Peter stopped in a clearing, feet rooted to the earth. He wanted to go to the camp, to surround himself with the familiar and controlled, but he couldn't move. Wendy's words echoed through his head incessantly and when he squeezed his eyes shut he could still see her pitying look. He had forgotten. He was the Truest Believer or he had been a long time ago and he had spent centuries non the wiser. How could he forget something so vital? He barely had any memories of his initial stay in Neverland and the time before that was just a blur of bad dreams and vague feelings. Once he must have remembered and the knowledge must have ate him alive. Sometimes it was better to forget.

He stared through the trees, eyes glaring and intense, and tried to suppress the helplessness that wanted to claw up from his chest. He hated, hated feeling out of control and not having ownership of your past, of your life was a terrible thing to face. Existing with that queasy unknowing, that uncertainty had propelled him into becoming who he was now. He could control his environment and the people around him as easily as breathing and over time he felt assured of his position, of who he was and his importance until his blank page of a life was unimportant. Now he was scrabbling for purchase.

Wendy knows...

It was a thought that made him simultaneously grimace and ignite with a strange burning warmth. There were only two people he trusted in the world and that was Felix and Wendy. Felix would stick with him through anything, he knew that but Wendy? Her trust was not as implicit, it was taut and hesitatingly given and he knew that if she had to she would use this knowledge about him to her advantage. No one had ever had something over him and for the first time in his life he was in someone else's power and it was like needles in his skin.

He had followed her to Skull Rock with every intention of bringing her back with him, drag her screaming if he had to, but now he hesitated. He could sense her entering her cave, felt the way her presence became faint like it always did, and his hands curled into fists. He wanted her, he had missed her more then he had ever conceived possible and when he thought that her life had been in danger something inside him had cracked. He had no memory of loving anything or anyone so he didn't know if the heart crushing pangs he felt was love, he had nothing to compare it to but Wendy was the one person who could produce it and it made him feel unbelievably vulnerable.

I suppose that's love.

He stared down, exhaling and began to smile softly. If he was faced with a threat to his power he viciously destroyed that person with relish and at that moment Wendy was his biggest threat. But only if he viewed her as a danger. He could not imagine spending the rest of his life without Wendy, the separation had proved that he was incapable of it. He would kill, maim and scar anyone that tried to take her from him but what could he do when she was the one running from him? Hurting her was the thing that drove her away. He wanted every little part of her, nothing withheld or denied but if he expected that wouldn't she expect the same in kind?

She had learned some, she now owned fundamental knowledge about him but could he do more? Relinquish a grip that had hardened and fortified over years by control and forgetfulness? He had wanted to believe his past was no more than bad dreams, to forget but whenever he attempted to delve deeper he had always backed off, the process painful and all but impossible as the years progressed. He had faced it alone but not now.

"I have to try," he whispered and behind him leaves ruffled in the breeze, as if excited by his decision.

He pressed his hands against the door, pushing with all his strength but it would not open. He kicked the screen behind him in frustration and turned back to the door that lead to Wendy. Peter had tried to open the door numerous times, sometimes as a light warning or because he just wanted to be as close as possibly but now he was desperate. He had approached the cave with noble intentions, hesitant with what he wanted to finally share with her but the door would still not open.

"You can't use my bloody island against me," he growled in annoyance, wondering yet again how she could do such a thing but focused all his attention on entering. She might have a formidable imagination and strength of will but she did not have magic and it was the one thing that Peter had held back. Now the wood splintered and bubbled under his hands and the door swung open with a blasting force.

He stepped through the door, blinking in the sudden light and took in his surroundings. He was in a wooded grove, birches and oaks in leaf and summer time was in full swing. Deserted tables and chairs stood in the clearing, empty wine glasses and paper cups littering every surface and rainbow coloured paper chains swung from one tree to another. Peter moved forward, looking back briefly to see that he had existed from an old garden shed, and stopped before a throne on a plinth. Familiarity gnawed at him. He remembered clearly the dream that he had once sneaked into. Wendy had been part of some coronation party, playing the part of queen with loyal female followers. She had clearly made it part of her fantasy but that was not the thing that needled him. As he moved between the tables, spotting paper lanterns and shattered light bulbs under his feet he realised what it was; this was not Wendy's coronation celebration but her 17th birthday party. It was an attempt to remember.

