Changing Toward Love

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Notes of the Authoress Anthy: Another sucky night for me, but at least you all get a non-sucky chapter. I just want to thank everyone again for their love and support *smiles a bit*. Your reviews have really helped me to write, motivated me to write, and inspired me to do well. I thank you. *hug*

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! Someone sent me a very well-written email a few days ago about how they were disappointed that Caleb's character was so one-sided. I understand your point, truly, I do, but I didn't want to establish Caleb as just a nice guy who was also competition for Peter. Wendy didn't meet him somewhere and fall in love with him like we all normally would before we would get engaged ... their engagement isn't exactly, what's the word ... legit. You'll see in a few chapters. Thank you for the great email. ^_^ I'm happy to have such intelligent readers!

And now the story!

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At last, the buggy rolled to a silent stop on the dark street.

Peter paid the top-hatted driver with money from Wendy's tiny white purse, as the boys assured him she would have wanted him to. He frowned when he peered inside it; despite being rather clueless when it came to matters of money, he still knew what nearly empty meant as far as wealth.

He knew that Wendy probably didn't have much money, knew that she had spent a good deal of it tonight, out treating her brothers and himself to a fun time. It was so unselfish of her. That was the way she was, and that was what made her beautiful inside. It wasn't that she gave so much as she gave without wanting, gave without expecting something in return, even special kindness. She just wanted to care for others, make them happy despite her own welfare. It was the mother within her, always shining through.

Peter leaned into the buggy after all the boys had left it and picked up Wendy, still sleeping peacefully, in his strong arms. With the sleepy boys following behind him in a tired little procession, he made his way up the front steps, letting her head rest on his bare chest while he watched her ankles dangle gracefully from beneath the folds of her dress.

He took her into her bedroom, laying her down gently on top of her bed. He thought for a moment of tucking her into it, but then feared waking her. Instead, he found a spare blanket on the top shelf of her wardrobe and spread it over her body, all the way up to her softly heaving shoulders. When he had done this, he leaned over the bed, holding his body up with his arm, his hand pressed down near her shoulder.

She was so beautiful.

It took all his willpower not climb onto the bed and lie next to her, to cradle her sleeping body against his aching heart. It was a strange, unfamiliar urge to him, but was despite this overwhelming strong. He wanted to be near to her, to be comforted by her presence. He wanted never to leave.

He knew, however, that he had to. This would be the last night he would spend with her.

He had to let her go, let her be free to love Caleb and find children, to have a family and a proper husband, to have everything she had ever wanted. Even in the Neverland, that was all she ever asked of them. She only wanted to care for them, to cook for them, to watch over them, to comfort them. She had soothed countless nightmares away for him in the middle of the night, and at the time, he had been ashamed over this fact, but now the memory was priceless.

All she had ever wanted was to be a mother, to have a father and a husband to stay by her. He could never be those things for her, and she did not love him. He would go.

I suppose, he whispered, leaning down over her face so that his warm breath brushed her cheek, that I should give this back to you before you marry him. You were wrong, Wendy. It was never mine.

He tilted his head slightly, and closing his eyes, he leaned forward and pressed his lips sweetly to hers, reveling in their softness and warmth. It was painful for him to pull away- he wanted to kiss her for a much longer time- but a long time was not necessary. He had given back her kiss.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, breathing heavily. Even though she could not respond, the kiss had been beautiful to him. Being able to taste her beauty so directly, so intimately, was nearly as wonderful as she was in spirit.

He thought then that it might be easier if he simply left then, fly straight out the window and back to a home that would never satisfy him again. He had promised himself, though, that it was tomorrow night that he would leave. He would keep to his promise.

That and, he did not wish to leave Wendy. He simply knew that he had to.

He leaned forward again, this time kissing her moon-kissed cheek, and as he closed his eyes, a warm tear slid down his cheek.

Goodnight, fairy girl, he whispered to her skin. Goodnight, and goodbye.

He pulled away slowly from her, staring down at her face until finally, he turned to go. He left her bedroom as silently as he could, tiptoeing across the hall so that he could curl up and dream nightmares on the nursery floor.


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You're like a statue, Wendy, scolded Curly. You sit there and read still as a stone all day, just like John.

Wendy looked up from her reading, frowning slightly. Breakfast was long over, and now the boys were all gathered in the parlor playing games in the afternoon sunlight. Peter was among them, but he stayed far from her, playing with the boys in only a halfhearted way. He was strangely quiet and without energy, and when he looked at her, Wendy felt as though a stream of cold water was sliding down her spine.

It wouldn't hurt if you read more, you know, she said back tartly. You boys all read the bare minimum, I swear it.

Sitting still is no fun at all, Slightly retorted, offended at her comment. Playing is much more exciting!

yelped Curly. Let us fight, Gunstock Jack! Oh ho!

Wendy sighed and returned to her reading.

She was not to be left alone for long, however. Soon, the boys grew restless again, and finally turned back to pestering her.

Oh Wendy, said Nibs sweetly, Do stop reading! Play with us?

I'm much too tired, she said softly. Indeed, she was very tired inside, for tonight was her date with Caleb.

