Even if I Where Sand (part 8 of 'My Brave Wendy')

by Isabelle

Disclaimers: The rights to the film and book "Peter Pan/Peter Pan and Wendy" do not belong to me; this is just done for entertainment. Chapter Disclaimers:

Rating: PG-15 (for adult themes and mild sexual references)

Feedback: isabelle@komodo-skin.com

Archiving: It's a requirement that I have that you ask me before posting any of my written work. Thank you.

Summary: This is a work of fiction based on the 2003 film "Peter Pan"; it is centered, like the film around Peter & Wendy's relationship, just so you know. Basically the whole "never saw each other again" is out the window and for the purposes of the fiction they did.

Setting: This happens 1 year after Peter last saw Wendy, she's now been sent to a boarding school in Switzerland with her parent's new found fortune, but it's nothing like the place they thought it to be, as WWI is in it's starting stages there's fear all around and she's left without adult supervision along with some of her boarding school girls to find a way home and hoping that a certain first love will find her.

Spoilers: The film, it'll spoil you if you have not seen the film!!

Appreciation: My beta, who rocks my world at this moment, Rogue!!

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She sat there paralyzed her eyes still unbelieving, her heart running a race against herself... her mind couldn't grasp it. The shock of a man being killed inches from her, her running, the entire week seemed to catch up on her so much and now Peter Pan was standing before her, with a look of concern on his face. This was it, she had lost her mind entirely.

So she promptly fainted, falling unceremoniously on top of the thick hay.

Peter did try to move when he saw her fainting but the entire shock of seeing her there, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide, and even more beautiful than he remembered her being prevented him from moving in time.

He did run to her, pulling her up from the hay.

She was trembling slightly so pulled his bag from his shoulders and took out a thick blanket, wrapping her thin shoulders with it and rubbing his palms over her upper shoulder to warm her.

"Wendy," he whispered, looking at her angelic face. She truly was an angel, her skin the palest pink that not even the snow could take away, her auburn hair rolled well past her waist and cascaded into his hands letting him bathe in it's softness.

Yes, she was something beyond human to him. A goddess.

He placed his dirty hand on her lips.

A thimble.

His thimble.

Her lips moved slightly at the touch and he couldn't help tilting his head slightly.... they looked so inviting, so ready to be... thimble.

Peter was really not thinking, it was as if her lips were humming a soft hypnotic tune that entranced him and lured him to her. Without a second thought he brought down his lips to his Sleeping Beauty; if it had worked for the prince in that story why shouldn't it work for him?

So close... until he touched them.

It really was a feeling of pure ecstasy, the skin of her lips was warm and plump, filled with promises of life and adventure.

Yes, this by far was his greatest adventure of them all.

He didn't know how long he spent attached to her in the intimate manner but soon her lips parted and she gasped. He pulled back, just slightly to look down at her wide eyes.

She blinked, still confused, her eyes still foggy.

"Hello Wendy," he greeted softly, with a small smile on his lips.

She studied him for a moment before blinking once more and then a smiling slowly.

"This is by far my best dream, Peter," she told him, though there was such deep sadness in her voice it hurt him to hear.

His eyes turned sad. Had she forgotten all about him? Was he just a dream to her?

"It's no dream, Wendy. I've been looking for you... I've come to rescue you."

At this she sat up, all too soon making their foreheads collapse.

The pain surely reassured her his was real because she jumped back, holding her forehead and looking at him wide-eyed.

"Peter!"

He grimaced, rubbing his own forehead. "Yes, Wendy."

"You...." she looked at him, body and all almost wildly. "... you are in... men's clothing...."

Peter looked down at himself and shrugged almost apologetically. "One can't really travel the snow on leaves can I?"

"The snow?" she asked, still confused, still a bit cynical.

A smile came to his face. "Yes! Your mother thought it best to dress me in this, I brought some clothes for you too--"

"My mother?" she asked, bewildered.

"Yes, your mother. Lovely lady she is," he was so sincere Wendy had to stop and simply look at him.

"You came... you've come for me?" her voice was a mere kiss of a whisper.

The smile had faded from his lips and he was simply looking at her in that way... that way that had made her melt so many times like the last time she had seen him hovering over her window, memorizing what she looked like.

"Of course I did..." he told her, coming closer to her. The moon making his hair shine like spun gold.

Wendy looked on at him, studying what he had apparently become. "Why?"

The question was really simple, it was something she would've expected Peter to avoid to when he merely look at her, his eyes serious and sincere and told her he loved her she was sure to faint once more.

"I love you. Because I love you, Wendy."

"You..." the world seemed to be spinning out of it's axis and doing the waltz around the universe. She was sure this was all just a dream, a lovely dream filled with good things and bad things and things you simply hear in dreams.

