Changing Toward Love

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Notes of the Authoress Anthy: Six chapters down, no freakin' idea how many more to go. But oooh, I hope it's many ... because I'm definitely enjoying this new writing rush. I'm on a very pleasurable roll, truly. I'm happy that I started this story. I'm really happy that a lot of people like it, too. Yay! ^_^

Oh yes, and I have finally bought the book. *grins* It's lovely, I ... was trapped by the first sentence. It's very, very interestingly written, so much so that I couldn't write just after I read it. His tone was all stuck in my head, I couldn't use my own style! I really am loving it, I ... ugh, McDonalds slogan. Damn you, all-powerful fast food chain ... yes. I am ... adoring it. The writing style is beautiful, the themes within it are mature and so rarely written of. I feel so proud to be writing something based on something so much better.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the book or the movie(s), but whoever does should be so proud (James M. Barrie, I mean you)! Please, don't sue me. ;_; I am just a poor romantic!

Review Questions Answered! Nyah, this isn't a real section, and ... I don't usually reply to reviews, because as a rule there are just too many (if that sounds conceited, I'm really sorry, but it's true! There are a lot now! ;_; -- joy tears). But, well, I thought I could answer just ONE question.

Shauna's Review: ... Haha Peter grew up! That's cute, I bet he looks hott now.

My Answer: Oh yes, Shauna honey. The Peter I invision while writing is indeed one hot, amazingly delicious man child. Think the new movie Peter, only seventeen ... mmm. Can you feel the lust? I like to focus on the shining copper-toned skin and athletic, thin, perfect body. Mmm. Don't get me wrong, I love my boyfriend more than I love anything or anyone, but damn ... yum!

You can ask me questions too, if you want! Well, that wasn't really a question, but ... I laughed anyway. So yes, ask away, and if I'm not too tired, I'll reply!

And now the story!

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Mr. Darling called in a stern, disgruntled voice from the doorway to the kitchen.

Oh, yes, dear?, Mrs. Darling said cheerfully, tilting back slightly to smile at him with the sizzling pan still in her hand. What is it?

We're to have a ... guest of Wendy's at breakfast this morning, he replied. At this, Wendy poked her head into the kitchen as well, looking at her mother with pleading eyes.

Mrs. Darling questioned. You invited a guest for breakfast? Why didn't you tell us? And why ... breakfast? Dinner is really more of a proper time for guests-

Oh, I didn't know until this morning that we'd be having him, Wendy replied quickly. Her voice held excitement, but deep down, she still felt hollow. Surely, after breakfast, he would fly away home.

Wait ... him?, Mrs. Darling questioned, the uncooked eggs in the pan still hovering in midair. Do you mean you invited over-

No, no, Wendy assured. Actually ... he's Peter Pan.

Mrs. Darling's eyes widened in shock as the pan fell to the floor with a loud crash.

Oh, mother!, Wendy cried, rushing into the kitchen and kneeling to the floor to clean up the mess. I ... I'm as shocked as you are, but I ... I'm sorry ...

Don't, Wendy dear, Mrs. Darling said, shooing her daughter away and wiping up the runny, hot eggs herself. It's just ...

She raised her head slowly, her usually calm and poised eyes now filled with doubt and disbelief. ... that ... Peter Pan? Are you ... certain?

The boy can fly, Mr. Darling said quietly, still standing in the doorway. I can scarcely believe it myself, but it's true. It's him.

It's him, Wendy repeated to her mother softly, standing. Can he please ... please ... stay for breakfast, Mother?

Of ... of course he can, Mrs. Darling said shakily, sweeping over to the sink and slipping the pan into the water. Just ... just tell him to join us at the table. The boys are already waiting, I believe ...

Oh, thank you so very much!, Wendy exclaimed, and with that, she turned and ran past her unsettled father through the kitchen door and back up to her bedroom.

As she climbed the stairs, though ... a heavy weight fell into her chest. Perhaps ... perhaps he had left already, scared off by her angered father and the bright sunlight?

She reached her door, and slowly, taking in a deep, slow breath to calm herself, she opened it. Her heart had begun to pound again, unceasingly, her hands to sweat ... how could someone that had only been a blurry memory up until this morning do so much to her?

The door slid open, and there was Peter, standing barefoot on her carpet, still there- real and solid. Wendy let her breath release in a slow sigh as she stepped inside, her eyes locked on him.

