Hey, thanx to everyone who reviewed!! I'll try 2 update as fast as
possible!! Please keep reviewing and let me know if there's anything I can
do to make it better – in the nicest way possible lol
Wendy slowly descended the stairs, trailing her fingers lightly over the dark mahogany wood of the smooth banister, her footsteps stifled in the thick, plush carpet. She paused halfway down, gazing around the house that held so many happy memories... "Memories..." she thought, "That's all I have here..." and then, unwillingly, a dark thought entered her head; so disturbing that she pushed it quickly aside, but still...it lingered, "memories...but no future..." Wendy pushed open the heavy dining room door and the cheery site that meet her eyes should have raised her spirits; but it did not. She observed the scene with the air of that of an outsider; the happy, raucous children and the proud, content parents. She felt, for a split moment, that she didn't belong, but that feeling was quickly forgot about as her mother crossed the room, smiling, and swept her into a warm, loving embrace. "Don't be silly," Wendy told herself sternly as she hugged her mother back, "Of course you belong – this is your family..." but still, a nagging voice insisted on saying, in the back of her mind, "Yes – you have a family, but what about Peter? You left him all alone..." Wendy's mother felt her daughter stiffen in her arms and gave her a quick questioning look; Wendy merely smiled, barely masking her unhappiness. Mary pressed a quick kiss on Wendy's head and whispered, "I'm so glad you're home...so relived..." Wendy was immediately consumed with guilt, her mother was so happy, while Wendy felt no joy whatsoever in being home, what kind of daughter was she?
"Wendy?" Michael tugged insistently on her dressing gown. "What's the matter darling?" Wendy asked, sweeping her youngest brother into her arms. "You look so sad...why?" Michael said poignantly, gazing at her with solemn brown eyes, Wendy forced a laugh, "Of course I'm not sad, silly! Why, whatever gave you that idea? I was just daydreaming, that's all..." Her voice alerted Aunt Millicent's sharp ears and her aunt beckoned her over. Expecting a lecture, Wendy slowly walked towards her, but to Wendy's complete and utter astonishment her steely aunt enveloped her in a hug, "Oh, Wendy, thank God...thank God you're all back," came the muffled words.
Throughout breakfast Wendy talked and laughed with everyone, but it was all an act, it was as though she was in a dream that she would not wake up from, she thought, somewhat irrationally. After breakfast her parents and Aunt Millicent retired to the study and the boys dashed quickly to the nursery. Wendy stood at the foot of the stairs, unsure of what to do, feeling like a stranger in her own house. As she stared, unseeingly, at a pretty picture of flowers hanging on the wall a voice interrupted her thoughts, several voices infact; "Wendy! Wendy! Come and tell us a story! Wendy please!" who was she to resist those adorable, pleading eyes? Wendy settled herself on the rocking chair beside the window in the nursery, the boys crowed around her, looking at her eagerly. "Now," Wendy said with a smile, "what would you like to hear about; mermaids, kings and queens in faraway lands, pirates, magic and mystery...?" The boys stared at Wendy before exchanging incredulous glances, "Pan, ofcourse," said John, speaking for them all. Wendy's smile faltered, "No," she thought, "It's too soon, I don't want to think about Peter, the pain's still too fresh..." but Wendy's resolve dissolved as she looked at the circle of expectant, keen faces. "Tell us about last night, about the fight aboard the Jolly Roger!" said Slightly, waving a wooden sword for emphasis. Wendy began her story hesitantly, still trying to blink back stubborn tears, but soon, with the children urging her on, she got swept up in her tale, remembering every detail as though it was right before her very eyes. "...and as Peter lay still on the dark deck of the Jolly Roger, looking near death, everyone feared all was lost, it seemed that the very thing that made Peter – his spirit – was broken, it seemed that at last Peter was defeated. But, that, as we all know, wasn't true, for there was a force aboard the ship that night that Hook did not reckon for; that was the fact that, far from forgetting Peter, Wendy still cared for him a great deal and Hook, never really being truly human, could not possibly fathom the way in which love works. So Wendy launched herself across the deck and lay next to Peter, speaking to him softly...and she..." Wendy's voice broke off, unable to finish her story. The boys were, fortunately, too caught up in their own enactment of the battle, and did not notice her wavering voice, "Wendy gave Peter a kiss! A kiss! A hidden kiss!" Curly sang out jubilantly. Wendy's face crumpled and tears slid silently down her cheeks, she abruptly stood up and fled from the room.
