PROLOGUE

James sat on the park bench cradling Peter in his arms. The child buried his tear-streaked face into his guardians suited chest as he cried. Each tear that fell, fell with the memory of his mother. But, it seemed the sadness would never end. It seemed his mothers death, as much as Peter wished it not to, would continue to haunt him for eternity until he himself reached his own tragic demise. It seemed that all the imaginary worlds and characters in the universe could never take his young mind of the events that had occurred since James had blessed their lives.

Mr. Barrie had come into their lives only some months ago whilst walking his dog in the park. As unimpressed as he was at the first sight of Porthos the bear, Peter had acquired an astounding and powerful affection to the man and his dog. Until that fateful day when Peter and his brothers had put on a show in the playhouse as a surprise for James, within a few moments of the play commencing, his dear mother had been overcome by a violent cough. James had ushered Sylvia into the cottage where she would lie down and have a cup of soothing chamomile tea.

Peter, overcome by sadness, had run out of the cottage and into the small playhouse and proceeded to destroy the set they had spent hours creating. The child had viciously torn the pages out of his leather-bound book in front of James, proclaiming that he was not his father and that he had been more of a hindrance than a help to his family. He was sick of James and his mother lying to him about Sylvia's condition, dismissing it as a "silly chest cold".

But now, here he was taking comfort and solace in the very man that had supposedly ruined their lives. And now he would possibly spend the rest of his life with the playwright who had loved his mother as much as Peter himself had.

It seemed as if the two males had sat on the bench for many hours. They had not spoken since James had uttered those inspiring words in Peter's ears. "She still exists he had said, caressing the parchment inside the small book in every page of your imagination". Although they had not talked it seemed the two could communicate with each other in another way. They knew how each other were feeling. It was terrible emotional pain that could not even be described by the written or spoken words. It was as if someone had reached into their souls and contorted them until they were nothing but an empty shell.

An empty shell.

Thoughts relentlessly plagued James' his mind as he held Peter close to his chest. He didn't care about the tears staining the material, he didn't care that they were probably late for dinner. When he thought about it, his sadness was truly insignificant. He was just one person in a world of so many. True, some people knew about his pain and empathised with him greatly, but in the scheme of things they were just another blade of grass blanketing the park they took residence in.

The sound of Sylvia's choking cough still rang in his ears, he could still feel her pale, clammy skin in everything he touched, her beautiful face still haunted his sleepless nights.

James sighed, if it hadn't been for the Davies he wouldn't have the play he had been so widely acclaimed for. The show had been credited as "A timeless classic for centuries to come." As pleased with this as he was he felt guilty about feeling the least bit happy with himself at the moment. He felt that he shouldn't be in high spirits, not when someone he held so close to his heart had just breathed their last sorry breath.

Peter shifted in his arms and James looked at the boy. The childs' eyes were bloodshot and scarlet from the tears that now fell down his pale cheeks. Peter looked up at him and James tried his best to smile reassuringly. But, it was no use, he could not smile; the best he could do was shut his eyes and wish the distressing sadness away.

Mr. Barrie placed an arm around Peter and shut his eyes. The boy nuzzled his head into James' neck. James moved Peters' head off his collar and stood up, he took the boys hand.

'Come on, let's go home' he said to him quietly. Peter obliged and stood up from the bench.

The two walked hand in hand out of the park. James really did not want to go back. In a few short months his life had changed so rapidly. He had parted ways with his wife and now found himself with an instant family to care for. James was happy with the new existence he was going to lead, though he wished with all his sorry heart that Sylvia would be able to share it with him.

Though, there was one upside. His stories, characters and imaginary worlds could live on in the hearts of the children he was soon to live with. He would make sure that he passed his tales onto them so that his spirit could live on long after he had joined Sylvia in the heavens above him.

(A/N: Had to edit this a bit and change the Authors Note. Well, here we go, this is now the Prologue. Thanks for the reviews by the way.)