Author's Note: Here is the final beginning! I actually had the idea for this from day one but, wow, did not envision it taking nearly four years to complete. Thank you everyone for your support – via reviews, PMs, favorites, following, and being silent readers – it has been greatly appreciated and inspiring! I hope you have enjoyed this journey as much as I. :)

Three: Star Dust

Peter Gallagher's smile grows bigger and cockier – the very smile that has set countless young hearts flying and racing – as he returns the greetings that meet his entrance into the room. Today there is something darker in that smile, though, lurking just under the surface. Hazel eyes twinkle under the bright lights, yet move about restlessly, irritably. He takes in the two stools set in the center of the room, as well as the organized chaos surrounding the director, producer, and casting director seated nearby at a table.

The youth carelessly bends the script in his hands as his smile changes into a pout. Even the knowledge that his being summoned unexpectedly back by the studio for this – his – film does not lighten his broodiness.

Three weeks ago he was assured that it had been all decided who would be his co-star. His childlike excitement was observed with bemusement by all. It had grown so dull having girl after girl after girl audition (no matter how big fans they were of him), reading through the scenes over and over -it is one of his least favorite parts of being a popular film star – and finally to be free from it all!

So he took a vacation, went home. Truly it had been a very long time since he was home. He rediscovered the magic that made King Kong appear not so mighty and Tarzan not as wild; but he did not learn the secret of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

However, to his surprise, Peter had not been completely content during his stay. He no longer was followed by annoying photographers, didn't have directors nagging him about knowing his lines, and wasn't being chased after by his fretting agent. Despite being in his old haven, happy as a child, free to do as he willed…he'd grown antsy. He had not lacked for adventure, play, or companionship, and yet…

"No one out there knows about this place. Perhaps it is not quite so much fun keeping it all to oneself," the tiny lady who looked after his needs had once commented. The roll of her knowing eyes and twitching mouth had gone unnoticed.

Was that it?

Before the boy had any opportunity to muse over it, his agent Smee Richard Thomas had tumbled in. He was filled with reprimands for Peter not leaving word where he could be found ("I did not want to be found!") and orders he must return out there immediately due to his film ("But they said…!").

So now he is back: to read with more potential Janes.

"We'll have you do scene nine, the first meeting," the director informs his young star as Peter takes a seat on one of the stools. Catching the boy's dark scowl and well aware of his feelings regarding that scene, the man quickly adds, "It is just three girls, Peter." Then he beats a hasty retreat before Peter can voice his displeasure.

Moments later when the first girl is shown into the room, Peter is all politeness, flashing a cocky smile and bowing grandly, receiving a loud giggle and faint blush in return. Tall with black hair and dark eyes, the girl beams brightly at him.

"I'm Lily," she says once they are seated on the stools, and she boldly leans close towards him, starry-eyed.

The boy buries himself in his script, only looking up when the director provides some brief instructions to them before the reading begins. Lily reads well, not appearing nervous at all and barely refers to her script. Yet she comes across as too strong-willed, less dreamy than Peter imagines Jane to be. He, in turn, reacts to her sullenly when he is supposed to be curious in the scene.

He struggles to remember his manners when Lily's audition ends, and she non-subtly attempts to flirt with him. The dark-haired girl is barely out of the room before the boy grimaces and glances toward the director. He huffs in annoyance when he is ignored. Instead, the director has a discussion with the producer and casting director for several minutes. Peter catches the three men shake their heads, and he lets out a silent sigh of relief. That girl was not Jane.

Peter does a double-take when the second girl enters for her audition. She could grace the cover of a fashion magazine with her thin figure, perfectly made-up face, blond hair, and blue eyes, and dressed in a flattering green dress. Seemingly oblivious to the numerous admiring glances cast her way, she flashes a wide smile and firmly shakes Peter's hand, introducing herself as Belle. They exchange a couple of jokes as they settle on their stools, the way Peter often does with his friends.

"You're like one of my pals, the lost boys," he proclaims proudly.

Belle's face falls. Then she huffs before turning her attention to the director calling to them.

Almost from the moment the audition starts with Belle's line, "Boy, why are you crying?" it goes terribly, in Peter's opinion. He does not try to hide his irritation at how she reads. Belle obviously is trying too hard to play a part rather than simply be it. When it is over, she holds out a slip of paper with her phone number on it, and the boy gnashes his teeth at her.

Frustrated and antsy, Peter is strongly tempted to walk out when the final potential Jane hurries in, Smee at her elbow babbling in his typical fashion. Peter frowns quizzically at the girl. Her plain blouse and skirt and shoes seem sort of shabby, almost too small for her. Wearing no makeup, her brown hair hangs loosely about her shoulders, pulled away from her face with a clip. There is no pride or flirtation in her manner, only wide-eyed wonder at everything.

