And so more time passed, with Peter sleeping each evening upon his narrow pallet while Wendy slept in his large bed. Occasionally, he would wake during the night and lean silently against the edge of the bed-hollow, watching Wendy in her slumber. Her eyes often moved behind her eyelids, and her lips were often slightly parted. In the moonlight, her skin looked like the velvety pearls Peter sometimes found within the creatures in Neverland's ocean. He was oft tempted to reach out to stroke her cheek as she slept, but he kept himself back. He was not sure why.

Tinkerbell had taken a strange liking to Wendy, as well, and frequently kept her company on her various solitary walks. Peter was uncertain why Tink had brought Wendy back to him, but he could not find it within himself to wish that things had happened otherwise. Having Wendy here, and having her all to himself, with no Lost Boys demanding her attention, was like his best dream come true.

He knew it could not last. Of course it could not last. For Peter did not want to grow up, and so Wendy frequently spoke to him of what had happened and wondered why. She asked him many questions, but Peter did not like to talk about it. He knew that when they had solved this problem, when he was finally a boy again, Wendy would leave him ... and though Peter did not want to become a man, he also did not want her to leave.

From what she kept saying to him, Wendy seemed convinced that Peter's problems were her own fault, that she had ... broken him ... or some such ... when she gave him her thimble on the deck of the Jolly Roger. She now called it a "kiss", which caused Peter some confusion, but he eventually simply accepted that a kiss could mean many different things. Wendy had tried to explain kissing to him more clearly, but she had grown so very red that Peter had quite feared that she might make herself ill. He had assured her that he understood and that she need make no further efforts, but in truth he still found himself somewhat puzzled. Why would she have called a "kiss" a "thimble"? It made little sense to him. Peter had only one word for most things, and that made life simple. Wendy's life seemed considerably more complicated.

When Wendy went for walks with Tinkerbell, Peter would sometimes secretly follow her to make sure that she was safe. He often saw her sit on the large roots at the base of the fairies' hollow tree, leaning her cheek upon her hand as if she were waiting for someone. But no one ever came.

One time at the base of the fairy tree, she spoke to Tinkerbell when Peter was close enough to hear her, and he hoped he would learn why she so often chose this place to sit and wait. Indeed, he did not wait long before he had his answer.

"I do wish the fairies would speak with me again, Tink, for I truly do not know how to help Peter. I wish I did. I owe it to him, if I have caused all this with my ... with my kiss."

Wendy bent her face into her hands and whimpered, "I have caused so much trouble! I should never have kissed him."

Peter nearly gasped from his hiding place, but clapped his hand over his mouth before the sound could escape. Wendy wished she had never kissed him? Would she take back her thimble if she could? The thought caused an ache in Peter's chest that nothing could lessen. The "feelings", it seemed, happened whether he liked them or not. And this one he did not like. It hurt almost as much as being run through with a sword, and that was something Peter knew all too well.

While Peter had been lost in sad thought, Wendy had looked up again toward Tinkerbell, who had apparently said something to her in response. Wendy nodded and said, "The King and Queen told me. They said that Peter had been an innocent boy, that he had never kissed anyone, nor been kissed. They said that my kiss started all this, because it caused Peter to change, that he was no longer only a boy."

She was, of course, slightly overstating the fairies' words, and yet her interpretation was not entirely wrong. After all, fairies do have rather a talent for communicating more than their words might seem to say. Perhaps Wendy had understood them better than we, who is to know?

In his hiding place, Peter touched his lips as he watched Wendy's beautiful face in the distance. Her thimble had changed him? Was that why he had begun growing up?

Wendy was talking again, holding up a hand to count upon her fingers. "I know only three things," she told Tinkerbell. "One, that Peter is growing. Two, that the fairies tell me that my kiss changed him. And three, that the fairies also said that Neverland is changing because Peter has lost his joy." She frowned in thought. "If Peter has lost his joy because he is growing, then it truly is all my fault. All because of my kiss!"

"Tinkerbell," she said plaintively, "do tell me that I am wrong. I have been hoping so that I might speak to the fairies again, that they might tell me what I am to do to help Peter, but they do not come." She bowed her head a moment before adding softly, "And I grow so afraid for Peter."

Afraid for him? Why? Because he was growing? Well, that was not so bad as being held in Captain Hook's manacles and being forced to listen to his ridiculous songs, and she had saved him from that, hadn't she? And, anyway, Peter was perfectly capable of saving himself and needed no help from anyone.

But even as that thought passed his mind, the more grown-up part of Peter reluctantly acknowledged that it was incorrect. He did need someone. He needed Wendy. He had many "feelings" he did not understand, but he did know that he needed Wendy.

* * *

That evening, Peter was lying upon his pallet playing his pipes to amuse himself. He had not played his pipes in so very long a time that he barely remembered when it might have been, but today they had called to him and so he played a tune upon them. He would normally have lain upon his bed, but that space had become Wendy's domain, and he would not trespass. Otherwise, he might prove himself not a "gentleman," and, for some reason he could not fully explain, he did not want for that to happen.

Wendy had gone up to the look-out platform, for Peter was well aware that it was her favorite place. She often sat up there for long hours, while Peter drove himself nearly to distraction waiting for her to come back down. Everything now seemed to revolve around Wendy, around her presence. He missed her when she was not there, and was happy when she returned. He knew that these were the "feelings" of which Wendy had spoken before, but she never spoke of them now, as if she feared offending him. In some respects, this was a relief ... but there was also a part of Peter that longed to talk with Wendy of what had been happening inside him. He was sure she would understand it better than he.

