Changing Toward Love

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Notes of the Authoress Anthy: Mmm, and lucky Chapter Seven is complete. Oh ho, yay ... it's all good, I guess. Damn, am I hungry though, and a little, tiny bit sleepy (it's 4:03 AM now) ... mmm. I'm going to see the movie for the second time tomorrow. 3 Mmm, the joy of love and fantasy.

I actually work at a movie theatre *gasp! I don't write for a living! sad, really ...* Peter Pan is showing at the other theatre, not the one in which I am currently employed (there are two theatres in Wausau, both owned by the same company, so I can get into both free!). And anyway, the important part!

There was this huge Peter Pan cardboard advertisement thing we had outside our theatre, right? It was like, eight feet tall. And I'd been planning to ask our manager if I could pleeease, pleeease have it, but before I did, he and two people dragged it inside and started stepping all over it! I was behind vending, working happily, and then I looked up and I was like ... nooooo! So I went over to them just as they were carrying away the bundles of folded-crushed cardboard and asked if I could pleeease, pleeease have it anyway. And they let me. Heh, obviously, it was trash-destined.

And I salvaged the thing, and I cut it apart and saved three pieces: one a small cardboard of Wendy lying on the ground, with Peter over her, but looking up, one with Peter and Wendy in the dark castle, looking down on something together, and then, the best of all! Oh, this is so good, really, so good. A poster-size piece of the hot little boy who plays Peter! Looking so yummy ... oh my god.

I am one lucky bish.

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! And now, someone's question is about answered!

Someone's Review: This is a Peter/Wendy fic, isn't it?**

My Answer: Mmm'hmm! I'm all in their favour (unless of course Peter Pan came to my window, in which case ... Wendy who? *whistles*).

** too lazy to quote what the person whose name I'm too lazy to find actually wrote.

No one asks any questions. ;_; I guess it's all pretty easy to figure out then! Hurrah!

And now the story!

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Oh, Wendy dear, Mrs. Darling exclaimed happily, raising her hand to her open mouth. It's simply exquisite! Oh, how lovely! It's perfect!

I ... I don't know, Mother, Wendy answered quietly, her eyes fixed on her reflection. It seems ... so ...

Oh now, don't be silly dear, Mrs. Darling coaxed. This one is absolutely everything we've been looking for. Just look at yourself!

Wendy did look at herself, swallowing hard. She could understand why her mother loved the dress so much. Every inch of it was covered with fine lace and twisting embroidery, and the back was held together by real little pearls. She tried her best to hold back her quivering breaths, tried to calm them into tiny ones ... she could barely breathe thanks to the corset sewn in tightly under all the elegance.

She stared at herself in the three-way mirror, dejected. Throughout all her girlhood years she had dreamed of this one dress, and the one she had been squeezed into now was, quite frankly, nothing like it at all. Not in the least.

Wendy protested softly. It's all so ... distracting. I really wanted a ... a simpler gown.

Oh, no, no, Mrs. Darling argued absently as she smoothed down the many ruffles of the skirt, all puffed with lace and under-netting. This is the current trend, oh, I'm sure of it. You look exactly how I had imagined, Wendy, all these years. You look perfect. Finally, you've become a woman.

Wendy froze as her mother placed a hand on her shoulder lovingly, staring too into her reflection. She could barely recognize the girl in the mirror under all the white, ruffled fuss- the only thing she saw were her eyes staring back at her, wide and empty.

I've always really wanted, she whispered, A dress like ... like a fairy might wear. Simple, and light ... like the wind ... smooth and pale, like the moon ... natural beauty ...

Mrs. Darling only heard part of her daughter's soft mumbling, as she was very busy smoothing the dress over and over again.

Oh, you and that silly fascination with fairies, she tutted. That's no way to choose a dress like this. You only wear this one in your lifetime, you know!

Wendy knew. Oh, she knew very well what this painfully tight dress meant. She had thought she'd had it all planned perfectly, all reasoned out just so before ... before Peter had returned to her. And now, the sadness had returned to her as well ... and with it, deep, sickening doubt.

It's lovely, Mother, Wendy said mechanically. Mrs. Darling beamed.

Oh, wonderful, she said proudly. I'll just go tell the lady that we'd like it boxed. We'll take it home with us!

And happily, she disappeared through the dressing room doors.

Wendy breathed out slowly, watching in the mirror as her lips began to quiver slightly, as though she were freezing inside. She stared, helpless, until she at last blinked, freeing one warm tear. It slid down her face silently.

When she was a girl, her dream wedding had been very simple, and really quite short. Her family had been there, yes, but as they didn't matter very much on that perfect day, they blended in with the background, blurred and quiet. Only her six new brothers really stood out, looking absurd in black bowties and slicked-back hair.

But her groom didn't look absurd in the least. Oh, no, he looked the same as he always did in her memories, his hair adorably disheveled, his eyes bright and mischievous, but also, as part of the fantasy, filled with eager happiness. He would be wearing a silk green shirt, and she ... she would be in a long, silky white gown that reached to her bare ankles, a dress that floated around her like a cloud, simple and free.