He was staring into her dresser mirror, and strewn on the dresser's polished wood surface was the pile of thimble-shaped acorns. It unsettled Wendy, to see him staring so deeply into himself, lost so much in his own reflection. She watched as he slowly raised a hand to his face, trailing his fingers along his cheek and jaw.

She shut the door with a click, and at that, he jumped and turned quickly to her.

he breathed. I was just ... we don't have these in Neverland. He gestured carelessly to the mirror. I was just checking to see if I had ... really ... grown.

said Wendy softly, unsure of what to see. He had truly grown- it was easier to see that now, with him standing instead of sitting or floating. He had become so tall- taller even than John, and he was a few inches above her head- and his body was a bit thicker, filled out with muscle, though still thin for a man. And his skin... that taut, shining copper-toned skin.

Ahh ... and, Peter said, finding himself unable to stand Wendy's stare without every inch of his body tensing, I wanted to put ... these ... in your box. I thought that you might ... want them there instead of in your bed.

Wendy noticed then that her jewelry box sat opened on the dresser. She stepped forward, smiling a little.

I'm surprised that you would know that, she said, walking to the dresser and picking up a kiss, rubbing its smooth green surface with her thumb. Help me put them inside?

Oh ... Peter said, picking up a kiss himself and dropping it into Wendy's open jewelry chest. Wendy did so as well, and one by one, silently, Peter's kisses were put away for safekeeping.

I'll keep them always, too, Wendy whispered softly to herself. Peter dropped the last kiss into the box, looking up at her.

I'm glad you want to, he said, frowning a bit, for though Wendy's words were not sad, her face betrayed her. Her eyes were downcast, too dark. They were wide and sparkling when she was herself, and now, they seemed dead.

said Wendy, and she opened her mouth to speak, but just then, they were once again interrupted.

a lovely, womanly voice called, And P-Peter Pan! Breakfast is on the table!

That would be Mother, Wendy found herself saying, her original thoughts slipping away. We should go down.

All right, said Peter, although this idea unsettled him quite a bit. He didn't want to go ... he wanted to stay in this room with Wendy, stay until he saw her smile again.

Let's go, said Wendy, and hesitantly, he followed her gracefully lead out the bedroom door.

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Nibs shouted happily, jumping up to stand atop his chair in joy when Peter half-walked, half-hovered into the room. The ceiling restricted his flight, and as such he chose to merely glide' toward the table a few inches above the floor.

You're still here!, Slightly chorused with his brother, pressing his hands on the table to hoist himself up. I thought you'd be gone in the morning!

I was starting to think it was all another dream, said Michael, grinning.

A chorus of Peter, Peter! You're here! filled the small dining room, happy boyish faces all smiling with pleasure. Mr. and Mrs. Darling, however, frowned at the chaos that was suddenly erupting in their hectic, yes, but usually controlled household.

Nibs, please, Mrs. Darling scolded, Sit down. Really now, boys ... yes, this is Peter Pan, and he will be ...

Yes, sit down, Peter!, Cubby sang out, interrupting his adoptive mother. Look, Mother pulled up an extra chair for you!

The chorus of the room changed from Peter, Peter! to Sit down Peter, sit down! as Michael patted the chair next to him invitingly.

Calm down, boys, Mr. Darling tried to call over all the noise, I know that you're all ... excited, but ...

Did you sleep in Wendy's room?, Slightly asked abruptly. Mr. Darling's jaw snapped tight at this, and he turned to Peter with a sharp turn of his head.

Peter, meanwhile, had been floating silently, amused at all the loud attention directed toward him. Wendy stood slightly behind him, smiling just a little at her brother's joy, for she did love them greatly, and their pleasure was one of the few things that could now bring her smile back to her pretty lips.

She frowned at the nearly murderous way her father was looking at Peter, however.

she said softly, when Peter did not answer, choosing, in fact, to completely ignore Mr. Darling's harsh look. I suppose he must have?

Peter turned back toward her at this, his smile fading. He remembered the night before, when Wendy had thought him an apparition instead of a reality. He remembered her horrible tears and the way she had said openly that she had lost of all hope of his return. He remembered his own tears ...

Peter said. I suppose I did. He turned back to the happy, boy-filled table, unable to bear staring at Wendy.

At this, Wendy's heart winced. Why did he always need to turn from her?