Leaning with her back against the nursery door, Wendy took several shaky breaths and tried to compose herself. She pressed her cool hands against her warm forehead, knuckling away the headache that threatened. A firm hand suddenly gripped her shoulder, catching her off guard, Wendy whirled around, half expecting to see Pete, her smile waning as she came face to face with her mother. "Why Wendy, I get the impression that you are disappointed to see me," Mary said, her laugh a shade uncertain. "No, of course not, I'm just tired, that's all," Wendy said, not quite meeting her mother's eyes. "Come here darling, I want to talk to you," Mary said, leading Wendy into her bedroom. Wendy entered the attractive bedroom, decorated in shades on rich red and looked at her mother who sat on the bed and took her hands in her own. Mary looked into her daughter's familiar face, a face that even now held the promise of a beautiful woman; the striking pale blue eyes, the masses of honey coloured tresses and the full, rose coloured lips. Mary gazed at the corner of Wendy's mouth, there, so much like her own, was a kiss, but what Mary was yet to know was that the kiss no longer belonged to Wendy. As if sensing her mother's stare, Wendy passed a hand near her mouth, resting it lightly in the corner which held her kiss, as though to shield it from Mary's eyes. "Wendy..." Mary began hesitantly, "I want to understand, you see, why you left...to go to...to...Neverland...do you think you could possibly explain it to me, help me understand?" Again Wendy averted her eyes from her mother's, unable to put her feelings into words. "Wendy," Mary said again, more urgently, clutching her hands tightly, tears now shinning in her eyes, "were you so unhappy that you had to run away?" Wendy forcefully shook her head, "Oh no mother, I was never unhappy, I love you and father so much...I felt...I just felt so...overwhelmed...you see..." Wendy paused, biting her lip, "I just don't want to grow up...I'm not ready...everything's changing all at once and I feel so...out of control" she burst out passionately. "But Wendy, dearest, everyone must grow up, it's a part of life, you see that, don't you?" Mary asked desperately. "Not everyone..." Wendy muttered under her breath, immediately regretting the words. "Whatever do you mean; not everyone?" Her mother stared at her in confusion. "Not everyone must grow up..." Wendy finished reluctantly. "Oh, I see," comprehension dawned in Mary's dark brown eyes, "Peter Pan..." Wendy winced at the name, as though her mother had dealt her a blow. Mary's eyes took on a faraway look, as though she had forgotten Wendy was even in the room, she opened her mouth uncertainly, as if about to divulge a secret, but instead she closed it and turned her head away abruptly. When Mary spoke again it was in a much more sober tone, "Wendy, I know you won't delight in what I am about to say, but I want you to listen to me and try to understand; I hardly think it is appropriate for a girl of almost thirteen to share a bedroom with a group of young boys, so I want you to take the smaller room down the hall..." Wendy opened her mouth in protest, but Mary carried on, "in no way am I trying to force you to grow up and of course you may still play in the nursery and tell stories, but I want you to sleep in a separate room...please Wendy, do try to cooperate..." Wendy looked down, her eyes shadowed, knowing that any protests would be in vain, "Of course, mother...if it will make you and father happy..." Mary smiled briefly and kissed her eldest child on her once rosy cheek, "I'm sure your father will have the room ready for tonight." Mary left the room, leaving Wendy alone with her thoughts.
Wendy's throat constricted as she furiously blinked back tears, she dug her nails into the palm of her hand so hard that little groves appeared on her delicate skin. "My own room...this is the first step into becoming a woman..." Wendy shook her head desperately, as if to rid it of the torrent of emotions flowing through it, she had left Neverland for this...to live...this was what she wanted...or was it?
