Summary: Peter Pan spent four years trying to deny it was happening. But after a point, the truth became inescapable. Now he's made a decision that will mean a new life, one that he never foresaw. But perhaps, just perhaps, it won't be as awful as he imagined …
Authors Note: Am drawing a blank, here …
Never Say Never
Chapter One :: Boys Will Be Boys
Wendy Moira Angela Darling was bored.
In point of fact, she was so utterly bored that she wanted nothing more than to proceed into the next room and join her brothers in their raucous game of … well, she wasn't quite sure what they were playing but it apparently involved a fair amount of noise. And it sounded excessively more entertaining than her own current activities.
Dinner at Aunt Millicent's was anything but entertaining. Her vivid imagination was dangerously close to caving in due to the sheer dullness of the present company. There was talking of stocks and bonds (from the gentleman) and giddy giggles and gossip (from the ladies, of course). And really, not much else. It wasn't exactly the most enlightening environment now, was it?
And that wasn't even taking the so-called 'suitors' into account. Aunt Millicent had taken Wendy's seventeenth birthday as the opportune time to introduce her charming niece to every single eligible young man in her acquaintance. Much to Wendy's extreme mortification, her Aunt certainly knew a lot of them.
"Wendy, dear," Aunt Millicent's voice cut through her thoughts.
Wendy looked up from her intent observations of the carpet. Her brow furrowed slightly and she pushed back a sigh. Oh dear, she thought in dismay, not another one.
"Dearest, I would like you to meet Mr Christian Spencer," Aunt Millicent said, beaming and unmindful of her niece's less than enthusiastic approach to the young gentleman at her side. "Christian, my niece, Wendy Darling."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Darling," Wendy said with a tiny curtsy, holding her hand out as she'd been taught. He grasped it and brushed his mouth across the back of her hand.
"Likewise, I'm sure," he said, a charming grin on his face.
So this was the infamous Christian Spencer. Aunt Millicent had spent half the afternoon breathlessly listing his credentials and amiable qualities, first and foremost of which was his wealthy grandfather, the esteemed Baron of Oakley. She was now giving Wendy a wide and encouraging smile, her eyes sparkling (no doubt at the very thought of a possible attachment).
Christian Spencer was a tall boy of about nineteen. He had dark wavy hair and hazel eyes. In civilised society Wendy knew that he would certainly be considered quite attractive by members of the opposite sex. Wendy, however, found herself quite indifferent to his charm.
In fact in the past several years, Wendy had found herself quite incapable of falling for the charms of ANY young boy. And it wasn't for lack of trying either. Wendy wanted to be a normal girl; she wanted to fall in love and marry and raise a family as any grown up should do. But for whatever reason, she simply could not bring herself to care about any of the multitudes of gentleman that paraded through her parlour.
And there were quite a few of them.
Wendy Darling had grown into quite a beautiful and accomplished young woman. Her modest lifestyle and loving family had ensured that she never quite gained that unladylike pride and arrogance that seemed to run so rampant through the young ladies of the upper echelons of society. She remained sweet natured and kind, and had a smile that could melt even the coldest heart.
She had never stopped dreaming, either.
No matter how much she told herself that dreams and fairytales were for children, she could never quite get rid of her taste for adventure and romance. Truth be told, she didn't really want to banish that part of her entirely.
It would mean leaving a part of her behind, and she wasn't sure that she was ready to do such a thing.
"Miss Darling?"
Wendy suddenly realised that Christian was looking at her in amusement. She started in surprise and bit her lip. "I do apologise," she said. "Were you saying something?"
Christian grinned. "I was trying to pay you a compliment, but I fear you were quite far away."
Resisting the strangely strong urge to roll her eyes, Wendy smiled prettily, looking for all the world as though she were suitable pleased at his compliment (whatever it had happened to be). In reality, she was currently thinking of ways that she could make a hasty retreat without catching the attention of her Aunt.
"Mr Spencer –"
Christian reached across her lap to cover her hand with his. Wendy blinked and leaned back slightly.
"Please," Christian said quietly. "Do call me Christian."
