Disclaimer:
I, Aslansphoenix declare that I do not own 'Peter Pan', Neverland or anything that you find familiar. Technically some of the characters did come from my head ... but I think they belong to Neverland just as much as any canon characters.
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Author's Note
What! There's not a month between chapters?! Well this is the Epilogue.
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"All Children Grow up Except One"
Everyone Knows about Neverland,
About the home of Peter Pan.
Second to the Right, and Straight on till Morning.
To the place between dreaming and awakening.
Where one never grows old,
And dull memories fade.
There are rules in Neverland
Rules that must be obeyed.
Peter Pan is King of the Island,
His emotions control the seasons,
He is the one who can never grow up,
He is youth, and joy, and all things extraordinary.
But There are other Rules, for me and you,
Rules and Roles that must be followed, it's true.
"Girls are too clever to fall out of their prams",
So it's only Lost Boys find themselves in Neverland.
(Perhaps ... regardless, of the body they were born with ...)
Boys forget much easier than Girls,
They forget their homes and their families while in Neverland.
Yet when they return; they soon forget their adventures with Pan.
Girls remember though, and while it may be hard,
They remember the warmth, support and love.
(They're always torn between staying and going ...)
"No Girl can resist Peter Pan,
When he uses a specific voice."
(They all love him, is there ever a choice?)
In Neverland there are roles to be...
Boys are Lost, or Indians, or Pirates, or the odd Fairy.
Girls are Mothers, or Mermaids, or Indian Warriors true,
Or Fairies, or very occasionally; a Lost Girl too.
(If some Fairies can be in-between,
why not the more complex humans?)
All Children Grow Up, Except One.
Neverland is a place of Adventure and Fun.
There are Roles and Rules,
That shall be followed through
One more thing, which is True ...
In Neverland, You learn all about You.
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Epilogue.
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Later there would explanations, stories told, difficult discussions to get through ("Oh George … Couldn't you be a boy with long hair?" "Sorry Mum."). Later there would be questions, and complications, and different kind of adventures. But for now, George just enjoyed the comfort of returning home.
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George Darling stood nervously outside the old Darling House.
Not out of fear; this house held nothing but positive memories for him, but he was apprehensive. It would be his first big family reunion in five years. And for it to be for what promised to be a sorrowful occasion, was … unsettling. George was closer to the age of 30 than he cared to admit, but here he stood, feeling like a young child trying to pretend that the bad news was not going to happen.
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George was the only child of James Darling, son of John Darling who was one of the brothers to the infamous story-teller Wendy Darling. Their parents (The first George Darling and his wife Mary) had adopted a bunch of other boys, and the extended family was huge. While many generations no longer carried the last name 'Darling", they were still considered Darling Descendants.
They (the children and grand/great-grand-children of Wendy and her brothers) referred to each other as cousins. And George had never felt like an only child. They used to go to the Original Darling house, then owned by Granny Wendy (As everyone called her). They would sit in the old nursery and listen to fantastical stories.
George knew all the family stories, about Peter Pan and Neverland. They were all stories of course, complete fiction, but they were always well told.
George had even stayed at the Darling House one summer as a child. Just him and four of his immediate cousins, due to various reasons. That was the summer that George had learned three things. One; Mitchell and Eliza, the bratty, spoilt cousins, weren't actually that horrible and could be decent people. Two; how to build a clock. Though George couldn't recall how he learned that skill, it was one he always retained. And Three; George learned how to accept himself as himself.
It was a brilliant time. Yes George had nothing but fond memories for the place. And that's what made going in more challenging. The House now officially belonged to Wendy's eldest Granddaughter, Margaret and her husband and children. And usually George loved hearing news from them. Mostly.
"George? What are you doing out there? Come in. Oh, it is so good to see you again."
George huffed a laugh at being caught procrastinating by Margaret. He went in and greeted her and her youngest child; little Lucy, barely a year old, whom George had only seen photos of. He was hustled inside and found himself in the bustle of a big family gathering. There were catchups and jokes and regular occurring debates. It was a good atmosphere, but there was an undercurrent of sadness.
Because Granny Wendy, was dying.
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George found a quiet spot in a corner and contemplated many things as he observed. Children were running around having a great time. Benjamin, an older cousin that George admittedly use to idolise as a young child, had somehow been convinced to play 'Dinosaur' by his children. George made sure he drank his tea slowly so he could shoot 'sorry mate, can't help' looks when asked for help.