It was long deserted. He walked through the trees, the sensation of dread he had once felt while moving through her dream absent, and came to the tree line. A huge sloping lawn of bright green grass lead to a humongous green house, sunlight glinting off the many windowpanes and he could just make out the plants within. He moved on, wondering why he had not been stopped yet, she must be aware that he was there but he reached the greenhouse and entered with no restriction. As expected the interior was humid and the heat enveloped him, as it did in Neverland. He was impressed at the detail, at the control she had over her creation, and felt a flare of pride. She was made for him.

"Come on Wendy-bird, stop hiding..." he muttered and then paused as something reached his ears. Music was faintly playing in the distance and he walked towards it, trying to decipher the words. He walked to the other side of the hothouse, which became less an exhibition of exotic plants but something more everyday, the glass walls seeming to shrink in around him. Ferns brushing against his legs and face he brushed them away and came to a stand still, staring at the foggy glass that made the view outside blurred but it was clearly another garden. He reached for the curling handles and pulled the doors open. The music that faintly drifted to him was much louder now but he only paid it half a mind as he stepped out.

It was an English garden in the height of summer, all neat lines, roses and perfectly cut grass that basked under a deep blue sky. Bees buzzed and birds sang sweetly and he could hear a water fountain gurgling at the back of the garden. Toys were scattered over the lawn, bikes and puzzles pieces under foot. His eyes lingered over these things but then he quickly looked up and focused on the house, which was just as perfect as the garden. French doors were open and he could see a bright conservatory within.

Peter took in the perfectly surreal sight before him before forcing himself to move on. Orchids of many kinds filled the room, the likes of which that could be found on his island growing wild but here they were neatly potted and labelled and as he inspected them he saw with confusion that the handwriting on the tags was his own. He straightened, something tight and squirming beginning to stir in his stomach but he ignored it and moved through the room and out into a corridor, the wistful music clear and loud, coming from a radio he thought.

- someone took you out of my arms, still I feel the thrill of your charms. Lips that once were mine, tender eyes that shine...

Peter shook his head, trying to make sense of it. Wendy spending her time in her fantasy camp, imaging herself queen and surrounded by supporters was what he expect to find, not this perfectly mundane, sickly sweet life. The woods and the hothouse had been incredibly detailed but this was so far beyond what he expected. This place, with it's dust motes dancing in sun beams and scuff marks on the floor was lived in and clearly cherished.

"She's been living another life," he thought aloud and that squirming feeling spiked with coldness, "without me," he added bitterly through his teeth and he looked on the house with an increasing angry disgust. He had spent years alone, years leaving her in peace, hoping that she would forgive him but all the while she was doing this? She had told him that he had been unable to endure without her but she had because she had a life worth living. Was he worthless?

All the new faint hopes he had considered became fainter and less likely every second and as he glared around someone appeared at the end of the hallway and Peter coiled. He thought it would be Wendy and he was ready to unleash vitriol at her but it was not Wendy. It was a girl, a little blonde haired girl he had seen before but she appeared older. She did not seem shocked to see him, on the contrary she smiled as she raced passed him towards the garden, blowing him a kiss.

"Hello daddy!"

Peter stiffened, unable to comprehend what he had heard at first but as he did he spun around, eyes wide but the girl was gone. He could hear her singing softly, probably playing.

"What...?" he breathed, not able to voice anything else as it was the only word appearing in his head. Bewildered he made himself move until he reached the end of the hallway and looked up a flight of stairs. Behind him the front door was closed but he could hear traffic very faintly in the distance. Again the detail astonished him, the world seemed to have a life all of it's own and a coldness that had nothing to do with his sense of betrayal settled in his gut.

From above laughter sounded and it was Wendy. Hearing that snapped him out of his uncomfortable daze and he began climbing the stairs but then raced up them, teeth bared. He burst into a room and all the disgust, all the confusion and astonishment was blasted away as he was met with an impossible sight. Standing before him was a man holding a baby and that man was him.

"Peter!" Wendy cried, springing up from her seat on the bad but he barely heard her. He could not look away from the older vision of himself, unable to ignore the thing in the bundle he – no it – was holding but as Wendy jumped to her feet the baby and the older version of Peter vanished. Wendy moved in front of him, face ashen and her eyes panicked and Peter snapped his eyes to her face and the look made her recoil. She was older, her true age and the sight of it sickened him. He grabbed hold of her arms suddenly, making her jump.

