Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. If I did, then I certainly wouldn't be loading my stories on this wonderful site; instead I would be publishing them and making some dough.

So, I wrote the first paragraph of this story maybe two years ago when I had insomnia. I found it just the other day and I decided to add onto it. It was not originally supposed to be a Peter Story, but I molded it into one. Also, you won't see very much of the genres that I selected for this story (Action/Adventure/Humor) in this chapter, but I assure you that there will be very much of that in the chapters to come! I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter One: Midnight Coming

Wendy Fletcher lay in the dark watching the seconds tick by on her alarm clock. It was less than an hour before midnight, yet sleep would not come. Her mind raced with thoughts of the next day; a day most would be excited about, but she was dreading. The next day, Wendy would become an adult. The next day was Wendy's eighteenth birthday.

Such a day should bring excitement not loathing, yet hatred filled her. Wendy couldn't help but feel unready for the responsibilities that lay before her. An optimist by nature such feeling had left her gloomy and dispirited. When she had tried to explain this to her mother, the response that she was received was filled with compliments on just how responsible and mature she really was. Though her mother's attempts at instilling confidence in her only daughter were made with the best of intentions, it merely managed to give Wendy even more of a feeling of inadequacy.

Everyone had always depended on Wendy for everything. If there was something to be done, some task that another body couldn't be conned into doing, surely good ol' Wendy Fletcher could handle it. It was like a sickness with her, that she just couldn't say no and people knew that. She was often stuck doing things that she really didn't want to do. Babysitting her little brothers, for instance; she didn't mind watching the five year-old twins, but she always seemed to have to cancel other plans to do it. Her mother would always ask her if she wouldn't mind, because if she had something else to do then they could get the neighbors to do it, but Wendy would stick on a smile and nod her head. Or when the art club was having a fundraiser; she would end up having to organize the entire thing because the other members were "busy", and then afterwards they would take all of the credit. But, of course, Wendy would just grin and bear it. It was a never ending battle with her.

I'll just have to learn to say no. Wendy thought and then groaned. Even in her mind the words didn't sound convincing. She had told herself that she needed to learn to say that infamous word thousands, if not millions, of times in the past and it had never amounted to the slightest bit of improvement on her part.

But now there was nothing to do but wait, wait for midnight and responsibility to come. She glanced around her room, looking at the dark shadows cast by all her belongings, and watching the moving lights from cars dance around on her plain walls. Her china dolls, each dressed in beautiful, Victorian-Era apparel with delinquently painted faces were standing on the top of her bookcase. She wondered to herself if eighteen year-olds kept those sorts of things out in their bedrooms. Perhaps she would box them up in the morning. Then she saw her hammock filled with stuffed teddy-bears and cats, hanging from the ceiling. If her dolls were to go, then there was no point in keeping the stuffed animals around as well.

Finally her eyes rested on the very bottom shelf of the bookcase. It was stacked with her old story books. The most visibly warn was Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie. Oh, had she loved that book. She would beg her mother to read it to her every night before she was able to do so herself, and then when she finally could, her nose was buried in it during every spare moment she had. After a while, she had convinced herself that Peter Pan was real. She doted on him, always thinking about the way that Peter would complete what ever task or chore she was performing. She daydreamed of the adventures they would have together, battling pirates and spending afternoons with mermaids and the Lost Boys. She imagined Tinkerbell flying around her room like a floating, golden bauble and dictating the latest crazy thing Peter had managed, and then the two of them laughing about it afterwards. Pretty soon all of Wendy's art projects for school were likenesses of the way she imagined him, and her stories were full of his influence. She cold hardly go a second without thinking of him, or mentioning him, or comparing something to him. It even got to the point where she would stay up and wait by her window ceil for him to come.

But he never did.

Wendy secretly wished that Peter would come tonight, before she was an adult, and rescue her from her fate. Yes, that was a very good thought. She chuckled to herself and looked wishfully at her window.

There was somebody outside.

Hey everyone! What did ya'll think? I'll try to update soon and because I'm on winter break right now, I should have sometime. Once I do go back to school, however, the updates might not be as quick as you would like. Please review though; I could use some input and creative criticism.