Author's Note: Thank you to sarah0406 and the very kind guest for your reviews! I hope you enjoy!

~ladykikyo1792

Chapter 8: Wendy-bird

When Wendy returned home, she sat on her bed for nearly three hours, clutching a pillow. She thought and agonized about what Tink said.

You aren't Gwen Carissima, ordinary, careless, girl. You are Wendy Darling.

Yes, she was Wendy Darling. Unluckily for her, Gwen didn't exist. She was a hopeless dream. Wendy had to accept the lot she was dealt in life, and that was as herself, the constant attraction for an insane boy-king.

Sighing, she took out a duffle bag from beneath her bed and began to pack. Sweaters. Jeans. Combat boots. A few skirts, just in case she had somewhere nice to go, though she didn't think so, considering recent events. Comb, brush, cell phone charger. Cell phone.

Wendy scrolled through her most recent text messages. At least twelve from Grace, demanding to know if she was all right and where on earth Tink had taken her to, ten from Gretel, saying more or less the same thing, surprisingly, a few from Ferdinand, asking her to the dance, and the brief thread she had with Tink.

TINK: Talked to Emma. She thinks we're crazy.
WENDY: That's nothing new.
TINK: Either way, she says she'll let us spend the night there. She also says she'll stay with us.
WENDY: Good. Who's going to be watching Felix?
TINK: David, I guess. I didn't ask. Just hurry up.

Admittedly, Emma really only thought they would be at Regina's for the night, but Wendy and Tink intended to go somewhere they felt they could meet Pan with backup. Somewhere Wendy thought was away from John and Michael, so they wouldn't be dragged into this again. The two Neverlanders didn't really expect to be going back to their homes for a while, because once Pan made his appearance, they couldn't be left alone.

Consequently, Wendy was going around and picking up the things she expected she would need if she were to be away for at least a month. She went into the bathroom and considered her toiletries. She figured shampoo and conditioner would work, plus toothbrush and toothpaste. Other than that, she wasn't sure she needed much.

As she returned to her bedroom, she noticed the worn diary- the tattered diary representing her time in Neverland -had moved. Instead of its hiding place in her desk, it was resting neatly atop her folded clothes in the duffle bag. Her eyes flicked to the side of her desk, where her pink diary had been deposited in the trash.

Neither were where they had been two minutes before.

Hesitantly, she approached her duffle bag. She forced herself to open the diary, and a few black feathers fluttered to the ground. One remained in the book, on the last page, and she flipped to it:

Nice to see you, Bird.

It was the same scratchy, angular writing as before, and what little doubt she had in her mind was shredded. The arrogance of the phrase! He was so casual, so cocky about it, as if they'd met each other in the park, long-lost acquaintances reuniting. As if their relationship wasn't far more complex.

Angry now, she whirled around, inspecting every inch of her room:

"Peter?" she queried. She struggled to keep her voice calm as she waited for his own greeting, which was sure to be cutting.

Silence.

Instinctively, Wendy cast her gaze to the ceiling. It was a reflexive habit she'd developed in Neverland. Peter had often liked to fly upwards, staying close to the ceiling of her treehouse, and scare her as she lay in her bed. But he wasn't there.

He had to be in her room though. He had gone through her things. He had removed both diaries from their hiding places quickly and easily- which suggested he had known where they were previously. How long, she wondered, had he been watching her? She shivered at the thought.

Then she realized her closet door was closed. It had been open before she'd gone to the bathroom.

Oh God.

Slowly, carefully, she stepped towards her closet. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath her. They sounded like explosions compared to the quiet around her, with only the light hiss of her heater in the background. Her heart slamming against her ribcage, and her hand shaking, she reached for the golden knob.

She took a deep breath, and pulled the door open.

She didn't know what she expected, exactly, but it certainly wasn't just her clothes on their hangers. Disbelievingly, she went through them, waiting for Peter to reveal himself. What would he look like here? Would he be dressed in modern clothes? Or the outfit made of green leaves and rough fibers she knew so well?

She could still feel its course thread on her skin.

Then, she noticed a piece of paper- clearly ripped from the diary -lying on the ground by her lone pair of high heels. Checking the ceiling in the closet just to be sure he wasn't lurking above her- nothing -she bent down and retrieved it:

Bird, what are you doing all caged up in here? Don't you want to fly?

