Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: Wow, this whole "Lost Hallway" idea was one of those random things that hit me in the middle of writing the chapter and it's opened up SO many things that I can add in this fic. Very shortly here we'll be getting to the more morbid parts.

To "I'm Nobody" - First of all, I do agree that it was cut off a little suddenly and there are a few ways that I could have done that better, but I really did want to leave it at a dead end. Part of it was for the sake of length (because my chapters are specifically 5 pages long, beginning from a goal then turned into habit) and just because I wanted you guys to be mad and then yell at the computer demanding more. I'm glad to hear that you were very wrapped up in it, though. When you compliment my crap writing, it really does make me want to write more. (P.S. I love you too)

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In the small empty bathroom, Eliza and Wendy talked with their voices down low. Eliza gave Wendy a very serious stare. There was no response.

"Please, Eliza. What is it?"

"You saw what it was. It's a hallway with a lot of rooms."

"You know my meaning. Why do you call it the Lost Hallway?"

"It's a story for another day, Wendy," Eliza said, trying to conclude the topic. Wendy had other ideas though.

"No! I want to know! Tell me now!" she demanded. The polite disposition that Wendy had arrived with had disappeared along with her sense of security.

"The Lost Hallways is where they put all the people who seem beyond help. It's a series of lost causes," Eliza said sharply.

"Why were they acting so…?" Wendy trailed off.

"Insane?" finished Eliza. Wendy paused for a beat.

"Yes."

"Because those are the people truly meant to be here. They're not the poor or the mentally retarded or the depressed (or the liars, in my case). They're the people who are so messed up in the head that they're as much a hazard to themselves as they are to other people. They're the ones without the psychological capabilities to even live with other people. They're those mad murderers that you hear about prowling around the shady parts of England. They're the kind of people who kill the ones they care about. They're those people who see things that aren't there. They're the people who can't help themselves. They are the truly psychotic individuals with an uncontrollable and perverse urge to have chaos and they have no idea why."

Eliza's eyes grew dark and she looked away. Wendy's inside were twisting around like a snake pit and she felt sick with fear. Eliza had definitely been here too long, seen too much.

The blonde continued. "The Lost Hallway is the back wing of this place that would traumatize any normal person. In these rooms, it's not white walls. The paint is peeled and the walls are moldy and discolored. Everything smells like rotting flesh because the patients stay there until they die and then sometimes the nurses and doctors don't even remembers to check on them. Out here, everything is so clean that it feels naked, but those rooms are so filthy that the patients play with the rats for fun. There are no windows and no roommates. The people are almost completely isolated, with the exception of the therapist who visits them occasionally. And when the therapist comes, they're always protected by a burly guard with a sedation shot on hand if they happen to get out of control. And then there are times when they just sit in their rooms and scream at nothing for hours. You're lucky you found your way out quickly. You couldn't have been in there longer than ten minutes."

"Noodle found me," said Wendy.

"Ah, I see. I'm not surprised," answered Eliza.

"Why is that?"

Eliza shrugged and said, "He used to live back there."

"What?" said Wendy incredulously.

"Actually, his mother lived there. She was wild. Noodle says his father left them when he was very young. He was a drunkard anyway. Just a bastard who would come home slobbering drunk every night and beat them. The mother just snapped and so she was tossed in here like rubbish in a trash bin. No one would take Noodle so they let him share a room with her, shockingly. They must not have really cared if the mother might turn on Noodle. But his mother passed away a while ago so they moved him to one of the better cells."

"Poor Noodle. So that's why he was repeating me when I said 'mother' in the hall."

"He almost had the whole dysfunctional family. All he'd need was a prostitute sister and it would be complete."

"Is there something wrong with Noodle himself? He seems fine, just quiet."

"Sadly, he has a mental condition that hinders his brain activity and his speech. He's always been quiet though. At least for as long as I've known him."

"You seem to know quite a lot. Noodle couldn't have told you all of that," said Wendy suspiciously and Eliza smiled, beaming with pride.

"Lying isn't my only skill. I can find anything that's hidden in here. It's kind of my hobby to stave off boredom. I figured out where all the patients' files are."

"But, that still doesn't explain why he's in here. He's not crazy, just a little slow."

"No one wanted him. The asylum isn't just for the mad, Wendy. There are hundreds of people in here and probably only one third of them have psychological problems. It's for the debtors and the unwanted citizens just as it is for the mentally unstable. Just like you and me, everyone in here was admitted against their will."

"It's like a prison."

