That night left Wendy back in the bed where she had slept all those years ago, shivering in her ripped and wet night gown. She knew that tomorrow she would have to find herself something new to wear but she had been so tired when she lay down… now she couldn't sleep.

She had managed to sleep but a few hours and had woken up to the Hallow being lit only by one soft glowing candle by Tootles' bed. It left much to be desired, but the light wasn't what she was worried about. The Hallow looked just as it had when she was 12, and Hook found it. Why hadn't they left, found a new tree?

Peter whimpered in his sleep, pulling her out of her worries, and she crept over to his bed. She grabbed a rag out of the bucket of ice they had put beside him to fight his fever.

"Hello, Peter, I missed you. Would you like me to tell you a story? I've told you so many stories." Wendy patted the freezing washcloth over Peter's sweat glazed forehead, pleased to feel that his temperature had lessened some.

His dry lips parted, so she reached for the cup of water and tipped his head up so he could drink.

"Yes." He rasped, just before she placed the crude wooden cup to his lips.

"You would like a story?"

He nodded slightly and then began to violently suck down the water. Wendy pulled away quickly "You must be slow Peter." She admonished, slid into the bed next to him, and beamed as he listened to her. He hadn't been responsive when she had finally gone to sleep and was thrilled to see him like this. Maybe he'll even remember me. She thought wistfully, but knew that it wasn't likely, it had something to do with his new found age… and she didn't mind his age so much when he was lying beside her, naked save for a course brown blanket. No, she didn't mind much at all.

"What story should I tell? Should I tell the story of Peter Pan and Captain Hook? Would you like me to tell you about the time that you cut Hook's hand off?"

"What's your name?" He asked, before his head hit the pillow another time.

"Wendy Moira Angela Darling, what's your name, Boy?" Wendy tried to finish the question, but her voice cracked as her body prepared itself to cry. How could he have forgotten about her? After all this time of idolizing him, and saving herself for him to come back he had forgotten about her.

"Peter Payan." His French accent painfully clear as he pronounced his last name.

"Where in France are you from, Peter?"
"Are- aren't you going to tell me a story?"

"Of course, what kind of story?"

"Tell me a love story." He sighed, snaking his arm around her waist. "Please, Wendy."

"I'll tell you the story of how we fell in love."

"I don't even know you. You're trying to tell me that I forgot being in love?"

"Aye, just listen."

Peter tightened his grip around her waist, enjoying the soft feel of her exposed skin against his bare arms, and listened to her smooth voice as she practically hummed out her story.

"There once was a boy who never grew up," She started, running the washcloth over his forehead yet again "His name was Peter Pan, and he was King of a large island called Never Land. He lived in a hallowed out tree with his lost boys, and he was very lonely. So every night he flew to London and listened to a young girl tell stories. Her stories were of Pirates, Princesses, wars, and every so often, death. They were always about Love. Peter grew to love her stories and… he grew…" Peter propped himself up on his pillow, pulling Wendy to his shining chest "To love her too."

"What are you two doing?" Slightly hissed, pulling Wendy out of Peter's tight grasp, and threw her on the floor. "I thought that we were supposed to be helping him get better and here you are…"

"I fell asleep telling him a story, Slightly, besides… it's not like… Fuck off." Wendy pulled herself up as tall as she could, and was pleased that even though Slightly had aged just like Never Land he hadn't quite grown taller than her yet.

"Whatever, you should make yourself new clothes, you're distracting some of the boys. " Slightly mumbled, looking away from her.

Wendy picked herself up from off the floor and shimmied back over to Peter, placing a defiant kiss on his dried lips. His eyes flickered open quickly and he tangled his fingers in her hair before she could even register what was going on.

"Peters awake!" The twins shouted at the same time and ran over.

"Mother and Father are kissing again." Tootles whispered to no one in particular, stepping away, with a smile on his dirty face.

Wendy pressed her lips against his hard and he moved against her like she had never imagined, with a passion she had only ever seen in him when he was fighting pirates… this was nothing like pirates. One of his hands left her fiery red hair and found one of her breasts.

Slightly cleared his throat.

Wendy shifted herself closer to him and pressed down on his thigh finding there a hardness that hadn't been present last night.

"Excuse me." Slightly squeaked, and all the lost boys swayed on their feet uncomfortably.

Ignoring them Peter let his free hand trail down Wendy's figure, and he suddenly knew she hadn't been lying to him, because this kiss was his. He could taste the hidden kiss on her sweet lips and he knew that she had given it to him, a long time ago. Assured she would stay in his arms he let his final hand out of Wendy's tangled hair and both of his large calloused hands grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to him. He moved to thrust his hips to meet hers as closely as possible and two things happened.

Slightly screamed, one tear had found its way down his ruddy cheek "Excuse me!"

His legs screamed so hard in protest to being moved that his vision blurred for a second. "Wendy." He let out in one breath of air. As quickly as she had been there, she was gone, and pulling down the covers to examine his legs. She grabbed the mandrake past she had received from the Indians and gingerly rubbed it on the large gashes on Peter's legs, where chunks of bone had cut through.

"This is, all, your fault." Slightly growled, fat tears rolled down his now pale face.

"I'm not the one who made his hump me, that was all him." Wendy answered mechanically, trying to recall exactly how much she was supposed to put on.

Slightly shrieked as sobs racked his body, Curl came up behind him and wrapped his arm around Slightly, leading him towards the door.

The Lost Boys remained completely silent as Curly and Slightly walked away.

Wendy applied the paste to every cut and with tears in her own clear blue eyes, kissed Peter's forehead until the pain passed and he opened his eyes.

"Wendy, oh Wendy." Peter moaned, holding back his tears.

Wendy held back her own, and moved her lips to his just for a second "You still don't remember?"

"I—I feel like I night be starting to." Peter's eyes ran down her body "When do we get to to do that again?"

"I've never… done that before. My last kiss was you, before you can remember."

"Oh." Peter winced.

"We'll have to wait though, uh, until your legs heal up a bit."

Peter nodded and Wendy looked away, eyes narrowing on Tootles.

"Tootles, Darling, can you tell me why Slightly was so upset?" Wendy asked, voice sugar sweet.

"He—uh well…" Tootles stammered around his answer.

"He's more jealous of you than Tink!" Exclaimed one of the twins, Marmaduke, but Wendy couldn't be positive.

Wendy looked over sharply "Slightly?"

"He thinks Pan is mighty pretty." Tootles added.

"Oh, dear."