A Fairy's Last Thoughts

By Jennifer Bickley

Disclaimer:  Peter Pan and Tinkerbell belong to J.M. Barrie, but I hope he would have liked this little fic.

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            You silly ass!

            You stupid, cocky little jerk!  Didn't I tell you Hook had poisoned your so-called medicine?  But did you listen to me?  Do you ever listen to me?  No, of course not!

            I feel dizzy…spinning…everything's whirling so fast.  And today was going so nicely too, certainly isn't now.  That great, ugly girl was finally going to go home, and take those lost brats with her!  I would finally have you all to myself again, just like it used to be.  Do you remember Kensington Gardens, where we used to live together, just us and the other fairies?  No, of course you don't.  You don't remember anything.  Will you remember me?

            I lie down on my little fairy bed, as I feel myself growing dimmer, the light of my life fading.  Peter…could you ever know just how much I care for you?  And not as a mother – leave that to Wendy.  Darning socks all day is not my idea of a good time.  Ugh!  I can't stand her!  I just can't stand her!  That pathetic pushover, that weak little girl who's trying to grow up way too fast.  Why would you ever like someone like that?

            She abandoned you, just like your real mother did.  Wendy may not have barred the windows, replacing you with another little boy in her arms…damn it!  But, she did worse!  She wanted to fly away without a second thought, taking your boys, your family with her.  Except for John and Michael, they were yours, not hers, yours.  It doesn't matter now, they all wanted to abandon you for that boy-stealing slut!  I'm glad Hook took them away, serves them right for what they did to you!

            I feel your pale blue eyes watching me, and I feel a little better.  So what if each eye is bigger than my whole head?  It's always been that way, but that's never bothered me.  You're closer to me, closer to fairy-kind, than to anyone else, and I'm…I'm closer to you.  I…I don't feel well…Peter?  Are those tears?  Real tears?  I feel something warm and wet float over my arms, down my wings.  Peter…does this mean…do you believe…in…us…?

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            As the fairy's light dims for the last time, she hears, far away, a faint sound of clapping…