Wendy slowly descended the stairs, trailing her fingers lightly over the dark mahogany wood of the smooth banister, her footsteps stifled in the thick, plush carpet. She paused halfway down, gazing around the house that held so many happy memories... "Memories..." she thought, "That's all I have here..." and then, unwillingly, a dark thought entered her head; so disturbing that she pushed it quickly aside, but still...it lingered, "memories...but no future..." Wendy pushed open the heavy dining room door and the cheery site that meet her eyes should have raised her spirits; but it did not. She observed the scene with the air of that of an outsider; the happy, raucous children and the proud, content parents. She felt, for a split moment, that she didn't belong, but that feeling was quickly forgot about as her mother crossed the room, smiling, and swept her into a warm, loving embrace. "Don't be silly," Wendy told herself sternly as she hugged her mother back, "Of course you belong – this is your family..." but still, a nagging voice insisted on saying, in the back of her mind, "Yes – you have a family, but what about Peter? You left him all alone..." Wendy's mother felt her daughter stiffen in her arms and gave her a quick questioning look; Wendy merely smiled, barely masking her unhappiness. Mary pressed a quick kiss on Wendy's head and whispered, "I'm so glad you're home...so relived..." Wendy was immediately consumed with guilt, her mother was so happy, while Wendy felt no joy whatsoever in being home, what kind of daughter was she?
"Wendy?" Michael tugged insistently on her dressing gown. "What's the matter darling?" Wendy asked, sweeping her youngest brother into her arms. "You look so sad...why?" Michael said poignantly, gazing at her with solemn brown eyes, Wendy forced a laugh, "Of course I'm not sad, silly! Why, whatever gave you that idea? I was just daydreaming, that's all..." Her voice alerted Aunt Millicent's sharp ears and her aunt beckoned her over. Expecting a lecture, Wendy slowly walked towards her, but to Wendy's complete and utter astonishment her steely aunt enveloped her in a hug, "Oh, Wendy, thank God...thank God you're all back," came the muffled words.
Throughout breakfast Wendy talked and laughed with everyone, but it was all an act, it was as though she was in a dream that she would not wake up from, she thought, somewhat irrationally. After breakfast her parents and Aunt Millicent retired to the study and the boys dashed quickly to the nursery. Wendy stood at the foot of the stairs, unsure of what to do, feeling like a stranger in her own house. As she stared, unseeingly, at a pretty picture of flowers hanging on the wall a voice interrupted her thoughts, several voices infact; "Wendy! Wendy! Come and tell us a story! Wendy please!" who was she to resist those adorable, pleading eyes? Wendy settled herself on the rocking chair beside the window in the nursery, the boys crowed around her, looking at her eagerly. "Now," Wendy said with a smile, "what would you like to hear about; mermaids, kings and queens in faraway lands, pirates, magic and mystery...?" The boys stared at Wendy before exchanging incredulous glances, "Pan, ofcourse," said John, speaking for them all. Wendy's smile faltered, "No," she thought, "It's too soon, I don't want to think about Peter, the pain's still too fresh..." but Wendy's resolve dissolved as she looked at the circle of expectant, keen faces. "Tell us about last night, about the fight aboard the Jolly Roger!" said Slightly, waving a wooden sword for emphasis. Wendy began her story hesitantly, still trying to blink back stubborn tears, but soon, with the children urging her on, she got swept up in her tale, remembering every detail as though it was right before her very eyes. "...and as Peter lay still on the dark deck of the Jolly Roger, looking near death, everyone feared all was lost, it seemed that the very thing that made Peter – his spirit – was broken, it seemed that at last Peter was defeated. But, that, as we all know, wasn't true, for there was a force aboard the ship that night that Hook did not reckon for; that was the fact that, far from forgetting Peter, Wendy still cared for him a great deal and Hook, never really being truly human, could not possibly fathom the way in which love works. So Wendy launched herself across the deck and lay next to Peter, speaking to him softly...and she..." Wendy's voice broke off, unable to finish her story. The boys were, fortunately, too caught up in their own enactment of the battle, and did not notice her wavering voice, "Wendy gave Peter a kiss! A kiss! A hidden kiss!" Curly sang out jubilantly. Wendy's face crumpled and tears slid silently down her cheeks, she abruptly stood up and fled from the room.
