note:

Just so we're clear I'm completely ignoring that revelation about Peter on the show. Because it's utterly ridiculous and NOPE. So from this point on the story is AU. I hope those who need to will bleach and scrub their brains here because while it's creepy it's not that damn creepy.

Thank you, please enjoy reading and keep this AU ship afloat.

~present~

Wendy blinked her eyes open and was deeply disorientated. It was dark and she did not know where she was but when she heard a child's muffled crying she shot up in the bed. She was in some kind of ward and around her children slept. It was not the cries of the boys trapped on the island but those of the sick. It came back to her now, escaping from Neverland, ending up in the lake and then dragging Peter out of the water. After that she must have fainted. Wendy pulled the cover back when a young nurse came over to her, shaking her head.

"Back into bed with you, go on," she ordered and Wendy sat back, feeling how odd it was to suddenly take orders after so long without rules. Truth be told she wasn't sure if she could even get to her feet.

"Where am I?"

"Great Ormond Street Hospital. The doctor said you had a fainting spell and you're exhausted. Can you tell me your name?" The nurse was a Londoner and not much older then herself.

"Wendy Darling," she answered, preoccupied. She squinted at the children in the other beds nervously. "Where's Peter?"

"Who?"

"Peter Pan, the boy in the lake!" she almost shouted and fisted the covers around her.

"Oh, him," she said and sounded less then impressed.

"Is – is he alive?" Despite everything that he had done to her her heart still raced with worry.

"Yes, he's resting now. What a palaver he caused!" she said quietly and sat on the end of the bed. Wendy didn't like the sound of that.

"What do you mean? Where is he?"

"Well he was out cold until they brought him here. Me and Edith were tucking him in over there when he woke up," she said and Wendy looked to where she was pointing. There was an empty bed, looking no worse for wear but above it the window was shattered. "As soon as he saw where he was he shot out of the bed like a whippet and made a run for it. But he was in no fit state for that and we tried to put him back into bed," she said, mouth thinning.

"What happened?"

"He fought us like a bloody demon is what happened!" the nurse said and then looked around to make sure she hadn't been heard. She carried on in a whisper. "He pushed us over, I don't know how he managed it, and when the doctor tried to pin him down he picked up a tea tray and whacked him round the head with it!" at this she looked bemused.

Wendy closed her eyes, imagining it all clearly. She would rather focus on his misdeeds then the relief that was running through her. "Where is he?"

"Well after he broke the window he went white as a sheet and fainted. He's in the secure room now, sleeping. Looks as sweet as an angel now but you have to be careful with feral children," she nodded to herself and then looked at Wendy curiously. "They say you saved his life?"

"I – I had to," she faltered, the nurse mistaking her hesitance for humility. She patted Wendy on the shoulder and suddenly the full implication of the truth fell on her and she started to cry.

"What's the matter poppet?"

"I'm home!" she sobbed happily and the nurse smiled at her.

"That's not what most of the children say here! Where do you live?"

Wendy told her shakily and before the nurse left she promised that word would be sent to her parents in the morning. Wendy sat back, hardly daring to believe that she would be seeing her family come morning but she could not lie still. Constantly her thoughts turned to Peter, who was somewhere nearby. She could not rest, not while he was there. Making sure that the nurse did not see her she tip toed out of the ward and searched, leaning on walls as she went. She was incredibly tired but she kept moving, peaking into rooms until she came to one that held only a single bed, shielded by a curtain.

Holding her breath she walked around it until she stood at the end of the bed and stared down at Peter as he slept. His wrists were shackled to the bed frame and that was the only thing that seemed expected, everything else she saw was not. Someone had undressed him and put him into a pair of stripped pyjamas and the effect was utterly bizarre. She almost felt offended on his behalf. Here was Peter Pan, feared ruler of Neverland reduced to a bound feral child in a hospital for sick children. Maybe it wasn't so bizarre, maybe he fit into this place better than anyone else. She moved to his side, gazing on his sickly pale face when his eyes snapped opened.

"Wendy!" he said horsely and tried to spring at her but the cuffs stopped him. He strained against them, panting until he fell back into the bed. Wendy had sprung back to the wall, breathing hard but she moved forward, sure that he could not touch her. She noted his red rimmed eyes, the dark circles around them and then put a hand to his clammy forehead.

"You look sick," she whispered and he snorted, shaking her hand off.

"I'm not sick, I'm dying!"

Before she had not believed him but now, staring at his flushed face, she did. She did not feel a flood of relief or even vindication, only a weary sadness. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want your pity! Do you have any idea what you've done? Bringing me to this place?" He was speaking through his teeth, as if in pain. "You should never have reattached my shadow!"

"I – I thought - I hoped that it would help you," she mumbled, unable to look away from his furious face as he laughed.

"Help me! What? Did you think that I would magically start to love you? That I would grow up?" he sneered at her but he shook, blood disappearing from his face. Wendy shook her head.

"No, I don't know...don't you feel different?" she asked gingerly and he laughed again but there was a flash of fear in his eyes.

"Yes, I'm dying at a quicker rate then I should be. Oh Wendy bird, you have no idea, do you? To live I must always have a connection to Neverland, so either myself or my shadow must always be there. But you've severed the connection," he explained weakly and Wendy looked down.

"Maybe...maybe they can treat you here Peter?"

"No, this is a land without magic, they can't do anything for me," he stared at her, breathing raggedly and the fear and hate seemed to radiate off him like waves. "If I don't return I'm dead. You've killed me."