Wendy blinked again. "If you wish it," she said, unobtrusively attempting to disengage his hand from hers. Having done so, she opened her mouth to continue but soon found that she didn't really have a clue what she was supposed to be saying anyway.
Luckily (or perhaps not so), Christian Spencer was a gentleman who liked the sound of his own voice and he appeared quite happy to continue the conversation himself. That was most likely the only reason it took him so long to notice that Wendy was flitting about in lala land while he described every single roof slat on his family's mansion.
When he launched into a description of the 'elegant woods' and the 'exhaustive shrubbery' surrounding the grounds, Wendy found herself unable to hold back a sigh.
This would certainly be a long night.
"How did you find Mr Spencer, dear," Aunt Millicent asked later that evening, with a suggestive raise of her eyebrows.
Wendy felt it would undoubtedly be imprudent to give her real opinion on the gentleman in question and so, with a cheerful smile and downcast eyes, she replied, "I found him to be a very agreeable young man, Aunt. He appears to be quite the conversationalist."
"I daresay he is, Wendy dear," Mrs Darling said in her usual gentle manner as her husband helped her with her coat. "I couldn't help but notice that the two of you spent quite half the night conversing."
Aunt Millicent actually had tears in her eyes by this point. "Oh! Such a wonderful young man. What a delightful couple they will make!"
Mr Darling, having remained rather oblivious to the conversation, straightened up at her words and he whipped his head around to his daughter. "Young man?" he declared, looking at his wife in askance. "What young man? Wendy is much too young to be talking of young men!"
Wendy sighed.
"Dear," Mrs Darling said with a placating hand on her husband's arm. "She is seventeen and quite old enough to make her own decisions."
"She most certainly is not!" Mr Darling said adamantly. "She is much too young to be thinking of marriage."
When Mrs Darling gently reminded him that they had indeed married when she herself was seventeen, Mr Darling flushed and declared yet again that his daughter was much too young to be considering matrimony. No matter how eligible or rich said gentleman happened to be.
Wendy, at this fatherly display of decisiveness and authority, threw her arms about her father's neck. Considering the circumstances, she was quite inclined to agree with him. She didn't let him go until she realised that he was looking rather blue in the face.
They left Aunt Millicent, who was looking quite near tears with the disappointment, and proceeded home, with the Lost Boys in tow, each in various stages of impending sleep.
There, Wendy fell into bed and dreamed of a boy with sandy hair and bright blue eyes.
She started awake in the middle of the night. The grandfather clock downstairs chimed three o'clock in the morning and Wendy sat up in bed, blinking sleepily, wondering what had woken her. A cool draught ruffled her hair and her eyes fell on the open window. The lace curtains were fluttering in the breeze.
Her eyes widened.
It was the middle of winter. Wendy didn't remember drawing her curtains earlier that evening, let alone opening the window latch.
Thoughts whirling, Wendy drew the covers around her, still staring out at the rooftops shimmering beneath the moonlight. Her mind immediately provided an explanation, but she just as quickly dismissed the idea. Surely not …
There was silence.
A star glittered brightly in the night sky, the sparking gold light just visible out of the corner of her eye. Hardly daring to believe it, Wendy pushed the covers away, eyes wide with wonder.
"Peter …" she murmured, slipping out of bed. She barely noted the coolness of the wooden floor against her bare feet as she stepped up to the window.
The city sprawled out before her. The light of the street lamps glimmered against the wet cobblestones. Rain was sprinkling down lightly; falling against Wendy's upturned face as she stuck her head out the window and looked up at the stars twinkling in the night sky.
But she saw and heard absolutely nothing. There was no familiar flash of green. There was no discernible sparkle of fairy dust. There was no sound of tinkling bells. There was no scent of leafy forests.
Nothing but the London skyline beneath the light of the moon.
Wendy pulled her window closed. Her eyes slipped shut and she bit her lip against the tears.
She wouldn't cry. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't cry. He said he'd come back. That he would always remember her.
That he would never forget.
But he hadn't. He did.
And he wasn't coming back.
tbc …