"Peter?" Wendy called softly from the bottom of the rung ladder. She had climbed down while Peter was playing his pipes, and he had not heard her. Lucky for him she was not an Indian or a pirate!

"What is it, Wendy?" Peter asked, but Wendy pressed a finger to her lips and grinned. Pointing up the ladder, she whispered, "Come look!"

Wendy's smile would have been enough to tempt him, but a shared secret was even more seductive. Peter followed her up the ladder to sit beside her on the look-out.

The area surrounding their tree seemed quite filled with the lights of fairies. Peter smiled, for he did still enjoy the fairies' beauty, even if they rarely spoke with him anymore.

"Look," Wendy whispered into his ear, pointing. But Peter was momentarily paralyzed by the feeling of her breath in his ear. Why that should affect him so, he could not explain, but it had sent a shiver down his back. Not a bad shiver, but a good one. In truth, he wasn't sure he'd ever felt such a good shiver before.

Lost in the sensations of his own body, Peter blindly turned to look where Wendy had pointed. She had pressed herself against his side to whisper to him, and had not moved away afterward, and that too was a continuing distraction. When he felt somewhat more himself, Peter gathered enough composure to see what Wendy had been wanting him to see.

It was a cavalcade of the fairy court, slowly flying past in stately array, lesser fairies circling them in excited spirals. It would seem that the large number of fairies scattered all about this tree and others nearby were watching the procession just as Peter and Wendy were doing.

When Wendy took his hand, Peter turned to look at her. Her face was so near in the moonlight, so beautiful. He smiled shyly at her, and she smiled back. He squeezed her hand gently with his own, and they returned to watching the fairy procession.

"Is it a wedding?" Wendy whispered into his ear, sending yet another shiver down his spine. He could grow to like those shivers, with very very little effort.

Peter turned Wendy's face gently with his free hand so that he might whisper into her ear. "I don't know," he admitted. Wendy's hand squeezed his quickly, and Peter wondered if he'd sent a shiver down Wendy's spine as she did to him. He tilted his head to peer at her face, but Wendy seemed to be purposely turned away from him.

Lifting his free hand again to Wendy's cheek, he turned her face toward him once more, doing nothing but look into her eyes for a long moment.

"Is it all still only make-believe, Peter? You and me?" her voice was hushed in the moonlit darkness, but Peter thought he could still almost feel it inside his own chest.

His hand still gently holding Wendy's cheek, Peter whispered to her, "You said we have only a short time together like this. We shouldn't spend it worrying, right?" and his smile quirked just a bit more impish on that last word.

Wendy nodded with an answering smile of her own, never able to resist his charm. She just smiled at him in silence for a long moment, looking into his eyes without shyness for perhaps the first time since she had arrived back in Neverland. And suddenly Peter felt something in his heart that he did not like. Something remarkably like guilt.

"I'm sorry, Wendy," he whispered, so close to her face that she could surely feel his breath against her skin. "I'm sorry I said it was all your fault. I'm sorry I said such horrid things about you. I was wrong."

Wendy looked shocked at his apology, leaving Peter to wonder if he had done it incorrectly. He did, after all, have very little experience with apologizing. But then Wendy leaned slowly forward, her eyes falling closed, and Peter took this as a sign that all was well, for he now recognized this as her thimble face.

Strangely, Wendy did not close the distance to bring her lips against his. She simply waited, eyes closed, so very close to his face, so very tempting. It was rather puzzling to Peter. Why did she not give him her thimble, or kiss, or whatever she was calling it today? But after only a moment of such questioning, Peter simply closed his eyes and leaned forward that last tiny amount.

Their lips met this time in the softest of embraces, a gentle exploration that filled Peter's heart with something he could not name. How could the touching of their lips make him feel something within his heart? It was all very puzzling, but Peter did not puzzle about it now. Now he was far too busy being overwhelmed by the sheer Wendyness of Wendy. He let go of her hand, only so that he could hold her face on both sides, his fingers running through her silky thick hair. So many sensations at the same time, Peter felt as if he might burst, or vanish, or something else he could not even imagine.

He had kissed Wendy with great passion when he had been angry, but this was his first time truly kissing her when he was not. He had tasted her mouth, felt the texture of her tongue against his, felt her fingers against the nape of his neck, but it had all been tainted by his anger. Now, it was pure. And it was joyous. And it was, though Peter may not have wanted to admit it, most certainly love.

Peter felt as if he wanted to pull Wendy so close to him that she would become a part of his own body, and then she would never never leave him ever again. This was better than any adventure he had ever had. Better than any fight with Hook. Better than talking to mermaids or dancing with fairies or hunting with Indians. Better, even, than flying.

He wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to go on kissing Wendy forever.

When Wendy gently disengaged herself from his kiss, Peter found that he followed her with his lips a moment before realizing he should stop. Looking quickly into her eyes, he blushed, but did not look away. She seemed uncertain, as if she did not realize how she had made him feel, and Peter found himself wanting to reassure her.

"I guess," Peter leaned forward to whisper into her hair, "I guess 'feelings' aren't so bad after all."

When he pulled away to look into her eyes to see if he had said the right thing, her smile nearly blinded him. "Oh, Peter!" she whispered, and then hugged him tightly, with her face against the side of his neck. Peter held her in his arms and watched the fairies float past and wished that this would never have to end.

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Author's Note: Only two or three more chapters to go!