Author's Note: My story's not doing too well, but that's okay. I like it and that's all that matters. So, if anybody's actually even reading this, please let me know what you think. Thanks.

Only In Your Wildest Neverdreams

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Chapter Four

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She was wrong. She knew that it wasn't a dream. Even days later, she still knew that it wasn't a dream. And she hated this knowledge.

"What a git," she mumbled.

Juliette stopped her speed talking at once. "Who's a git?" The two of them were in Juliette's room.

"Oh," said Ellie, startled that she had been heard. "No one." She had been referring to Peter, but, of course, would never tell her friend that. Juliette would think that she was mad and that was the last thing that she needed: her only friend thinking that she was crazy.

Rolling her eyes, Juliette said, "Whatever. As I was saying..." she drifted off into her chatter once again.

Peter Pan. There were two possibilities. The first one was that she actually had dreamt that Peter Pan came to her window out of all the windows in the world and spoken to her out of all the hers in the world. The idea had been stirring her mind continuously. Her conclusion, which she had reformed several times, was that it was indeed not a dream.

That meant that the second possibility applied. Peter Pan had visited her. And he was a git. Now he had her thinking about him non-stop. She had even gone to the library to borrow Peter and Wendy, which she felt extremely stupid in doing.

Juliette sighed, gazing at her friend. She was worried. Ellie had been acting strangely for the past few days, acting a bit out of it and spacing out occasionally. This was one of those occasions. Maybe she wasn't feeling well. She did have that cold brewing before and perhaps it had gotten worse. Though, she hadn't noticed anything. Juliette leaned forward and with the back of her hand, touched Ellie's forehead.

"What are you doing, Juliette?" asked Ellie, swatting her away.

Her forehead felt cool. That was a good sign. "Ellie, are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Because you've been acting weird lately and I remember how you were coughing before."

"It's much better now. It's virtually gone."

"Oh. Well, Ellie, my father's coming home soon."

Ellie knew what that meant. She thought that Juliette's father was a little nutters. He threw things and yelled at Juliette for no reason. She knew that he beat her sometimes, but Juliette would never admit it. "You can come home with me," Ellie offered.

"No, that's okay. I have to make dinner."

Nodding, Ellie bid her friend goodbye and left. When she arrived home, her aunt was clearing the table and the twins were fighting over what program to watch on TV.

"Ellie, I didn't think you'd be home for dinner so I didn't make you any," her aunt said distractedly. "But there's some frozen macaroni and cheese left from yesterday's dinner, if you'd like to heat that up."

Rolling her eyes, Ellie went up to her room. She wouldn't really call it a room. It was rather small, but since it had a balcony, she did not mind. After she had switched on her light, she found her copy of Peter and Wendy and without bothering to take off her shoes, flopped onto her bed belly first. She flipped through the pages and momentarily, found what she was looking for.

It was a picture of Peter. Ellie gazed at it, running her hands over it, gently. She smirked. He looked far different in the picture than he actually did. The only thing that was accurate was his hair color. "I wish I could just fly away like you, Peter," she whispered.

Ellie sat up and stared at her balcony doors for a long time before getting off of her bed. She turned off her light and went to the balcony, taking her book with her. It was unusually warm for winter in London that night, but she was chilly anyway. Closing the balcony doors after her, she walked to the railing and set the book on the ground. The cold iron underneath her fingertips felt good. It felt like death.

That was the reason that she was out there, wasn't it? To fly away. Forever.

Peter sat Indian-style on the roof above Ellie's balcony with Tinkerbell on his shoulder. She did not speak. She had not spoken the entire way there and he could tell that she was angry. Her light had been alternating from white to red. Switching his head to rest on his other hand, a sigh escaped his lips. He was debating on whether he should knock on Ellie's balcony doors. Why shouldn't he? After all, he had flown all that way. But he could think of a thousand reasons why he shouldn't knock and he was sure that Tinkerbell could think of a million more for him.

It wasn't that he was getting attached to Ellie, it was just that when he heard her say that she was sad all the time, it perplexed him. No one could be sad all the time, not even he was sad all the time. Neverland helped him forget and he was sure that if he could forget, then Ellie could too. He was there to make her that offer.

