Years later when she found herself sad or lonely she would look back on that night in the tunnels and try to recall the excitement and joy she felt. But the strange thing about old memories, especially ones that are faint, is that sometimes there is a doubt about whether it actually happened. At one point it may have been a pleasant day dream that evolved into something real in the mind. For Wendy it was especially difficult because she could distinctly remember thinking that it felt like a dream while it was happening.

These are strange people, people like Peter and the Spinning Spinsters, she thought as she danced. It was a suspicion that seemed less important the longer she remained. Somehow, she was not sure when, the people gathered had found out that it was her birthday and as one all the people in the tunnels had sang her happy birthday and then for she's a jolly good fellow for good measure. Hundreds of voices had echoed around her, all belonging to complete strangers but they sang as if they were celebrating one of their own. It touched her in a way that stuffy birthday cakes and even stuffier singing could never because the people gathered at her house half hated her but here, here she was no one and that was special. Overwhelmed she hugged people around her, danced whenever someone took her hand and carried on drinking when an old lady wrinkled like a walnut had given her a drink that made her toes curl and her belly glow warmly. It was, for all intense and purposes, the best birthday party she had ever had and, she considered in retrospect, the last one she was to have for a very, very long time.

"You're drunk!" Peter said, throwing himself onto a chair next to her. He seemed equally as tipsy but she had not seen him drink anything. Maybe this was what he was like when having a good time that did not involve using someone as target practise. He had been dancing too, his face flushed and his hair tasselled and he had never looked so handsome to her in that moment. Wendy separated her fingers an inch.

"Just a little," she confessed and only felt the tinniest stab of shame. It was her birthday after all and even if it wasn't she thought she deserved to have one night where she did not have to worry or care about what people thought. It must be what Peter feels every second, she considered with a touch of jealousy but then felt a thrill go through her when he leaned over and kissed her quickly. He had been doing it throughout the night. She would be dancing with ragamuffin girls her own age who laughed ribaldry when he suddenly swooped in and captured her mouth, kissed her long and hard and then a second later he was gone. However if there were young men present he would grab her and pull her away to dance, his eyes flashing possessively.

Now he sighed and brushed a curl away from her sweaty face, his expression longing. She had requested that even if he had no intention of staying with her permanently that he pretend, for just that night, that he was. And that was a dangerous thing because Peter was so very good at pretending and she knew that if she really threw all her inhabitation to the wind she could believe that it was all true. If she did she would have to reawaken to a painful reality in the morning.

"What's the face for?" he said, pointing at her sad expression and Wendy shook her head, smiling.

"Just silly serious things," she said and got to her feet again and gazed down at him. The morning would be painful, no matter what she believed so why deny herself? Wendy bit her lip and touched his face gently, making him blink. "Peter what are your exact feelings for me?"

"Exact? Hmm, I don't think I could be exact," he teased and drew her closer to him until she had to rest her knee between his legs.

"Then be concise," she replied with a tight, coy smile.

"Very well...I don't want to live my life without you," he said seriously.

"Why?"

Peter smiled, leaning back a little. "Does it need saying?" he said evasively but when she did not respond or move he stood up slowly and took her face in his hands. "If only I could show you," he said and took one of her hands and placed it against his chest. His heart was beating hard. "Then you would need no words."

"Well I'm afraid in this world words are all we've got," she said, letting it go. He could pretend and be totally convincing, he could say that he had never loved anyone as he does her but she knew he could not say it and truly mean it. Maybe there was a part of him that wanted to spare her that lie. The seers had said that if he stayed here he would be able to love but Wendy could not expect that to happen over night. It may take years or even decades and that was time Peter was not wiling to spend and find out. Not here.

So just focus on now, she thought and slowly twined her arms around his neck. She moved in slow circles, humming a love balled about being married in old age and Peter smirked and pulled her closer to him. If there were any bombs falling above them Wendy did not know, the music echoed through the tunnels, obliterating anything from the topside and for that she was thankful. As she leaned her head back to look up at the high arching ceiling Peter pressed his lips to her throat and she smiled drunkenly. They kissed softly, oblivious to anything else until Wendy stumbled, more tired than intoxicated. Peter smiled and took her hand.

"Come on, lets find an empty bunk," he lead her through gas lamp lit tunnels to a vast cavern where numerous people were sleeping on all manner of beds. Wendy knew then that it must be something not quite of her world because there was no way something like this could go unreported. She stepped carefully around people sleeping under blankets or on elaborate cast iron beds until Peter stopped before a simple looking camp bed pushed against the cavern wall. He got in, kicking off his shoes and then looked at her expectantly.

Wendy hesitated. They had sat on beds before, they had been alone numerous time but it was only earlier that night that something had distinctly shifted in their dynamic. She knew that it was a natural progression for many, to be intimate, but it was never something she dreamed happening until she had a ring on her finger. As if reading her mind Peter rolled his eyes and chuckled, reaching for her hand.