"Peter Gallagher," he states, shifting impatiently on his stool, rolling and unrolling his script.

"Yes, I know. I am Wendy Darling. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir," she says politely with a nod.

The boy glances swiftly over at her and nearly bursts out laughing. He has never been called sir before! And she looks to be as young as he is. Peter's lips twitch and some of the tension weighing on his shoulders eases.

This time, during the audition things are different. There is a genuineness and innocence in Wendy's reading, how she reacts to what Peter throws at her. She believes in the story, the characters.

"I-I cannot fly," she admits, fear replacing her earlier awe.

"I'll teach you," he promises.

The girl looks at him searchingly and he holds her gaze.

"I'll teach you to ride the wind's back and away we go!"

She is Jane. The sudden realization fills the boy with wonderment as they continue to stare at each other. The spell is broken when the director starts loudly jabbering away, and Peter releases her hand (he did not even know he was holding it). He feels slightly dazed. Is this what it is like with Fred and Ginger?

He makes a beeline for the table where the director is having yet another discussion with his colleagues. Unable to hear their low conversation, he elbows the casting director impatiently. Finally the producer turns to him.

"Next Friday, a screen test—"

Peter throws his head back and crows loudly. The amused, weary chuckles of the others only cause him to grin even more and laugh, unable to contain his excitement. But his joyful expression vanishes when he turns to share the happy news and discovers the stool the girl was seated on is empty. Frantically he looks around, spinning in several circles. She is gone!

"Said she was late…," a helpful assistant says, and Peter bolts out the door, ignoring the raised voices calling him back.

Seemingly a chorus of twinkling voices urges him on, "Hurry, Peter!" as he races through the building.

He bursts out the front door. Breathing heavily, looking wildly up and down the sidewalk, he spies the brown-haired girl hurrying off.

"Wait, lady!" he shouts.

Abruptly she halts and whirls around, flushing with embarrassment when she sees him.

As Peter starts down the steps to the pavement, he notices a little brown shoe lying on the bottom step. His gaze moves back to the girl, nervously fidgeting, face bright red, and one white-socked foot shoeless. His cocky smile peeks out as he scoops up the shoe, examines it while he strides toward her.

She stretches out a hand for her shoe, stammering thanks, eyes avoiding his, "Sir" tumbling from her lips.

"Call me Peter," the words come out an order (as he used to do ages past) and a shy request (silly boy, never having been rendered nervous by a girl before after the countless others who have thrown themselves at him; but she is nothing like them).

That – finally – causes her blue eyes to meet his hazel ones. "Peter," Wendy repeats simply, shyly.

And for a heartbeat he is carried home, can see her there. "Yes," he whispers. He returns her shoe and watches her kneel and put it on. He grins once she has risen back to her feet. "Come next Friday; you have a screen test!"

She gasps, stunned. A happy beam lights up her face before the expression gradually fades.

Worry stirring in the pit of his stomach, Peter cocks his head and lifts an inquiring eyebrow. The girl frowns thoughtfully.

"What will Aunt Millicent say? She doesn't approve of acting at all, you see. I'm not sure if she'll let me do it." Wendy glances at her wristwatch and starts. "Oh, no! I'll have to run to be on time. But thank you, si—Peter. Today has been wonderful," she says deeply with a smile that is sad around the edges. She starts to back away from the boy.

Without thinking, Peter swiftly reaches out and clasps her wrist, grip strong yet gentle. "Wait!" he exclaims. Stepping to the edge of the sidewalk and quickly checking over his shoulder that she has not run off, he hails a cab.

He is pleased at her surprised reaction and cries, "Oh, the cleverness of me!" He waves away her protests, instead obtaining from her the address of her aunt, and has a quiet word with the driver, discreetly slipping several pound notes to the man.

Before helping Wendy into the vehicle, he rests his hands on her shoulders. "You will come for the screen test?" he asks hopefully.

She nods. "Yes, I will try. I want to," she adds.

He grins widely, relieved and satisfied, and impulsively places a soft, lingering kiss on her cheek. She stares up at him in amazement when he draws back.

"I will be waiting, Wendy-lady," he promises. Lowering his voice, he continues, tone serious, "And if you do not come, I will find you." Indeed, he won't let her vanish into thin air now.

The girl blushes – though not due to embarrassment this time – and warmth spreads through Peter from head to toe when she slowly smiles, her blue eyes sparkling.

Carefully he assists her into the cab, good form. Wendy nods thankfully, her goodbye just as quiet as Peter's before he closes the cab door. The boy watches the cab pull away from the curb, waving until it is out of sight. For a long minute he lingers at the edge of the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, seeming to be far away. Sighing, a look of determination crosses Peter's face, two stars flashing in his eyes as he turns to go back inside the studio, his steps light and carefree.

She'll be his co-star. She is the one he will share his secret with, and teach her to fly with him…

THE END