Peter finally advanced, lowering himself to the ground and walking to the chair that Michael had been patting. It was crammed in-between his chair and another empty one. He felt his ears burn when Wendy walked over to and seated herself in this chair, effectively squeezing herself very near to him.

Well then, Mrs. Darling said, sending reassuring glances to her husband. Boys, Wendy, dear. Go ahead and eat!

In a sudden rush of clattering plates and reaching hands, the boys all grabbed for the many large platters and bowls crowded onto the dining room table. Mrs. Darling sighed, not even attempting to correct their behavior.

Don't hog the eggs, Nibs!, Cubby snapped, yanking the large spoon out of his hand rudely.

Nibs yelped, elbowing him in the side. Mrs. Darling shook her head sadly.

Peter stared at all of this, taken aback. He'd been eating alone, in relative peace, for years.

Noticing his puzzlement, Wendy leaned to her side, tilting her lips toward Peter's ear.

It's best to wait until they've finished fighting over who gets their serving first, she whispering knowing, smirking. And don't worry, Mother always makes more than enough.

Peter started at the sound of Wendy's flowing voice so near to him, and he turned to her, surprised, feeling his heart stop for just a half-second when he found himself very, very near to her lips.

You're going to eat all the bacon, Michael!, John snapped, snatching the platter away from his brother. Really, does it look like there's enough for twelve servings of five?

You just want more for yourself!, Michael retorted, lurching forward to snatch back the greasy china platter.

I want some, Peter said suddenly, reaching out his hand and taking a small handful of the dripping strips. It smells good. What's it called again?

John and Michael froze, both of their hands still clutching the platter.

'Course, Peter, Michael chimed, grinning and shoving the bacon platter toward him.

Nibs and Cubby froze as well, the large egg spoon still in his hand.

Want some eggs, too, Peter?, Nibs yelped, holding out the bowl toward him from three seats away. Cubby stretched out his hand, offering Peter the spoon.

Orange juice, Peter?, Slightly grinned, although the pitcher was nowhere near him.

Aren't you going to offer your father any food, boys?, Mr. Darling warned, tapping his fork against the edge of his empty plate.

They're real good, Peter!, Nibs insisted, shoving the bowl forward a few more inches. Scrambled and everything!

Try this, Wendy said quietly. It's healthy for you, you know.

And elegantly, she took the orange juice pitcher in her hand and poured some into Peter's glass, while all the while he stared at her, spellbound by her very soft voice. She seemed so calm ... too calm. Why wasn't she going crazy over his presence, like the boys?

Try some, Peter! Pleeease?, Nibs whined.

Peter snapped out of his thoughts and leaned forward, peering into the scrambled egg-filled bowl curiously.

Are you sure those are eggs?, he asked. They look so ... lumpy.

Nibs said proudly, while Cubby threw the large wooden spoon over Michael's head. Peter caught it easily. They're real good, like I said. Mother is real good at cooking.

We don't even have to kill stuff to eat, Peter, Cubby said proudly. Mother just buys it at the store!

A chorus of nodding and loud agreements filled the table at this.

But isn't it more fun to hunt?, Peter asked absently, glancing at the spoon. Deciding it useless, he reached forward and took a fistful of egg, letting it drop onto his plate with a quiet plop!'.

Mr. Darling's face grew steadily red as Mrs. Darling gasped, shaking her head even more.

There isn't any stuff to hunt round here in London, Nibs explained. The people scared all the animals away, and plus, there's no room for em anyway. The only thing that's left are pigeons, and we'd have to kill twenty of em everyday to feed all of us!

Mr. Darling said tensely. Why would anyone want to kill a pigeon and then ... eat it?

'Cause hunting is fun, Nibs replied easily, chewing happily on a strip of bacon.

Mr. Darling sent Mrs. Darling a stern look that seemed very much to say, This Peter Pan boy is negating all of our efforts to convert these boys to normalcy! Why are we letting him eat at our breakfast table?! And he slept with our daughter! ...

Nibs, be a dear and pass me the eggs?, Wendy said suddenly, and quite politely as well. Nibs grinned and did so, and she reached over Peter's plate to pick up the rejected spoon, using it to carefully spoon eggs onto her empty plate.

This quiet gesture of Wendy's seemed to calm Mr. Darling slightly- at least one of his children was acting as they should. Mrs. Darling smiled, turning toward her daughter.