And her groom would drift forward, and put his hands on her small waist, and smiling, he would lean forward and, with no words, make her his forever. A kiss was all that was needed. One simple, achingly beautiful kiss, not from her lips to his, but from his to hers. Mutual love and tenderness. Always.

Wendy reached back and began to undo the pearl buttons, breathing out with relief as they snapped apart, sighing with relief as each new tear fell. It was silly to hold onto such girlish fantasies, really. She wasn't twelve years old anymore. She was eighteen, grown-up and promised.

And besides, it was not the wedding that was the important thing, not the dress or the ceremony. Rather, it was the things that came along after the wedding, the important effects of a man and a woman agreeing to build a life together. It was these things that mattered most, not the shallow details.

She would not admit to herself, however, that in her practical examination of marriage, the identity of the groom did not matter much, either.

She winced, releasing the last button as the wet tears on her face began to fade dry. She must let go of her girlhood dreams ... and accept what really mattered to her now ...


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Death is on your doorstep, Blacktoothed Bill!, Tootles screamed, jumping from the parlor chair with a shriek to chase the evil pirate Slightly around the room in a breathtaking swordfight.

Join me, brave Peter!, Tootles yelled invitingly, stabbing Slightly in the gut with a dignified . But Peter had grown tired already of play, and was lying sprawled on the thick scarlet carpet with his pathetic excuse for a weapon (Mr. Darling had screamed about his dagger for a good ten minutes, and finally, annoyed, he had relented) near him. He sighed, glancing once again out the window.

When will Wendy be coming back?, he mumbled, irritated and also, deep down inside, unexplainably worried. And where did she have to go, anyway? He muttered a few choice insults about mothers.

Don't know, said the wounded Slightly with a shrug. Probably off doing lady things with Mother.

Yes, ladies like to go off together, Nibs added importantly, in the middle of pulling several parlor chairs together to make the deck of a pirate ship. Even to the bathroom.

Curly laughed at this, his oversized purple hat, complete with a huge salmon feather, slipping down over his eyes.

Peter only , unamused. He was offended that Wendy had been so placid about going with her mother. She should have shown her what's what!

Stop brooding, Peter, Michael scolded lightly, throwing his sword into the air and catching it easily. Come on ... play with us.

Play with yourselves, he snapped, staring up at the ceiling.

Why do you brood over Wendy, anyway?, Nibs asked dully, leaning over Peter's head and blocking out the parlor light with his shadow. It's not like you to brood, Peter.

I just would like to know where she's been all this time, Peter mumbled, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. She didn't even say.

Its not like she isn't coming back, Slightly remarked, his wound miraculously healed. Probably off to a lady lunch.

Yes, probably, Nibs said, bored now without Peter's loud, eager commands.

was Peter's only comment this time, and he frowned miserably at the ceiling above him.

Wendy has been out often lately, John said suddenly, lifting his eyes from his book for a moment. Back down to the text they went.

Play with us, Peter, Curly begged. Won't you?

Please, Peter?, Nibs joined in, pouting desperately.

Peter sighed and sat up, but just as he was reaching for his stick-like sword, the large front door opened with a swoosh and a click, and in swept Mrs. Darling, tall and proud, and behind her, a quiet Wendy, her eyes to the floor.

A large white box was in her arms.

Wendy's home!, Slightly yelped, and she turned to him with a gentle, distant smile.

Hello Slightly, she said quietly, stepping into the parlor.

Ooo, Wendy, Nibs said, staring intently up at her. Peter has been brooding on you!

Wendy laughed a little at this, and she turned toward Peter, who was sitting on the floor with his legs flung apart carelessly. He grinned, feeling strangely uneasy under her gaze as a tinge of red flooded his ears.

Brooding, Peter?, she asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Oh, you know, he replied shakily, wanting desperately to cough, On ... many subjects.

I see, Wendy replied, amused. I never knew you the type to brood.

This little exchange seemed to content her immensely, and pleased, she smiled and turned with her burden toward the staircase.

Nibs yelled just then, stopping her. What's that you're carrying?

It's ... nothing, Nibs, she said carefully, frowning. But clever Nibs would have none of it.

Is it a gift?, he asked slyly. Wendy's frown deepened.

she replied softly.

Not even for Peter?, he questioned. At this, Wendy's eyes darted immediately to him, and Peter, frozen by her intense gaze and wide blue eyes, thought for a second that perhaps it was. But she shook her head, turning away.

How about Father?, Nibs persisted, knowing that many things kept secret in boxes were gifts.

It isn't a present for anyone, Wendy said quietly. Nibs frowned, disappointed.

What is it, then?, he asked again. Wendy sighed and shook her head, looking suddenly very, very tired.

she whispered. I told you. Nothing. And with that, she turned once again to the staircase, resisting the urge to run up it two stairs at a time.

Oh, please, Slightly whined, Let us see!

