Author's Note: Aw heck. I made myself cry while writing this chapter. So if you're anything like me, you might want some Kleenex handy. This is by far the angstiest chapter.
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Lottie stood at the top of the stairs, leaning over to listen to the ladies and gentlemen below. Her white cap was taken off her blonde head, and was instead clutched within her fingers in her sorrow at what she was learning.
The young lady was more ill than any had realized. The young lady was going to die! Lottie's tears streamed down her face and into the high neck of her plain black work dress. She blotted her tears with her white cap, but they still streamed down.
* * *
Downstairs, George and Mary Darling sat in the drawing room with Aunt Millicent and Dr. Woodhouse. The doctor had sent word to the Darlings that they should come at once, after Miss Millicent Tilney had swooned. He knew that she would want family beside her at such a time.
Miss Tilney had recovered somewhat, though her face was yet drawn and pale. She sat beside Mrs. Darling and held her hand in a desperate grip.
"Certainly this tragedy could have been prevented," Dr. Woodhouse explained regretfully. "If the young lady had been given earlier treatment."
Aunt Millicent frowned in confusion. "But she was seen regularly by Dr. Carew."
"Dr. Carew?" asked Dr. Woodhouse. He looked rather odd at hearing the name. "I do know a Dr. Carew who resides in Kensington, but he has gone abroad. He left some months ago."
Aunt Millicent shook her head, "No, that cannot be. Dr. Carew has visited here often in the past months. He has treated Wendy's illness for quite some time now. He is a tall gentleman, though not as tall as yourself, with very blue eyes and dark hair. Perhaps the gentleman you know is a different Dr. Carew."
"The gentleman you describe sounds like the Mr. Cook who has been letting Dr. Carew's home while he is away. It was he who informed me of Dr. Carew's trip abroad," explained Dr. Woodhouse with a furrow to his brow.
But Mary Darling's anxiety for her daughter had grown increasingly dire as this conversation had continued, and she now broke in to ask, "Is there nothing that can be done?"
Dr. Woodhouse shook his head sadly and remarked, "If she had been given sufficient fresh air and good nutrition earlier, it may have saved her life, but I fear it is much too late for that now. If the windows are kept open, the fresh air may give her some relief, but it will only help to make her more comfortable as her time approaches."
Aunt Millicent listened in horror, thinking of the months during which she had kept the windows and curtains so tightly closed on the recommendation of Dr. Carew. Wendy's desperate condition was her own fault, for trusting a strange man they had met upon the street. That fine and elegant lady put her face into her hands and wept for her niece and for herself, who had caused so much harm through her own vanity and false hopes.
Mary Darling put one arm around the shoulders of Aunt Millicent and wept with her, while simultaneously attempting to dry both their tears with her handkerchief. The task was entirely unsuccessful, and she at length abandoned herself to tears, holding the other woman closely to her.
George Darling sat quite straight upon the settee, as if he were made of wood. His face had shown no expression as he had listened to these explanations, but his eyes had filled with a grief rendered only more painful by its suppression. He knew that it fell to him to comfort the ladies, and so he could not indulge his own sorrow.
He walked to the divan and gently pulled his wife to him, so that her face rested in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He held her gently, stroking one hand comfortingly along her back. He felt her tears drench his neck and soak into the starched collar of his shirt, and he felt somehow that those tears by touching his skin became his own, the ones he could not permit himself to shed.
Aunt Millicent, suddenly bereft, found her hands taken in those of the doctor, who sat beside her and offered what comfort he could. He unfortunately had some experience with giving such news, and his softly spoken words to the lady did in fact give some comfort, did in fact lift some of the guilt from her shoulders, and she looked at that kind man with teary but grateful eyes.
* * *
The Darlings had been forced to bring the boys with them, as no one was available to sit with them on such short notice, and so the children had been sent to the sitting room, where they had been instructed to wait quietly.
Normally, such instructions would have been forgotten within moments, resulting in various extremely noisy disasters, but on this particular evening the somberness of the adults affected the children as well, and all six boys sat upon the uncomfortable furniture, eyeing each other with curiosity and fear.
They had not been told what was happening, but they did know that Wendy had been ill, and so they assumed this was something to do with her.
They sat quietly, looking back and forth at each other, until at last Nibs stood. "I'm going upstairs to see Wendy," he proclaimed. He always was the first into any scrape, and anyway they all knew that he was particularly fond of Wendy, though he would have beaten them terribly if they had said anything about it.
The other boys answered in hushed and anxious voices. "Mother and Father said to stay here!" "We'll be punished!" "Everyone would be angry!"
And yet, when Nibs crept to the door and looked about cautiously, he found himself followed by five other tiptoeing boys. Certain that they were unobserved, they then proceeded to sneak up the stairs fairly quietly, though one of the twins did trip and cause a terrible thump, causing all to freeze in place, fearing imminent discovery. When no one arrived to punish them, they climbed the rest of the way up the stairs.
Nibs knocked ever so quietly upon Wendy's door, but there was no answer. Glancing back at the other boys with a question in his eyes, he received only shrugs in response, and so Nibs went ahead and opened the door, peering around it as if afraid that he might see something he oughtn't.
But there lay Wendy in her bed, her long brown hair spread about her against the pillow. Nibs walked toward the bed and knelt beside it, while the other boys hovered near the door, uncertain what to do. They had never seen Wendy so still.
"Wendy?" whispered Nibs. But Wendy did not respond. It was just as when Tootles had shot her with his arrow and she had lain upon the leaves in Neverland. The other boys slowly inched their way into the room and gathered around.
