When Peter and Wendy stopped dancing, they stood away from each other. He asked her carefully if she wanted to come back to Neverland, and she was silent for a long time. "Peter...I love Neverland, and though you'd rather not hear it, I love you also. But I can't run away from my problems right now. I have dragons to battle with my mother's death and I need to try to make things work in America, if only for a little while." She took a deep breath. Peter nodded. "I'll stay with you all the way to your new house. If you ever need me- for anything- leave your window open and I will come. I promise." Wendy affirmed this and pressed her face into his shoulder, breathing in his "Boy smell", musk and cinnamon and tropical fruit, holding him tightly. She knew that if she let go, he would leave her for the night. Slowly, Wendy untangled her arms from him and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, Peter," she said, walking out of the door and down the hall to her room. Peter stared after her and then flew out the window, following her down the passage from outside the ship, watching her through the portholes. When she turned into a well-furnished room, he waited as she changed, respectfully turning his head MOSTLY away. When Wendy lay down in her bed, he gently hovered to watch her fall asleep, and after she had drifted off, she began to sob in her slumber. Her pale face contorted desperately and she turned to her side, crying, "Mama...Oh, Mama..." Alarmed, Peter raced to the front of the ship and turned the knob into the hallway anxiously. When it didn't open, he banged on the door, and a heavy-eyed attendant came to the door. He opened it a crack and said, "I'm sorry, sir, there are no visitors at such an hour of your class-" Peter pushed past and bellowed, "This is an emergency!" He flung open Wendy's door and cradled her in his arms as she screamed, tormented. It was a painful sound, and tears rolled down his cheeks. The attendant had followed Peter down the hall, but as he watched the two from the doorway, he took a deep breath and walked away, pretending to ignore the scene. Slowly, Wendy collapsed in his arms and stopped crying, her head going limp and falling back into the crook of his elbow. Peter set her down and tucked the blanket around her, knowing he could and should leave. Somehow, though, he could not make his feet move in the direction of the door, and found himself sitting in the closet, watching her. He couldn't sleep for fear of another nightmare from her- what if he didn't wake? Peter rested his head against the closet door and guarded her all night. At 6:00 in the morning, the employee walked into the room and shook the sleeping boy gently awake. Peter woke with a start, angry at himself for dozing off, and looked at the attendant perplexed. The man pointed outside the window to the rising sun, and he understood, hurrying outside the ship and resuming his watch from the porthole into Wendy's room. As soon as the worker was out of the room, Aunt Millicent brushed in, and the man gulped, wiping his brow. She was an intimidating woman. Aunt Millicent shook Wendy awake, grasping her arm and jerking her out of bed. "Get up. You will greet the day. We are almost there, and I haven't much time to spend with you before we must part." Aunt Millicent pulled the nightgown off of Wendy's body and she stood there in her underwear, shivering in the cold. She wrapped Wendy's corset around her and wrenched the laces shut so suddenly and tightly that Wendy didn't have enough air to gasp with. There was a loud cinching sound and a crack as the boards strained inside the corset. This was quite a feat- the girl was very thin naturally. Finally, the old woman tied the laces satisfied, and Wendy took shallow breaths to try to relieve the wave of nausea she was experiencing. As she looked down at her stomach, pressed inside her corset, she realized how uncovered she was and glanced toward the porthole. She saw Peter blush and turn his head quickly, and she turned crimson herself, remembering how she must have looked before the corset was on. Quickly, Aunt Millicent dressed her in a white satin gown edged in black lace and rubies. She put her hair up into a black lace hair net that featured a teardrop ruby hanging from the center, and Aunt Millicent looked at her contented. The distinguished lady shut the door after herself, calling, "I'm off to breakfast. You could do with that-" She looked at Wendy's stomach pointedly- "But make sure you're present at lunch." Quickly, Wendy locked it and opened the window, ushering Peter inside. She sat on the edge of her bed and winced as the corset cut into her abdomen, and the boy asked what was wrong. "You wouldn't understand," she said. He gave her the most crushed look, and Wendy gave in. "It's my corset. It's too tight. I can barely breathe." Peter motioned for her to stand up, and slowly unbuttoned the back of her dress, muttering to himself, "Breathe," as his arms shook. When her ashen back was exposed over the top of the ugly contraption, he unsheathed his dagger. Wendy knew the sound and turned, startled. "No! Just untie them- she'll suspect something if they're slit." Peter nodded and began to work on the knots, finishing quickly and sliding it off. Slowly, he placed his hands around her waist, inside the dress. She shivered at his touch, but his