The Thinking Tree was a throw back to an earlier time in Neverland, when the island was not a steaming jungle but instead an ancient wood with dappled glades of birch, ash and elder. When Peter first stepped foot on Neverland and shaped it to his desire he could only imagine what he was familiar with but over time, as he travelled to far flung places and peeked into the dreams of children from other worlds, the influence transmuted the island. Soon there was no sign that the island had once been different, except for one tree.

It wasn't the surreal sight of an English oak tree growing amidst banana plants and bamboo but the size of it. The oak was gargantuan, it's massive bulk stretching up and up until its canopy was lost in mist. It's wide, leafy boughs grew outwards, twisting around each other to form clumps of dense branches and leaves. The ground was cast in deep, dappled shadow, islands of darkness that swayed as the tree creaked in a light breeze. It was too large to be real.

"How did I miss this?" Wendy breathed, open mouthed, as she craned her head back. The wondrous sight of the tree almost overshadowed her present grief but there was a persistent dull throb in her chest, like a piece of her heart had been removed and she felt haunted by the ragged loss.

"No one can find it, I've made sure of that. I've been avoiding it," he confessed. He was standing some distance away, hesitant to get any closer and Wendy noticed that scorch marks covered the lower trunk. She touched her fingers to the sooty ash.

"You tried to burn it?"

"And failed. Like the Never Bird it remains," he said dryly and moved to her side. He stared up, gaze loosing focus. "I spent years and years here, adding more to it over time. I had nothing else to do, before the dreamers came," he shrugged and eyed her intensely with a strange half smile. "I was like you once."

"How so?"

"I'll show you," he whispered and took her hand. He lead her around the base of the tree, past an old swing that he pushed, and then up a rope ladder. They climbed up until they reached a platform that circled the trunk. Attached to it were swing bridges that stretched out in all direction before becoming lost in the mist. Some of them looked feeble, wooden planks missing and the ropes frayed. It made her feel wistful and yearn for her childhood. It was a neglected, still place but surrounded by a palpable sense of bygone days filled with play and laughter. It felt like the tree was waiting to be awoken.

It feels like me...she thought dazedly and that pain in her chest flared. Peter took her hand and lead her along one of the bridges, being careful as he stepped on the creaking boards. He could use magic but she knew that it was dwindling and he forgoes using it whenever he could. Now within the bulk of the tree Wendy could see shapes through the mist; swinging bridges connecting to small, empty tree houses. As she realised what the shapes were she saw more and more of them appearing through the mist and she stared at Peter wonderingly.

"People lived here with you?"

"...No," he answered after a long pause, his hand tightening on hers. "I just imagined that they did."

Wendy squeezed his hand, realising that the abandoned houses were not make believe but real. He had made them all, spending countless years building himself a world so he would not be alone. Pity twisted up inside her stomach as she realised how alike they had once been. She had endured four years but Peter?

"How long did you spend here?"

"I lost count," he replied quietly, not looking at her and stopped. Above them was the biggest tree house yet and though it was in the same state of desolation as the rest it was an awe inspiring sight. It was clear that time and care had gone into the construction of it but it was also apparent that the house had been created by a particularly imaginative child. Parapets, turrets and tall pointed roofs dominated, the useless chimneys twisted upwards in impossible shapes and the windows consisted of stained glass, depicting scenes from myths and legends she was familiar with. Some of the panes were missing or broken, roof tiles loose but the tree house was an impressive sight.

"It's beautiful," she breathed and he flashed a quick uncertain smile before leading her through the grand front door.

The interior was bare, in stark contrast to the busy exterior and again Wendy felt a pang of sympathy for him, for the boy he had once been. His room was large but only held a few items of note. There was a small bed, a cabinet for clothes, shelves filled with books and a writing table. On one wall was a map of Neverland and on the other a map depicting London, only this was centuries before her time. She traced her finger over the snaking Thames and felt such an intense pang of homesickness that tears sprang up in her eyes.

"I miss it," she admitted, eyes darting from one side of the map to the other. She knew her city, she knew the streets and parks but she could not name any of the places on it, though they were just on the tip of her tongue. She turned away, disappointed and found Peter standing inches from her. They had been apart for so long that his proximity made her pulse race and this time it was not with anger or fear.

