Changing Toward Love

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Notes of the Authoress Anthy: It's Saturday night and I smell like popcorn. I, uhm ... don't really have much to say tonight, other than yay for everyone who reads, and double yay for everyone who reads and reviews! Everyone has been so thoughtful and kind. *warm hug* Thank you so much for your support.

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! No questions. *sniff*

And now the story!

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Wendy whispered softly, is love is when

asked Peter, leaning forward toward her pale face and trembling lips. Wendy frowned nervously, feeling tears begin to sting her eyes. She wanted anything than to continue, but her soul was kind, in all senses giving and she would deny him nothing.

It's when, she continued quietly, the soul of another person fulfills you. This person that you love is your match; they fill in the missing parts of you, so that when you are with them, you feel complete. And when you are with them, you feel as though nothing can be truly wrong. They heal you, and make you believe that so long as you are not separated anything is possible. Love is when you feel for someone so deeply, Peter, that to be without them is to live forever without the rest of yourself, to be always alone and incomplete.

Peter simply stared at her, his eyes wide. He wanted to say something, to assure her of his understanding; for somehow, he truly did understand, though only in a place locked deep within him. He wanted to say, Wendy, I felt always like that. I was always so alone and

But the words would not come. Only a memory, and a question.

Peter whispered. Wendy raised an eyebrow curiously; the way he said it seemed somehow so familiar.

What do you mean?, she questioned, looking into his eyes. They seemed different now as though the playful spark had momentarily flickered out.

Is a person that is without the one he loves, Peter repeated in more words, Are they deficient?

In the saddest way, Wendy replied, sighing gently. Peter felt his heart still at this, though he could not remember exactly why he had asked this question. Her answer resonated as true somehow; so painfully true.

And you, Peter whispered, looking distantly at and far beyond her, are complete with him?

Wendy stared at him for a moment, but then found she had to turn away. The tears were burning in her eyes like liquid fire, and her heart was lunging at her mind, clawing it wildly; tell him the truth, it screamed. Tell him about the gaping hole you know has always been there.

Instead she breathed in deeply, calming herself and her most genuine urges. Forgive me, Peter, her mind answered in reply. Forgive me for not telling you, but truly you would not understand. I can't bear to hurt you, so I must lie

There are things that I can have with him, she said slowly, carefully, that do complete me.

Like what?, Peter found himself whispering, though he didn't want to know. Oh, how horribly he didn't want to know

Like children, Wendy continued, her eyes blank. We'll have the sweetest children, and I will care for them. That will complete me. And I I will have companionship surely that will will

She trailed off, unable to finish under Peter's fixed, unblinking gaze.

Can't you have children of your own, he asked desperately, and care for them yourself?

No, Peter, Wendy whispered. It doesn't work that way.

Why not?, he choked, wanting desperately to reach out and shake her, to make her believe his words by force.

Wendy said shakily, Because ... a woman cannot hope to properly support children on her own. They need food, clothing, schoolbooks, a nice home to sleep in, toys it isn't like the Neverland. You need finances for children, and the husband does this for his family.

That doesn't seem fair at all, Peter mumbled. He knew that Wendy, even without having finances, was a wonderful mother. More than a wonderful mother ...

It isn't, she whispered, but her voice was so soft that Peter never heard her. A warm tear escaped her gentle blue eyes, sliding down her face; nothing in her life was fair any longer.

Peter simply sat there, numb, on the bed. There seemed no way to solve it. Wendy loved this man, and he would do things for her- husband things- that he could not, for he had no understanding of finances, or even of the world in which she lived. He could not care for her with money.

But he did love her, his heart whispered. So much more than him, so much more

And Peter's mind heard the whisper, and he believed, just for one moment, that he could change. He would be willing to go out and learn how to be a man, a man in her world, a man in an office who made money, so that he could give her everything she wanted. He would even go out and find children for her, somewhere. He could do everything that a

But then, he remembered. Wendy did not love him. She loved Caleb. It was he that made her complete, and took away her loneliness. Peter knew this, realized this, because always in his own presence, Wendy seemed so sad and distant and surely, if they were meant to love, she would be happy with him.

His heart clenched painfully as he decided. He would still go. He would leave Wendy to her love and her future, and he would return to Neverland, alone so that she could be happy. So that she could live in peace.

Wendy whispered, frightened at the way he was staring numbly out into thin air.

he said, startled. He turned to her. What is it, Wendy?

Wendy frowned, startled herself. It was not like him to be so quiet, so distant so solemn.

