Summary: Based on the recent film; Peter Pan was notorious for never wanting to grow up. He wanted to stay young and play with the Lost Boys on the enchanting island of Never Never Land. However, after being separated from his Wendy once Hook had gone, Peter began to realise that he couldn't stay a child forever, neither could he stand the thought of Wendy growing up without him … can he give up the life of Never Never Land for Wendy? What happens when he returns to London to grow up in secret? Will she even recognise him?

Disclaimer: I do not own the book by JM Barrie, nor do I own the film.

Author's Note: Hello, this is based more on the film than the books, which I have recently fallen in love with. I imagine my Peter in this story as Jeremy Sumpter (who played him in the film) but about six years older. Wendy, you can imagine for yourselves! Please review! I love them!

Chapter 1

Winter Rain

Peter Pan sat on the low branch of a honey suckle tree, watching dawn breaking over the island, Tinkerbell snoozing by his side. The sun danced over the crashing waves on the shore, dancing on the ship-less horizon. Since Hook's demise, there was not so much as a trace of a couple of stray pirates, whom Peter occasionally crossed swords with,but with none of the enjoyment he once had. Fighting and playing had since lost it's spark, had since become rather … boring. Boring without Wendy.

Wendy had to go home, had to grow up, he knew that now. But what of the Lost Boys? Those that went with her? Only a few remained to play with and to share adventures with. With Hook gone, there was no fun. Peter had to admit it; despite a hidden fear that was always there when Hook was alive, Peter had enjoyed their fights, their traps and sparring. The fear had always disappeared when he became supremely confident that he would always win, always come out on top, beating the old man in just another game. Now that was to be no more. And not even Wendy was here to change that. He wouldn't even hear her stories again.

For Peter had forbidden himself to go back again; seeing them all again as a family was too raw. The first time he had gone back was the last; they had told stories and played, but Peter knew that it could not last and did not wish to watch it slip away, visit by visit. He did not want to see their happiness and to be on the outside of it. He expected that Wendy would be sad when he did not go back to her window, but believed that she would eventually forget, as all adults do in the end. He had once told her that he never wanted to feel love, but now, he yearned for it.

Tinkerbell stretched by his side, flexing her wings. She gave him a contemptuous look.

"Yes, of course I'm thinking about London," he replied gloomily.

She tutted.

"Don't you tut at me."

She made a face consisting of mooneyes and long floaty hair; her Wendy impression.

"Shut up."

Tink smiled in an astonishing fashion that could only mean "touchy".

"You're not funny."

She hopped off the log, shrugging and wandered away. Peter frowned. He couldn't bear the thought of Wendy and everyone else growing up without him. He didn't really want to get older, but if he didn't, everyone else would, if they were not here. Being here alone was not as much fun as he used to think it would be.

Peter made up his mind in a second. He would go back ... but he would not let her see him until he had grown up a bit. Then, she was bound to be impressed! How long could growing up really take? Surely only a couple of weeks, he could leave this boredom for that amount of time. Nothing really happened any more; no pirates roamed the lands, the Indians had lost their fun and the Mermaids had all swam on to more exciting waters. The only thing here was Tinkerbell, and she was often sulky, as he was.

No, Peter was off for London. That was his plan. Children often make irrational decisions, with no real plan. Peter was one of those children.

"TINK!" he bellowed over his shoulder. "I'm going away for a little while. See you when I get back."

She pulled a face.

"Yes, London. And don't look at me like that."

He jumped up, soared off the branch of the honey suckle tree, and sped into the sky as fast a lightening.

six years later

"There we are now, my darling girl, that suits you nicely, doesn't it?"

Wendy struggled to answer, being so short of breath due to the stifling corset she was entombed in. She surveyed herself in the standing mirror and crinkled her nose.

"There! What do you think?" asked her Aunt with excitement.

"It's … it's … hard to say."