George was thinking that the food and drinks seemed very well organised for the amount of people. He understood why when he noticed Eliza, in the distance giving instructions. Eliza dressed and acted in a way that made people assume she was married to a rich lord. But actually; she just knew how to dress well and how to hold herself with confidence to make her outfits seem more expensive than they were.
Unlike most of her friends, Eliza had not married for money or power; she had married for love. A tall, lanky, absent-minded history teacher. He was a good guy, and a good foil for Eliza. They weren't rich, but they were happy.
Between ordering people around so that everything was working correctly (large gatherings always need someone to do that), Eliza was to Angela and her 'friend' Bella. George still struggled to see Angela as the young woman she had grown to be, so used to remembering as the baby of the cousins. She was still short and a chatterbox, and still had the unnerving ability to seem like she was staring right into your inner most thoughts. But despite all that, grow up she had.
Her relationship with Miss Bella was the worst kept secret in the entire extended Family (which was saying something, since most weren't good at keeping secrets anyway). Bella was an actress, and she was beautiful, tall, blond with curves that most males tried not to look at too often. She and Angela had a relationship that was way closer than friendship, and definitely not sisterly – at all.
Seeing them, reminded George of his own story.
After coming to understand himself, that Summer he stayed with Granny Wendy, life had not been easy. His parents hadn't fully understood when he had explained that he was a boy called George, not a girl called Georgina. But they had tried and eventually seemed to accept him for him – especially after Granny Wendy had pointed out 'they could either accept their son, or not have a child at all.
The rest of the family was a mixed bag of mostly positive, with some confusion, and a little bit of hurtful ignoring. Society outside his family … had not been so kind. It had been difficult and George had lost some friends he thought were true. But he also found who were real friends. Including Mitchell.
Mitchell who had once been George's biggest bully, became his best defender.
He had changed over the summer, had walked into school first day back and embarrassed himself by apologising to everyone. Apparently, he'd lost a bet to George, and was keeping his word. George hadn't remembered the bet, but nevertheless he had been impressed. Mitchell had turned over a leaf and was better for it. Less trouble, more of a leader; he'd even been Head Boy in their final year of school. George wished Mitchell could be here, but he was in the currently serving in the Royal Navy, he had sent a message of support though.
When George was 18, he had left Briton. It was partly to explore the world, and partly running away from people who knew him, away from society demanding he be a female. He had visited his American cousins for a bit, then he had travelled until he found a small town where he settled down.
It took time to be accepted, but these days, as far as the people in the town knew he was Mr. George Darling, their British mechanic. It had been lonely at first, but then Maria had shown. Brave, bold, fierce Maria, a childhood friend who had once been the most tomboyish of all girls, who had grown into a strong, confident and beautiful woman. She was so sure of herself, and George finally admitted near the end of their school years, that he had fallen for her.
Angela had laughed and said George had a type – just because once when playing pretend, he had once pretended to want to kiss Tigerlily. … Although George had never been able to shake the feeling that Angela was right. Of course, having feelings for his very female best friend, especially while he was struggling to get society to accept him as a male, did not make life easier.
And quietly, was one of the reasons he had made his way to a small town in the states that had no idea who George had been.
He hadn't counted on how stubborn Maria was though. She (with help from some of his cousins) had tracked him down, and when he couldn't look her in the eye to tell her to go away … Well she had stayed.
Since then; all the town they lived in knew, was that they were the novelty British couple. George Darling the Mechanic, who couldn't grow a beard, and his wife Maria who could outshoot every man for miles around. Every second year they returned home to England to visit their families, but this was the first time in five years that George had been to a large family reunion.
But Jane, Wendy's daughter, had sent everyone a message saying it wasn't likely that Wendy would make it to Christmas. If you wish to visit her; this month, while Wendy was still up for visitors was the time. Apparently most had responded that this weekend they were free; it had been organised as a gathering, almost an event. Maria would join George tomorrow, as she was seeing to her own parents.
It was loud, it was busy, it provided the comfortable atmosphere where everyone assumed everyone else was family in some way, regardless of if they didn't know the person. There was an undercurrent of fear, especially when Jane's husband Taran (who was no longer quite as rambunctious as he had been 10/15 years ago) had pushed Wendy into the main room.