".... I love you." he repeated once more, like a child who has no reservations.

Tears came to her eyes and they quickly starting marking their tracks on her glowing cheeks. She was filled with a warmth she couldn't describe despite the cold air coming in to the barn. The world could've exploded for all she cared but all she saw was him.

Kneeling there before her... telling her he loved her.

"Wendy?" his voice was worried. "Why are you crying?"

She stifled a sob but it proved to be impossible as she broke down in tears.

Peter was startled and knew not what to do, her face was buried in her hands and her hair made a curtain around her, shaking slightly with her shoulders.

He gently crawled to her until her body heat was radiation to him and gently wrapped his arms around her, bringing her head to his chest.

Wendy would've really wanted to fight, hit him and curse him and tell him how she hated him so many night... but she didn't. Because his chest felt incredibly amazing against her ear and his arms around her was a heaven she could've only dream about.

"Oh Peter..." she sagged against him.

His hand came up to cup her head and rock her back and forth. "Wendy, don't cry... I'll try not to make you cry, I promise."

She hiccupped and pulled back, just slightly, to look up at him.

A smile slowly formed itself on her lips as his eyes looked down on her with so much worry. "You look like my Peter... but you don't act like my Peter."

He smiled his own smile. "It's been a learning experience finding you."

She sagged against him, contently. "Really?"

He nodded.

"How long have you been searching?"

He bit his lip. "Since... since the night we found out your school had been attacked."

She nodded, still smiling. "I knew it... I could feel you looking for me but I wouldn't let myself believe."

He gently sat her up, making sure she was steady and reached up to her face to clear the tear tracks. She held her breath, never tacking her own eyes from his and he softly cleaned her face.

"I don't ever want you to cry for me," Peter whispered, guilt evident in his voice.

"Then don't leave," she told him.

Their eyes gently danced with each other, without looking away, without reservations... simply open and simply understanding.

"I'm here now," he said.

She smiled and reached out her own hand to place it against his cheek, an action that before had almost sent him into hysterics about emotions and feelings.

But this time he let her rest her gloved hand against him, rubbing the skin lightly. "Yes... yes you are, Peter."

"WENDY!"

Peter and Wendy pulled back, shocked as voices come thumbing to them.

"Oh my god, Wendy!" she heard Rosalind cry.

"Stay away from her, you scum!" Joanna cried, pulling out her sword, though she knew not how to use it.

Peter quickly jumped up, standing between himself and Wendy, pulling out his own sword.

The girls screamed and flew behind Joanna.

"Wendy!" Helen cried.

"Stop it!" Wendy yelled at him, standing up and placing herself between the frightened girls and the overprotective Peter.

"Ladies, this is my friend Peter... I told you of him, remember?" a light blush crept to her cheeks. "Peter, these are my school friends. We've been traveling together."

Joanna slowly put down her own sword and starred at Peter along with the rest of the girls. As if they couldn't believe he was really.

Peter for his part promptly placed down his sword and picked up his bag.

"He's... he's real..." Helen finally said.

Peter turned to her and frowned. "Of course, I'm real!"

His voice made them jump. "Oh my goodness..." Rosalind fainted behind Joanna.

"Girls faint so easily," Peter commented, earning him a glare from Wendy.

"Pick her up," Wendy told Anna.

Anna, who for her part, was looking at Peter in a more than curious manner. It was true that he was dressed like a peasant but so was she.

"You pick her up," Anna retorted. "It was because of your friend that she fainted."

Wendy narrowed her eyes and walked past her to the fallen Rosalind.

"She's probably hungry, Wendy... we're starved." Helen commented, sitting down on the hay and looking about miserably.

"I've brought food," Peter told them and they all looked at him expectantly.

He looked around the hay barn. "If we make a fire this will be a good shelter--"

Anna screamed to the top of her lungs, startling them all. Her thin white finger pointed at the soldier's dead body.

"Oh my god!" Helen cried, backing up herself.

"He's dead, it's all right," Peter tried to calm them, grimacing when Anna screamed once more.

"You killed him!" she accused him.

"I did, he was attacking Wendy," Peter told her.

"You... y-you monster!"

Peter blanched at her, his mouth hanging open.

"Stop it, you git!" Wendy cried at her, standing in front of her. "He saved my life... once more. The man was going to attack me."

Joanna nodded and helped Rosalind stand up. "We better get him out of here before he starts smelling."

Peter looked at Anna, appalled, then helped Joanna drag the body outside of the cabin and buried it in snow. When they came back outside Helen and Rosalind were bundled under a blanket and Wendy had started a small fire.

Peter handed her a piece of salted meat, tea bags and some potatoes.