Wendy seemed not to hear him, continuing to walk toward the staircase.

Nibs joined in, and he ran toward her, reaching for and grabbing a fistful of her soft blue dress. He tugged strongly, and Wendy, surprised, froze and was pulled backward. She gasped as the large white box jostled in her arms and then slipped a loud thud to the floor.

The lid bounced, landing so that the box was half open, and immediately, all eight boys- the six lost, Michael, and Peter, that is- rushed for it to peer inside. Peter was notably last, dragging behind the crowd because of the look on Wendy's face. It had grown still and pale, stern. He thought for one terrifying moment that she had died in surprise.

Nibs reached the box first, of course, and he reached inside, pulling out a very thick ball of white that quickly fell down and apart toward the floor. Wendy let out a soft choking sound as her brothers stared, shocked.

There it was, her lace-filled, ruffled white dress with the horribly tiny waist and little pearl buttons, wrinkled and spilled out in Nibs' outstretched arms. None of the boys knew what to say, and so, they said nothing. They recognized what breed of dress this was, and though they had known for months what Peter had not, seeing the dress itself still startled them.

When the shock wore away, they turned their heads nearly in unison toward Peter, staring at him, waiting for his reaction. They knew, though for the younger ones it was only a vague feeling of knowing, why Peter had been brooding on Wendy. They had not been blind five years ago, even if they had been younger.

Peter, however, didn't seem shocked at all. He simply looked at the dress with a slight frown, as though only mildly displeased.

It was definitely something her mother had picked out for her, Peter thought with some disgust. He didn't like the dress at all. It was much too complicated to be beautiful, and it looked to him that it would take hours just to put on. He couldn't imagine his free, simple Wendy in such a constricting bundle of scratchy white.

He looked at her, doubtful. Wendy's face was very, very pale now, her lips pursed tightly and her eyes frozen wide, moist. She looked so upset, he decided, that he would lie about the dress to be nice to her. To cheer her up.

I like it, he said simply, looking at Wendy hopefully. He even pretended to smile to validate his words. Its ... nice. And ... pretty.

Wendy's eyes shot open in shock, and she opened her mouth, releasing a choking sound that blurred with a cry of appall. She stared at him, openmouthed, blinking as wet tears welled up in her eyes.

Shocked, Peter only stared back, unsure of what had just happened between them.

How can you, she whispered, her voice trembling, Just ... I ...

She was unable to finish, the tears overpowering her speech with barely restrained sobs, and with one horrible look, she cried out and ran for the stairs, leaving the dress abandoned, still in Nibs' hands.

What ... , Peter tried to ask, but he was too confused to finish. He'd only complimented her ugly new clothes to make her feel better about them!

Michael said suddenly, clearing his throat. The silence that had fallen upon the boys had not lifted, and their faces were now sullen, knowing the seriousness of what had just been exchanged. Even John, who had risen from his reading to see what all the commotion had been about and was standing near to the parlor doors, said nothing.

Are you, Micheal asked slowly, Familiar with the customs of a ... a marriage, Peter?

What is a marriage?, Peter asked, now confused even further. What did this matter now? He cared much more about why Wendy had just run from him in a sorrowful fury.

You should go ask Wendy what marriage is, John said quickly, turning all the boys' heads toward him. She seems to know the best of all of us.

All right, Peter said quietly, frowning. A marriage must be a terrible thing, to be so hurting his Wendy. I will.

And resolutely, he turned toward the staircase, looking up it until he saw, obscured slightly, the closed door of Wendy's bedroom. He would kill this marriage that was hurting her so horribly, he decided, if it was the last thing he would do. Nothing that was so low as to hurt such a beautiful spirit deserved to live, especially when he was near to her. It was his duty to protect her from these kinds of dangers.

He began to climb the stairs, his eyes still locked on Wendy's closed door. Interestingly, he never thought these thoughts, he simply knew them, simply understood his duty to help and comfort Wendy. He just followed it then, up the stairs and into her world, with a blind sense of certainty. He could have closed his eyes and still found his way to her easily, up those winding stairs; so was the power of following one's heart.


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-- End Chapter Seven --

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Ending Notes: *very sad wedding march begins to play in head* ... and enter the plot. I suppose some of you must have guessed that Wendy was but, well, I hope I surprised at least some of you. On with the wedding?

Soo hungry. ;_; Will someone please email me food stuffs? *sniff* Oh well, it's for a good cause to stay up late without food, isn't it? For yooou, lovely wonderful darling readers! *huuugs* Oh, how you all make my days with your reviews ... I'm really so lucky. Please keep on enjoying CTL. ^^

Beta readers: I still need them! Two new people have emailed me thus far. =D You have until, hmm ... well, around next week to contact me if you want to be a beta reader, so if you want to, please do! I would be greatly appreciative of your help. And I'll thank you a lot ... oh yes, I will! If you are interested, please drop me an email at anthy17@hotmail.com. Danke danke!

Please come back and read Chapter Eight. ^_^ I will work hard on it!