"Why doesn't Peter come?" asked one of the twins in a plaintive voice. The boys did not know that Peter had been back fairly recently. They had heard nothing of the young man who had stayed in Aunt Millicent's home, for they visited only very rarely. Aunt Millicent, as a rule, preferred to keep the Darling boys away from her furniture and decorations.
"Peter is gone," John said regretfully. "He is never coming back."
"But why doesn't he save Wendy?" asked Michael, sniffling with tears at how dead his sister looked as she lay there.
And while the boys clustered around Wendy's bed and whispered among themselves, Nibs stood and walked to the window, stepping inside the curtains so that he faced the glass directly. He looked up toward the stars and whispered, "Come back, Peter. Come back."
Then, from behind him, he heard a soft sigh, and realized that it must be Wendy. Walking back to the bed, he gathered the smaller boys to himself and looked down at her. "Wendy?" he whispered. "Are you alive?"
And, indeed, Wendy's eyes opened, though they yet shown with the brightness of fever, and she did not understand quite where she was. With the boys looking down at her, she thought herself once more in Neverland, and murmured deliriously, "It's a ... lovely house. ... With a ... a door knocker. ... And a chimney. ... I promise ... I will do my best ... to be a ... a good mother."
And then Wendy began to cough, making a most terrible sound, not like any cold any of the boys had ever had. When she had done coughing, Nibs and John both noticed blood upon her lips, and began ushering the younger boys from the room.
But the twins held back a moment, whispering to Wendy in unison, "You are the best mother ever." And she smiled as she seemed to return to her sleep of sickness.
* * *
George and Mary came upstairs to see their daughter briefly before they went. They were shocked by her appearance, and crept away without waking her, wishing the poor girl any gentle rest she might be able to find. Before she would go, Mary pressed one soft sad kiss to her daughter's cheek.
When the Darlings left, both parents and children looking quite broken, as if they had been dealt a most horrible blow, Aunt Millicent slowly climbed the stairs to Wendy's room, where she opened the two windows as wide as they could be, and opened the curtains as well. To protect Wendy's modesty, Aunt Millicent loosed the sheer bedcurtains all 'round the bed, sure that they would not impede the flow of fresh air.
Looking down into the young and innocent face of her beloved niece for a long moment, Aunt Millicent swallowed a sob and left the room, closing the door behind her.
* * *
It was a very dark night, with no moon, and the room was bathed in deep shadows. And so when Peter Pan and Tinker Bell came in through the open window, very little was visible. Tink's light showed that the bed was curtained, and so Peter went toward it, telling the fairy to give him a moment of privacy. Tink pouted and scolded, but went to sit upon the window frame nonetheless.
Peter went to the bed and stepped inside the curtain, so that it hung down his back as he looked down at Wendy. In the shadows, Peter could not see Wendy's face very clearly, and so he did not realize how much she had changed. He knew only that he had come with a task, and he would perform that task no matter what. He would bring Wendy back to Neverland.
"Wake up!" he whispered, quite close to her ear. "Wake up, Wendy!"
Wendy's head tossed restlessly, and her eyes opened with their strange stare. "Peter," she breathed.
"Yes, Wendy, and you must come with me, back to Neverland!"
Wendy shook her head weakly, her hair sticking to her moist skin. "No ... no ... I cannot go back ... never go back."
This made Peter angry. "Why not?" he demanded, wondering why Wendy was behaving so strangely, since he had little experience with illness.
"I am too old!" said Wendy, her voice some small amount stronger, for her delirium was retreating slightly at the sight of Peter.
"You are not too old!" insisted Peter in frustration.
"Too old and too ill," sighed Wendy softly.
"Ill? What's that?" asked Peter impatiently. If it kept Wendy away from Neverland, then he would kill it! He took out his knife.
"Please go, Peter," Wendy urged quietly, her voice weak but her mind clear for the first time in some hours. Perhaps the fresh air was helping some small amount. Or perhaps it was simply Peter. "I should like to think of you always there, Peter, battling the pirates ... and talking to mermaids..." At that point, Wendy's speech was cut off by a most dreadful bout of coughing.
Peter did not like how this conversation was progressing at all. Why must Wendy be so stubborn? "You must come with me to Neverland, Wendy. Right now!" He stamped his foot lightly against the floor for emphasis.
Wendy rose up slightly against her pillows and tried to see Peter in the darkness. "It is too late for me, Peter. Far, far too late. Go back to Neverland, Peter. Go and never come back." Wendy was crying now, and her coughing had become terrible, sending her body into spasms of pain. She curled up on her side and coughed and coughed, blood spattering her pillow case.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and his ears in fine working order, Peter knew that something was terribly wrong, but he did not know what it was, or how to fight it.
What he did know, however, was that Wendy had been sleeping quietly when he arrived, and she now was in obvious distress and pain. Frightened that he was somehow killing Wendy without meaning to, Peter hesitantly walked back to the window where Tinker Bell waited, and he glanced back several times at the curtains that flowed softly around the bed, moving with the breeze that came through the window.
"I'm sorry, Wendy," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt you." And then, with a heavy heart, he flew from the window.
"I wish I could help her, Tink," he mused as they flew toward Neverland. "She healed me ... why can't I heal her?"
But Tinker Bell had no thoughts on the matter, and so they flew onward.
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Author's End Note: Well, this turned out longer than I expected (since I got so caught up in all the Wendy-is-dying angst), so I'm giving it a chapter of its own.
Next chapter: The return of Hook! And probably Peter, as well, but I don't want to give away all my secrets. :)