We have a big day ahead of us, Wendy dear, she said, beaming. Shall we leave straight after the breakfast dishes are done?

It's your turn to do them today, Cub, Slightly said accusingly, shoving a spoonful of egg into his mouth.

It is not, Cubby snapped, chewing on a bacon strip. It's you and Michael's day!

No, it's you and John!, Slightly shot back, disgusted.

It's both of your days, Mr. Darling snapped, his plate still empty. Now let your sister talk!

Wendy frowned as silence fell around her.

Couldn't we ... another day?, she asked meekly. I... I mean. We have ... a guest. She turned to Peter, looking at him with such terribly deep blue eyes that he froze in the middle of swallowing.

No, dear, Mrs. Darling said, frowning slightly. We've had this appointment for a month now! And besides, I'm sure Peter has quite the catching up to do with the boys, don't you, Peter?

Peter swallowed his mouthful of mushy yellow uncomfortably as all eyes turned to him, seven of them excited and eager. He felt a strange voice inside himself insist that he say no, I want to Wendy to stay with us all day. I have ... so much more catching up to do with ... her. But the eyes on him were so insistent, Mr. and Mrs. Darling's so threatening, and Wendy's so filled with the depths that so frightened him that he could only utter one response.

Ahh ... yes, he said. Yes ... with the boys.

Oh, wonderful, Mrs. Darling praised. Wendy, isn't that nice? We're free to go after all! Aren't you excited?

Terribly excited, Mother, Wendy sighed, taking a tiny sip of her orange juice. I simply ... cannot ... wait.

Mrs. Darling beamed. I think everyone is done eating?

The eight boys around the table, Peter not included, nodded their heads hesitantly, swallowing and chewing slowly.

Good, then Wendy and I can make our appointment in time, can't we? George, for goodness' sake, eat something! Now boys, you remember our mealtime rule?

Mother cooks the meals, children clean afterwards, the boys mumbled disgruntledly as Mr. Darling unhappily slapped the last remaining piece of bacon onto his place.

Mrs. Darling said. And who has dishes to wash this morning?

Charles and Frasier, Mr. Darling said absently.

My name is Cubby, Cubby mumbled. Slightly merely hmphed' murderously.

Good, good, Mrs. Darling said absently. And Peter, dear?

Ahh ... yes?, Peter said, surprised to be called upon. He had been strangely quiet the entire breakfast, drowned out by the boys, uncomfortable with the business of family eating and dampened by Wendy's overly controlled behavior.

You know... you look about John's size, Mrs. Darling said appraisingly. Wouldn't you say, George?

Put some decent clothes on, Mr. Darling said grumpily, not even looking in Peter's direction. He had, after all, had a terribly stressful morning for a father and gentleman.

said Peter, gritting his teeth. He wanted badly to pull out his dagger and wave it in Mr. Darling's face, but he knew that would be the end of breakfasts at the dining room table, and that would be the end of seeing Wendy. It would easy for him to simply fly home, of course, and return by window to the nursery and her bedroom, but somehow ... he didn't want that. And it would be much easier just to wait around, anyway. He had to stay ... until he found out how he could reverse what Wendy's ache had done to him.

Mr. Darling snapped, and went back to his eating.

Let's go then, Wendy, Mrs. Darling said, frowning at her husband. You go fix yourself up, and I'll get your coat ...

Wendy said suddenly. Wait. I ... I know the perfect thing that Peter can wear. Please, let me ... fetch it for him.

said Mrs. Darling, disappointed. Well. Do hurry, then ...

Wendy stood abruptly, turning to Peter and looking down at him.

Come with me, she said, softly, simply. She turned on her heel then, heading rather quickly out the dining room door and toward the stairs.

Peter followed her out the door and up the stairs, mesmerized by the way her nightgown flowed around her ankles like gentle white waves, or clouds, or liquid pearls. Why was she walking so fast, though? And at breakfast, she had been so ... un-Wendy-like. Where was her questioning, her eager smile, her wild and daring actions? She was much too quiet for being his Wendy ...

Finally, they reached her bedroom. She opened it quickly, slipping inside like a very fast ghost. Peter followed, automatically shutting the door after him.

I ... I have a gift for you, Wendy said quickly, slightly out of breath. She smiled briefly, and then hurried over to her bed and bent down, slapping her hand randomly on the floor under it as though looking for something.

