to him again and parting his tangled tendrils of hair so she could kiss away his tears.
"Would you tell me a story?" he whispered leaning against her small warm hands.
"Aren't you a little old for stories?" she asked him teasingly.
He chuckled mirthlessly. "I'll never be too old for a happy ending, Tinkerbell."
"Then...come with me?" she asked softly. "Please, Peter? I love you." she choked out beginning to cry.
He caught her in his palm gently and looked down into her eyes. "Aw..Tink...I....I...." He wiped at her tears. "I still hate seeing you cry."
"But you still won't come," Tink said furiously. "You'll stick around with that....that thing. That miserable dying cow. You don't love me. You never loved--"
"Tink," Peter whispered soothingly. "I...I can't leave her. She's all alone. Even her husband left her. But...when it's all over. After I hold her hand and tell her a story before she dies, then I'll be able to be with you. I promise."
She blinked. "You'd...you want..."
Peter smirked. "Of course I do. Silly little goose."
"You, you big...you big jerk!" Tink said pouting.
Peter shrugged and shook his head.
"You haven't changed too much," she said smiling, eyes shimmering happily.
"No,I haven't...and neither have you...but...you won't leave, will you?"
She shook her head. "No...I'll stay here. I'll always be with you until you come back home."
"I will. I promise," Peter said kissing her small cheek gently.
She hugged his hand and then replaced the wool lining on her shoulders. "Thank you."
He nodded.
They remained silent until the sun rose and then they both went back to Wendy together.
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~FIN~
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