Let's let us go out tonight, she said cautiously, with the boys. We can have fun together. They'll love it, I'm sure.

said Peter, a bit surprised. He didn't want their conversation to be over, and at yet, deep inside him, he was relieved that it was. He would love to have fun with her one last time. That sounds great.

Wendy smiled shakily, though Peter knew immediately that it was fake.

she said. We can show you the sights of London. I know that you've flown above it, but surely you've never been a part of it? She continued her smile encouragingly.

Peter frowned at this comment. It was true; he did not belong here. For Wendy's sake, though, he did not reveal that the comment had stung him.

That's right, he said, watching as Wendy stood. She looked down at him, and despite her little smile, Peter flinched, seeing that the swirling black pain still clouded her blue eyes, eyes that had once been clear and pale with innocence.

I'll go get the boys, she said softly, and with that, she hurried out of her bedroom, leaving the door hanging open just slightly.

Peter, frowning, stood and walked to the door. He shut with a soft click.

He would try to enjoy his final time with Wendy. He really, truly would.


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I do believe you'll quite like London, Peter, one of the twins said cheerily as Wendy, one knee on the front room floor, helped his brother into his coat. It's very busy. Like the fairy tree, only with people!

Wendy smiled fondly at this mention of fairies, but did not speak. She simply turned the boy around, quickly buttoning his light jacket.

I can do that myself, you know, he said stubbornly, and it was true, he could; he was far too old to have his coat be buttoned for him. Wendy looked into his eyes and smiled sadly.

I do know, she said quietly, But you see I'll be gone soon, and please let me.

He stared into the wet eyes of his big sister, his lips parted with surprise, and nodded.

Thank you, Wendy said almost cheerfully. Peter, have you found a coat for yourself yet? It gets chilly in the dark.

I suppose I'll just wear this old thing of John's, he said sullenly, holding out the patched brown coat with some distaste. He greatly missed his old, freeform outfit sewn from leaves.

That's good, Wendy said smoothly, and just as she turned toward Peter with a little smile, Michael burst into the front room from the parlor, panting.

Father and Mother say it's quite all right to go out tonight with you, sister dear, he said, grinning, his face slightly flushed. In fact, Father says that it will be nice to have the house quiet for an evening.

Peter rolled his eyes at this. Your father has no sense of fun at all, does he?

said Nibs knowing, I think he's just too old. Lost it after a time, you know.

Peter felt a cold shiver run up his spine at these words. If he was to continuing growing, he hoped with all this heart to die before reaching that dreadful turning point.

said Wendy authoritatively, Go and call us a ride, won't you?

Yes, of course, he said excitedly, and after throwing on his own light coat, he disappeared through the front doors.

A few minutes later, Wendy had finished her examination of the boys, finding them all well-prepared for the chilly night. Peter had muttered cruse words when she had forced him to button up his own old, borrowed brown coat, his chest still bare under the green silk shirt Wendy had given to him, which was still hanging open. Buttoning the old coat made it feel much too constricting.

He surrendered when Wendy stubbornly stepped forward to button them herself; he had blushed and stepped back, reaching up his hands to do it himself.

Are we all ready?, she said loudly, and the front room was filled with the cheering of the bundled-up boys. She smiled gently, and then turned to Peter as if saying with her eyes, See how endearing they are?

Peter stared for a moment, then smiled back. That particular smile of hers had seemed very real this time.

Following Wendy as baby geese follow their mother, the boys, Peter taking up the end, walked out of the front door and into the slightly dark street. Michael stood on the sidewalk, talking politely with a top-hatted man. Both looked up when Wendy, Peter and the little hoard of boys flooded the walk.

Peter's eyes widened in surprise. There, on the street, was a buggy attached by leather robes and reins to a large, chestnut brown creature. He had seen them from the air, but never so close, and their size intimidated him slightly. He jumped, startled, when it whinnied.

The boys flooded around and past him, and to his shock he saw that they were heading toward the creature, crowding around it and reaching up to pat its snout. The horse again made its strange, ringing cry, and the boys laughed.

Do come pet the horse, Peter, Slightly said cheerfully, sneaking a little red apple out from his pocket. They're really quite friendly things.

Cautiously, Peter approached the beast, taking the little apple that Slightly held out to him hopefully. He held it tightly in his fist, his fingernails making little crescent slices in its skin. And then, suddenly, he whipped his hand under the horse's nose.

It sniffed the apple, and then, eagerly, it reached down its snout and crunched into it. Peter felt his throat tightened when he first saw its big teeth. The thing – horse?- swallowed the apple in just a few bites, and Peter let its bitten core fall with a soft thud onto the street.