"Lets get this over with," he grimaced and gently pulled her over to a trunk that was half hidden under the bed. He grabbed the end and dragged it out and then snapped his fingers to light candles that dotted the room. He then stood back, arms crossed over his chest as Wendy looked between him and the box. He said nothing, just watched her and leaned back against a wall, a smashed window to his right.

Wendy dropped to her knees and opened the trunk, holding her breath. Inside was nothing to recoil at, nothing wondrous or dreadful but what she saw made her smile softly. There was a cloak, shirts and old shoes, all fitting someone younger than the Peter standing in front of her. She picked up a roughly hewn wooden flute and saw that the bottom of the box was littered with small wooden figures. Toys. Peter was watching her with guarded interest, his eyes fixed on her face for any flicker of emotion. Everything she saw was normal, mundane; everything that Peter was not. She pulled out a leather bag and he tensed, leaning off the wall.

"What's in this?" she asked and he shrugged. He had not touched his old possessions for centuries. He had wanted to forget they were even there but he was unable to destroy them. He watched as she opened the bag and pulled out a bundle of papers bound with leather. Wendy froze when he jerked forward but paused, as if he was battling with the need to rip the pages out of her hands. She kept her gaze on his as she deftly untied the cords keeping the cover in place and leafs of paper fluttered onto her lap. She picked one up randomly and tore her gaze away from Peter's burning one to read.

Bored. Started reshaping the coastlines for want of something to do. I think the mermaids are annoyed at me. It was just a game but I don't want to offend them, if they leave I'll have no one to talk to. I'll put it all back to normal tomorrow.

She told me not to go into the grove, she said not to venture in unless a fate worse than death befall me. But this is my island, not hers and I'll do what I want. I think she lies, she said she would return but it has been so long now. I know I shouldn't but I miss my moth -

"Stop!" Peter suddenly injected and Wendy looked up, realising that she had been reading aloud. He was standing over her, face white and his jaw clenched. Wendy gazed at him sadly.

"Do you know who you were referring to? The one you thought lied to you?" she asked calmly as Peter continued to gaze at her in stony silence. "I think I know who it was, I think the Never Bird showed me. A woman dressed in blue, a fairy."

"Reul Ghorm. The Blue Fairy," he almost spat out the words, bitter hatred twisting his face. It was so malevolent that Wendy grew tense. But through that wrath was something else, something stark shinning cold in his eyes. Betrayal.

"You've never mentioned her," she whispered as Peter began to pace up and down.

"I made myself forget her, forget all of it. But I know she's at the heart of all this," he sneered. It seemed that Wendy had reopened a long forgotten wound and it was toxic.

Wendy nodded. "With the Never Bird I saw something, something from your past. You were at the cage, you weighted your heart and it balanced."

"I know this," he answered distractedly but Wendy pressed on.

"That woman, that fairy, never stepped foot inside the cage. The bird kills anything with an impure heart," Wendy thought aloud to herself as Peter stopped pacing. He stared into the distance, face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to remember.

"She said I had the Heart of the Truest Believer but she needed me to prove it. I made the island," he struggled to speak and sat down on the bed tiredly. "It's like trying to remember a dream, one I'd rather forget."

"Peter, if this woman tricked you, lied to you then that is important. Maybe – maybe we can find a way to save you, to save us all," she stressed and leaned against his legs. He smiled darkly.

"No one can trick me," he said through his teeth but Wendy tilted her head.

"Maybe not now but I think this boy," she moved the bundle of pages in her hands, "this boy was. I saw you Peter, you looked about eleven or twelve, an impressionable age. How are you physically older now?" she had seen a preteen but now he was on the cusp of adulthood.

"I don't know, I don't remember!" he groaned and she dropped it. They had years to work through it, years to read his journal but she knew it would not be easy. One day he may hide the tree, these possessions from her and she would never see them again. This was like scraping away at him and exposing a nerve. She had to be careful.

She looked through the bag, fingers brushing over small objects and closed her fist around them. In her palm, surrounding by fragments of old, dry leaves were acorns, an old tarnished thimble and an equally tarnished locket. She tried to prise the locket open but it was sealed shut with the years. She held it up for Peter to see but he was looking away.

