25/08/06

Title: The Care and Feeding of Flying Boys
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: One - Too Many Open Windows
Rating: PG13

A young man who defies gravity meets a girl with her feet firmly planted on the ground....or so she believed.

Author's Note: For Rolletti. And Kasmira...shameless rewriting of a familiar story, with characters and plot lines ruthlessly twisted to suit the author's nefarious purpose- that being, to entertain.

Disclaimer: All the well beloved characters belong to only one author, J.M.Barrie. I'm just playing in his sandbox for a little while, no harm, no foul.

London, 1906

It was a night cold enough to send most little children snuggling down deeper into their quilts and eiderdowns, to wish their hot water bottles were that much hotter and that their feet had another pair of socks to keep them warm. Windows were iced up on the inside despite the efforts of coal fires to keep the chill at bay, the rooms unable to dispel the fierce frost from skittering across panes, leaving behind impossibly fragile traceries to delight those few hardy enough to look.

Wendy Darling was one of those few, her slender fingers tracing the outline of white covering the glass, the tips growing numb as she continued to follow the random pattern of ice crystals, the air leaving her lungs pluming white as it condensed in the cold air against the pane.

Why she was standing in nothing more than her flannel night shift and a shawl, while the clock chimed three-o-clock in the morning, was something she would have liked an answer to herself. She couldn't remember what it was that had pulled her out of her toasty bed to wander across the carpet and stare out of the window into the frost laden world, only that something had called to her, a voice that insisted that she make the sacrifice and stand at the window. Outside, the tree that, in the summer cast welcome shade over the nursery, was now devoid of any signs of life, it's broad limbs black and bare, icicles hanging from the branches, a by-product of the last snowfall. Beyond the back wall of the terrace houses flanking on either side, she could see more houses, their windows black, the drapes drawn tight to aid keeping what heat there was inside the house. Chimney's poked above dark rooftops, the occasional one puffing up clouds of sooty smoke that hung for a moment before sinking to add to the miasma of choking pollution in the streets below. Craning her neck she could see the sky high above the chimney pots, the stars as hard and bright as diamonds. So sharp they looked capable of cutting a body to ribbons, bright knives waiting for someone to be foolish enough to go abroad before daylight, poised to plunge earthwards like so many swords of Damocles. A shiver made her pull back from the window and turn away, her fanciful musings banished as another shiver made her aware of her frozen feet and numb fingers, her nose starting to drip as well.

"You're simply imagining things, you silly girl," she admonished herself, tugging the thick shawl around her shoulders again and hurrying back to her bed, shucking her slippers before diving under the covers and laying in the indentation at the center of the feather mattress. Noticing that she'd not pulled the curtains she briefly contemplated getting back out of bed to do so, then decided just as quickly not to. Her brothers hadn't stirred and were buried, much as she was, under their thick quilts, oblivious to the cold. If they had no care for the curtains remaining open, then she didn't either.

"You were just dreaming," she scolded herself softly, tucking the edge of her blanket more tightly around her chin while drawing her legs up to take advantage of her body's heat. After a few minutes her feet had started to warm up and her nose no longer dripped, her eyes sliding shut as she gave in to sleep and forgot the voice she's thought she'd heard.

# # #

Tucked up in her warm, safe little bed, Wendy dreamed - such wild and strange dreams that seemed so vivid and real while they played out, but vanished when she awoke the next morning, banished by the sun flooding into the room, the curtains still pulled back as she'd left them the previous night. What she didn't expect was to see that the window itself was half open, a chill breeze blowing into the nursery and making her nose tingle and her breath appear white.

At that precise moment the clock on the mantle chimed seven-o-clock. Pushing back her covers, Wendy rushed over to the window and slammed it down, the noise waking her two younger brothers, their tussled heads appearing from under the mounds of their bedclothes even as Wendy rushed back to her own bed and dived under the blankets once more. A few moments later the familiar shushing sound of their mother's footsteps approaching the nursery presaged her opening the door.

"Goodness but it's cold in here!" Mary Darling exclaimed, peering first at the fire that had gone out hours ago, then at the window, a crease of perplexion furrowing her brow to see it shut. Tutting to herself, she belted her dressing gown more tightly before quickly kneeling down to set the fire going again.

"Don't you get up yet my dears, the fire will quickly warm the air up in here and make it much more pleasant. We really will need to see about keeping the fire in longer. I'll ask your father for more coal for the nursery. I can't have my babies catching cold for want of a scuttle of coke!"