Pet it, Peter, one of the twins urged, and at this all the boys reached out to touch the creature's nose. Tentatively, he did so as well, gasping when he did. The soft fur of the horse's nose felt like his green silk shirt to the touch, warm and satiny.

Suddenly, the horse sneezed, spraying tiny chunks of apple all over Nibs' face. All the boys laughed, Peter the loudest.

Now now, boys, said Wendy, giggling, Stop playing with the horse and get into the buggy. We can't keep the man waiting!

The boys obeyed, patting the horse good-bye and heading for the open door of the buggy. It was real trick to fit all the boys into it, and when they had, everyone was squeezed together like sardines. The twins even had to sit up in the driver's seat (to their delight), one on either side of the buggy driver, who was most disgruntled. He hated children.

Peter, however, found that he was very much enjoying himself especially since Wendy was seated just next to him, their arms and thighs pressed together tightly, her pale blue dress spilling a little into his lap. He felt his body grow strangely hot- but hadn't Wendy said it was a chilly night out tonight?

Where to, Miss?, one of the twins said in a very deep voice, turning around to face the buggy. The real buggy driver scowled at the imitation.

Charleston Theatre, she said warmly, and the driver snapped the reins.

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Peter had never been to a play before, and he found that he greatly disliked having to be shoved in such a tight space with so, so many people, even if you did get your own seat. It was hot and loud, and had he wanted to fly to his seat, he would have never been able to except by way of ceiling. The place was simply packed.

Wendy and the boys seemed to be enjoying themselves, however, so he sat down in his seat placidly, trying his best to looked pleased himself.

It's starting, Nibs hissed at him as the lights began to go dark. Peter turned to Wendy, watching her eyes turn intently on the lighted stage; he turned his head and did so as well, taking her lead.

His head was swimming before the end of the first act. The people in this play didn't speak like normal people did; the words were different, and they sounded so muddled to him. Perhaps it was a foreign play?

he whispered, turning his lips toward her ear. What is this play called?

Romeo and Juliet, she whispered, then turned back toward the stage. Peter did so as well, unsatisfied. Knowing the title of the play didn't help his comprehension of its language one bit. Although ... as he continued to watch, he found that he somehow liked it, even if he was mostly going just by the actions of the actors.

He held in his breath when they kissed during the party, and as he was holding it in, the old ache seized his heart once again. He felt, deep within himself, how badly he too wanted to be kissed again and as he did he turned his head briefly toward Wendy, taking in her dark, shadowed silhouette, her lips parted in focus.

He turned back to the play, blushing. Unfortunately for him, he had turned back to the middle of the balcony scene, and the blushing did not cease. His eyes widened as he listened to the sweet, honeyed words of the lovers watched the boy look so desperately up at her and though no words passed through his mind then, he was, unconsciously, taking notes.

He rather liked the rest of the play, but felt heavy inside when the boy took the poison and fell dead and the girl's feet. It reminded him miserably of Tinker Bell, and he shuddered.

Just as the poor girl was stirring awake, Nibs turned to him, eyes alight.

Oh, wait until you see Peter, he said cheerfully. This here is the best part of all.

And as if on clue, the girl screamed, plunging a dagger into her chest. Peter's eyes widened in shock as Nibs' head shot immediately back to the stage, intent on watching every moment of the death scene.

Finally, the girl lay still on the floor of the crypt. Nibs stood up in the sea of dark, tearful onlookers, and began to applaud loudly.

Oh, lovely!, he cried out in a joyful voice, Superb job, wonderful acting! Bravo! Twas a beautiful death!

The audience gasped at this, and Wendy put her head in her hands, sighing deeply as she shook it. The onstage Juliet opened her closed eyes in shock, staring at Nibs as he continued to applaud, cheer, and compliment. Finally, he sat down once again, grinning widely.

Mary Mother of God, Wendy whispered tensely, finally looking up. Peter tried his best to hold back his own grin; he had always favored Nibs.

They were quite the spectacles as Wendy quickly led them all out of the theatre after the play, the recipients of many dirty looks and appalled stares. Nibs seemed quite smug, however , as he walked through the lobby, and his night was made when he found that some of the actors had assembled there, signing playbills and wishing their audience farewell.

He blushed as red as a rose when Juliet kissed him good-naturedly on the forehead. She had really been quite flattered.

Wendy was relieved that the rest of the night went quietly; at least, as quietly as normal. It was very amusing, yes, and they all were having great fun but for her, it was more serene than fun. Peter laughed and talked with the boys, but there were times when he turned to her, expressionless, and looked at her as though he were looking at her for the last time. It sent a cold shiver of fear through her heart; he had never looked at her that way before.