"Put it back," he said quietly, in a tone of voice she had hardly ever heard. It was not a demand, he was not angry but unnerved. She did as he requested. She put the items back, along with the journal and shut the lid over them. She remained on her knees before him and he gazed down at her, more at ease.

"Do you remember your mother?" she asked without thinking and he tensed.

"...a little," was all he said, his mouth twisting but then he spoke again, the words bursting from him. "I hated her as much as she hated me," he snarled but the words caught in his throat. Wendy gazed at him calmly, refusing to let his shocking words faze her.

"And your father?"

He shrugged and they fell into a silence. He leaned forward and brushed his fingers through her hair, twining the tresses around his fingers. Her heart started to beat hard and fast as the distaste in his gaze turned into longing which quickly intensified into something desperate. He cupped her face and lowered his head against hers, eyes burning into hers.

"Promise me you'll never do that again."

"What?"

"Leave," he breathed against her lips and Wendy shook her head.

"I won't if you never give me reason to."

She lifted a hand and very gently brushed her fingertips over his face, tracing his features. She missed touching him, missed these quiet moments when it was just them and nothing else mattered. All thoughts of his past, of the cave or the island were gone. He drew her up into his arms, standing and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They held each other, feeling the heat and beat of their bodies, trying to press as much as they could together. The first kiss was an accident, a soft bump of lips as their faces got too close and they drew back before giving each other short, darting kisses. The hesitant touches belied the tumultuous need they both felt, the frustration of years pent up, especially in Peter who felt like he could drown her if he let go. He moved her around slowly, his hands rubbing along her back and sides, feeling the heat of her skin through her dress. Her mouth parted and she pressed her mouth against his firmly and he responded at once, lips moving against her with an increasing roughness until they kissed open mouthed, tongues tasting each other.

Peter groaned and the small bed that had once been made for one shifted into something big enough for two. He pushed her down and she pulled at his clothes, wanting his bare skin pressed against her but she did not want to stop kissing him. Finally they broke away for air and pulled each others clothes off until they were naked. He settled between her spread legs, resting on his arms and let his weight fall on her for moment, wanting every part of him to touch her. Wendy warped her arms around him, hands on his back and she lifted her knees up and bucked below him. He sucked in a breath and stared at her with a teasing light before kissing her with a tenderness that surprised him. She was back in his arms and accepting him back into her life as long as he agreed to share all the dark, shadowy parts of his soul but also those forgotten shining, bright fragments too. He had thought when they finally reconciled he would take her in a frenzy, mark her in a way so that she never escaped him again but now it felt different. She was his, he was hers and nothing would jeopardise that again; he would not.

They made love slowly, savouring the act and taking their time to make sure that they were both satisfied. He glided his hands over every part of her body, leaving kisses in the wake of his touch before turning her over to kiss her from heel to neck. He whispered into her ear, making her laugh and gasp and she did things to him that had him practically beg on his knees, leaving him to stare at her in awe and plead for more. Wendy smiled in amusement at the naked want in his eyes but she was constantly caught out by another look, before would surface fleetingly and if she was lucky she caught it but now he gazed at her with love that never faltered. It was not gentle, it was not pure or healthy, it was dark, dangerously intense and perverse but every twisted part of his heart was hers. She whispered that she loved him as she touched him, whispering that he was the only one and whatever happened he always would be and he choked out her name, loosing control under her as she worked him into a frenzy until he could take no more. He pushed her onto her back and took her hard and fast until they screamed each others names. Sated he pulled her into his arms and she curled her body against him, both exhausted. They breathed heavily, sweat coating their skin and matted hair and for the first time in years both felt true contentment.

Years passed and it was an era of peace in Neverland. The inner turmoil that had plagued Peter was now quietened and the island reflected that back at everyone. The skies were clear, the sun rose and set and the tides swept in and out. Peter Pan's followers were deeply thankful that the separation had been resolved and that Wendy Darling was back but those who had been there the longest, those that had experienced a time before Wendy and Peter's obsession with her felt a disquiet in their darkening hearts. But the demise of Slightly still hung over them and they knew better then to make a comment that would get them killed or worse.