Peter frowned, confused. He had known that he was going to leave Neverland to visit the Darling household once again, but Wendy ... she had said that she had given up hope of his return. He'd had the time to find a gift for her, because he knew that he was coming, but she hadn't known ... so why did she have a gift for him?

Wendy made a tiny noise of joy, something like . Peter watched without words as she pulled a dusty box out from under her bed, a box that looked as though it were made of something like hard paper.

It's a bit old, she said apologetically, blowing the dust off of it in a little brown cloud. I ... I had to take sewing classes when I was younger, and I ... I told them it was for John. But really, it was for you. I ... I wanted to give it to you when you ... came back.

Peter looked up from the box to her face, which was both sad and strained with apprehension. She really had been missing him, hoping for him to return to her ...

she said softly, Please ... take it. It's yours.

She handed the old box to him, and Peter took it with a shaky smile, feeling both guilty and pleased.

He opened it, and within the box, lying there perfectly as though it had been created the night before, was a carefully folded pile of fabric. He grabbed it at the edges and let the box fall to the carpet, watching the folded bundle fall open as he held it out.

Peter's eyes widened at how shiny the fabric was, how it gently caught the morning sunlight in its folds. It feels like water, he said simply, admiring it.

It's made from silk, Wendy explained quietly. I ... I saved up my allowance for a whole two months to buy it.

Peter repeated, still admiring it. He recognized it by shape as a shirt, one with a collar and buttons at the ends of the long sleeves that looked like flat little acorns. The entire shirt was a deep green color, just like the leaves that made up his real clothes.

You can put it on now, if you want, Wendy whispered. I mean ... just to see how it fits.

All right, said Peter, and he did, clumsily slipping his arms into either sleeve and squirming until they felt somewhat comfortable. The shirt's bottom reached properly beyond his waist, but when he tried to pull the shirt together toward the center of his chest, he found he was unable to. He looked up at Wendy, unsure of what to say. The shirt was simply much too small.

I ... I made it before I knew you ... had grown, she said quietly. I'm sorry, I ...

Peter cringed at this mention of his strange new body, but said nothing, unable to bring more pain to Wendy's already disappointed face.

It doesn't have to fit, he said suddenly, dropping his hands to his sides. I can wear it just like this. He grinned, letting the shirt fall open, exposing his bare chest.

Wendy blushed, nodding shyly.

I suppose you could do that, she said, her voice still quiet. But ... I don't think Father will like it very much.

I'll never take it off, Peter assured, scoffing at this mention of Wendy's father.

Wendy said, finding this difficult to believe, but still feeling her heart swell pleasantly all the same. Thank you ... you can ... get some pants from John, if you want.

said Peter, somewhat disgruntled, but he knew he would do it if it would ... make Wendy happy.

But instead of smiling further at his resignation, her smile dropped completely into a dejected frown.

she whispered, her eyes full and dark again, full of everything that Peter feared ... had been fearing within himself.

he stuttered, Yes ... Wendy? He felt his heart tighten again at the look of her, at the way she stared into and through him. She was so beautiful on the outside, still so ... but on the inside ... when she wasn't content, the things he saw in her somehow started up inside him as well.

Will you be ... staying?, she asked, nearly whispering in her trembling voice, and Peter knew then what was bothering her, why she had been so unlike herself all through breakfast. She was waiting for him to leave her again.

he said honestly. I have to stay, until I figure why I'm ... growing up. I have to figure out how I can stop it, and why, and until I do that, I'm ... I'm not going anywhere.

Wendy's eyes seemed to explode with brightness then, the way a sky breaks open with sunlight after a horrible storm. She smiled brilliantly, beautifully, and Peter grinned at this. He felt that flying feeling inside of himself, felt his heart flying all around inside his chest.

I'm glad, she whispered. She was so relieved, so pleased, and yet a dark voice inside herself still whispered ... but what happens when he does figure out what had happened to him? If he found a way to change back into youth, and he left, then ... but she couldn't think about that now. Not when he was here ... now.

I ..., she started, wanting to express how very glad she was at his staying, but was interrupted rudely by her mother's calling voice.

her mother called from the bottom of the stairs. We're going to be horribly laaate, deeear! Come aaalong now!

Yes, Mother, Wendy whispered to herself, and then looked back up at Peter.

