Bloomsbury Square was only a ten minute walk from Great Ormond Street Hospital and as Wendy dashed out of the ward she was fired with the need to protect her family, to warn them but her body put up a groaning protest. In Neverland you could believe your aches and pains away and while she had rebelled against that she did not entirely and now she was paying the price. She was sick, thin and needed bed rest. Legs shaking she gripped the banister as she paused on the stair.

"Come on, stupid old legs," she demanded and took a few more steps before she collapsed and sat heavily. "No!" She grabbed the railing to pull herself up when she heard a squeak behind her.

"You should not be out of bed," said a stern voice and Wendy turned to see a severe looking nun staring down at her. She must be the matron, she thought.

"I must go home, I have to warn...warn my family," she said with difficulty. It felt like her mouth was full of taffy. With the last her of strength she pulled herself up right and almost fell down the stairs. With a speed not thought possible the matron gripped her arm and half carried her back to the ward.

"Silly girl, could have broken your neck," she said as they passed Peter's room. Wendy craned her head around.

"In there, please, I want to be in there," she said weakly and the matron cocked an eyebrow.

"No such thing."

"Please...he's dying and alone. Please," she mumbled, leaning against the nurse and it seemed to soften the old woman's heart.

"Very well but if I see you out here before breakfast then I will find a bed next to his and shackle you to it too!"

"Thank you," Wendy said, hoping the woman's threats were just bluster. She was placed gently into a chair beside his bed and she had a vague impression of Peter and the matron bending over him before she sunk into sleep.

When she woke again light was filtering through the curtain and there was a patter of rain against the window. It was a comfortingly familiar sound and she let herself focus on that, seep into it before she turned her head and winched. Her neck was stiff and as she sat up straight her limbs shook. She was utterly famished and had never felt so exhausted. But she only had eyes for the boy. As she slept someone had removed his restraints and smoothed the covers over his body. He lay still, very still and Wendy involuntarily caught her breath. She stared at his pale white face and then at his chest. Nothing.

"Peter?" she uttered softly and leaned forward. He looked peaceful and seemed healthier then he had last night but he was too quiet, too still. She raised a shaking hand and rested the back of her fingers against his cheek. He was warm. A long, relieved breath escaped past her lips and she slumped over, hand on his chest. She could feel him breathe now but it was at a rate far too slow to be normal.

But he's not normal, she thought and felt too exhausted to move. So when the matron and the people accompanying her came into the room it was to find Wendy half embracing Peter. It was a sight to touch even the hardest of hearts.

"Wendy?"

The voice was so familiar and yet so foreign that Wendy laid still, head resting beside his shoulder, and assumed that she must be dreaming. But then someone else said her name, a man and she lifted her head wearily. Her mother and father were staring down at her, both still in their night things, with an expression of bewildered amazement that matched her own.

"M – mother? Father?"

"Oh my child!" her mother cried and she was suddenly engulfed in her arms. Her mother was an affectionate woman who was not shy in showing it but that embrace brought to mind only a few hugs that matched it in pure, fierce love. She held her like she was giving Wendy back something, something sustaining.

"...Wendy, Wendy, Wendy," her father repeated her name and reached out to stroke her hair, as if making sure she was real. Satisfied that she was he wrapped his arms around her, Wendy's mother letting go to vainly dry her eyes with a handkerchief. George Darling finally leaned back and gripped Wendy's arms, his expression a strange mix of delight and reproach.

"Where on earth have you been?! We were mad with worry! It's been months and months and not a word. After that strange business at the school we thought you were dead or -"

"Not now George," Mary warned as Wendy tried to answer but could not. "Are you well my love?" She asked and Wendy nodded before glancing at Peter and her parents looked down at the bed.

"Who is this young man Wendy?" her mother asked, walking to the bed side. "You were lying next to him when we entered," she said and looked at her for explanation and as she did Peter started to stir. Wendy's heart froze as his eyes opened and he looked at each of the person's gathered around him in turn. He finally gazed at her, blinking slowly before a beautific smile bloomed on his face. It was the most tender thing she had ever seen.

"Wendy," he said warmly, his voice weak but the feeling in it was clear. Wendy could not move, unsure what game he was playing, if any.

"Are you acquainted with my daughter?" Mary asked softly and Peter blinked at her like a lamb and Wendy felt her mind become askew. How was it possible that someone so corrupt could look so utterly innocent?

Peter nodded and looked at Wendy, "Yes, we know each other," he said vaguely, still smiling at her and the dreadful implication of that expression smacked Wendy into life again.

"He's my...my friend," she blurted out and the hurt that surfaced on his face was quickly covered with a brave smile.

"Yes, that's – that's all I can hope for now," he said, looking down at his chest. He was a pitiful sight and he was completely convincing but Wendy knew him better then anyone else there. She narrowed her eyes at him as her father titled his head stiffly.

"Oh? Had you hoped for something before this?" His voice was formal, too formal and Wendy knew that any moment he would explode. When he rocked on his heels she knew it was time to hide.

"I could not presume to suggest such a thing, Sir," Peter said gravely, locking eyes with the increasingly red man. "I...I'm sick and your daughter deserves nothing more then my friendship now, if that," he admitted humbly and the words were like little needles in her skin.

"You're unwell?" Mary asked and Wendy could see the glow of concern in her mother's eyes and knew that she was a lost cause now. Peter had her.

Peter nodded and shrugged, "It – it came on sudden. Your - your daughter saved my life," he said and gazed at her proudly. Wendy wanted to smack him, herself, everyone to end the scene playing out before her. Her father looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

"Is that true?"