Felix, taciturn by nature, was not prone to questioning Peter at every turn but was not shy about voicing doubts or suggestions. If he thought it was needed for the betterment of them all he would advise, as was his official position within the camp, and Peter had grown to trust his judgement. He was as relieved as any when the rain stopped and Wendy made her first appearance in the camp after years away but he could not ignore the pit of irritation he felt when he saw her. He had never, in all the years he had known him, seen Peter so affected by another person, so helpless and it was putting them all in jeopardy. He had talked him out of getting a cure for Wendy as taking a fairy heart came with a heavy price, one that not even Peer could avoid but he had considered it and that was unthinkable. They were there to help Peter restore the waning magic that was being sapped away from Neverland and for centuries they had done that with a steely focus. It was different now. They had already seen how distracted, how unravelled he could become at just being separated from her that Felix shuddered to think what would happen if she ever died.

Neverland would crumble away into the sea, taking us all with her. Peter would be the only one left standing, alone again.

The morbid thought flashed through his mind but he did not linger on it. He stared across at Wendy as she sat beside Peter, the bonfire blazing before them. She had always been deeply introspective, lost in her own thoughts and he knew it was a trait they shared but since venturing out of her cave something was decidedly different about her. When she first came to Neverland she had been bright, vivacious and naïve and that spirit had turned into a deadly determination as she had once tried to escape and succeeded. She had fire and Peter loved playing with it but now...

It's like half of her is still back in that cave, he considered as she gave a thousand yard stare into the flames, like some mourning Delphic figure. She was more reserved, a colder person than she had been and he could understand why but the dreamy, vacant gaze he often saw made him feel something he only felt at weak moments: pity. Has she got to me too? He thought dryly and then looked down at his drink when he caught Peter's watchful eye. Peter trusted him but who knew how taut that was concerning Miss Darling. He never lingered around her, never spoke to her more then was necessary and she seemed perfectly content with that. She knew the danger as well as he did.

But he knew for all his reserve and ill feelings he would give his life for her if it meant Peter's continued existence. Too much was relying on Peter's success and if Felix had to make sacrifices then he would. Neverland was his whole world and everyone on it was under his care and that included Wendy.

But Jesus, how much easier it would be if she just disappeared one day and no one knew or cared.

Wendy blew out the candle flame, watching the shadow as it swooped around outside the tree house, and then turned from the window. Peter would often send it to check up on her but since leaving the cave she had only ventured back a few times. She had the room she created for herself but the temptation to bring to life that old fantasy was too great. Here she was preoccupied with another life: Peter's. The pages that he had wrote on aeons ago were spread out over the writing desk and she swept them into a pile. She had hoped they would give her some insight into Peter and while she now knew more about him then she ever had she was still frustratingly nowhere near figuring it out. So many pages were missing, great chunks of years never written or omitted and so she only had what was before her to go on.

Peter was hesitant to learn what she knew, only requesting information that was pressing to their present situation but anything else she was to keep to herself. Wendy brushed her fingertips gently over the pages, a soft smile curling her mouth. Peter did not want to know that once he had been a human boy, though not one like any other. He had always been different, always been unique but once his heart was pure and powerful. Brimming with belief and unburdened by adult cares he had shaped his island as easily as she rearranged the room she was in. But soon his loneliness overtook his exhilaration and his desperation seeped onto every page and it filled her up like gas. She did not want to take on a pain that was centuries old but she knew that fear of being alone was something that haunted him. But it was his fear, not hers.

Wendy had been confused by his changing age but now it was obvious. He had found a way to leave the island, unable to take the solitude and frightened of losing his mind he had escaped. He had come back older and stayed and that was the mystery now. But it was more than just solving a puzzle. The more she read, the more access to his unfiltered thoughts and feelings the harder she fell for him. She was falling in love with him all over again, falling for a person that was now buried under years of corruption and torment and she must stop. She had fallen in love with a dream once, her pretend children and home, and it had taken a part of her with it when it faded away. The boy on the page was no more than a ghost.