Leaning with her back against the nursery door, Wendy took several shaky breaths and tried to compose herself. She pressed her cool hands against her warm forehead, knuckling away the headache that threatened. A firm hand suddenly gripped her shoulder, catching her off guard, Wendy whirled around, half expecting to see Pete, her smile waning as she came face to face with her mother. "Why Wendy, I get the impression that you are disappointed to see me," Mary said, her laugh a shade uncertain. "No, of course not, I'm just tired, that's all," Wendy said, not quite meeting her mother's eyes. "Come here darling, I want to talk to you," Mary said, leading Wendy into her bedroom. Wendy entered the attractive bedroom, decorated in shades on rich red and looked at her mother who sat on the bed and took her hands in her own. Mary looked into her daughter's familiar face, a face that even now held the promise of a beautiful woman; the striking pale blue eyes, the masses of honey coloured tresses and the full, rose coloured lips. Mary gazed at the corner of Wendy's mouth, there, so much like her own, was a kiss, but what Mary was yet to know was that the kiss no longer belonged to Wendy. As if sensing her mother's stare, Wendy passed a hand near her mouth, resting it lightly in the corner which held her kiss, as though to shield it from Mary's eyes. "Wendy..." Mary began hesitantly, "I want to understand, you see, why you left...to go to...to...Neverland...do you think you could possibly explain it to me, help me understand?" Again Wendy averted her eyes from her mother's, unable to put her feelings into words. "Wendy," Mary said again, more urgently, clutching her hands tightly, tears now shinning in her eyes, "were you so unhappy that you had to run away?" Wendy forcefully shook her head, "Oh no mother, I was never unhappy, I love you and father so much...I felt...I just felt so...overwhelmed...you see..." Wendy paused, biting her lip, "I just don't want to grow up...I'm not ready...everything's changing all at once and I feel so...out of control" she burst out passionately. "But Wendy, dearest, everyone must grow up, it's a part of life, you see that, don't you?" Mary asked desperately. "Not everyone..." Wendy muttered under her breath, immediately regretting the words. "Whatever do you mean; not everyone?" Her mother stared at her in confusion. "Not everyone must grow up..." Wendy finished reluctantly. "Oh, I see," comprehension dawned in Mary's dark brown eyes, "Peter Pan..." Wendy winced at the name, as though her mother had dealt her a blow. Mary's eyes took on a faraway look, as though she had forgotten Wendy was even in the room, she opened her mouth uncertainly, as if about to divulge a secret, but instead she closed it and turned her head away abruptly. When Mary spoke again it was in a much more sober tone, "Wendy, I know you won't delight in what I am about to say, but I want you to listen to me and try to understand; I hardly think it is appropriate for a girl of almost thirteen to share a bedroom with a group of young boys, so I want you to take the smaller room down the hall..." Wendy opened her mouth in protest, but Mary carried on, "in no way am I trying to force you to grow up and of course you may still play in the nursery and tell stories, but I want you to sleep in a separate room...please Wendy, do try to cooperate..." Wendy looked down, her eyes shadowed, knowing that any protests would be in vain, "Of course, mother...if it will make you and father happy..." Mary smiled briefly and kissed her eldest child on her once rosy cheek, "I'm sure your father will have the room ready for tonight." Mary left the room, leaving Wendy alone with her thoughts.
Wendy's throat constricted as she furiously blinked back tears, she dug her nails into the palm of her hand so hard that little groves appeared on her delicate skin. "My own room...this is the first step into becoming a woman..." Wendy shook her head desperately, as if to rid it of the torrent of emotions flowing through it, she had left Neverland for this...to live...this was what she wanted...or was it?