For a long moment, the boy and girl - who were both at the awkward phase where they're unsure if they're a boy or man, a girl or woman - were silent, lost in their thoughts.

All the words Wendy had imagined she'd say to Peter if they ever saw each other again, words like love and belonging, were stuck in her throat. Peter, looking over this beautiful and unfamiliar girl in front of him, remembered his purpose, and felt too confused to continue.

Eventually, Peter asked, a bit stiffly, "How is your family?"

Wendy hesitated, unsure of what to say. "I - uh, well… the boys are all at boarding school, except for Michael… because he's too young." Wendy felt an strong urge to protect Peter's innocence. He might look like a man, but he still must have the heart of a young boy. "It's just been me and him, Father, and my sister - oh, and Mother."

"Your sister?" Peter thought hard, but he couldn't remember a sister coming to Neverland with Wendy.

"Yes, Jane," Wendy said, glancing at the baby in her arms, who, despite Wendy's frenzied dash to catch up with Peter, was quiet.

"Oh," Peter said, relief flushing his face. "I thought - I mean, I assumed -"

"Peter, I am much too young to have real children of my own," Wendy said sternly, but with a twinkle in her eye.

Peter grinned. "The street kids used to make-believe families, just like we used to, but they did since they really didn't have families of their own - or, if they did, it wasn't ideal. I was always the grandfather."

"Street kids?" Wendy asked, confused.

Peter shifted his weight, uncomfortable. "Well, yeah. You didn't expect me to be living with the Queen of England, did you?"

Wendy stared at him, horror-struck. She should have noticed, from his messy hair and torn clothes. "Oh, Peter, I'm so sorry -"

"For what? It's not your fault," Peter said, shrugging. Wendy shook her head. It is my fault, that you're here in England at all. Then she thought of something.

"Why didn't you follow the directions in my letter?" she demanded.

"What letter?" Peter demanded right back.

"The one I left for you in the nursery window, with directions to get here."

"There wasn't no letter there when me and Tink -" Peter froze, and then, slowly, his mind thought back to the day in the park. There was an envelope for you, Tink had said. "Oh, no," he whispered. Then he swore.

Peter swearing was the oddest thing Wendy had ever heard, and it made Wendy's entire body throb. "Peter, what is it?" Glancing at the air around his shoulders, she added with a wavering voice, "Where's Tinker Bell?"

Peter looked up and shook his head. "Tink died, trying to get that letter." He kicked the sidewalk. "This is all my fault!"

Wendy nearly threw up. His fault? His fault that her letter led Tink to her death? "Don't say that!" she gasped. "Oh, Tinker Bell…"

Peter took a deep breath, trying to control himself. "I miss her," he murmured. "I mean… Wendy, I don't think I like England at all. Tink's not here, no one cares about anyone, and… I'm a murderer."

The last part was softer than the rest, but it sent Wendy's already spinning head into a whirl. "What… did you kill someone?"

"It's my fault that a woman was killed in a fire, and a boy was blinded," Peter said softly. "I gave two kids some matches, because I thought they were cold… and then they accidentally lit this library on fire and -" Peter stopped and stared harder at Wendy. Tears were starting to silently slid down her face. She was smiling shakily.

"Peter… that woman was my mother. And the boy was Michael."

The only time Peter had heard more painful words was when Hook took away his will to live. Peter staggered with shock. "I killed… your mother…"

Wordlessly, Wendy wrapped her free arm around Peter, in a sign of forgiveness. How could she blame Peter, who spent years in poverty looking for her?

Peter hugged her back, trying not to cry.

This was the moment that would be etched in their minds for the rest of their lives. So much had happened, and here the burned threads were silently tying back themselves.

They didn't know it, but it would make a beautiful blanket.

When Wendy pulled back, she asked softly, "What will you do now?"

"I'm going to live with Mr. James Barrie," Peter said, uncertain for the hundredth time about the plan. "He's Julie's uncle, and he offered to give us a place to live."

"Julie?"

"She's a friend." Peter's face was burning. "She's teaching me to read."

"Ah." Wendy hid her ring under Jane.

This is the part where many like to silently pray for the words to say And Wendy, who knew she loved Peter more than she would ever love Edward, went with him. And they lived happily ever after.

Who decides when the ever ends? No one can be alive that long to determine it as true.

As much as we all try to deny it, Wendy and Peter had grown up. And in that, they had moved on. What they had was more then friendship, that is true, but what they had with the other person in their lives - Wendy's fiance who was watching this exchange quietly from his window, and Peter's friend and partner in crime who was waiting patiently for him by the cab - was also more than friendship. And it was also more than Wendy and Peter. And they both knew it.

Peter smiled hesitantly. "Well, good-bye, Wendy."

"Good-bye, Peter," Wendy replied, smiling a wet smile back at him. They each turned back towards their homes, to their lives, their futures.

But before either had gone very far, Wendy remembered something. She once again ran quicker than she ever had before to Peter, who had only gone about ten feet, into the darkness outside of the light. She crashed into his back, nearly sending herself, Peter, and the miraculously quiet Jane to the sidewalk.

"Peter," she gasped breathlessly, "What did Hook say to you to make you fall?"

Peter knew exactly what she was talking about. His green eyes searched her own blue ones. "He said you'd close the window in the nursery."

Wendy felt her heart break. "Do you still have this kiss I gave you?" Peter grinned wryly, and pulled from his pocket a rusty old thimble. Wendy smiled, and touched her own acorn necklace. "Good. Keep that, to prove that what Hook said wasn't true. And…" she hesitated, for a moment, knowning more than she wanted to. "And keep this." Wendy gently touched Peter's face, and once again, softly kissed him.

Kisses hold so many messages. In this one, Peter, who was suddenly aware and yet unaware of everything, picked up swirling flavors like memories and a bittersweet good-bye and love.

Peter was no longer afraid of love.

The kiss was there, and then it was simply sitting peacefully in the corner of each of their mouths. Wendy smiled, her eyes shining with tears.

It was the best and worst good-bye they'd ever had to face.

As Wendy turned and walked away, Peter watched her go. And as he did, he suddenly realized that he wasn't touching the sidewalk. Glancing at his feet, he saw that he was a few inches up into the air. Flying, from relief, that his worst fears that were never a reality. And a kiss.

Peter smiled to himself, and shook his head. Oh, Wendy.

He then turned and floated back to the cab, to where Julie was waiting to drive to James Barrie's home. Mr. Barrie had plenty of questions about the strange boy Julie had described to him over the phone.

Peter was sure it would make a wonderful story.