Then she heard soft laughter, as if from a ghost. Her window cracked open with a burst of cool air. She raced to her window, but he was nowhere to be found. Cars drove up and down the street. Granny and Red chatted as they strolled down the sidewalk, carrying bags of groceries. Dr. Hopper was walking Pongo. They all were oblivious to her presence at the window.

Surely he didn't mean for her to jump.

Did he?

He'd once promised her he'd always catch her.

But that had been before.

The day had finally arrived. Peter had at last said he would teach her to fly. Practically squealing with excitement, Wendy was waiting, as instructed, in the middle of a clearing. Jungle trees surrounded her, and a few of the Lost Boys sat on a pile of rocks on the side. Felix and Rufio were talking in hushed voices. When Rufio saw her, he waved, and she happily waved back. Felix drawled:

"Are you sure you want to fly, Wendy? It's dangerous." He smirked at her.

"I'm not afraid," Wendy said confidently. She did know it was dangerous, but she wasn't going to let him intimidate her. He was truly the only Lost Boy she didn't like. She couldn't pinpoint what it was about him, but she had despised him from the moment she'd met him.

Felix raised an eyebrow, "You're not afraid? You, who won't even go to the lagoon anymore?"

"Mermaids can't fly," she retorted, folding her arms. She refused to acknowledge his remark. It was cruel, the way he made fun of Del's death. It was also cruel how he made the boys go to the Mermaids' Lagoon. Didn't he know how dangerous it was?

He chuckled, "Whatever you say, Wendy." Then his gaze moved to the sky, and he barked:

"Boys, in line! Pan's here."

The Lost Boys jostled each other in a rush to get into position. Rufio laughed at their efforts and rearranged them so they were organized by height. They all sucked in a breath, waiting patiently.

Wendy too looked to the perfect blue sky, and at once, Peter made a brilliant, graceful landing before her. He bowed to her, with a brilliant smile, and she curtsied back. It had become their custom to do this whenever they met.

"Are you ready to fly, Wendy-bird?"

"Oh, yes!"

His face lit up at her eager smile, and he crossed his arms, "Then let's begin. Boys, what do you need to fly?" He wasn't so much quizzing them as he was playing to his audience. Peter Pan, ever one for dramatics, did everything with flair. It made his magnetic presence even more mesmerizing, and Wendy had decided that was what made him the leader over everyone else. Aside from his skill with weaponry, he was the leader simply because he dazzled the others. If she was honest, he dazzled her, too.

"Happy thoughts!" Curly supplied.

"'Happy thoughts?'" Peter repeated. He shared an amused glance with Rufio and Felix.

"Yes," Curly insisted, "Lots of happy thoughts. You think happy thoughts, and they lift you into the air!" He spread his arms wide, as if he too was about to take off.

"Curly," Rufio laughed, "Where did you come up with that?" It was certainly something no one in Neverland had told him.

Curly blinked, "In London, when I was sad, I felt like I could never get out of bed, because I didn't have anyone to love me. But then I would think of all the parents who were coming through the orphanage that day looking for children, and it was a happy thought, and I would get up. But no one wanted me to be part of their family," he paused, "I was too old, so then I would grow sad again. One day the Shadow came, though, and the Shadow wanted me. That was such a happy thought that I was able to fly away with it to Neverland."

A heavy silence hung over them all. Peter rarely, if ever, let them discuss their lives before Neverland. It simply ruined the fun, and Neverland was supposed to be a place of eternal fun. However, for a moment, he too was dumbstruck by Curly's earnest explanation.

Wendy said, "I think that's a lovely idea, Curly. That you need happy thoughts to fly."

She gave Peter a meaningful look. Despite himself, he found himself grudgingly agreeing with her:

"You're right, Curly. You need happy thoughts to fly. And Neverland is your home and we are your family-"

"And we want you to be part of it, always," Wendy finished with a smile.

Curly looked from one of them to the other, then asked, "So you are Mother and Father?"

"What?" Peter repeated, stunned. This was not something he had even conceived of. He hated parents. They had no place in Neverland.

"All families have a mother and father," Curly stated, as if this should be obvious. He looked so hopeful that Wendy couldn't bear to deny him. She put a hand on Peter's arm, and he rolled his eyes:

"Fine. Wendy's Mother and I'm Father. And now Mother needs to learn to fly." With that, Peter redirected the conversation:

"While you do need happy thoughts, you also need pixie dust," he reached into the small leather bag hung on his belt, and retrieved the precious dust. Wendy gasped at the sight. It was somehow a million shades of green at once. It outshone any emeralds she had ever seen before- any jewels she'd ever owned. It glittered, and she was utterly fascinated.