She had looked so frail and … old. But her eyes were still as bright as stars, and her warm smile encouraged people to start telling stories. And slowly the undercurrent began to feel like what a family reunion should feel like. There were real stories about induvial lives, about the mischief of children, and sometimes their pets. There were stories full of fantasy, and as was expected of this family; stories of Peter Pan.
Mostly George enjoyed sitting and listening, although he did roll his eyes when Angela told her made-up tale about a New Adventure in Neverland. George enjoyed the Peter Pan tales, but why did Angela have to always say that George, Mitchell and Eliza also went one time? Eliza thought it was because they had played going to Neverland that Summer they stayed.
It was an odd story, but it made Angela happy to tell it, so they let her. With only the odd eyes-roll here and there.
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It was late in the evening, George was heading upstairs after having had a drink in the kitchen, when he came across a stressed Margaret who was trying to feed baby Lucy her bottle, and deal with whatever new argument her eldest children had gotten into. When the argument resolved itself and the children went off happily, Margaret slumped against the wall. George made up his mind and stepped forward.
"Hey, need a hand?"
"Hello George. Oh I'm fine; just so much to do, and this little one is too curious about everything to drink her milk the way she needs to."
"Let me do that, come on Maggie, you look after everyone all the time, I think you of all people deserve a break for five or ten minutes."
Margaret wavered, she was tempted and George knew she needed it "Besides it'll give me some good bonding time with the little lady." Margaret huffed in amusement at George's cooing, then handed the infant over. George took the bottle and the child and slipped into the nursery, because it was cool and quiet.
After dinner granny Wendy had been moved to her favourite spot by the window in the nursery. They had been told not to disturb her, so naturally some of the younger children had snuck in, they had convinced Granny Wendy to tell her stories, since she hadn't earlier. She was nearing the end when George sank into an chair in the corner.
A combination of the soft lights, the gentle breeze from the window, and Granny Wendy's calming voice seemed to be lulling the children to sleep.
And George too, once Lucy had finished her bottle, he found himself unwilling to move. He was vaguely aware that the children were sleepily removed from the room to return to their own homes with parents who lived near enough. And he thought he heard someone saying to leave him and little Lucy and then he was floating along in a steady inkiness of peace.
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It was the silence that woke George up.
He blinked blearily; the room was swathed in shadows; except for the sliver of moonlight coming in through the window. George stretched his back and neck, being careful not to jostle Lucy around in his arms. He was about to stand and leave the room, when he heard something break the silence. It almost sounded like … crying.
Before he could do anything, he heard Granny Wendy's soft voice.
"Boy, why are you crying?"
The sobs stopped and a figure moved, and George saw that it couldn't be one of the children, for this boy appeared far more wild. He bowed to Wendy and spoke. His voice was joyous and cocky voice, it was a voice that reminded George of laugher and fun, and somehow also of so much sorrow. "Hello Wendy-Lady."
"Hello Peter."
George wondered if he was dreaming, but he dared not make a sound. He stayed still and silent as he listened to what unfolded.
"Why were you crying, Peter?"
"I wasn't crying! But you should tell the grown-ups that it is wrong to tell lies. I heard them earlier after you finished telling the stories about me, they were saying that you … that you … They were saying -"
"- That I am dying."
"LIES! You're not allowed to! I won't let you!"
"Oh Peter … Peter, I have a new story to tell, one that no one else has heard."
"Really?" I get to be the first?"
"Yes. Once upon a time there lived a young girl by the name of Wendy. One day the most wonderful boy, by the name of Peter Pan took Wendy and her brothers to the most magical island of Neverland. Peter taught them to fly and to fight, and they and the Lost Boys had the most incredible adventures. But the children missed their parents, and there were other adventures that Wendy wanted, needed to have.
So Peter Pan, that brave, kind, wonderful boy returned the children to their parents. But he would not be forgotten, and Wendy had so adored Neverland, so it was agreed that Peter Pan could take Wendy back to Neverland once a year for Spring Cleaning. But time moves differently in Neverland, and with many other adventures to be had, it is not surprising then that Peter missed a few years.
And in that time, Wendy went on that adventure that she needed to go on, that could not happen on Neverland. She grew up. But do not feel sorry her, it was by choice, and it did not mean that she ever forgot about Peter Pan, for he always remained in her memories, her stories, her heart.