"What kind of exhibitionist do you take me for? You're exhausted, sleep," he said and pulled her down beside him. Wendy, a little embarrassed at what conclusions her mind was so readily willing to jump to, settled down beside him before toeing off her shoes. She kept a respectful distance between them but he quickly put his hand on her waist and pulled her closer to him, looking upwards all the while. Wendy, mind whirling, rested her head on his shoulder and relaxed.

She had been been lapse while pretending but Peter was guilty of it too. She had seen him occasionally sitting by himself or standing with others but deep in his own head. Lost in his thoughts she had hoped that he was considering what the seers had told him. First and foremost he was a creature of self preservation, could he really ignore their dire warning? She looked at his face as he stared upwards, a small frown line between his brows.

"What's on your mind?" she asked quietly and he smiled gently, still not looking at her.

"Oh, just silly serious things," he responded, using her words. Wendy laid a hand against his chest, over his heart while the other tickled the hair at the nape of his neck. He finally turned to her as she gently kissed his cheek and she stared into his eyes.

"Stay, Peter. Not for me but for yourself. Save yourself," she urged, leaning over him partially so she could better see his face.

If he was walking towards a fate where he would be the most cursed thing in creation then whether he loved her or not did not matter. If he just needed to stand on the land of his birth, breathe that air and live separated from Neverland then he should do it whether she was there or not. Peter's jaw clenched and he tried to look away but she was above him, one hand against the side his head stopping him from turning away. He closed his eyes, his fingers against her back digging into the material of her dress. Wendy frowned, annoyed at his stubbornness.

"Closing your eyes won't make this go away. Are you so blinded with arrogance not to see -"

"Of course I see!" he snapped quietly, eyes opening and he stared at her intensely. "But I've told you, I won't marry or grow old with you -"

"Then don't," she interrupted, making him blink. "If you truly don't want to be with me here then I won't stop you. But for goodness sake Peter consider what you've heard. If you stay here alone or with someone else," it hurt to consider, "at least you'll be safe. You might not be as powerful as you were but you won't be cursed to a fate worse then death."

He managed to smile. "You think if I decided to stay in this dreadfully boring place I wouldn't want to spend that time with you?"

"But you said -"

"I said marry. And I have no intention of growing into a middle aged sad sack bemoaning his lost youth. I'd rather die," he admitted flatly and but she thought, not for the first time, that he was lying to himself.

"Well one of those things does not have to happen but the other...I'm sorry but you cannot defy the laws of nature here," she said in quiet amusement but then grew serious. "Please, you know you can't do what you've planned, it won't work in the way you wish."

"Prophecy is not set in stone," he countered. "What just happened was the mere interpretation of shadows on a wall by two batty spinsters," he stated hostilely and Wendy thought there was a long history there between him and the sisters.

"They seemed sure to me and even if they weren't that fate is not something to be dismissed lightly. They said to succeed you had to have a pure heart, one like a child and, well...you don't," she recalled and he stared at her in mock surprise.

"Really? I thought my heart was as pure as snow."

"Well if you stay then one day it could be," she said jokingly and then sat up as the implication hit her. "You...you're not here to accomplish that are you? To make your heart clean and then go back?" she stared down at him suspiciously while he laughed at her and pulled her back down.

"Wendy I think I'd have to spend at least 70 years here, be basically on my death bed, before that could happen. And once you're too old, physically, Neverland doesn't work for you properly anyway."

"Oh," she said, embarrassed while he smiled at her.

"That would have been a good plan, if it worked. I didn't even think of that," he said proudly and Wendy's lips thinned. She wasn't sure if that was much of a compliment. Peter sighed, playing with her hair and then spoke thoughtfully. "Why are you so concerned with my fate anyway? I thought you'd secretly be pleased."

"Of course I wouldn't be! I'm not!" she said, looking up at him with a heavy frown. "I think that you deserve to be punished for the things that you've done but I would not wish that horrible fate on anyone."

"But where I'm concerned you especially wouldn't wish it," he replied cockily and she rolled her eyes. His arrogance faded and was replaced with something more introspective. "I've lived a long time, met many people and seen many things but never something like you," he said softly and ran his fingers through the ends of her hair. "I want to go back but I don't want to give you up."

"I don't want to go with you Peter," she said plainly and she was truthful. She had considered it, been tempted but if it meant spending decades watching him gleefully head towards his own destruction then she would not do it. "And I'd rather not give you up either," she admitted and he smiled at her, something that made her breathless.

"Maybe we could come to an arrangement, a compromise. You stay here and I'll go back to the island but every year I'd return and take you back with me, for a time."

"But that would have to work both ways," Wendy said, playing along. "You would have to come and stay with me. Maybe during the summer and in the winter I'd go back." At least she'd be missing the dreadful cold and gale force winds that batter Britain during those months.

"But then once you're with me there's the risk of returning. I don't think I'd be able to give you back," he muttered against the side of her face, hand gliding along her leg. Wendy's chest began to rise and fall fast, her skin flushed and searing.