While their mother coaxed the fire into life, Wendy and her brothers lay buried under their blankets. Wendy particularly lay pondering what had happened the night before, trying hard to distinguish what had been real and what had been fancy, images from her dreams coming back to her in disjointed fragments. She thought she remembered someone calling her name, the voice too insistent to ignore, dragging her out of her bed to peer confusedly out of the nursery window until cold drove her back to her bed. Then she must have slept and what followed only happened in a dream. When her mother finally pronounced the room warm enough to allow them to rise, Wendy threw back her covers and looked down at the floor to find her slippers. While her brothers hurried from the room to be the first to use the bathroom, Wendy sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her feet. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought she was still asleep and dreaming. Wriggling her toes she stared as the amount of dirt covering her feet and ankles nearly up to her knees. It looked as though she'd been jumping in mud puddles half the night, the hem of her nighty similarly stained and splashed with dirt. Lifting up the bed covers she checked the end of the bed and a gasp escaped her lips when she found more dirt covering the sheets where her feet had rested. Both alarmed and surprised, Wendy hurriedly hid the evidence, while tugging her nightdress down to cover her legs.

"Well I never!"

"Never what dear?" Her mother asked, "you'd better get a move on dearest, or you'll be late for breakfast."

"Yes.....what?....Oh yes, of course. Won't be a moment."

Thrusting her grubby feet into her slippers, she pulled on her dressing gown to cover her inexplicably dirty nightclothes and left the nursery, passing her brothers on the landing as they rushed back to get dressed. Entering the tiny room that serviced the family as a bathroom, Wendy slowly shut the door behind her and turned to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, much more so than she'd have expected to find after a night buried in her bed, her fingers reaching up to pluck something from the light brown strands and hold up for inspection in front of her face. The object was a tiny leafy twig with a single acorn attached. What made the twig odder than usual was it's supple greenness, the shiny green acorn looking newly minted, the leave as young and supple as only oak leaves can look when they first unfurl in the spring. Wendy stared at the twig then at her reflection.

"But it's December, nearly January...nowhere near spring."

Dropping the inexplicable plant relic into the sink, she stared once more at her face, her fingers lifting to rub at what looked like paint on one cheek. The streak of red ran from the side of her nose across her cheekbone and into her hairline, a similar line in white below that.

"Why am I wearing warpaint?" She asked the girl in the mirror, the blue eyes staring back at her carrying a wealth of confusion and no small amount of panic in their depths. "What on earth was I doing last night?"

Her mother's voice called to her and she quickly started to run some water into the sink. Hurriedly she scrubbed at her face with a washcloth before just as quickly washed away the dirt and mud coating her legs and feet, the water a dark, murky brown when she was finished. Dragging a brush through her hair, she rushed from the bathroom, not forgetting the acorn twiglet in her haste, setting that curious item down on her dressing table before attacking her clothes to change for school.

Fortunately for her peace of mind, the rest of the day passed in its usual manner with most of it spent at Miss Finchins' school for Children of Gentlemen. Later she struggled through a piano lesson with Mrs. Forbes, a neighbor four doors away, before hurrying home for her dinner. An evening of board games with her brothers ate up another passage of time and suddenly it was bedtime again. Warily, Wendy donned a clean nightdress, the previous nights attire already whisked away by the housemaid for the laundry basket, her bottom sheet likewise. Before retiring, she padded along the hall to the second best guest bedroom. Inside, her father was standing on a short ladder, a length of wallpaper hanging down as he positioned it to paste to the wall. At fifteen, Wendy was beyond the usual age of children still sleeping in a nursery, and it had been deemed time that she have a room of her own away from her boisterous brothers. She would be sorry to leave the cozy confines of the familiar room, but she also looked forward to the privacy and peace of a room that she could shut out the family from. Not that she didn't love her brothers completely, it was just that she was no longer a child, yet not quite a woman, in that difficult time and place between the two.

"Only a few more days dearest, and we'll be able to get you all moved in," her father, George Darling, grinned at her over his shoulder, the strip of wallpaper choosing to fall down at that moment and cover his head making Wendy laugh. Careful not to tear the precious paper, George pushed the strip off his head and back onto the wall, the brush in his hand holding the recalcitrant wallpaper in place. "See, have it done in no time."

"Goodnight Papa....it's looking lovely."

"Goodnight Wendy, sleep well."

Leaving her father to wrestle the reluctant wall coverings, Wendy padded back to the nursery in time to sit on her bed and listen to her mother tell Michael, the youngest, a bedtime story. Soon after, Wendy lay on her side and stared at the flickering night light set on the table near the window. A fire burned brightly in the grate, the coals heaped high to last as long as possible to keep the chill at bay.