It scared Wendy that he was beginning to remind her of herself.

After the play, they all went to the busier downtown area of London, where they strolled peacefully down the shopping streets. The boys stopped at many of the windows, pressing their noses against the glass to get a good look at all the sparkling, somehow perfect items displayed inside. They especially loved the toy stores, to whose windows they cried out in awe and longing.

They even went to show Peter Big Ben, the great clock. While staring up at it from the ground, however, they realized what a silly idea that was; he had seen it many times before, and he had had a much better view from the sky.

And so it was that at long past ten, the boys, sleepy and satisfied, squeezed themselves into another buggy with Wendy and Peter for the ride home. Once again, the two were seated next to each other, pressed tightly against each other's sides.

And again, Peter felt himself grow hot in the chilly night air.

That was great fun, Wendy, said Nibs, who was still blushing from the actress' kiss- or was it merely the cold flushing his cheeks? May we do it again tomorrow night?

No, dear, she replied softly. Tomorrow I have a date with Caleb. We're going out dancing.

Nibs scowled at this, muttering a response that Wendy highly suspected was an insult. She said nothing, however, caring little; she knew that the boys disliked Caleb as much as Peter appeared to. At first, she had thought that they were merely being protective of their older sister, but now she wasn't so sure. Sometimes children could sense things much better than those older than them.

This was fun, Peter seconded when Nibs failed to reply. I mean, I ... thank you.

Don't thank me, silly, Wendy said easily, yawning. I had just as good of a time as you did.

And she had. All the fun of trailing seven boys all night, Peter not included, had worn out her already strained body, and she yawned again, suddenly finding the rhythmic jousting of the buggy very soothing. She let her eyelids droop, her mind relax along with her tired body

With a little sigh of exhaustion, Wendy's head slumped gently onto Peter's shoulder.

He blushed deeply, unsure of what to do. His body froze in response to his nervous mind; he couldn't move an inch, not at the risk of waking Wendy. He sat there, stiff and nervous as blood rushed into his cheeks

The boys crammed in all around him grinned at this, for they knew that which the couple would not admit to each other.

Enjoying the warm tingle that ran through his body at Wendy's accidental touch, Peter sighed, releasing the tension he had been holding in for hours now. He looked toward the blushing Nibs, and then his thoughts drifted to the play with the strange language would he die for her, he wondered? Could he go that far, just for a feeling?

Yes, his heart answered in a tiny whisper. Far and so much farther.

The lovers of the play had known each other for a night, and it took them only that long to fall so desperately, deeply in love. Peter had known Wendy for weeks, years if you counted the time he'd spent far from her, suffering and trying to pretending that she had not impacted him and perhaps perhaps he, too, had known from the start. Had loved from the start.

Sighing once again, he tilted his head to toward Wendy's brow, letting his cheek rest gently on her soft, warm auburn hair. He could hear her peaceful breathing, and once again, the ache swelled in him; this would be the last night he spent near her.

Almost unconsciously, Peter discreetly reached out his hand, knowing it was half hidden in the darkness. He searched with it through folds of pale blue, and then, he felt it. He took her warm hand into his, squeezing it gently as Wendy slept on.

If I don't love her,' he wondered, feeling a tear fill the rim of his eye, his hand firmly laced in her sleeping one, then why is it that when I think of leaving her ... I feel so hollow inside?'

As if she had heard his thoughts and was reaching through her dreams to comfort him, Wendy stirred in her sleep, and then, a moment later, the warm hand in Peter's own squeezed it gently. It fell limp again, and Peter closed his eyes, listening to the voice inside himself.

He thought, with that gentle, affectionate squeeze, that he would never need to question his heart again. It didn't matter to him if for Wendy, and for himself, their true bond was fully expressed only in their distant dreams. It was, and always would be, heartbreakingly real to him.

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End Chapter Ten

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Ending Notes: I wrote this a few days ago ... mmm, and truly, I do like it. The bit with Nibs really makes no sense, and is completely and totally random, but I like that too. My favourite part is the ending, where he takes her hand in the dark ... *sigh*, so sad. Thank you for all the beautiful reviews! I love you all!

Beta readers: I will be emailing volunteers to read Chapter Eleven once it's done, and I'll include some questions and so on and so forth. Thank you so much to everyone who applied. I love you a lot! Really, a lot! *huggle*

I hope you come back for Chapter Eleven. ^_^ Thanks for reading!