hands burned as they touched her hips, tingling with electricity. His fingertips were brushing her flat stomach, and she leaned back her head, resting it on his shoulder and turning her face toward his. Peter leaned closer, but something stopped them from kissing. It seemed to precious a moment for such a young thing, and the two looked into each other's eyes. Wendy was amazed at how they seemed to swallow her own, the way they changed with the colors of the sea. Now, they were a dark mottled blue, like an azure marble, stony, yet washing over her. She felt the majority of her body go limp, as though she had jumped into warm water, or sank into a bath. Peter always thought of Neverland when he observed her eyes. They were the deep green of the darkest parts of the forest, of Kensington Gardens at night, and although he would never tell anyone else, they were the color of his mother's eyes. They felt like a refuge to him, and his hands tensed slightly on her waist. He suddenly felt like he would cry, and he turned away, sliding his hands out of the corset. Wendy looked concerned, and she put one hand on his. "Peter," she said quietly. "I need someone to button my dress." He nodded and blinked, turning his head toward the ceiling. They burned like acid as the tears ran back into his eyes, and he blinked again, turning toward Wendy's back. His fingers struggled clumsily with the tiny buttons, but at last, they were all done. Wendy turned toward him to ask him a question, but he wasn't listening. He was thinking how unfair it was that she'd grown up so quickly, without him. "You're a young woman now." Peter whispered. She pressed her hand to her stomach and looked pained. Suddenly, he remembered something. "Tuesday is your fifteenth birthday." She nodded and steadied herself on a bedpost. "I know how old I am." Wendy tried to look interested, but she felt sick. "I'm sixteen. I'm growing anyway. You're making me grow up, but I still can't have you." The room slid around him, and Wendy closed her eyes, blinking slowly at his blurring face. Only his eyes were clear. Those eyes...she could feel the pain in them intensely. Her entire body burned, and she tried to take deep breaths. Wendy heard Peter's voice, thick with anguish. "Why are you making me love you, Wendy?" He sounded like the helpless little boy she had held through his nightmares, and tears ran down her porcelain face. "I don't know," she choked, and fell to the floor. Peter flung himself next to her, stroking her hair. "Wendy! Wendy, wake up!" He said loudly, increasing volume. "Wendy! Wendy!" He began to cry as he felt her chest- it wasn't moving, and she wasn't breathing. "Oh, Wendy...please," It was a heartbroken sight, the strong, tall boy, almost a man, weeping next to the grey-cheeked young woman. Peter leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Please, Wendy..." She didn't move. He ran down the hallway, looking for the attendant from the night before, but in his place was a woman who clicked her tongue and said in thick Cockney, "'E's gone now, guv- might as well wait until he comes in from doing his business." He yelled, "No! I need to see him now!" She gave him a strained look and repeated, "'E's doin' 'is BUSINESS." "Where is he???" Asked Peter. She sighed and pointed to a door. He ran towards it and burst in, scaring the employee to death. The man's eyes widened, and he yelled, "What in the bloody hell are you doing?" Peter stumbled, "It's...my friend. She's in trouble. She won't get up...I need help." The man buttoned his pants and walked with Peter, asking him questions about her. Finally, Peter burst, "I don't know! There's nothing I can do..." The man opened the door of the room and his eyes enlarged, his jaw lowering slightly. "Lad...she's got grey fever. I've seen it before." Peter shook his head. "What is that???" The attendant looked distressed. "It's a...very bad disease. Help me get her on the bed." Peter picked her up and laid her on her coverlet gently. The man handed him a cloth and a bowl of hot water. "Here- put it on her forehead and she'll come to. But she shouldn't leave her bed for three days, and she needs lots of fluids." Peter nodded and placed the cloth on her head, slowly moving it around. Her chest began to rise slowly in deep breaths. After ten minutes, she opened her eyes sluggishly. "I'm sorry I must grow up." Wendy said, and then drifted off to sleep. Moments later, she was thrashing in her nightmares, and he set down the bowl and cloth, wrapping her in his arms. She stopped flailing and he let go of her, resuming his position lying next to her on his back. Wendy moaned in sleep and rolled over, resting her head on his chest. Her curls tickled as they spilled across his bare torso, but he just smiled and stroked her back until she fell into a dreamless sleep.

-Okay, that's it for now, but right- I apologize for the typos I just found in the last one, blasted Microsoft Word, which are in Chapter 2...and the mistakes, namely the fact that I called Michael dark-haired and then red- haired, thus, his hair is now AUBURN, 'k'sies? Hope you all like this chapter, please review, again, sorry for the bad format. Also, to the person who mentioned it, the inferiority quote in chapter one refers to a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt, who was probably not born yet, but whatever (.