Wendy, deeply conflicted, sat on the edge of the bed. She did not know what way to turn. To find a way to return him to Neverland would save his life but entrap the people there but if she left him here he would die. She stared out of the window at the moonlit sky and slowly shook her head. "I had weeks to think when I was alone in the cave. I suppose I convinced myself you were cursed and that I could save you."

"I am cursed," he muttered tiredly and she looked down as he glared at her. The look had no power in it and he began gazing at her, almost lingeringly. "I didn't ask you to love me."

"And neither did I," she whispered and tilted her head at him thoughtfully. "I know that you're not the person I thought you were...but then I think there's someone else under that too."

"I'm not a Russian Doll, you're not going to reveal some little boy who wants to be saved. I'm - I'm not going to change," he gritted, chest heaving. He was having trouble breathing. Wendy bent down and undid the top bottom of his shirt and let her hand rest on his chest lightly. His heart was racing.

"But you were that little boy once. I can only imagine what you must have been through to become this. A heart doesn't become black like that through sickness. You...corrupted yourself, I think. You knew that I had been kidnapped by those pirates and taken to the echo caves, didn't you? No one could have walked right into your camp without you knowing it. You planned it, so that I would be grateful to you and want to stay. It was a game to you."

"Very perceptive," he mumbled and Wendy lifted her hand away.

"But not completely," she responded softly and he rolled his eyes up, avoiding looking at her. "You may call me delusional but I know what I felt and I know it was true and I think you felt that too and it scared you. That's why you sent me away."

He snorted, still not looking at her. "I sent you away because you told me all I needed to know about Baelfire, who's part of something you don't even have an inking of," he said smugly and finally looked at her, restrained hands curling into fists. How he must hate feeling so helpless, she thought.

"In the Hollow your shadow protected me," she told him suddenly, curious despite herself. Half asleep Peter raised his eyebrows.

"What are you trying to prove? That I care for you? I've already admitted that. As I'm dying I may as well admit that I came back...came back for you for the simple reason that I miss - missed you. But that's not love," he proclaimed, eyes fluttering closed. Wendy bent over him again and could feel the heat burning off him before she touched his skin. She found a wet cloth next to a bowl of water and placed it over his forehead. His eyes blinked open.

"You're burning up."

"I – I'm not an invalid," he mumbled grumpily. "Why...why are you doing this?"

"Just be thankful that I am," she said, not knowing why she was either. "I think you've frightened the nurses away," she said and he chuckled. He gazed at her sleepily, thoughtfully. After his initial bout of rage he now seemed remarkably calm. It should have put Wendy on alert but it did not, not then.

"Let's say, for the sake...sake of argument, that the spell Tink did was not a f- fluke and that we are True Love," his mouth curled mockingly at the phrase and Wendy lifted the cloth off his head, staring at him incredulously.

"You know it was not a fluke or do your powers of self deception stretch even here?"

He rolled his eyes but shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. "Humour me. What are the odds that we, from two separate worlds, could mean that to each other?"

"Well, you come from my world don't you?" she asked flatly and was rewarded with a look of shock. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"What makes you say that?"

"Tink said that he was from my world. The other two possibilities were Felix and Slightly," she told him and at this he laughed.

"Slightly! What competition!"

Wendy pursed her mouth at his arrogance. "So you are from this world?" she asked and he remained silent, gazing at her intently before he finally nodded with a sigh.

"A long, long time ago. That's why I find this True Love...thing hard to believe. If I had never gone to Neverland, if I had lived here and grew into a man and never...never known magic I would have been dead centuries by the time you were born," he said gently, trying to reason with her but Wendy shook her head.

"Tink said that True Love is very hard to find in this world and I presume for that reason," she thought aloud, feeling that it was true.

"So if the timing had been right we'd be in wedded bliss now? Starting a family? How...ordinary," Peter thinned his mouth in distaste, looking unconvinced when he suddenly gasped in pain, jerking up. "Fuck!"

"Peter!"

He laughed at her shock but then the laugh turned into a moan that whistled between his teeth. He was in real pain and again she could not stop her pity. He did not deserve her, not an ounce of her kindness but she could not ignore him like this. She had hoped to be free of him but now that she finally had the chance she found it impossible to go.

"I don't feel good," he groaned and she bent down over him again. "I hate this, I hate this bloody place! It's this shadow," he grunted suddenly and she wondered if he had a fever.

"What about it?"

"It – it feels too much, it weighs me down. I hate it," he said bitterly, sweating profusely and he seemed to slip in and out of consciousness. He was delirious.

"Peter?"

"Wendy? Wh...where am I?"

"In London," she said and placed her hand against his burning cheek.

"I...I don't want to die," he muttered, barely audible. "I...I really am fond of you...I will win, I just – just need a heart...you're mine...for always...they're coming," he rambled quietly and Wendy straightened.

"Who are coming?"

"The...the boys of course," he said as if this was obvious. He opened his eyes and grinned at her which made her lean back sharply. "You don't think I haven't...haven't planned for every – every eventuality?"

"What do you mean?!"

"They're coming for you and then...then they'll come for me," he whispered, eyes burning with something other than fever before he slipped back into unconsciousness. Wendy jumped to her feet, staring between Peter and the door anxiously. He had been playing for time, tricking her into talking with him so that the boys had time to search. But the Lost Boys would not look here, they would be searching the one place that Wendy fought so hard to get back to.

"Home," she moaned and ran from the room, leaving Peter behind and cursed herself for thinking that even a dying, powerless Peter was de-clawed.

a.n:

Would people be interested in lengthening their stay in London or move the story on? Because I could do either :)