I do not own Peter Pan

Wendy Darling had grown to be quite a beautiful young woman. At the tender age of 16 she had graduated early from her finishing school and now, at 19, she was supposed to be living the domestic life with her husband. How terribly mundane would that be though? Instead, Wendy had begun writing her adventure novel in three parts, starting with the first collection dealing with the evil pirate Hook and the ever so clever Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up. The second, the story of her and her brothers joining Peter in Neverland. After publishing the first two sagas, she only had the last one to write. However, it was the most difficult as she had no idea what Peter was up to now that she had left and Hook had been defeated.

She had been living in a small apartment just a block from her parents home. Working for her Aunt Millicent in the parlor as a maid was not too boastful for a career, but being a woman in that era it was really all she could do. Plus, though the pay was just barely getting by, it gave her independence all the same. She could write as soon as she got home and did not have to worry about fussing over a hot stove for her dull husband and praying the children would behave themselves.

No, Wendy was not ready for that sort of rubbish just yet. She still had that child like gleam in her eye that had yet to be extinguished from the trials of adulthood. However, her hidden kiss was long gone, something her mother had noticed a week after her return from Neverland.

Her hand instantly shot to her neck where she traced the thing silver chain down until her fingertips brushed over the small acorn she still wore around her neck. Though it had almost rotted away over the years, she still kept it hidden under her dresses and plain to see when she wore her nightgowns, such as now. She felt a heartfelt longing, the one she felt every time she recalled her adventures in Neverland. However, over the years it was starting to get hazy. Peter's face was starting to become shadowed. The sound of his voice and laughter was forgotten. Even the grounds of Neverland was questionable, half way forcing her to wonder if she made up certain areas. All in all, she only remembered what she wrote down in her journals, using them as basis for her adventure novel. However, her additions to the true story just made her memory worse, questioning if any part of it were real or if it were all a dream. A dream so real that she merely believed it was.

Indeed Peter had long since forgotten about her. Something that pained her and she refused to think about too long. She had tried for so long to remember how to fly. If she could she would instantly go back to Neverland, slap Peter for his incompetence, and then have another adventure. But she was too old now, and the dreams of her innocent youth were ridiculous in her adult mind. She looked to her window, open as if in some pathetic last attempt to keep the dream alive. Looking back to the blank pages mocking her, she felt an instant surge of anger. Had he not promised to return to her? He had given his word that he would never forget. She had given him her hidden kiss! Apparently that meant nothing to him! Storming over to the window, she instantly drew them close as well as the curtains. Feeling temporarily satisfied, it only took her three minutes before she was up again and opening both in a sudden terror of 'what if.' Sinking to the floor in a pathetic heap, she shed tears once more. She had honestly loved him. Truly and deeply loved him. He had chosen to remain a boy while she chose to grow up. They were separated now, by time and age. She pulled her legs to her chest, resting her back against the wall, and looking towards the ceiling. "I have to face it," she spoke to the empty room, "he's never coming back."

She stood up and turned to face the window, intent on shutting them and locking for good. However, she was face to face with a tan young lad wearing leaves and twigs for clothes, his blue eyes looking into hers. "Wendy-lady?"

She promptly fainted.

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Blue eyes fluttered momentarily before fully opening. Her pupils rapidly adjusted to the dim light emitting from the oil lamp residing on her desk. She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as she grazed over the bump left from her fall. It stung a little, but she doubted it was anywhere near grounds for a concussion.

Looking around the barren room, she saw no trace of what she believed had been the boy she spent so many nights brooding over. Her heart, still racing, suddenly ached. Had it been a trick of the mind, some sort of delusion forced from her mind? Seeing no ruminants of the lad, she reached her conclusion. However, she heard a slight whimper from the opposing end of the room. There, tucked away in the corner, sat a young man. He hadn't seem to notice her waking up. Cautiously she approached him. Kneeling before him she barely breathed out his name.

Looking up his eyes widened in shock. "You…you're alive!" He jumped to his feet, posing his hands on his hip as if he had someone defeated death. She could imagine him thinking how clever he was, and that alone twitched a small smile at the corner of her mouth. She looked at the boy before her, noting there was some sort of distinguishing difference in him she had not noticed until that moment.

"Peter, you've…you've grown up!" He immediately frowned at her suggestion and it was then she noticed that the child like gleam in his eye was gone.

He walked towards her, towering over her 5'5' frame with an even six feet. "That's why I came here. For answers!" He grabbed her arm non too delicately and ushered her to her chair where she was firmly seated. "I started growing up right after I took you and the lost boys back to your parents. Tinkerbell didn't say anything, neither did any of the Indians or mermaids, but I knew it was happening! I could see it! Why Wendy? What did you do to me?" He was practically shouting at her now.

Wendy blinked back tears, his rage scaring her. She had never seen such a fit from him before. "I…I don't know, Peter. Honestly!"

He scoffed and started pacing, mumbling things under his breath. Wendy fidgeted, uncomfortable before this side of Pan she, and she doubted anyone else, had ever witnessed before. It was then that she saw something about Peter that she had never took note of before. There, inconspicuously placed in the right hand corner of his mouth lay her hidden kiss. She barely breathed, "Oh Peter…you…you don't think it was…my fault you grew up?"

He slowly turned to her, gnashing his teeth almost rhythmically, "That's exactly why I'm here." Walking towards her, he knelt down and placed his hands upon her knees. Something that could be so tender was suddenly making her ill. "I never had this problem until you."

She let her tears fall freely now. So he did blame her. "But Peter, I didn't mean to…"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted, "I should have never come here. Give you the satisfaction that you have ruined me." He turned to her, "And stop crying."

She tried, but she only started to hiccup in replacement. Pan ran his fingers through his shaggy sun kissed hair and let out a sigh. "I just want to know how to make it stop." He saw her confusion, "I want to be a boy again, Wendy. You made me a man, now make me a boy."

"But Peter, that's impossible. You can't just return to your youth again. It doesn't work that way."

"Then find a way!" he yelled at her again. She narrowed her eyes, having taken enough abuse.

"Peter, just because your body has grown into a mans does not mean that you have." He returned her glare.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Yes, your body has matured, but you still hold this childish mindset. Selfish, immature, and self pleasing. As long as you hold onto that, you will forever be a boy."

And for the first time that night, Peter had no reply.

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