So sorry it took so long! I've been on vacation, no where near a computer. I haven't abandoned you! But we are getting to the end. Problem is I don't know how soon that will be :) Enjoy!
...
Peter awoke to dim light. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and tried to get his bearings. He was in a tree trunk. Unlike the Fairy Queen's throne room, this one was furnished simply. He lay on a bed of pine needles covered by a soft animal skin. There were feathers and leather clothes stacked neatly on one side. He concluded he's been laid in Soaring Eagle's dwelling.
Slowly memories began to drift back to him, consciousness miserably taking back his mind. Hook grabbing Wendy; defiling her with his hands and mouth, himself completely powerless to stop him. Nibs sacrificing himself for them, when Peter should have traveled to the fairy kingdom alone.
Tinkerbell. Oh Tink!
He let his swollen eyes rest despondently in his hands, his heart heavy with what he'd done, what he'd let happen.
He heard a soft murmur from the doorway. "Peter, it's me."
Wendy entered, glowing like a flame. Her skin looked to Peter like it contained the very essence of light. Her hair was glossy and fell soft and shining against a white gossamer dress, flowing in swirls around her. "Wendy," he breathed barely a whisper. He lifted his hand, longing to touch the softness, the beauty that she was. She was like cool water to a parched heart. But his hand fell. How could he expect her to stay for any length of time with him. He was guilty of hurting her, hurting his men, killing Tinkerbell. No, he was scum. To be in Wendy's presence right now was too much. He turned his face away.
"Peter, what's the matter?" She sat down next to him, placing her hand on his arm. He shrugged it away and turned his head even more.
Wendy was hurt. She had bathed in the fairies shining pool; she had let them dress her in a dress that left her feeling delicate and desirable. Waiting for three days for Peter to wake up, wanting to look perfect for him. Letting him know how much he meant to her. That she loved him still, despite everything and through everything. Now he was acting like a petulant child. She took a deep breath.
"Peter Pan, tell me what's wrong this instant!"
He whispered something inaudible. She tried again, placing her hands on his shoulders. He didn't shrug them off this time.
"Please don't leave me out of your plans Peter," she begged, letting her cheek rest on his back.
He felt her tears through his shirt, and hearing his own words used against him, he turned back to face her. "Wendy, how can I look at you? You're so beautiful, and I couldn't save you. I couldn't save Tinkerbell. I'm not worth anything to anyone."
Wendy felt the sting of his words cut through to her heart. Not worth anything to anyone? He was worth everything to her! She began to cry on his behalf; for the things he believed about himself, for the man she saw in front of her that he couldn't see. She had to try and show him.
"You listen to me Peter Pan. You have saved me in everyway imaginable. I love you and you mean the world to me. And you can be damn sure that I'll be here, by your side for all eternity to make sure you believe it."
Peter's eyes flew open at Wendy swearing and smiled in spite of himself. "Why do you love me Wendy?" he asked, searching her eyes. She paused a moment, letting her lips turn up as she thought of many reasons.
"You're impossibly handsome," she said kissing his forehead. He smirked at the turnabout but let her continue.
"You care about people." She kissed his eyelids. He let her words heal him, the guilt ebb away only a little.
"You're fierce yet gentle." She kissed his earlobe, letting her tongue tease it, listening to his soft sigh in response.
"You're a wonderful father," her fingers traced the line of his nose delicately.
"You fight for what you believe in," She kissed his neck, feeling the stubble of his chin on her face, the smell of him filling her senses.
"You believe in me," she said kissing his palm, and placing it on her cheek.
"Always," he whispered.
"I love you," she said, and he closed the gap between her mouth and his. He tasted her sweetness, pulled her body close to his. Then he was leaning her back down on the bed. He let his tongue and his lips tell her how he felt, imparting his desire, his admiration, his love. Her eyes looked into his as he continued his ministrations to her mouth, the feeling in them too much to look away from.
"I love you, I love you," he somehow managed to whisper against her. His hand went down to her waist, pulling her hips to his, holding her steadfast against him. She felt him move over her, sliding the dress further and further up the legs that he adored.
"I want you," she breathed. Peter's heart swelled. She wanted him. They began their dance, filling each other, clinging to each other.
When he drove her over the edge, her arms grasped at his back, the need for them to be together always overwhelming her senses. She clung to him and whispered in his ear, "Don't let go."
"I won't," he said. "I can't."
Breathing heavily, he moved her over his arm, side by side. She snuggled in close to him, their foreheads pressed together. He let his hand roam down her arms, down her side and up again. Her fingers gripped the front of his shirt. They fell asleep like this, in familiar arms in an unfamiliar bed.