But the tricky part was this: Peter did not want to get attached. He had gotten attached to Wendy and had been greatly fond of Jane since the first time he had met her, but made sure that it did not get to the point of where it had gotten with Wendy. For his own sanity, there could never be another Wendy because he knew what would happen. At the end, she would want to go back home. And he would not be able to go with her.

That's what always happened. Twice was always enough. He wasn't even sure if Ellie liked him. She had not seemed to.

And so, he continued to sit on the roof and think until he heard something. Startled, his first instinct was to hide and he did so, flattening himself against the roof so that he could peer over the edge without being seen. Tinkerbell did the same and he could see that she had cooled off, for when she lit up, her light was a consistent white color.

It was Ellie. She had a book in her hands, which she soon set down. What is she doing, he wondered as she began to climb onto the balcony railing. She spread her arms so that she looked like a cross.

She was going to fall. Peter did not think another thought as he flew and scooped her into his arms. Surprised, she immediately began to flail her arms and legs about, causing Peter to drop her onto the balcony. Ellie landed smartly on her bottom, he landing also, but on his feet.

After watching her sit there blankly for a few minutes, Peter asked, "Are you all right, Ellie Rose?"

Angrily, Ellie replied, "What'd you go and do that for, you stupid git!"

Peter was taken aback. He had just saved her life and he said so.

"But I didn't want that, Peter! I was trying to end it!"

"End it? Why would you do a thing like that?"

"Oh, never mind," she said, exasperated. She turned away from him. "You wouldn't understand. I guess I'm not meant to die now."

Peter let his head fall. Hadn't he done the right thing? Tinkerbell landed on his shoulder. "It's all right," she said to him. "Don't worry about her. Let's go home, okay?"

"What was that?" Ellie said, turning around sharply. Tinkerbell hid behind Peter so that Ellie could not see her light.

"Ellie Rose...are...are you crying?" Peter questioned upon seeing the tear tracks on her face. He was again confused.

"No," she replied, rubbing her eyes. "But what was that? I heard something."

"Oh, that was just Tinkerbell. Come on out, Tink." There was a jangle of bells.

"There it was again. She said something. What did she say?"

"She said…" Peter strained to think of something to say in place of what she had really said. Tinkerbell had said that she was a stupid girl and that she didn't know why Peter would waste his time flying back to her. "She said hello."

"No I didn't, Peter!" Tinkerbell screamed and Ellie understood her perfectly. She flew from behind him. "I said you're stupid. Why would Peter come all that way just to see you? You're even uglier than W-Jane!" Tinkerbell caught almost blurted out Wendy's name, but caught herself to spare Peter's feelings.

"Tinkerbell..." Peter warned. Tinkerbell just "humpfed" and crossed her arms across her chest. She hid a smug smile, expecting the girl to get angry. Instead, Ellie threw her head back and laughed.

"She's got quite an attitude, hasn't she?" Ellie remarked.

"You're not upset?" asked Peter as he cocked his head.

"Upset? No. The girls at school are worse. I don't care."

"Really? Wendy would have been plenty upset."

"Well," she said with a small smile, "I guess that's the difference between me and Wendy."

Peter looked at her thoughtfully. It was amazing how her mood had changed just like that. He definitely had never met anyone like her.

Ellie picked up her book and as Peter saw this, his face lit up. He loved books. Ever since he had learned to read and write, he read any time he got the chance. "What's the name of that book?"

"Oh..." Ellie looked down at it. "This? You wouldn't be interested. It's nothing exciting."

"Can I see it?"

"Well..."

"Please?"

Upon seeing his pleading eyes, Ellie reluctantly handed him the book, although when he went to take it from her, it was a struggle, for she would not let go. She couldn't bear to watch his reaction.

"Peter and Wendy," he read aloud, slowly flipping through it when he had finally pried it from her hand. When he saw the picture of himself, he grinned. "Is that supposed to be me? Ha! And to think, I thought that you didn't like me."

"I don't."

"Then why are you reading about me?"

She hesitated, giving Peter enough time to let out a laugh. "Wow, they wrote a book about me? I didn't know I was that great. Wait, yes I did."

