Disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan or its characters.

Author's Note: short chappie sorry! Enjoy! Happy Reading!

The Legend of the Lost Girl

Chapter 7: The Memories of One, Peter Pan

Now Peter Pan wasn't one to remember much; that really goes without saying. He remembered when he was bringing Wendy, John, and Michael to Neverland for the first time and how he continually forgot their names, including Wendy. That whole thought plagued Peter's thoughts more than the previous notion that he was remembering more and more trivial thing that he usually would have forgotten like the lost boy without them around it was easier to forget them, so why hadn't he?

And there went Peter's thoughts running wild with him once more as he sat Indian style floating around his underground home. Back on task Peter tried to force his brain and of course it simply wouldn't listen. It was already over worked with remembering so why should it concentrate? For Wendy-lady Peter reprimanded and instantly they were back on track, well almost they were on his first disturbing thought: Remembering, forgetting.

Truthfully Peter had forgotten Wendy many a time, after the fact. He'd look at her a rake his brain for answers the only girls in Neverland were Indians, mermaids, or faeries, and the girl before him were obviously none of the aforementioned. Then she would say his name with that tone, and her eyes would sparkle as if she really did care if something would happen to him, as if she would remember him for all time, and that would be when it would click and a confident "Wendy-lady" would fall from his lips.

And this brought him back to his original reasoning for the in-flight ponder as Lost went to pick berries. He missed Wendy, sure he had Lost now, but there was just something different.

Wendy was brash and bold, reprimanding most of the time. And yet she could play a rather good damsel in distress. She came up with games that Peter could never, with notions of afternoon tea, bath time to bed time. Even the repulsive medicine, that Wendy had been able to talk down, with such a horrid venomous note of energy, in her tone and posture. She was different and refreshing.

Lost on the other hand (Peter of course than pause and looks at both hands to make sure that neither Wendy nor Lost were sitting on them), was a lot like Wendy in that they were both brash and bold. But Lost alone was to simply put it was a child of Neverland, no more than that the Princess. But that was beside the point! Wendy was the one who told stories, while Lost was a story much like Peter. And much like Peter, Lost thought the same and the variety was limited to the slight difference in that Peter hunted Pirates to the death and Indians for fun and Lost hunted a single allotted Duchess and mermaids for fun. In short she was not Wendy-lady and Peter was sorely (quite literally Lost had decided to play Cat and Mouse without telling Peter or saying that he was the mouse, a pounce or two later Peter sported a good sized bruise on his backside), missing her.

This of course, circled around once more to: memory. Peter thought of the time when Wendy asked John and Michael about their family in London and the boys had surely forgotten just as Peter and the rest of the lost boys. And now, Peter cursed the irony of it all it was him the remembered fair Wendy-lady and her family, family that Peter could never have… because he was Peter Pan Prince of Never Neverland just like Wendy… err Lost was Wendy Lost Princess of Never Neverland. She was never supposed to know her family, learn to darn socks or the meaning of medicine.

Peter shook his head, no she was given a second chance at life and although the faerie monarchy denied her, her title. She was called to Neverland twice more in fact and he himself was drawn to her, like a moth to flame. And spring hailed her welcome and Peter's heart skipped a beat with some unknown feeling that only Wendy-lady could answer.

Perhaps everything was made so because Neverland need the structure and balance that only Wendy could bring and not Lost. But if that was true than why did it happen so that with the memories came the attitude? That Peter couldn't answer, perhaps he was never meant to ponder… ever. Perhaps this was the force that tied Never Neverland to Peter and Wendy… err… Lost, no Wendy. That force whether god or man, but the more that Peter thought about it, it was child. The children that dreamed and played on the shores of the Neverland lagoons, the children who wanted their Prince to have a Princess like all those fairy stories Wendy once told. Yes and than some children wanted Wendy like Peter and others like Wendy.

But why would Neverland have control over Wendy like that and not Peter? Maybe because she was gone for so many years? Well no matter she was back to stay now and Peter wanted her to at least retain some of her Wendy-lady-ness.

And with that decision made, Peter came crashing to the ground with a rambunctious girl sitting on his stomach, "Look Peter! Poison berries! Eat one and you die a horrible death, eat two and you die a thousand deaths…"

"Eat three and you've died enough to be alive again, I know," ended Peter as looked at the basket of berries on his stomach to the outstretched hand that held only two berries. It was a popular game to feed one berry to a person knowing that they had ten minutes (or roughly by child's guess) to eat the second and third berries before their inevitable death consumed them. The berries in question were the large, white speckled, green polka-dotted purple Never-berry. And it was just that a berry the size of a cat toy ball that was purple with green polka-dots that were speckled with what, and they were of course nonpoisonous, which Wendy-lady made a lovely tea with once.

Peter pondered again ignoring the girl who was sitting on his stomach. Why was he being the rational one? Perhaps he was growing up, just by a little bit. Peter waited, waited for the disturbed shiver to race up his spine at the very mention of growing up. It never came, and perhaps not so surprisingly the notion wasn't so stomach turning. Perhaps a little older would be all right, twenty or so.

The problem of curing the girl was once more at hand and Peter thought. Perhaps… no, maybe… no that wouldn't work. What could he do? What would Wendy do (A/N: WwWd::giggles: ) in all simplicity she would give him a kiss or maybe a thimble, yes… yes that would work, it had to!

The blond boy sat up sliding the girl down to straddle his lap, "Do you still have my kiss Wendy?"

"Shh… don't call me that!" quickly replied the girl covering Peter's mouth and glancing around nervously.

"Do you?"

"You mean this old acorn around my neck?" asked Lost as she picked up the chain inspecting the acorn with an arrow hole in it.

Peter growled, "No it's a kiss, I gave that to you after you gave me mine." Peter held out his hand where his old silver thimble of a kiss rested.

Wendy dropped her necklace in favor to inspect the dubbed kiss. Her eyes shined with recognition, "I thought that was a thimble?"

"No Wendy, a thimble is different."

"Really? Show me," said Wendy the 'kid in a candy store' syndrome taking hold.

Peter could only nod as he leaned forward, barely noticing the way Wendy's eyes widened before his lips captured hers. One of his hands slipped around her waist and the other slipped to the back of her head into wind tousled hair and pressing her closer before lightly nibbling on her bottom lip. That was when he felt Wendy's hands grip his shoulders and respond to the thimble. It was slow and sloppy for both were inexperienced but to them it was purely perfect. This was not like the thimbles they shared before, this was a real kiss.

The two pulled away and Peter marveled at the sparkle in Wendy's eyes and the light tint of pink on her cheeks, "Peter!"

Author's Note: Umm… You'll see I promise sorry for the cliffy(ish). I hope you enjoyed. Please tell me what you think.

-Na