The darkness filled every corner and swept over the entire floor, save for the long strip of moonlight falling in through the window and crawling over the floor and up half the far wall. There was no need for nightlights anymore now that she as grown. She lay in the moonlight, staring out her window. Tonight she was too restless to find the peace of slumber. Old stories and promises danced through her head; memories played out across her vision. But her brothers stayed in a different room now, their faithful old nurse with them. She felt terribly alone in the shadowed room, with no one to tell her stories to. All the countless myths her mother had once told her were now replaced with her own tales. She should have long outgrown her childish dreams, but they persisted to fill her mind, and no one cared to listen to her anymore.
She knew one person one would.
She laughed nervously, quietly, the sound barely brushing past her pillow. Now she was being silly, remembering old dreams as if they had been reality. She shouldn't be thinking about those old things, rather she should be smitten with Thomas Whittaker, the son of her father's employer, who indeed was interested in her. Rumors of a courtship were spreading, but she wished to have no part in any of it. She cared not a wink about Thomas or his money or anything else. Besides, he'd never be interested in her if he knew of her whimsical stories or that he would not be the first boy to kiss her.
No, no, she reminded herself. That had only been a lovely dream.
"But perhaps it was not?" she asked aloud, sitting up in bed. She turned on her little bedside lantern and golden light glowed in place of the shadows. She slipped out of her covers and padded soundlessly across the room to her window. She sat in the little nook there, unlatching her windows and throwing them open to allow in a spring breeze.
Lately she'd doubted herself and everything her parents insisted she forget, and what her brothers, all seven of them, had already forgotten. But it rose in her mind when she least expected it: during her exams, during dinner, whenever a child laughed or when she heard a clock ticking loudly. She twisted a lock of light hair around her finger as she thought about the island that was both unreal and real at the same time. She'd been thinking about these things so much her marks in school were dropping, and her parents were talking about her when they didn't think she was near. They worried about her, and she worried about herself. She missed the days when things were much simpler. When all she had to do was give the boys their medicine and tell stories as she tucked them into bed as the underground home snuggled into sleep.
But did those days even exist?
She still remembered what it felt like to sit upon a cloud, to bat bubbles around, to fly. She remembered the smell of the lagoon and the redskin's fire. She could hear vividly the sound of the pirates' voices as they rose in a chorus, and the call of the Never bird. She remembered the dirt smudges and the tree hollows, happy child's grins, and a thimble she'd given away.
"It must have been real," she whispered into the night. The brisk air seemed to ripple with her words. If it was all true, then he would come for her soon, for the spring cleaning. Yet he had forgotten for the last eight years, why would he remember her now? She could not even fly anymore.
It had been years since she'd slept with her window open, but now, though the cold air bit at her, she could not find it within her to pull the windows shut.
The clock tower bells tolled out the time, twelve long reverberations sent out across the town. She instinctively glanced at it, then counted two stars to the right, and she made a wish.
"I wish I could return."
A laugh split the sky, a young boy's joy electrifying the air. Her eyes widened and she held her breath as a figure darted across the cityscape. A child's shadow fell onto her wall, and the flying boy landed on her window ledge.
She stepped back, her heart pounding against her bones. She pinched herself to find she was not sleeping.
It had all been real.
The boy smiled his impish grin, and showed off his pearly first teeth. He was dressed in leaves, just like the first time she had seen him. Apparently he had lost his pirate ship and clothes. Or perhaps he had forgotten about them. His eyes met hers, and his smile began to fade as he took in her size.
"You are not Wendy," he said, sadly almost. "Where is she? She must come do the spring cleaning." He flew across the room, calling out her name.
"I am Wendy," she said, stilling his steps. He frowned at her.
"You are not Wendy. Wendy is a girl, and she promised she would never grow up."
Wendy's heart fell. She had forgotten he did not age; in heart, mind, or body. He had expected the same of her. "Oh, Peter," she said solemnly. She was choking on unshed tears now. "I tried not to grow up, but I did. I could not stop it."
Peter's face grew angry, and his cheeks flushed red. "Only traitors grow up!" He dashed for the window, throwing himself out of it and into the night sky.
Wendy raced to the window, watching him speed back to the stars. Tears burned her eyes and fell from her lashes, tasting bitter as the rolled over her lips.
"No! Come back, Peter!" she pleaded, though he was long gone and she would soon be forgotten. She pounded the window ledge with her fists. How could he leave her here? So far away from Neverland and the redskins, the adventures and the fairies. How could he leave her in a world where she could not fly and would forever age, destined to grow old and sad? Where she could not tell her stories or be as childish as she wished?
She stepped onto the ledge, her body outside the window. She yelled with a terrible hopelessness, her voice thick and choked. "Take me with you!"
She fell back into her bedroom, the window still open, the curtains billowing out like ghosts.
No one came.
Nor cared.
Nor bothered to tell her Peter Pan was not coming back.
Author's Note: I read the book and was just totally devastated by the ending, then I listened to a song by Dashboard Confessional and this story was born. I hope you liked it.