A/N: Okay, I lied. There's an epilogue. I honestly can't thank you all enough for your support and reviews, you have been wonderful readers and it will be sad to say goodbye to Wendy and her world. I know there's still a little left unexplained, but I've left that for you guys to decipher. After all, imagination and intrigue is why we read, so why not add your own touch to the tale in the way I have the original. Again, thank you all and most importantly, enjoy!

Epilogue

Dearest James,

Tonight marks precisely two years since the fateful night in which I last saw you. Despite the fact that neither you nor Peter have contacted me within this time, I still strongly believe that you are out there searching, the memories we shared driving your desire to seek me out once more. Even if you have forgotten me James, and are once more the black hearted pirate I used to both fear and admire so much as a child, I pray that somewhere deep inside you exists a small part of me: some distant hope that the existence Neverland has condemned you to is nothing more than a façade which you can manipulate and mould to your own desires.

I have spent a long time reminiscing about the last time we set eyes upon each other, James. You told me many important things that night, some intentional, others not so. You told me of the life I would live, the future I would have upon my return home. You also, I believe, inadvertently told me Neverland's most darkest secret, the reason why you can't leave, why time seemingly stands still. I understand James; I finally know why Neverland wouldn't allow us to remain there together. You were right: I am so much more than a memory.

I suppose the realisation should have scared me but, in reality, I think I had known it all along. The fairy tales I used to cling so desperately onto as a child are nothing compared to the wonders, and horrors, I witnessed whilst on the island. The more I recall and reflect upon my time there, the more those fairy tales darken and twist into morbid creations.

Of course, that is not to say I no longer believe, James. It is just that I have discovered that even a world as mysterious and magical as Neverland can, at times, be as disheartening and cruel as the world to which I have returned.

My brothers are now men. Not all of them, not quite, but they will soon be reaching the age at which they must fly the coup, so to speak. I will miss the company, James. Already their continuing absences and longer study hours are leaving the house so quiet, one could easily mistake the whispering of another two floors below to be occurring within the same room. Even Mother and Father have begun to feel their absence: Aunt Millicent's ever increasing presence is far more noticeable when the boys are away. Even Slightly has lessened in his visits, his internship at the Bank occupying him during most hours of the day.

As for me, thanks to Aunt Millicent's insistence, I have been 'courting'; not that you could really describe it as such. Father has been inviting his colleagues and their Bachelor sons around for supper, his recent promotion having finally given my 'marriage opportunities' the standing Aunt Millicent desires. Although we'll engage in polite chatter, the evenings have been nothing more than trivial: London men are not exciting, James, not like you are. Or perhaps, it is rather that I am too exciting for them? Either way, none have piqued my interest to any sort of level at which I could possibly begin to desire something further than acquaintanceship. I imagine even tonight will be the same, perhaps even more so. Apparently this one is a colleague of my Fathers who heard of my availability and personally requested a reception with me. I have little other knowledge of him besides that he has only been in London a short time and is a gentlemen of 'true form' (my Father's words). By this I assume his beard is greying and he intends for me to be nothing more than a mantelpiece decoration which he can show off to houseguests.

I am no trophy.

And to think, Father is ever so excited about this evening.

I wish James, that I could see you again, just for a moment. A moment is all I would need to tell you how I feel. Perhaps then, I may finally be able to leave you behind; leave the memory in the past as it were. Although my brothers have often explained what would have happened if I had chosen to stay in Neverland, a part of me still strongly regrets what I did. Perhaps things may have been different. Perhaps Tiger Lily was wrong and my departure was not the only way to stop the darkness consuming the sky. Perhaps I could have saved you from the crocodile and have had you steal one last Kiss from me. Perhaps…

Mother has just called. She says my latest suitor will be here shortly; I am to make myself presentable for him. Tiger Lily is preparing my hair now. Her engagement ring sits snugly on her finger. She is to be married in December. Mother and Father found it unusual at first, but Tiger Lily has adapted so well to London, her nursing skills already highly praised throughout the Borough. She and John make a wonderful couple; Mother often says the looks they give each other are akin to those her and Father share: the look of true love. Sometimes I think she wishes I looked towards someone in that manner also. Sometimes I do too.

The time is drawing near James, now I must put away my dreams of you. As Mother once told us, long before our adventures began: bravery is putting others before oneself. Sometimes, late a night, I may take those dreams out of their drawer and admire them, and although every time it will get harder and harder to shut them away again, I must do it all the same, because that is strength, and one cannot dwell forever.

So it is here, in this letter, that I, Wendy Darling, shall say my final farewell, and admit the regret that has been slowly devouring my soul since my return to London. Of all the things I wish I had said to you, this shall, now and forever, always be the one that should have left my lips.

I love you, James.

I love you, and now it is too late. Now I must move on, and grow up once and for all.

Goodbye, my love. Yours, now and forever.

Wendy Moira Angela Darling

As she let the pen fall to the dressing table, Wendy let out a shuddering sigh. Before her, the delicate writing implement rolled, smudging ink across the paper and almost entirely blotting out the end of Wendy's name in the sticky black residue.

The woman arose, listening intently as she loosened her hair; formality had never quite been Wendy's style. Below her she could hear Mr Darling conversing, presumably with her would-be suitor. His voice was deep, a little gruff perhaps, but as he laughed a chill raced down Wendy's spine. She had heard that laugh somewhere before.

Pushing away the thought, Wendy sighed once more, slowly making her way towards the window, her fingers resting delicately on the latch, before pushing it open, a cold gust of wind greeting her actions. A single tear rolled down Wendy Darling's cheek as she gazed out across the streets, listening half-heartedly to the sounds of London. Below her, the conversing had ended and footsteps were beginning to make their way up the stairs. Now was the moment. She had avoided her Father's intentions for as long as possible but now his patience had worn thin. Soon, she would have no say in her marriage arrangements and tonight, she feared, would be her final chance at happiness. It would far better, Mother had told her, to learn to love rather than to be forced into it.

Behind her, a knock filtered through the door. Wendy turned, her eyes focusing on the piece of wood separating her and her fate. She carefully took a step back, her feet grazing against the windowsill as the night breeze pulled gently at her overskirt. With a click, the door to the nursery opened, the footsteps stopping as the mysterious suitor finally came into view. As she glanced up, the face Wendy had longed for most of all, appeared. She smiled as her tired and tear-stained eyes drunk in the vision before her: every contour, every wrinkle, every scar. He was exactly as she remembered him to be: rugged but ever so alluring and handsome. With a sigh Wendy closed her eyes, her senses soaking up the muskiness of his scent, the deep but comforting tone of his voice, the soft touch of his lips against hers, recalling everything that had so forcefully been taken away from her on that dreadful night. And it was in that moment that Wendy Darling finally fell, ever so hopelessly, back into Hook's embrace.