Wendy carefully placed the journal on a shelf and turned towards the bed and froze. The round room was set with three windows, all stained glass depicting seascapes. Now there was four. She blinked, unsure and stepped forward. Sometimes things would appear suddenly; trees, boats and even people that winked away as soon as you saw them. Peter called them left over dreams but the strange window did not disappear. She cocked her head, familiarity gnawing her as she hovered her fingers over the image depicted on one side of the casement window. It was a city.

"I know this place," she whispered to herself, about to touch the clock tower when the window suddenly burst open and she was thrown to the floor. What happened next was over in the span of a minute. A large dog bounded out of the open window, followed by two men who jumped into the room. Wendy grabbed the sword she had slung over the bed post and jumped to her feet, brandishing the weapon as the dog barked madly.

"Who are you!?" she shouted as the men straightened and looked at her. Their mouths fell open and tears sprang up in the eyes of the eldest man, the smallest, while the taller one with spectacles just grinned at her, overjoyed. Even the dog was crying, straining on the leash towards her. However when they saw the sword pointing steadily at them their overwhelmed expressions of delight dimmed.

"It's us," the eldest man said, hand to his chest and the man with glasses nodded. But Wendy shook her head, backing away towards the door.

"I've never seen either of you in my life," she stressed. "Who are you and how did you get in here?"

"Wendy! It's John and Michael!" the youngest said desperately and moved towards her but she lifted the sword higher and he stopped.

"Who?" she asked, feeling a scrabbling anxiety because the names were familiar. Her sword wavered.

"Your brothers," the short man said and he looked so devastated that something in Wendy cracked.

Her brothers? She only had the faintest recollection of them and sometimes there would go years where she forgot that she even had siblings. But she did know one thing: Michael was the youngest and John the eldest and these two were proclaiming the opposite. The short one calling himself Michael should be the youngest, she was sure of it but he was in his mid thirties while the man in glasses was in his early twenties. They were trying to trick her.

"Liars! Who are you really?"

The man in glasses looked appalled but his mouth quickly thinned in anger. "We're telling you the truth. We will explain everything in time but first you must come with us," he said firmly and moved towards her. She thrust her sword at him and he stumbled back, gasping.

"That was a warning. I will not hesitate next time," she stated dangerously and both men looked like there were in a nightmare. The small gentle looking one pointed at the large old dog.

"It's Nana, surely you remember her?"

"A dog, one easily procured," she shrugged but avoided looking at the soulful canine eyes gazing up at her. The man in glasses growled and suddenly sprang forward and grabbed her wrists. The sword clattered to the floor as she yelped in pain.

"I'm sorry but we don't have time for this. We said we'd get you out and then kill that bastard!"

"You want to kill Peter?! You're from the Home Office aren't you!?" she yelled. Peter had told her about the organisation that wanted to kill him, who were from her old world, but the threat had come to nothing. The man's eyes widened in surprise but he quickly became harsh.

"We've made it our life's mission to destroy Pan and this dreadful place!" he snarled, struggling to hold her but at these words she suddenly turned into a wild thing. She kicked at him, scratched his face and he shrunk back in pained surprise. Now unrestrained she punched his nose and kicked him in the stomach with such force that he hit the wall, winding him. It was clear that they expected no resistance and were slow to react. As the eldest man came at her, palms up, she turned and pulled her concealed dagger free and swung the blade quickly through the air. Blood poured from his head, she had cut him shallowly along the forehead.

"For God's sake! Grab her! Knock her out if you have to!" the man in glasses wheezed, doubled over.

"She's insane!" the bleeding man said. Despite his wound and gentle eyes he disarmed her with movements of a trained solider, spun her around and wrapped his arms around her so she couldn't move. He picked her up and forced her through the window with him as she screamed and kicked her heels back. Wendy, now hyperventilating, watched as the man in glasses, now with a bloody nose and scratches, left the howling dog tied to the bed post before helping to pull her struggling body through the window. In shock but still full of fight Wendy inhaled and screamed with all her might.

"PETER!"

A hand hastily covered her mouth as the window closed but it was too late. Her scream echoed out of the tree house and through the island but instead of fading it grew louder and louder until every single inhabitant of Neverland clapped their hands over their heads as her panicked cry rang in their ears.

Then the island started to shake.