Please, please, please review this story, it helps me a lot :-)

Wendy is introduced in this chapter and Peter and Jane have a little moment, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3

After Jane had heard Peter's harrowing tale she had managed to cheer him up by talking about their time together and reminiscing about the old Neverland, convincing him that it would one day be the same again. After about an hour they heard someone come up the pathway and Jane did not have to say anything; Peter knew it was Wendy and that he could not see her, and just as silently Jane understood.

"Come on." She whispered jumping to her feet and beckoning as she ran quietly up the stairs. Peter followed her and they reached her bedroom just as her Mother's key turned in the lock.

"Jane, dear?" Wendy called, taking off her gloves and headscarf and laying them down on the hallway table.

Peter winced; her voice was still painful to listen to, and Jane pretended not to notice.

"Yes Mother, I'm in my room." She called, trying to make her voice as close to normal as possible.

"Why darling? Are you alright?" Came the concerned response.

"Ye perfectly fine – just tired!" She replied, hoping that she would leave them alone but after a pause Wendy struck again, her sweet voice sending daggers through Peters drifting heart.

"Well would you like a cup of tea?"

Peter and Jane swapped frantic glances – would she never stop?

"No! No thank you. I think – I think I'll just rest if you don't mind." Jane shouted, her voice cracking slightly.

Another pause and then Jane heard her Mother bustle into the kitchen.

"Alright love." She sang and then they heard a door shut and the two turned to face each other.

"She always did like to talk." Peter said, his lip quirking at the side and making him look quite adorable.

"Some things don't change, Peter." Jane said earnestly but he looked away, his brow knitting.

"Yes. And some things do." He replied bitterly, sitting down on the box at the foot of her bed. A loaded pause filled the room and Jane began to play with her hair – a nervous habit.

"Yes, I've learnt that." Peter went on with a twisted grin, "Things change and get older and wither, things lose their beauty and meaning. Things die."

No trace of smile crossed his face as he spoke and there was a harsh tone to his voice that was new and frightening to Jane, used to his playful mannerisms and boyish charm.

"Who are you?" She asked, horrified and he gave a hushed yet derisive laugh and stood up abruptly.

"Don't you remember me? I'm the boy who will never grow up – do you give out your thimbles so lightly? I still have it you see," He said, pointing to the corner of his lip, "but where is your mark? What can you show for your love?" He turned away from her and crossed his arms even as Jane took his shoulder.

"Tears, Peter – a sea's worth of them. Do they count for nothing? No? Well how about memories and thoughts and stories? Hmm?" As she spoke she crossed angrily to her bureau and dug out piles of papers riddled with her cursive script, bound notebooks, drawings, diary entries, even letters, and threw them at his feet. Each told of him, her longing for and love of him; the most recent dated the day before.

"Do these count for nothing?" She pressed him furiously, taking every ounce of self-control to keep her voice from rising. Peter had picked several up and for a moment she hoped he would see and understand but then he opened his hand and let them flutter to the floor, his handsome face impassive.

It was at that moment that Jane lost control – this imposter was making a mockery of the love she had cradled and nurtured since they had been forced to part, it was the purest thing she'd ever owned and he had scrumpled it up and let it fall to the floor to rot. Jane slammed the open drawer shut and turned to him furiously, her long hair catching him on the shoulder.

"Who is this man?" She asked scornfully and he flinched, glaring at her he started to tell her to be quiet but she cut him off.

"You wouldn't be out of place in a bank, Peter! Listen to yourself. You've become so wrapped up in yourself that you can't even see what's happening to you; you are growing up, you are becoming a man. A bitter, boring, arrogant old MAN." She seethed, her eyes glinting dangerously as she stamped her foot to emphasize the very last word.

Just as Peter was about to give an angry retort they heard the kitchen door open and froze as they heard footsteps on the stairs.

"The curtains." Jane mouthed frantically and Peter ducked swiftly behind them just as Wendy came into the room.

She stood amidst all the chaos Jane had created but only had eyes for her daughter who was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by her own words with tears running down her pale cheeks.

"Darling." Wendy murmured, crossing the room and wrapping her in a soft embrace as Jane tried to control the sobs. Her mother held her at arms length and smiled sadly, wiping the tears from Jane's face.

"I wish you weren't so sad." Wendy said tenderly and Jane tried to smile.

"I'm alright, just tired." She assured her mother.

"Hmm well maybe get some sleep, dear. Moods rise and fall with the sun, you know." Wendy advised but as she went to close the curtains Jane's eyes widened and she hurriedly cut in front.

"No! I mean, I'm not that tired..I – I couldn't sleep just yet. Maybe in a little while."

For a moment Jane thought her mother would argue with her but she only raised an eyebrow and tucked a strand of Jane's hair behind her ear.

"Okay, well not too late my love." She reached the door and then turned, her eyes sad. "Sooner or later you must forget him Jane, you cannot go on like this."

Behind the curtains Peter's face changed from hard anguish to liquid sadness as he realized how stupid he'd been.

After she closed the door Jane sank to the floor with sheer relief and buried her face in her hands, noiselessly Peter emerged and crouched behind her making her jump when he wrapped strong arms around her waist.

"I am sorry." He whispered and as she turned around to make sure he was really there the two locked eyes and then lips, the kiss evoked memories of a happier time and each leaned into the other, their hands entwined and their eyes closed, tears still on the tips of their eyelashes.

And she gave Peter back a slice of himself that she had kept safe for him and nurtured and he swapped it for the piece of her he had hoarded jealously through all the changes he had seen and the dangers he had faced.

It was then that they knew they would give each other everything.