Wendy held not the kind of vivacious enthusiasm for dressing up in ladies clothes as her Aunt did on these occasions when she relished seeing Wendy dressed as a lady.

"What's hard to say about it? Wendy, dear, you look absolutely ravishing!"

"That's what worries me," Wendy muttered in an undertone, careful enough so her Aunt would not hear her. Wendy worried so of becoming a lady, of growing up. Since her adventures with Peter Pan in Never Never Land had ended, she realised she would have to do it soon. It had been six years since his last visit, since she had last seen his face, the dirty blond tousled hair, those sparkling blue eyes, the cheeky grin. He had not returned after that, not once. Wendy tried to rationalize this behaviour a few times; perhaps time travelled differently in Never Never Land, or perhaps Peter was simply having too much fun. Wendy quickly dismissed the idea that he had been hurt; that would never happen. Peter did not get hurt. And if it did, he never let it get in the way of his adventures.

"Wendy, my dear, you look vacant again."

"Sorry, Aunt. I'm just a little hungry. Do you think we could eat soon?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," she said, a little disappointed that Wendy was tired of trying on clothes. "I shall go and check. I wonder if those boys of ours are hungry before we head out to town." She was of course referring to the Lost Boys whom they had adopted six years ago.

Wendy plucked at her new gown, it felt far too tight, like it was stifling her from the inside out. Her Aunt returned shortly.

"Isn't this a wonderful treat, Wendy?" burst her Aunt. "Having a shopping trip! And your mother with us as well! How lucky we are!"

Wendy smiled falsely.

After a hasty lunch, they visited numerous shops in which Mrs Darling and her sister dressed her in numerous gowns of varying colours and sizes, occasionally saying things like, "what a smashing fit!" and, "oh, what a lady!" Wendy soon grew tired of this, but was fairly accomplished at hiding the fact that she would rather be back in her pirate outfits and playing in the nursery with her brothers.

As they were walking back through an Autumnal London street, Mrs Darling began talking feverishly once more, as she often did.

"Wendy, my love, we shall have to buy you a new wardrobe to fit all of these beautiful new presents your kind Aunt has bought you! What colour wardrobe do you think you shall like? One that will need to match your walls, as you shall have a new bedroom – oh! We forgot to tell you, you are to have a bedroom all to yourself before long, you won't have to share with your brothers! Your new room will have pretty pictures, and we can arrange a new pink bed spread and …"

Wendy had stopped listening. They did not care to think for a moment that she did not want a new bedroom, though now seventeen-year-old ladies did not usually share with their brothers. Wendy wanted it to continue forever. With a new room, she would be isolated, cut off from their fun. She hated growing up.

The wind had begun to blow, rusting the orange treetops, blowing stray papers about the grey pavement. Rain began to fall lightly; more of drizzle, making the dreary world appear even greyer. Wendy drew her cloak around her, clutching her hat on to save it from blowing away in the gathering wind.

She looked at the people around her to save her listening to Mrs Darling's life talk about becoming an adult. Dull people in suits bustled past, dark grey, navy blue, black. How boring. Then Wendy turned her head. She did not know why, or what possessed her to, for if she had not done so at that precise moment, then she would have missed him. A boy, an inexplicably familiar boy, walked past on the opposite side of the road, head down as she caught his eye, as though she had been watching her. The boy was roughly her own age with blond hair, so different from all the black around him, yet seemed to blend so easily into the crowd, as though he were used to it. No sooner had she thought this notion, he was gone, like a shadow. She stopped and looked around again, trying to catch his distinguishable head, but there was nothing.

"Wendy? Wendy!"

She turned and found her mother and Aunt looking worried.

"What on earth are you doing?" they asked.

"I – I thought I lost my glove," she pretended, still looking about her. Perhaps she had imagined it.

"Well let us get home! We shall all catch a terrible chill in this ghastly weather."

And they walked briskly back home, Wendy still looking over her shoulder for the vanishing boy.