His heart fell. Her smile had completely disappeared again, replaced by that same frown, and in her eyes, that same rainstorm. Where had her smile, her inside beauty gone so quickly? And ... why? Was there even ... more troubling her spirit?

she began softly. There is something you should know ... I ... my mother and I are going to ...

But her mother called again, this time her usually lovely voice nearly shrieking with the fear of tardiness.

she called, Come aaalong now! We must gooo!

Wendy sighed, turning away sadly with her bottom lip between her teeth.

I suppose you'll find out soon enough, she whispered, and looked up to give him one last dark, sad look with her stormy, tormented blue eyes.

Peter started to protest, but Wendy simply shook her head and pointed toward the door.

You will, she said quietly. I need to change out of my nightgown now. Please. Go. I'm sure the boys are waiting.

Feeling strangely rejected, Peter half-nodded and walked, not flew to the door, opened it and disappeared into the hall. He leaned against her door, listening as the wardrobe creaked open and clothing was pulled out, listened to the shuffling of clothing being pulled off and on again, smoothed and tugged and buttoned. And then, for a moment, there was silence. And then, footsteps.

Immediately, Peter stepped to the side, watching as Wendy stepped out silently into the hall. Internally, he gasped ... her dress was so ... like what a lady would wear. It was a soft blue color, like her bedsheets, and it hugged her body tightly, decorated with trim little buttons and lace around the collar.

He gulped, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. He recognized the little pearl necklace he'd found when rummaging through her little jewelry chest the night before ... it was now wrapped around her pale neck. And there, nearly hidden in the dress, was part of a silver chain.

Wendy asked, startled. I thought you had gone to see the boys.

Peter started, but was suddenly unable to find the words. And then, he remembered. What was it you ... were going to tell me?

Wendy's eyes widened at this, and she frowned, deeply.

I told you, she whispered. That you'll find out soon enough, I ... I need to go. Mother is waiting for me, and we're ... going to be late.

Peter whispered, but she sighed and turned from him, rushing toward the stairs.

Peter walked to the banister, watching as she half-walked, half-ran down the stairs in a sky blue blur, her half-put-up wavy auburn hair waving in her wake. She should never have to run again, he thought absently. She should always fly. Like a fairy-girl should ...

He heard himself sigh. It seemed no matter what pleasant things happened between himself and Wendy, something was always there, poisoning it. He hated that something, wished he could stab it dead with his dagger. He knew it had to be the thing that Wendy was avoiding telling him. He knew that was what was catalyzing the terrible storm in her usually bright, calm blue eyes.

What could be so bad that it was hurting someone with such a beautiful spirit, he thought, remembering Wendy. Remembering her wide smile as she sword-fought, remembering the way she had looked at him when he was kind to her. What could have ruined that?

He clenched the banister with his hands, angry.

What was killing his Wendy?


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-- End Chapter Six --

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Ending Notes: Ahh, yes, and enter the New Plot. I told you, reader whose name I cannot recall, that I had a plot after Peter and Wendy met again! Ah-hah! I do! God, I wish I had your name.

I'm sorry if you hate cliffhangers. I do, too, but ... they're so useful! If I'd let her say it, then I would have had to practically write a whole other chapter within this chapter ... and this one is really long enough. Thirteen pages. Fhew.

I still love everyone! Checking my email is now officially the highlight of my day, because I get reviews. Ooooh, *huggles everyone*, you're all so nice! I hope that you keep enjoying CTL. It's written for you, really. Well, and me, because I too need the ending of Peter Pan to just be a little bit more satisfying, but well ... mostly, just for you! ^_^

Oh, and if you're thinking that Wendy is just depressed because Peter had been gone for so long, well ... no. It's something ... else.

Beta readers: I need them! Alas, I have them not. I don't really need any now, because I've honestly been updating too fast to send a chapter to someone for pre-reading and then waiting for an answer. But ... ! I've only been able to update so nice and quick because I can write for four hours straight after getting home from work at midnight. But, what with school starting up again on Monday, that'll be the end of super fast weekday updates. I'm sorry. ;_; But I just can't keep up this pace forever. Sooo, starting next week, I could use some beta people! Uhm, if you're interested, please email me at anthy17@hotmail.com! And I will reply and stuff. I think I would like about ... three? It's good to have several opinions. I don't know if that many people would even be interested, though.

Oh, and JJ, you have the first beta job! *grin* You're so nice.

I love everyone! Please come back for lucky Chapter Seven!