Wendy married a wonderful husband, and they had a beautiful daughter called Jane. When Jane was young, Peter Pan came back, and took Jane to visit Neverland, then when Jane had herself grown-up and with her own daughters, Peter took them to visit Neverland as well. Each time Peter Pan would promise to Wendy that he would keep the children safe, and to return them home. Each time Peter Pan kept his promise.
Each time there would be two offers made.
Each time an offer to let Peter Pan stay would be made, and he would always say 'You can't catch me and make me a man.' And each time; Peter Pan would ask Wendy to go with him. Wendy would reply 'Not yet, I'm still too grown-up to remember how to fly, I haven't yet finished this adventure. Not yet.'
So Wendy kept going on the adventure of life. And she grew old, so much older than she had been when Peter Pan first visited, far older than she had been when Peter came for Jane, then for her grandchildren Margaret and Angela. So old that she was great-grandmother. Wendy got to a point, where she could no longer walk, where her hands shook and her mind sometimes wandered.
Wendy was old, she had gone on the greatest adventure that anyone could ever go on. She had lived. There was just one adventure left to her, the greatest adventure of them all. Wendy was lucky, she was able to see all her family, heard new stories being crafted and saw love being spread, and she knew her loved ones were part of a life well lived, she was happy. That is the end of the story, but there is an epilogue.
Can you tell me, how does this story end Peter?"
There was silence, then the figure of Peter rose from his sitting position, and then hovering in the air, he bowed. "With a different answer. Fly away with me Wendy, to Never Neverland, where you never have to worry about grownup things again."
"But Peter, I have forgotten how to fly."
"Then I will teach you. To ride the winds and soar once more. Come away with me Wendy, say 'yes' this time, and come away with me."
"Yes. Yes Peter. I have lived a life I am happy with, I have loved well, and now I am ready to fly away once again, for one last time. Yes Peter, teach me to fly."
She reached out her hand and took Peter's outstretched one. But it was not a frail old lady who was pulled into standing, but a young girl. She was just Peter's size, in a white nightgown. She looked as pretty Spring, and there was starlight in her eyes.
Peter pulled her close and whispered "A sprinkle of Pixie Dust, then think Happy Thoughts, and they lift you into the air. Do you know where to go?"
"Second to the right, and straight on till morning."
And with only a glance filled with love back at the room, they were gone. Two children laughing soaring through the window into eternity.
A small laugh caught George's attention, in his arms baby Lucy was watching the open window, and laughing in joy at whatever it was she saw. George stood and walked to the window and fancied that he saw two shadows dancing across the stars. Later he knew, there would be grief to deal with, later he knew that he would possibly forget to believe, he'd probably think of this moment as a dream.
But for now, in this time, he smiled down at baby Lucy. "You come from a family of star gazers and story tellers. The most famous story is this …
All Children Grow Up, Except One.
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Author's Note:
And so it is, that this story, like all things, comes to an end.
Just to make it clear; Yes, Angela is a lesbian. Which is why she was less effected by Peter's charms, but as has been said 'Peter has a voice that no girl can resist.' Whereas George is a straight male, he was just born to the body of a female.
Did I choose Maria's name so that there would be a couple whose names were parallel to Wendy, John and Michael's parents – George and Mary Darling? Yes, yes I did.
Did the Lost Boys stay with the cousins after their visit? No idea.
I keep changing my mind. Ideas like either 'only Mama's boy Mouse stayed, or he surprised them by being the only one to go back to Neverland'. Or maybe two stayed (Wit and Cubby) and the other three went back to Neverland. There is also the fact that on one hand I love the idea of Wit and George growing up as brothers, but on the other hand I'm also quite partial to the idea that Wit will become the child that Maria and George will eventually adopt.
In the end I decided; it doesn't matter to this story. They do all grow up at some point, in loving homes, and they do forget Neverland because that is how the story goes. But they are not as miserable as some other adults. Usually.
I enjoyed writing this story, it was a great challenge to explore different ways of writing. First avoiding using pronouns for George. Also writing mostly from the perspective of a side-character. George is not the protagonists of this tale, but it is told mostly through his eyes, and that was fascinating to do.
And you know what, I'm quite proud of the end result.
If you have read through this story, Thank-you, and I hope that you have enjoyed at least some of it.
Date - Thursday 9th April 2020