Chapter 2

Wendy Darling woke up from a pleasant dream, one that lingered with her like the fine memories of a warm spring day.

As she stretched, her eyes lit upon a stack of papers on her desk, tied together loosely with twine.

Still in her nightdress, she leaned over them, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes catching on the words on the front page: Tales from the Neverland, by George Darling.

What on earth…? She sat down at her desk and carefully looked through some of the pages, her eyes skimming over the words on each page, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She recognized these stories…but why did she recognize them?

And then she remembered. These were the stories her father had told her when she was a little girl, before Michael was even born, when it was just her and John.

She made her way to the last page…

And saw a small note pinned to it.

In her father's neat and elegant handwriting, there was a small message…

"Wendy, I know how much these stories mean to you, so I give them to you to enjoy and to complete. I know that you have made many stories of Peter and they should be a part of this. Write them down, and continue to make more stories until it is finished. Then do with them what you wish. Love, Father"

Wendy smiled and felt a faint trickle of wetness on her cheek and realized that a single happy tear had escaped.

She brushed the back of her hand across her face, wiping it away, and bolted from her chair, running down the stairs, not caring that she was still in her nightgown.

She ran into the dining room and over to her father, who was sitting at the head of the table, and wrapped her arms around him in a fiercely tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she whispered into his ear, while their mother looked on in confusion. He gently patted her back and gave her a light squeeze, returning the gesture and the affection, and then whispered in her ear, "Your welcome, my Wendy."

She pulled back from the hug, gave him a beatific smile, and then ran back up the stairs, eager to start her day.

She changed as quickly as she could, pulling on her petticoats and her dress, and lacing up her boots as fast as her clumsy fingers would let her.

As soon as she finished lacing her boots, she grabbed the parchments from off her desk, along with a fountain pen and a drawing board. She would use the drawing board as an impromptu desk, for she was going outside to write. It was a beautiful day and she was going to enjoy it.

As she sauntered down the stairs, she heard her mother from the other room ask,

"Wendy? Where are you going?"

"Just to the park, mother! I'll be back in time for supper, I promise!"

And with that, she was out the door and into the sunlight. It truly was a beautiful day. She headed down to the park, completely unaware of the men's eyes that followed her. She had inherited her mother's natural grace and elegance, but her father's innocent ignorance.

It was a darling combination on her, but a troublesome one according to her parents as they tried to find suitable suitors for her.

She headed towards the park, but then saw the number of people that were headed there…and she changed her mind.

There was a small patch of greenery surrounded by trees next to a building a few blocks down that practically no one used, and she was certain that it would be empty. All the better for her to write.

Making sure that no one saw her, she slipped down the street and made her way to the hidden park, her feet as light as her heart.

Seeing the spot of green, Wendy smiled. She glanced around once more and slid around the corner of the building, letting out a sigh of contentment when she fell into the dappled shade of the trees, the golden morning sun peeking through the leaves to create a patchwork quilt of sunlight on the ground.

Sitting down at the base of one of the trees, she placed her drawing board on her lap and pulled out the few sheaves of paper that she had brought with her.

She then pulled out the special fountain pen that her father had given her for her birthday the year before and it had been used many times since.

Wendy touched the tip of the pen to her lips, thinking on what story she should first record.

After a few minutes of recollecting and deciding, silently weighing the pros and cons in her mind, she finally decided. Her first adventure with Peter would be best, as it would include a bit of everything in it, as well as the infamous Captain Hook.

She lost herself in her writing, completely unaware of the passing of time.

She felt a shadow fall across her at one point, and she looked up, certain that she would see dark clouds looming in the sky above…but saw something else.

A figure.

Wendy's eyes slowly scanned upwards, taking in the sight of the person before her, who was backlit by the sun, which had moved over the space of several hours. She saw black riding boots, followed by black riding pants, and then a dark red waistcoat over a pristine white shirt…along with a hook for a right hand.

Her breath stopped.

No…she had to be dreaming. She must have fallen asleep while writing and this was a dream, but then she heard a familiar drawl…

"Wendy…Darling…"

She looked up, and hazel eyes met forget-me-not blue ones.

For once in her life, she had no words.


Part 2/?