"It's like Hell. I've been here long enough that I know all the terrible things that go on in here. I didn't find the Lost Hallway until I'd been here almost a year, but there are worse things that happen than a stroll down that hall, and they happen everyday. They're practically inevitable."

Wendy shivered. "What could be worse that the Lost Hallway?"

Back in their cell, Wendy and Eliza were instructed to go straight to bed and call on a nurse if they needed anything.

"They treat us like we're children," commented Wendy as she and her friend both climbed into their beds.

"Well, isn't that proper for you?" Eliza said back with a certain tone that struck a nerve in Wendy.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Noodle's file isn't the only one that I've checked up on."

Wendy sat up in the bed and squinted in the darkness to see Eliza looking very smug.

"I've been here only one day."

"Yes, but you're been admitted here for short little visits many times before, haven't you?"

Wendy stayed silent.

"Wendy Maura Angela Darling. Seventeen years if age. Mother, Mary. Father George. Mild disposition with no prior history of violence. Appears acutely delusional with a loose grip on reality. Keeps retelling an old fairytale, under the impression that she experienced it. Possible brain damage but is exceptionally intelligent. True psychological status undefined, but final decision is that the patient suffers from nothing more than immaturity."

"They have a file on me already!"

"They keep everything that goes on in here documented." Eliza paused. "Well, nearly everything. All the notes that the therapists ever took on you were filed and kept in their storage cabinets. I went to check up on you when Bridget told me you were coming this morning. I told you, I have impressive skills," she said with a smile.

"So is that what they said about me? That I was delusional and childish?" asked Wendy bitterly.

"That among other things. I just noted the highlights," Eliza sighed. She turned on her side and looked at Wendy, still up in her bed. "So is it true?"

"Which part?"

"All of it. Any of it."

Wendy relaxed and laid flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling blankly. Should she tell the truth? Should she confess that her story is true? She knew she'd look like a fool but maybe, just maybe, Eliza would believe her.
Wendy pressed her lips into a thin line. The girl may have been in an institution, but she was no half-wit. Eliza was one of the cleverest people she'd ever met and also seemed wise beyond her years. Wendy might have had a chance for Eliza to believe her had she were telling someone truly insane. Not Eliza, though. She seemed much too practical for that.

"Some of it's true. I did tell stories all the time and then added my own little twists. But I-I just was bored so I thought that... I could make them more interesting if I said I was in them," Wendy explained very clumsily. Eliza either didn't notice the lack of grace in Wendy's delivery or she ignored it. Which ever it was, she appeared to believe the lie.

"I suppose I could relate. That does make more sense anyway."

"More sense? What do you mean?" Wendy said. She breathed a sigh of relief. "She believed me... but why do I care? So what if I had told her the truth? ...I guess my mind is still outside the institution."

"I mean, come on, Wendy. A seventeen-year-old girl going around telling everyone she's flown to the stars with a boy who stays immortally young? She had to be either making it up or just flat-out batty."

"Well think of where we are!"

"You're not like normal patients. You're a lot like me. It's not you're brain that's messed up. It's your overpowering sense of excitement and adventure. Some of my best lies were things that either got me in huge trouble or they got shocked responses. I wanted to stir things up, and so did you. I knew you weren't crazy either," Eliza said happily. She sort of sounded relieved. Wendy thought for a moment that she was true in a sense.

"You didn't even consider that I might have been telling the truth?"

"Hardly! That story they noted in your records was way too farfetched to be real."

The soft pitter-patter of footsteps echoed outside the door as a nurse passed the door to peek in and see if the girls were sleeping. Both stopped talking until it faded down the hall.

"I suppose so. I'm going to sleep now," Wendy whispered. She was glad to end the conversation.

"Goodnight," came Eliza's whispered response. They both turned over and closed their eyes.

Tears slowly started to form in Wendy's eyes and slunk down her face and into the flat pillow. Eliza's words burned in her head. "They're too farfetched to be real."

"They ARE real. Peter Pan is real. It's true," she told herself silently.

"She had to be either making it up or just flat-out batty!"

"I'm sane! I know what happened. I can't let myself forget! I won't believe that I imagined it!"

For the first time in five years, Wendy felt doubt.

A few minutes later while Eliza was breathing softly in a sound sleep, Wendy's eyes popped open. Darting around in the pitch black, she felt her heart begin to race when she heard a faint sound from far away. It started out as one single voice, just someone talking. But it soon elevated to a multitude of people all howling their own incoherent sorrows.

It was the Lost Hallway and its self-piteous crying.

"It is going to take a long time to fall asleep tonight."