"She'll deny it but she did. I would have drowned if she hadn't pulled me from the lake. It – it was my fault, the boat over-tipped and I wasn't strong enough to swim. Silly..."

Mary shook her head, as if trying to shake off the spell that he was weaving with his words. "Who are you?" she asked in wonder.

"My name is Peter."

"And you are...betrothed to my daughter?" George finally asked as the words burst out of him. It seemed to relieve the stress he was under, his puce tone fading to pink. Wendy stared at Peter, taut as a piano wire and waited as he took some time answering.

"It...it's a sweet subject," he began and that broke Wendy, having him throw her words back at her, mocking her.

"Enough! That's enough! I won't hear any more!" she shouted, making her parents jump. They had just been reunited with their long lost child but they had been bewitched by this silver tongued demon. The unfairness of it all was enough to make her scream.

"Wendy!" her mother cried, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Mother, please let me explain," she started and stopped, looking at Peter. Her parents were focused on her now so they did not see the arrogant look on his face or the way his eyebrow cocked in expectation. The ball was in her court now but she could only play the game he had started. She wanted to deny him, to leave him there but what could she say? It was the obvious and easiest explanation. She had fallen in love with a boy while at school and eloped with him only to find out that he was sick and doing the noble thing they had returned to London to ask for her father's blessing.

To think that he had devised all that in the space between her parents walking through the door and opening his eyes. She had never met someone so devious, or so brilliant. She could not tell them that he had coerced her to stay with him and kept her trapped because the first thing they had seen was Wendy all but lying beside him. How could she twist that? His explanation was a trap but also a way out. She could not tell them the truth. They would not send her to boarding school after confessing this time but Bedlam. Wendy inhaled, steeling herself.

"I – I love him."

"And I'd like your daughter to stay with me forever, if it were possible," Peter added smoothly and stared at her in adoration. Oh to get him alone, she thought, teeth grinding but she forced herself to look at her parents.

Her mother looked touched but cautious while her father was scandalised but wavering. His daughter's reputation was ripped to pieces but now the only way to redeem her, and himself, was to do the only foreseeable thing for a young woman in her position.

"You – you say that you're sick? Not to be indelicate but...how sick?" George asked and Wendy could see his thought process. Sick enough to leave her disgraced or sick enough to at least leave her widowed? It made Wendy pale at the prospect and again she had to make another stab at restoring sanity.

"I don't want to marry him," she said, looking at her mother beseechingly who looked startled.

"I – I see...but you do love him, as you said?" she asked weakly.

"Y – yes but he's so unwell, you see. He agrees with me, don't you Peter?" she said, looking at him desperately and making a proper go of it she went to him and took his hand. "He's honourable to a fault and does not want to tie me to such an uncertain future. If – if he was well then that would be a different matter."

Peter squeezed her hand, pulling her closer and she thought for one heart racing second that he would kiss her hand. But he just brushed his thumb over her bare wedding finger. "She's right, of course. I had wanted to give her mama's ring but she refused," he explained gently.

"Are your parents aware of this – this arrangement?" Mary asked delicately and Peter shook is head.

"They're dead, god rest them. I'm afraid it's just me and the estate," he sighed sadly and Wendy closed her eyes with a wince. Her father cocked his head like a hound scenting blood.

"Estate?"

"Oh yes, it's a small place but very old. There's not much I'm afraid, my ancestors were a fickle bunch but there's still the title," he said offhandedly and Wendy wanted to bite someone. He was so convincing that she half suspected he was fooling himself. She squeezed his hand until her knuckles went white. As visions of castles and money went through her parents minds the matron walked in, clearing her throat as two nurses followed her.

"I'm afraid we must ask you to vacate for the present time, we must examine the patient," she said in a no nonsense tone and Mary stared at the nurse gravely.

"Please, do all you can for him," she said passionately and the matron nodded.

"Are you family?"

"...We're, well to be perfectly honest that's rather in the air at this point. He's someone dear to our daughter," Mary finished and the woman nodded in understanding.

"Yes, I thought so. She was ready to journey to you in her present state to warn you of his condition. Touching but foolish. As for this young man, well, it was touch and go for awhile during the night. He was feverish and hysterical but he seems, by the looks of him, to be on the mend."

"What?"

"What?!"

Peter and Wendy yelled in unison. Wendy was surprised while Peter looked confused and in that moment Wendy knew he truly believed that he was dying. That was why he had created this game because when he died she would be the one to pick up the pieces as retribution for besting him. Then she would have the Lost Boys to answer to, if they arrived. Thinking of them made her stomach lurch but the nurse was ushering her and her parents from the room as two nurses, one that Wendy recognised, peaked around the matron like mice looking around a door for a vicious cat. At least someone knew to be wary.

"What a morning! I could hardly believe it when Liza woke us," her father said, shaking his head while Wendy was lead to a bench. All around them children in varying degrees of health were rising for breakfast. Wendy suddenly realised how hungry she was, how frazzled and she leaned against her mother's side as she sat down next to her. Mary took Wendy's shoulders and looked into her face intently.

"Tell me truly, do you honestly love him?"

"I...I don't know," she admitted, shaking her head. She was so confused and so much had happened. She felt like if she did not have room to breathe she would explode.

"But you did once?"

Wendy felt her throat tighten and her eyes prickle. "Oh mother, I have never loved anyone so much!"

She confessed and she was pulled into a tight embrace as her father stared down at her, bottled up with the need to express his love but too restrained and disciplined to know how. Wendy pressed her face against her mother's shoulder and cried.

a.n:

I was gonna write this tomorrow and post but I surprised myself, so there you are. Hope you liked the turn of events :)