"Potatoes!" Joanna cried, looking delighted.

"I can make a stew, I think," Wendy said, pulling out a small pot they made Rosalind carry.

"You know how to make stew?" Peter asked, a slight smile on his face as he watched her work. She smiled back, shyly (in a way that made Anna roll her eyes).

"Yes, Peter," Wendy blushed lightly as he watched her dice the potatoes with his knife.

"A potato and meat strew sounds lovely." Helen commented as she helped Joanna placed blankets on the cold floor.

"Once we're found again we wont have to eat things such as potato stew," Anna commented dryly, glared at the way Wendy and Peter sat so close to each other. "That is servant's food."

Peter turned to look at her. He was beginning to dislike her greatly.

"What food do you know how to make," he asked her.

Wendy's head snapped to look at him. "Peter..." she warned.

Anna lifted her chin defiantly. "A true lady doesn't cook."

Peter smiled and looked at Wendy. "I beg to differ."

All the girls laughed except for Anna who alienated herself from them, though she took the stew a bit too eagerly once it was done.

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He was very much annoyed when his meeting with the heads of state was interrupted by a supposed 'urgent message'. Dosmasky was not a patient man but he complied regardless and met with the massager in the adjoining room.

"What is it?" he marked at the soldier before him.

"We've just received a telegram, General," he handed him a piece of paper.

The general took it and nodded for him to leave. The soldier walked quickly out of the room but another man, dressed in a fine suit entered.

The door closed quietly behind him and he walked to the general who looked like he'd just been given poison to drink.

"Bad news, I take," the man in the suit said.

Dosmasky jumped when saw who it was but promptly bowed in reverence before the man.

"Excellency, forgive me I did not hear you enter," Dosmasky told him, a bit pale and nervous.

Prince Adrien was not a man to be trifled with, Dosmasky knew that, he was after all the person who would basically inherit all the land once the war was done.

The Prince didn't flinch simply moved to take the telegram from him.

He opened it and read it's contents, then sighed and handed it back to the general.

"Five little girls..." he started slowly, walking to the desk that was in the dark room. "Five little girl, Dosmasky and you cannot capture them."

The general turned to look at him and gulped. "No... Excellency."

"Perhaps the American saying of doing things on your own is true." Adrien commented.

"I just need a few more days, my prince--"

He truly didn't get to finish his sentence as the Prince pulled out a small gun and shot him with it. The general looked up at him before his vision was clouded in blood and he fell to the floor. Dead.

Adrien slowly stood to look at the man. He really should know how to control his tempter. When the soldiers came to take the general's body away he asked one of them for a special task. A special person he must contact.

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Yes, he was an American in a European's world that was true. But he was no cowboy. If he wanted he could pass as English, Russian, German, French and even Italian; not many were able to pull that off.

He also didn't like to be bothered. It annoyed him to no end, especially when the card game was just getting interesting. He had three aces and a pair of deuces. A sure win, a sure five thousand pounds.

He loved playing with aristocracy, they were as foolish with their money as with the words they told strangers in a poker table.

His youth was his advantage, they saw him young, which he was... just turned eighteen in fact but he was no boy. He hadn't been a boy for as long as he could remember.

He took a drag from his fine cigar and smirked as the players showed their cards.

"You show now, Mr. Kelley." they asked him.

"Gentleman, first of all let me state that it's been a fine pleasure playing hands with you all." he told them, his English accent more perfect than ever.

The older men laughed. "He's a fine lad, he is!"

"Here, here!"

"Show us what you've got, Mr. Kelley."

He did, placed down his five cards and stunned them all. With a small smile he leaned forward and collected the chips, handing them to his man-servant next to him.

"By George!" one of the older men gasped.

"He's cleaned us dry!" another said and then they all began to laugh.

"We have to stop these little games, Mr. Kelley or you'll soon be owning our estates and marrying our daughters!"

They all burst out laughing, that's why enjoying playing with them, they didn't mind to loose fortunes. Their fine card game was interrupted when a messenger came scurrying forward.

"For whom this time?" asked one of the men, taking a sip from his cherry.

"For Mr. Christian Kelley." the messenger said.

The young American cocked his eyebrow but took it regardless thanking the massager with a few coins.

"Mr. Kelley deems himself important now, gentlemen."

Christian ignored their jabs but studied the message. This assignment would certainly place him in the map of most sought out assassins. He smiled. His life was just about to begin.

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TBC.....

A/N: Yes, Christian Kelley is the same guy Wendy sees in her dream, just in case you're wondering :) I'm sorry if you've asked me a question and I have not answered, to reply at ff.net is really inconvenient, you're welcomed to email me at isabelle@komodo-skin.com and ask me and I'll definitely answer you back :)