"It's beautiful, Peter," she murmured.

Before she could say another word, he softly blew it towards her, his lips rounded in a perfect o.

Wendy's heart started to pound. Had she imagined that? Had Peter Pan just blown her a kiss? She blushed with happiness at the thought, and she couldn't seem to turn her gaze away from him. He was grinning widely. It was perhaps the widest she'd ever seen him smile, and she couldn't figure out why until she finally forced herself to stop staring into his enchanting eyes. Then she gasped. Unwittingly, she had flown so high that they were just over the tops of the trees. She could see the entire island from here- the Mermaids' Lagoon, the Jolly Roger, the Indian camp, Skull Rock. She was stunned at the beauty of Neverland, and wondered how she had gone so long without seeing it this way- Peter's way. Why had he kept her from it? He'd said, each time she asked, that she wasn't ready. She had no idea why, because she felt more than ready every time he and the boys flew, chasing the clouds and leaving her in her treehouse.

Then she looked down. Fear overtook her, and her brain told her, You cannot fly. No one can fly. The logic kept repeating itself over and over in her head, even though she lived daily with boys who could and did fly about. She stopped believing, and then she began to plummet to the ground. Her speed increased, and she was going faster and faster- she would surely die-

She closed her eyes, and at the last moment, the rushing stopped. Wendy peeked out of one eye, to find herself yet again in Peter's arms. He was staring at her, and she couldn't decipher the look in his eyes.

"You stopped believing," he said.

"I didn't mean to," she replied, immediately contrite and desperate to explain, "I just- I thought I would fall- and there was no one to catch me -"

Quite seriously, Peter told her, "I will always catch you." It sounded like a vow.

Wendy's heart skipped a beat, "I believe you." Her words too seemed like an unbreakable, sacred oath.

"Good. Come on Bird. Let's try again. And don't stop believing," he warned her.

"I won't ever stop believing in you, Peter," she promised.

"Never?" Peter raised an eyebrow, as he lead her back into the air.

"Never," Wendy swore, holding his hand tight.

Wendy leaned out the window, looking frantically from right to left. She could see nothing on the roofs of the buildings beside her own, but she had every confidence that he could hear her. He always did.

"Peter, I'm not jumping. I won't," she declared, "but let's see if you can catch me."

With that, she slammed the window shut. Then she grabbed her cell phone and a light jacket, and left the apartment. On the way down the stairs, she texted Tink, rapid-fire:

WENDY: He's at my apartment. I don't know how. But he is. I'm trying to keep him away from the town. I'm going to the wood to the oak clearing. Come find me, and bring the sheriff...the mayor...everyone you think can stop him.

She didn't wait to hear the answer, only focused on protecting her brothers and neighbors. Instead, she ran out the door, then circled behind the brick building. A forest loomed before her, the dying leaves all arrayed in the red and yellows of autumn. She knew he would follow her. He'd been following her for days already.

Besides, she thought he would appreciate her cleverness.

After all, birds flew in forests.

When she reached the clearing, about a mile in- a spot she and Tink knew well, for it was where the high schoolers sometimes went to hang out undisturbed -she spun around. The woods were quiet. That was a telltale sign of his presence. The animals were afraid- and they were right to be. A new predator was stalking the woods, and he was far more dangerous than anything they had ever encountered.

Luckily, he wasn't interested in them.

"Peter!" Wendy called. She received no response, though she did hear a twig snap behind her. She turned to the sound, but there was no one there. All she could see was the sun was setting lazily behind the trees. It would have been beautiful on a normal day, but today was not normal.

"Peter!" she said again, "I know you're here, Peter!" A bit upset, now- she just wanted to get the inevitable confrontation over with -she tried to goad him:

"Come out, Peter! Come out, right now!"

Of course, he didn't listen.

But another twig did snap. He was doing that on purpose- to goad her. To upset her and to make her afraid.

To her dismay, he was succeeding remarkably.

"Peter," she said, his name this time almost coming out like a prayer, "Please. I know you're here." Maybe he wanted her to beg.

Apparently not, because there was still no response.

So she played her last card:

"I wanted to believe you were dead."

They were fatal words, and she knew then that there was no turning back. She had brought Peter Pan out of hiding and into Storybrooke. The wind picked up behind her, and she whipped around to see him throw a cloak over his shoulder. His fey green eyes were bright with madness:

"Oh Wendy-bird, did you really believe I was gone?"

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

~ladykikyo1792