"What are you doing? Was – was that me?"

Wendy said nothing, biting the inside of her lips and he could feel her shaking. Finally she nodded, tears in her eyes. "You were never meant to know. What are you doing here?" she whispered in accusation and the horrible whirling feeling in Peter exploded.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK?" he shouted and the illusion that Wendy had surrounded her body with melted away like ice. She was young again but her eyes would never be, like his own. She pushed against his chest, trying to force him away, her shock now turning to wrath.

"GET OUT! HOW DARE YOU COME IN HERE!"

"How dare I?! You've been living like this, pretending we're older and together with a family all this time?" he hissed, shaking her slightly and Wendy's eyes blazed.

"Yes! How else did you expect me to live? You think I'd become like you? Sulk like a child because I didn't get what I truly wanted? I made this for myself, I made the life I wanted," she explained more calmly but he was losing control.

"A life without me!"

"No! You've always been here," she said desperately and he dropped his hands in disgust. "I tried to imagine a life without you but I couldn't!"

Peter shook his head, jaw clenching repeatedly. "That was not me! That ridiculous thing only exists in your imagination, he's not real but I am! You know I came here wanting to start over, to share what I could with you but I shouldn't have bothered. This house and those fucking children disgust me."

Wendy slapped him with such force that he stumbled back, startled at the show of strength. She was furious, her eyes burning with something close to hate and something in Peter wilted even as he flushed with a terrible angry lust.

"Do you know what this is?!" she yelled, angry tears in her eyes. "This was the life I wanted for us! The life we talked about in the tunnels! I battled against this for so long, tried to ignore my wants and needs but I couldn't, I wouldn't! I love you, I love you so much but you can never give me what I want."

She slumped, tears spilling down her cheeks but Peter would not comfort her, he was stinging with reproach and a deeply hidden hurt. It was unfair, being exposed to it all. He had considered this life more then he was willing to admit but it was an opportunity and time long gone. How could Wendy be so deluded? This was about more then his sense of betrayal, she was in danger and she could not see it.

"This is all fake, none of it is real. You might feel happy now but soon the hollowness of this little fantasy will start to carve you out from the inside and you won't be able to withstand it. It will drive you mad," he whispered seriously and fear flickered in Wendy's eyes but then she tilted her head, considering him with a fragile hope.

"It doesn't have to be hollow, it can be real. Stay with me," she asked in a small wavering voice and Peter blinked.

"Stay?" he stared around at the room. It was one that he was familiar with, one he used to wake in with Wendy beside him in the bed but it had never felt like his, it was always Wendy's. The island was her home, he made sure of that, and now he felt she was as rooted and inseparable from it as he was but he realised that he was no more than a visitor in this side of their relationship, this huge part of Wendy's life. It was not right and he knew that it had to change, that he had to surrender until he was granted every aspect of her. But this domestication? Children? Adulthood? She was asking for the impossible. At the shifting expressions on Peter's face, that blended from consideration to disgust, Wendy gazed at him with a wary acceptance, one tinged with derision.

"Stupid question. You are the most selfish, self centred person I have ever met. As if you could consider the needs and concerns of someone else," she gazed at him with heavy lidded judgement and attempted to brush past him but he grabbed her arm and tugged her close to him and she bristled.

"I didn't give you an answer."

"You didn't have to," she said, inches from his face. Their proximity made both of them breathe heavily, eyes flicking from angry eyes to parted lips. Peter strained against her, taut with the need to resist, to deny the effect she had on him while another more pressing part wanted to push her down and tear her clothes off, ripping the world down around them as he did so until it was just them left in the ruins.

Savage desire flamed in his eyes and Wendy could not tear her gaze away, breath caught in her throat. If she made a move, if she touched him he would ignite and leave nothing standing, so great was his frustrated need. His desire was reflected back at him, he could see it in her eyes, in the heave of her chest against his arm but she started to pull back slowly and then all at once, ripping herself free.

"No!" she shook her head as he came forward but stilled. Her eyes looked half crazed, something almost spare in them and it stopped him in his track. He was wound tight with tension, his shoulders hunched and hands fisted but he began to stare at her with an exposed and vulnerable expression she had seen only fleetingly. He had never cared enough to feel worried about the welfare of another person but Wendy was not any person.