Then tell us a story!, he cried happily, and all the boys turned their heads and immediately cheered, eager for one of Wendy's tales. Peter looked up at her in interest, though no smile played across his features.

Oh, please do Wendy!, Curly begged.

A good one!, Slightly encouraged.

And one with pirates!, yelped the twins in unison. Wendy found herself smiling just a little bit.

Very well, she said, I shall tell a story. Once again, every boy less Peter cheered loudly. He was still just staring.

Which shall I tell?, she asked. Immediately, Slightly's hand shot up and began wavering in the air.

Slightly dear?, Wendy asked, calling upon him.

Please, tell Cinderella!, he said, grinning. All the other boys nodded their heads happily in unison, agreeing with this choice.

Peter froze, his eyes intent on Wendy. Cinderella had been the story that he had once returned night after night to hear, the story that he'd kept the boys in suspense with for weeks. He had loved that story once but years had gone by, and he could no longer remember its details.

He wanted to know again.

Please, Wendy, Peter found himself saying quietly, Tell Cinderella.

Wendy winced internally at the gentleness in his voice since last night, Peter had seemed to become, somehow, so broken in spirit. His quietness unnerved her, but the look in his eyes, the calm, almost sad way he spoke to her that nearly broke her own, if there were any parts of it at all left hidden in her heart still whole.

Well, all right, she said softly. If you all would like to hear.

We do, Curly assured, and he and his brothers gathered in a semicircle at her feet, sitting down so quickly that her white petticoat rustled as though a gentle breeze had just blown through the parlor room. Peter took a seat in an overstuffed armchair just behind the group, his eyes locked on the storyteller.

Once upon a time, Wendy began, and she smiled a little at this, for truly, it was such a cheery phrase somehow, There lived a very happy girl who lived in a grand house with her father, who-

What about her mother?, Nibs interrupted curiously.

She hadn't a mother, Wendy answered. She had died a long, long time ago. Only her father was left to care for her, but this was not so bad, as it brought them closer together. They loved each other dearly.

said Nibs. Do go on.

Thank you, said Wendy tartly. Who was wealthy and kind, and gave his daughter every pleasure she could want. She didn't want much, though, because she was not a selfish or spoiled child. In fact, instead of wanting fancy toys and clothes, she was quite happy to play make-believe in the garden, and talk to the animals.

Did they talk back?, Slightly asked, leaning forward with interest.

Oh, yes, Wendy assured him. They loved the girl dearly, for she was very kind to them. Every morning, she gave them bread crumbs, and they sang for her.

Oh, lovely!, sighed Curly.

But all this loveliness could not last, said Wendy, and silence fell over the boys. Because one day, her father married a perfectly dreadful woman who had two daughters that were just like her. This woman hated the girl, but she would never show this in front of her new husband. She had married him for his wealth.

Disgusting action, muttered Nibs. Horrible lady, don't you think, Slightly?

Miserable woman, he answered passionately. I'm glad I don't have her for a mother.

And her two daughters hated the girl too, Wendy continued. They were very fond of beautiful and expensive clothing and things, just like their mother, and they laughed when they saw the girl playing happily in the garden, talking to her friends and singing back to them. They thought it was disgraceful to waste time playing in a dirty garden with filthy little creatures.

But the birds were nice!, Slightly whined.

Only when you were kind to them, Wendy said flowingly. They hated the girl's stepsisters just as they were hated, and they would swoop at them and yank their hair, and sometimes they would fly above them and well anyway, the girl's new family hated her, but for the most part, she was ignored.

How tragic, sighed Nibs.

Oh no, that wasn't the worst of it, Wendy said warningly. For not long after he married the girl's stepmother, her father grew gravely ill, and sadly, he passed on, leaving the stepmother to care for his dear only daughter.

What happened then?, Curly asked, impatient and urging.

The stepmother refused to treat the girl like one of her own children, Wendy said, a sad gleam in her blue eyes. And because she hated her so, she made the girl into a servant, who did all the dirtiest housework- whatever the stepmother could find for her to do, and she was very creative.

Oh, poor Cinderella, cried out the twins in unison.

She got her name, Wendy said, easily accommodating the interruption, Because she had no bed, and was forced to sleep near the fire, among all the black ashes, just to stay warm. She read by the firelight, too- it was her only escape. Oh, and of course, the garden creatures. She spoke to them often as she did her outdoor chores, and they loved her even more, because not once did she complain to them.

Bless her heart, sighed Slightly in a noble imitation of an adult.

When was the Ball, then?, Curly asked again, still wanting to get on with the story.

It was when Cinderella had grown to be a young woman, Wendy said, smiling a little. The house received a very fancy invitation from the Prince himself, inviting all eligible maids to come a Ball in three days time. It didn't say on the card, but there was a rumor going around that at the Ball, the Prince would choose a wife.

said Nibs. What a good idea, huh?

said Wendy. But Cinderella's stepmother was not about to let her go

Peter stared at the storyteller, eyes unfocused, as the story went on. It was a familiar tale, of course, but hearing it once again, brought alive by the sound of her sweet voice, brought it completely back to life for him. He watched her hands twirl, mimicking the fairy godmother's wand, smiled a little when the boys ooo'd and ahh'd. Still, the story seemed completely different so distant now, somehow.

