Disclaimer: Sadly, I will never own Peter and Wendy, no matter how much I long too. I also do not own any of the other characters. Most of the plot is mine.

Author's Note: This is just a little scene that got into my head while reading the book a while ago. There is a little romance in this, depending on how you look at it.

I Did Not Reach You, Wendy

Peter played on his pipes a sweet tune. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Wendy, who was delightfully picking flowers. "To brighten up the house," she had said, when she had asked Peter if he would not go with her. Peter had given in, though he refused to help pick them. "Only girls are interested in flowers," he had huffed that morning. But Wendy had simply smiled brightly at him.

They had been going about gathering flowers for several hours now. He had quickly gotten bored waiting for Wendy to take her time deciding on which flowers to pick in one place and then another. He had gone off to see what things were happening on the island and then came back to go on to the next place with Wendy.

As they were going, he spotted a lovely white lily by itself among some mushrooms. Quickly he left Wendy and plucked the flower. He gazed curiously at it, and then his face brightened. He came back to the girl, who now had paused in her walking to watch him, and met her questioning eyes. Without a word he stuck the blossom behind her ear and grinned cockily, pleased with himself. Wendy smiled and blushed. They then continued on their expedition.

Now Peter entertained himself with his playing. He closed his eyes and felt himself fly along with the notes which filled the air. How wonderfully he could play! Often the wild beasts would pause to listen to the melody which traveled through the island gleefully. The beautiful music was a reflection of the boy's spirit – joy, play, lovely thoughts, endless sunshine, where no ill thought could exist.

The last note slowly died away. The whole island seemed to sigh with the note. Nothing broke the almost sacred silence. Slowly Peter opened his eyes and basked in the stillness. Then slowly he smiled and laughed. To have the island seem to stop and pay complete attention to him filled him with pride. Rolling his eyes, he put down his pipes and at last looked around. Puzzlement settled on his face as he glanced about the deserted clearing.

"Wendy?" he murmured softly.

The girl was nowhere to be seen. Peter rose and looked about more closely. His eyes halted on a white lily which lay dejectedly on the forest floor. Slowly he came and took it up in his hands. He gazed upon it, as though hoping it would not keep its secrets hidden. But the blossom did not answer his questions.

"Wendy!"

Only silence followed his loud calling.

Peter jerked as cool water splashed on his legs. He moaned softly. He then hissed in pain. Slowly he reached out with his good arm and swept the space next to him. He found only air. The boy's brow furrowed in confusion. Something was not right. But he could not put his finger on what…

He shifted. Cool rock jabbed uncomfortably into his partly bare back. Wait. What? Peter opened his eyes and stared up at the sky which was darkening and starting to twinkle with stars. He drew patterns in the sky with his eyes, trying to remember what had happened, why he was here -- and not at the house under the ground.

He became aware of the throbbing pain in his shoulder. His breathing became uneven as the burning increased. He was injured! Never had he suffered such before. Hook! It was the villain who did this, he began to recall. Hook had taken advantage of him. He had offered to help the pirate up, and Hook had stabbed at him with his hook. What a terrible shock Peter had felt, to be caught so off guard! Just how he had exactly ended up on the rock he did not know. But…he had not been alone. There was another also weak and helpless. He had heard their desperate and weak call for help. He had lifted them. They had been so light…

Suddenly Peter struggled to sit up and look about wildly. He was alone. A white lily floated on the dark water of the lagoon. Peter drew in a breath and peered hard into the water.

"Wendy…" The name passed almost soundlessly from his lips. He now recalled being wakened by the splashing of water. "No," he whispered. His eyes widened and his face became pale. It must have been something else. But he was utterly alone. Not a trace of the girl was to be seen. Peter's heart started to race. Far away there was heard the silky sound of voices from under the water.

"White as snow, oh!

If only we could be dressed as fine.

Plain she is, brown hair and blue eyes,

yet allowed in his company she is.

If only we were as lucky.

But no more,

we shall keep her down here with us,

be our pet, yes.

He will not miss her.

Now I shall take the white.

The brown is mine.

And the blue shall I claim.

Pleased we are now and shall go to bed.

Go to bed.

Go to bed."

The voices faded, and nothing else could reach Peter's straining ears. Not caring about his wound, he stared at where Wendy had lain unconsciously next to him. He had not come to in time. She was just taken from him when he at last was aware of things.

He fell back on the rock and pounded his fist in anger and despair. He sobbed, but no tears came.

"Wendy," he gasped between sobs.

Peter's eyes flew open wide. His heart pounded, and he felt sweat on his forehead. He breathed heavily. He blinked up at the dirt ceiling. Slowly he turned his head and found himself in the house under the ground.

Against one side of the room was the bed full of boys, sleeping peacefully. All seven had small smiles on their faces. Michael, too, was sleeping, hugging his teddy tightly against his chest. Finally Peter's eyes rested on the girl who slept before the fire under a warm blanket. The flames danced over her face and hair, causing both to glow. Peter let out a sigh of relief. Wendy was here. Wendy was not…dead.

Quietly he moved from his bed and placed himself at her feet. He stared wonderingly at her. She is alive, the thought kept running through his mind. Only another nightmare. He shuddered. Never had his nightmares been so terrifying before. He had faced Hook and the loss of the boys in his dreams. But never before had he not reached Wendy in time. And that frightened him in a way as he had never feared before. Just remembering the dream, he felt his heart start slowly to break.

"Peter? What are you doing up?"

Peter snapped his head up and met a pair of eyes the color of blueberries. He blinked at her. Wendy sat up and tilted her head to the side, concern playing over her features. She waited for him to speak. He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair and then rubbed the fabric of her nightgown between his fingers, testing her reality. Wendy hardly gave thought to how both gestures were much too forward. She only watched Peter intently as he drew back.

"Peter," she sighed and opened her arms.

The boy rushed into them and hugged her tightly. He buried his face in her neck and shook slightly.

"What's wrong, Peter?" she asked, concern and puzzlement in her voice, running her hands through his hair, in turn.

Peter was silent. He closed his eyes. Nothing was wrong at this moment. The dream did not seem as real or threatening now. He was safe and at home. Wendy was alive. She returned his embrace. He had reached her. He was not too late. And he vowed never to be too late. Here in her comforting arms both were safe.

THE END