"But my family...?"

"We can't both have you," he whispered into her ear before brushing his lips against the freckles that dusted her cheek bones. Maybe it was the drink or maybe the fantasy was too tempting to deny but when he covered her mouth with his own and pushed her under him she did not resist. However someone else did.

"No hanky panky," said an old, irritable voice and Peter cried out in pain as he was cracked over the head with a walking stick. He rolled off her, about to dismember whoever it was who hit him but they were gone. Rubbing his head in annoyance Wendy started to laugh and then flopped down onto the bed in hysterics and after his wounded pride had faded he joined her.

He slept fretfully, waking her. As before he muttered words in his sleep that she did not understand but whatever he was dreaming about it was clearly awful. Wendy brushed the back of her fingers down his warm cheek, noting with surprise that there were tears trapped in his eyelashes, like drops of dew on blades of grass and she brushed her thumb gently over the tears and then sucked her thumb. It was a strange thing to do but she was in a strange mood, her head thumping. They were real, the taste of salt on her tongue sharp. She wished she knew what he dreamed of, what made him come apart in such a way and made him look so helpless but she would probably never know. He hated being seen in such a helpless state and despised being asked about it.

Maybe his family, she wondered, whoever they may have been. Her thoughts turned to her own family and with it came a strong stab of shame. She had been ignoring it, trying to focus on herself and her own enjoyment but now she could not. It was her birthday no longer, the threat of dying any second was past and now she would have to face the reality of the situation.

She had walked out on her family without so much as a word. They had put so much effort into making her feel at home, organising her party and spending a fortune on her and this was how she repaid them? She knew that she was besmirched in their eyes and she accepted that, as hurtful as it was but they still loved her. They would forgive her the lies, they may even come to accept the impossible truth if she tried. Had she really gone to so much effort to escape Neverland, to reunite with her family only to return to the one person she was running from?

Wendy knew that now was the time to decide. She had three paths: one back to her family and their possible acceptance. She would have to live as an outcast in society and possibly drag her family down with her but they would be together. The second path was back to Neverland, to eternal youth and the loss of all responsibility. If she returned there she would have to cast off her old life, her old self and live as the Lost Boys do: without consequence. It was freeing in a way but Neverland also lead to damnation and a love she would never truly receive.

So the third path...was a dream. He would not stay with her, she would not be a mother or an actress, she knew this in her heart but it was the path, the life she yearned for the most. It was a fairytale, a place where True Love and happily ever after existed and that was not possible in the real world. Even their little fantasy was impossible because Peter was right, he would not be able to give her back when the winter ended. He was too possessive, too exclusive in his desire for her to ever share what he deemed his.

If you came to me during the spring and grew to love only to go back and become hard again? I would force you stay as you would with me, she thought ruthlessly and knew that it could never be. She would have to keep him in a cage for it to work and she was not so cruel.

Wendy slipped on her shoes and stood and then buttoned the coat he had given her the night before. It was decided, she would return to the family who actually could love her. Fingers playing over the thimble he had given her Wendy bent down and gently kissed his mouth and he seemed to calm in his sleep. He said that he would not force her to go back with him, that she would be the one to ask to return and maybe it could have happened but not today. She hoped that he would honour his promise.

Biting the inside of her cheek and trying not to cry Wendy climbed a flight of steps, following a few people as they ascending up to the street. As the door opened she blinked, casting an arm over her eyes. Outside morning was breaking as a thick fog rolled in, touching the windows and doors of the quiet street and enveloping the people that stepped into it. Wendy inhaled a breath and held it as she walked into the white whirling mist before she was engulfed.

She walked slowly, carefully until she bumped into a line of people who were following a blind man to the nearest hospital. Wendy tagged along, thankful for the direction because she had been walking aimlessly and could only see an arms length in front of her.

"What a commotion!" someone said ahead, though she could only make out a dark, small shape. "All that noise and ruination! I was comin' 'ome from work and then had to dash back down into the basement. Fancy spendin' a night at work," the woman said with a sniff of disdain and Wendy smiled.

"I know. I heard there were casualties," said another quietly but Wendy was distracted by a noise. At first she thought it was the planes returning but they would not attack in a dense fog such as this. It pounded behind them, echoing strangely. The man leading them at the front must have stopped because Wendy bumped into the person next to her suddenly.

"What's that noise?" Wendy said to herself and squinted through the mist. As she did dark figures began to materialise and she froze, eyes wide. One after another boys appeared in the mist and their numbers increased with every second. Soon a crowd was amassed twenty feet away from her and for a moment Wendy was cautiously optimistic. Had the Lost Boys escaped? Had they possibly come back to their own world? But her naïve thoughts were dashed when someone at the front raised his spear and shouted.

"GET HER!"

They all roared and ran forward, daggers and spears shaking for her blood and Wendy ran.

a.n:

uh-oh. Almost near the end now...