Ellie let out a snort. "You're conceited. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Sure, plenty of times." Lifting off into the air subconsciously, he sat in Indian-style and began to read the book. Tinkerbell was still glowering beside him. "They're all wrong, though. So when did they write this book about me?"

"Early nineteen hundreds, I think. How did you learn to read?"

"Wendy," he said distractedly. "I can write too." He said this proudly.

After what seemed like a long silence, Ellie spoke again. "Why did you come back?"

Peter did not look up from his book. His mind was racing. Should he tell her the truth, or should he bid her farewell and fly back to Neverland while he still had the chance? "Oh, you know. I was in the neighborhood." Tinkerbell snorted, not unnoticed by Ellie.

"So why were you "in the neighborhood?""

"I don't know. Just because."

"Oh, I see now. You flew all the way from Neverland to come to London just because."

"Yup."

"That's bullshit."

Looking up, Peter's mouth dropped.

"Ow!" screamed Ellie, her hands flying to the back of her head.

"Watch your mouth!" shouted Tinkerbell, face to face with her.

"Why, you little—"

"Aw, leave her alone, Tink. The Lost Children swear all the time." He just was not expecting to hear it from this girl.

"And do you know where they get it from? Those pirates! I tell you children time and time again not to go to Buccaneer Banor but do you listen?" Tinkerbell retorted in her bell language.

"It's okay, Peter. She's not even brave enough to say what she just said so that I can understand her," said Ellie.

"I'm plenty brave," Tinkerbell said, allowing Ellie to understand. "And I have a lot more than that to say—"

"Quiet! The both of you!" cried Peter in a loud whisper. "Do you want to somebody hear us?"

"Don't worry, my aunt doesn't care. If she heard a stampede of elephants coming from up here, she would ignore it." She grew silent and Peter could see that she was troubled. It was time, he decided, for him to make his proposition.

"Ellie Rose? I've come to ask you to come with me to Never Neverland." He could see Tinkerbell's light gradually turning red, but he did not care.

"What did you say?"

"You see," he continued. "When you told me that you were sad all the time, well, I thought that if you came with me to Neverland, you wouldn't be sad all the time. It's almost impossible to be sad there." He tentatively waited for her answer.

Ellie could feel Peter's eyes on her as she looked out over the balcony. The short amount of time that he was with her had been eventful. He had saved her life and even though she did not want to admit it to him, she was very glad that he did. And she had been so embarrassed when she finally handed him over the book, but he was so delighted; she thought it rather cute.

The only real problem was Tinkerbell. She was a pest, constantly speaking in and out of her fairy language. But, Ellie had to admit that she was beautiful. She had longish, fiery red hair and wore almost the same attire as Peter. If she wasn't such an annoyance, Ellie could almost conceive the idea of liking her.

Now, Peter was asking her to come to Neverland with him. Neverland. With him. That was crazy. It was beyond crazy. It was insane. And yet, she could almost grasp the thought of herself in Neverland. She could almost come to measures with it even.

"You could just try it out and see," she heard him say, voice sounding small. "I can bring you back if you would like me to."

"You don't know what you're asking," she said, quietly. He did not answer. It was true. He did not know what he was asking. He had said that he could bring her back. What was preventing her from saying yes? Juliette? Yes, but she had other friends. Her aunt? Her aunt did not care about her. Ellie could see it in her eyes. The only reason that she had taken her in was because "it was the right thing to do."

Nothing. There was nothing to stay for.

"I guess I'll be going then."

"Yes."

"What was that?"

"I said, yes." He just stared at her and Ellie rolled her eyes. "What are you just standing there for? I said I'll go with you to Neverland."

Peter's face broke out into a wide smile. "You mean it Ellie Rose? You'll come?"

"Yes, yes. Now hurry up and fairy dust me or whatever before I change my mind," Ellie growled, trying to hide a smile. It was hard because Peter's was contagious.

"Think a happy thought."

It should have been easy, should it not have? It should have taken a minimum of five seconds. But for Ellie, this was not true. She could not think of a happy thought.

"What's wrong, Ellie Rose?"

"I can't," she whispered.

"What?"

"I said I can't. I can't think of a happy thought."

Any constructive criticism or comments of any kind are welcomed. Thanks for reading.

November 30, 2002

Copyright, theMuse