"I meant it when I said this place will drive you mad. You spend any more time here and you'll start to lose yourself and I won't have that. I know what you think of me and I know you're right. But I know what I feel for you, there is nothing I am more sure about. You know more about me then I do at this point and you know me well enough to guess how that makes me feel. But I don't care, I need you and I won't spend another day without you. So you either take my hand and leave with me or I will burn it all down where we stand," he threatened, offering her a hand.

"It's not yours to destroy," she said in a shaking voice, eyeing his hand with conflict. She gazed around the room, tears in her eyes and from downstairs he could hear children running and talking animatedly. His stomach twisted and this time not with disgust. In some life, in some other universe those girls downstairs would have been theirs and it shook him to his core.

"I can't give you this," he said gently, "but I can give you something else."

"What?" she asked tiredly.

"Me. I love you, completely," he admitted, using the words that she had once confessed long ago in a soft voice. He meant it with everything he had, from the tiny slivers of light in his heart to the billowing darkness. His heart was hers. Wendy stared at him, mouth parting in surprise and her already tear filled eyes spilled over.

"But your heart, the spinsters -"

"Forget what they told you. I have never, ever felt this way about anyone. I thought it was impossible, I thought it would fade but it has just increased and I know it will grow. I might not love like you but I love you in the only way I can and – and I'm sorry for that," he admitted, struggling to get the words out. It was the only apology she would get for Rufio, for lying about the cure and every pain he had inflicted on her. "Just come with me and we'll start over."

"If you're lying -"

"I'm not," he assured her, gaze steady and fierce and Wendy swallowed. The world around them started to flicker as Wendy battled with her decision. The sky outside transformed, shifting from blue sky to rain clouds, from dawn to dusk and all around them the years that Wendy had spent dreaming floated around them like ghosts. Peter saw babies learning to crawl, snatches of lullabies, the echo of laugher and night times tears, children's new shoes and hair ribbons and the quiet noise of two people making love. It was bursting with love, every thread and thumbed page was adored but at heart there was an emptiness. The world faded away until all that was left was Wendy sat and staring at her sad reflection in a mirror.

The room was the only thing that remained, all traces if her other life was now gone and she sat with her back to him, weeping quietly. He watched her back heave, her knuckles growing white as she dug her fingers into the seat before focusing on her stricken face in the glass. She was stripped raw, as vulnerable as she had been when she learned the truth of her parent's demise and he knew he had to tread carefully. He sat on the bed behind her, not touching but a constant presence. Tears and sadness were something that produced a horrible squirming feeling in him because they were things that he could not control but he sat and soaked in her grief until she was ready to talk to him.

"They were called Jane and Margaret," she uttered gutturally, wiping the back of her hand over her cheeks. "They weren't real but they were mine and – and that was their names."

Peter said nothing, just nodded but his hands fisted the bed. They sat in silence, Wendy slowly gaining control of herself until she peered at her drained face and sighed, eyes flicking to his reflection.

"Don't you sometimes look in the mirror and feel surprised at the face that looks back at you?"

"All the time," he remarked with a light arrogance and this produced a tiny smile from her. Peter leaned forward as Wendy turned around to face him. She was still emotionally drained but he knew that was better then turning into a ghost, a shadow of who she once was.

"I want to show you something," he said and felt a swoop of nerves as he did. His anxiety must be visible on his face because she leaned forward with a frown and touched her cool fingertips to his forehead. Peter sighed at the touch.

"What is it?"

"I want to take you to my Thinking Tree."

"Why?" she asked and Peter licked his lips, jaw clenching.

"Because it holds the only clues I have to my past, before I came to Neverland. I – I've been avoiding it for years but I think it's time. Will you come with me?"

His question was light but the vulnerability rang clear. The reason no one had seen his tree was because he was to distrustful, paranoid and to scared to show it to anyone, to share something that was so personal but now he was ready. Wendy considered him and she began to stare with such love that he felt relief shake through him.

"Of course," she whispered and laced her fingers through his as he gently pulled them to their feet and for the first time in years Wendy left her cave and when night fell she did not return.

a.n:

Hi guys! This update took longer than usual and it will continue to go like that. But I'll try to update once a week regularly.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and the shift in their relationship, I thought it was time.