Note: I wrote this on a whim, so I'm afraid this story will not be completed, and never will be, heh. Yes, this story follows very closely with the book version, except that I'm just changing how it ends.


        Wendy could not sleep. It felt wrong to be there in her room; she still hadn't gotten used to how different the walls looked like from the ones in the nursery and how oddly the shadows were cast everywhere. She thought that perhaps Peter hadn't been able to find her and that he had really come after all. Her hope was hard to diminish just like her memories of Neverland but the boys had already begun to forget some details of their adventures, just like they had forgotten about home while they were back in Neverland.

        Sometimes Wendy wondered if they had ever really happened, the adventures they had had. Those times, she'd get so frightened that she'd reach up to her neck to assure herself that the acorn button was really there; and if it was really there, then she couldn't have imagined it all after all. So far, she'd reach up to her neck to find the familiar, odd- shaped kiss still hanging on her chain and she'd breathe out a sigh a relief.

        Wendy was broken out of her reverie by a small knock on her door. She wiped the tears off her face so that whoever was there would not know that she had been crying again. She was sixteen and already a lady. She told herself that she shouldn't be crying over a careless-minded boy who didn't want to grow up.

        "Come in," she said.

        It was Michael. He was looking at her with a pained expression on his face. He knew that she had been up waiting for Peter.

        Michael was going on eleven now and was already losing the baby looking innocence that used to show on his face. Wendy remembered how he had cried in the past when he realized that Peter had forgotten again.

        "Perhaps there is no such person Wendy!" he had whispered with a shiver. He had never cried over Peter's absence again. He'd seemed to have moved on, forgotten about Peter. He had believed longer than the other boys though they jeered at him but in the end even he had given up.

        Wendy couldn't do that. She refused to.

        "Wendy," he began as approached the bed. When he got close enough, he stopped, unsure of how to begin and feeling a bit awkward. Finally he said, "I hear you, you know. I hear you every night. Even Mother knows how you leave the windows open even when it's freezing. She's worried about you."

        Wendy was touched but she knew where he was getting at.

        "Michael, I'm fine. There's nothing for Mother or you to be worried about," she replied with as much conviction as she could muster. Michael knew there was more to be said, but he was only a boy of ten, and he had run out of words. So he merely went on looking at Wendy feeling helpless.

        After a moment, Wendy held out her arms and beckoned for a hug. Of all of the boys, Michael had always been her favourite. After wishing him a goodnight, she told him that he should be in bed for he had school the next day and it was awfully past his bed-time.

        "Alright, but only if you promise not to cry anymore," he said.

        Wendy looked at him with a sad smile. Finally she nodded. "I promise".