And all too soon, it was over.

And when the Prince saw that the slipper fit her slender foot perfectly, Wendy said proudly, He stood from his knees and drew her to her feet, embracing her. He took her hand in his and kissed her for the very first time, for the first of many times, and declared then that she would be his wife and Queen.

And then?, one of the boys asked, all leaning forward with anticipation.

Well, that's the end, said Wendy. They lived happily from then on.

How do you know?, Nibs asked, sad that the story had ended.

Well, that's just the way it was, said Wendy, frowning slightly. That's the end of the story.

Did they get married?, Curly asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Of course they married, said Wendy. I just told you that! And then he declared that she would be his wife and Queen.' The end, they lived happily from then on.

I fancy her wedding gown was pink, said Nibs knowingly. Like the one she wore to the Ball.

Wendy smiled a little at this; children were so forgiving.

she said fondly. Wedding gowns aren't pink. They're always white.

Peter, still seated alone in his armchair, frowned. He hated Wendy's wedding dress, wherever it had been hidden in its big white box.

Why are they?, asked Slightly, and Wendy frowned a bit, knowing that the boys could not understand something so devoid of reason as .

she said slowly. The white symbolizes the bride's purity, her chastity. It means that she's a well, a v-virgin and ahh

Wendy blushed a deep red, unable to go on. The boys simply stared up at her, some smirking, some frowning deeply. Most of them (being curious little boys) knew exactly why she was blushing. If some didn't, however they still knew that a wedding night was a thing to blush over.

Peter leaned forward, frowning. His heart was beating much too hard, tightened with the ache. The growing need inside himself to scream out and damn all weddings was becoming overpowering, and so, he parted his lips and asked a question he was sure would detour everyone from the thought of marriage.

What's a virgin?, he asked simply, his elbow on the arm of the chair and his hand cupping his bronze cheek.

The boys turned around in shock, and Wendy brought a hand to her lips as she blushed five shades deeper. She felt her tongue twist and tangle in her mouth, felt all previous thoughts slip away she stared openly at Peter, at his bare copper chest and disheveled, curly dirty blonde hair, his emerald green eyes

Heart pounding, she blinked, cursing herself. When she opened her eyes, Peter was still staring at her waiting.

A v-virgin is ahh well, that is, she's a woman who, uhm, Wendy tried to explain, failing miserably as she watched Peter suck in his bottom lip slightly, listening intently to her. A woman who has has never been married! Yes, been married! A virgin is a woman is just about to be married, isn't that right, boys?

Oh, right on, assured Nibs. Like a bride, only better!

In a white dress, Slightly seconded, snorting into the cup of his palm.

Peter frowned a bit, but accepted this strange explanation.

he said, feeling slightly embarrassed. I didn't know.

He settled back into his chair, thinking this over and deciding that it would be best if he confirmed everything just to make sure he understood.

he ventured carefully. So that would mean you're a virgin?

She blushed deeply, looking down into her lap at her twisting, sweaty hands.

Yes, Peter, she whispered softly. I am.

he replied, frowning. Are you all right? You look so warm, do you have a fever?

Wendy shook her head unsteadily, still staring down into her lap. She cleared her throat, loudly, as if intending to speak, but coughed instead, and suddenly, cheeks burning, she stood.

"Yes," she said shakily. "I feel quite ill, and I am going up to my room so that I might sleep it off before I must go out!"

And, with an apologetic glance at the boys and a long, fearful stare at Peter, she swept out of the room in a rustling, red-faced blur.

Peter watched her go, slack-jawed. He turned back to the boys when he heard her door close much too loudly.

"What happened?," he asked meekly, and the boys simply smirked, halos hovering invisible over their minds.

"Oh, she's a lady is all," said Nibs. "Play with us, Peter?"


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End Chapter Eleven - Part One

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Ending Notes: This chapter was like, insanely long. It was, mmm ... maybe sixteen pages? Soo ... I decided to cut it down into the same size file as Chapter Ten and to post the remaining four to five pages in a few days. There was a lot to absorb in this chapter, I think, so I'll let the big bang wait until later.

Beta readers: I will probably be emailing you the remainder of this chapter to read over. I will most likely not ask -everyone- who asked to beta to beta (there were lots o_o), but rather I'll just pick out random people and then later, other random people. I hope that's all right with you all. And if you get an email from me and decide that beta-ing is not for you, then that's cool. Just tell me.

*** Does anyone do Peter Pan fanart or know a site of it with Peter and Wendy romance themes? I believe that a picture is worth a thousand words, and if you know of some really good work, I would love to see it and share it with others via my fanfic. I love art. =)

*** Oh, and uhm, I noticed that some reviewers are Harry Potter fans ... do you think I might do well with a Harry and Draco ficcie? (They're my favourite couple. ^_^).


Please come back for Chapter Eleven Part Two! ^_^ I will post it soon, I'm sure.