Nettle let the wind loosen her tight curls, and let her nightdress whip about her. She didn't care. Flying. Flying was the happiest thing she had ever experienced. It made her breast flutter in wild excitement, made her breathe deeply in the crisp night air as she, Peter and Tink made their way from Neverland.

Nettle let out a whoop of exultation – it was the most amazing feeling in the world. This. Freedom. The long, twisting thrill ride of flight. The endless, beautiful light, and the utter certainty that she was not going to fall.

This. This, surely, must be bliss, flying, surveying the land that she was so high above.

'Nettle!' Peter called excitedly, 'Nettle, watch!'

Nettle turned in mid-air to look as Peter flew at a pink and orange tinged cloud, landed on it and began to jump higher and higher, so high that he could perform a number of acrobatics, swirling and somersaulting for his own delight and hers.

She laughed and flew close to the gold-tinted waters of the sea, making her hand swirl the surface gently, her eyes dancing in excitement as she watched, her breath caught in her chest. Pure, unadulterated peace and happiness could be achieved in air. How could anyone find sorrow when you could ride the winds, bounce through the clouds and walk on water?

Nettle looked up into Peter's bright blue eyes and understood why. Certainly, this was a pleasurable experience, but moreso was love. She could see it resounding Peter's eyes. Love was in his heart, in his head, in his life, laugh. Nettle had never seen love, nor did she want to, at that age, but her mother had always said, you can never choose who you fall in love with. She always said that, whenever Nettle had grown irritated with her father and asked her mother crossly why she had married the man.

But Nettle forgot her parents in those clouds, just as you forget everything when exposed to such joys.

            Until another thought occurred to her. Peter Pan had everything. Everything. But no one to share it with, save Tink, who, though great company (Peter had told her this) was rather irritable and, unavoidably not human.

For a while, Nettle stopped flying to think this over. How would she feel, trapped in this paradise with no one there to share it with. Peter Pan needed his Wendy. Perhaps, thought Nettle, that was why you needed to fall in love. To share paradise with someone you cared about, to share with someone you truly loved.

            Wondering where Peter was, Nettle looked wildly around and spotted him hovering only a few centimetres, his face was hidden by the shadow of his golden curls, and Nettle came to hover opposite him. Her eyes watching his sad face carefully.

'Is this what its been like?' she whispered. 'Having such a paradise with no one to share it with.'

Peter nodded, a tear sliding uncharacteristically down his cheek. He dropped, so that he was merely sitting on the surface of the water and Nettle remembered what he had said about maintaining happy thoughts.

'Then let us go now.' She breathed excitedly, and reached out, she seized his hand and pulled him hard upward.

He looked up.

'Show me the way.' She demanded, her brown eyes sparkling. 'Neverland doesn't need a king who's always sad.'

At this, Tink began tugging at his hair, making a smile play on Peter's lips.

'Alright!' he cried, 'We'll go now.' And he leapt up, pulling Nettle by the hand and sending them both into the world of London.

--

            'Do you always come here by night?' Nettle enquired softly as they flew through the cool night air of London. The streets were quiet, save for the sound of dogs, and Nettle was glad when they passed her own neighbourhood, calming herself that she would not go back until she had helped Peter Pan.

            Briefly, she considered what would happen to her after she had done what she meant to. Now that they were here, in London, the whole idea seemed crazy. Who was she to interfere in this boy and girl's life? What was she in this?

Why had Tink selected her from a million other beds in the bedrooms of London?

But then, she was here, flying across the cool night sky with the most magical boy she had ever met, and, as the brief flash of his lips against his true love's flickered across her mind, her eyes focused determinedly.

Wendy and Peter were meant to be. And if no one else would re-unite them, who would?

Surprisingly, she felt a little nervous at consulting a girl older than herself: especially since she found her to be quite an inspiration. What other girl did she know of that fought pirates?

The thought of the pirates made her heart thump excitedly and, as they glided lazily over the terraced houses, Peter gave a small cry of delight as he spotted the house, and dipped low to fly to it, Nettle following suit.

Peter landed and Nettle surveyed the spot where Peter and Wendy had last said goodbye. It was strangely familiar, and quite picturesque: the frame being long and tall, large enough for a grown man to step out of should it be thrown open, stained glass filled the small portions of the inside frame, and Nettle stoked the colours, marvelling at the artistic value of the things.

'Beautiful,' she whispered, and, landing next to Peter, she felt too the sudden cold and felt a shiver shoot up her spine.

As she watched the window, a stained yellow portion began to illuminate two figures moving inside the frame, and Nettle squinted to look. The movements were fast and quick, suggesting anger, and as Nettle leaned yet closer, more to the gap were the frame opened, she heard voices.

'Darling, I don't like the situation much more tan you do, but poppet…'

'What father? Why do insist on marrying me off when you know I want to remain with you and become a novelist!' The second voice was shrill and brisk, a hard tone on her voice.

Wendy she thought silently, that must be Peter's Wendy.

'A novelist, darling, we've been through this… 'tis a most unstable job. I don't know why you keep insisting… and Mr Bramble's son is a fine young man!'

'Father!' Wendy growled, her voice gaining a decibel, 'I don't care about whether he's a good man or not… I can't marry him… I'm only sixteen!'

'Now Wendy, you know what Aunt Millicent said… its all for the best after all, and the sooner you're married…'

'The sooner I get to become Bramble's petty little housewife in the countryside?' Wendy's voice was full of scorn and anger and Nettle heard Mr Darling falter as if Wendy had brandished a whip.

'Wendy! I won't have you talking like that… I…'

'Well I won't be married! And I will become a novelist! Just you wait, father! You can't stop me!'

'Yes I bloody well can, Wendy Darling!'

'Then I'll run away!'

'Run away to where? Go on, tell me where you intend to go!'

'Neverland!' Wendy declared, and then stopped suddenly. Clearly she hadn't intended to say it.

'I won't have this!' Mr darling suddenly exploded into the awkward silence, 'You will stop living in your own mad imagination! Grow up, Wendy Darling, or get out!'

Nettle heard the harsh slam of a door, the rattling of the walls, and then the horrible still of the storm that has finally settled.

So. That was why Wendy could not return to Neverland. That was why her dreams were being utterly denied of her.

Nettle could not being herself to look at Peter, and so, gathering her courage, brought her fist to the window and knocked.