"Goodnight dearest," her mother said, bending down to kiss her daughter. Enveloped in her mother's perfume, Wendy reached up to hug her, the pair lingering for a moment before parting. "Sweet dreams Wendy."

"Goodnight Mama,"

Warm, clean and comfortable, Wendy drifted off to sleep secure in the knowledge that her life was once more as it should be.

She awoke suddenly, her breath catching on a gasp, cold air rushing in and making her breath plume white when she breathed out. While she lay wondering nervously what had awoken her, the clock struck three time, the chimes sounding slow and ponderous to her ears, each tick in between as loud as a pistol shot. With her heart thumping in her chest, Wendy lay listening to the sounds in the room, her ears straining for the slightest clue as to what had awoken her. Across the room she could make out the humps in the beds that were her brothers, their soft snores a comfort as she turned her head to inspect the rest of the room from her limited view. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but she felt a need to make sure. Turning slowly in her bed, Wendy lifted herself up on her elbow and stared about the room. A cool breeze alerted her that the window stood open once more, the curtain moving back and forth in the chill air. The night light was no longer alight and the fire a bed of glowing coals in the darkened room.

"Oh blast it!" Jumping out of bed, not bothering with her shawl or slippers, Wendy ran across the room and tugged at the sash window, pulling it down tight before yanking the curtains across the expanse of chilled glass, shutting out the sight of the stars and rooftops beyond. Scuttling back to her bed she dived under the covers only to almost leap out again in shock.

"Oh John, you gave me such a fright, what are you doing in my bed?"

Thinking it her younger brother hiding under the blankets, Wendy put a hand out in the darkness to shove him out of her bed. Instead of the sensible flannel nightshirt her brother usually wore, Wendy encountered only bare skin, her fingers recoiling at the chill of that flesh.

"John?"

The shoulder she had so briefly touched suddenly moved and she found herself pulled further under the covers, the blankets thrown over her head and over the side, plunging her into total darkness within her own sheets. The arm that had so peremptorily snagged her, now turned her on her side, her back to whoever was in the bed with her. Before she could do more than squeak a protest, a leg was thrown over her own, pinning her in place.

Still thinking it her brother playing a prank, Wendy struggled but found herself effectively pinned by his weight and muscle, unable to do more than squirm helplessly.

"This is not funny John....let me go!"

"Just shut up and stop wriggling girl...I need to get warm!" A husky male voice ordered her, it's depth and cadence unlike either of her brothers.

Blind panic made Wendy go rigid, her heart starting to thump crazily as she finally acknowledged that whoever was in her bed was not her brother John. Someone, some male person lay stretched out on his side behind her, his body pressed tight against her back, one leg thrown over hers while one muscular arm curled around her body, just under her chest, holding her in place.

"Pl-ple-please don't hu-hurt me..." Wendy managed to get past her stiff lips, her body starting to quake with fear.

"Does it feel like I'm hurting you?" The voice inquired, sounding angry and perplexed at the same time. The body behind her shifted, pressing itself closer to her, the persons face pressed against the back of her head, his breath puffing against her hair.

"Wh-what do you want?" Wendy tried again, swallowing the lump of fear choking her throat.

"I told you....to get warm, it's a bitter night out there."

Wendy moaned softly to herself, imagining the worst. "Ar-are you a.....burglar? I don't have anything very valuable..."

"Burglar? What's a burglar?"

"You're not a burglar?" Wendy asked in some surprise, confused that the young man, whoever he was, didn't seem to know his own occupation very well.

"Tell me what a burglar is, and I'll tell you if I am one."

"A-a burglar is...." she swallowed on a dry throat, "is someone who creeps into houses through open windows and steals things,"

"What sort of things?" The voice asked, his arm loosening a little around her ribs.

"Precious things I suppose," Wendy answered, her muscle still tense and ready for flight. "Jewelery, silverware...that sort of thing."

"You mean treasure?"

"I-I suppose so."

"Hook is the burglar then, not I."

"Hook?"

"He's a pirate....don't you know anything?"

"I know lots of thing," Wendy replied with some indignation. "I know that climbing in through someone's window then into their bed is not at all proper or legal!"

"What's legal?"

"Now you're the one who doesn't know anything," the arm around her middle suddenly tightened making her gasp.

"I know plenty of things, but they are not of your world...."

"Not of my world, what can you mean?"

"I mean that I don't belong in this horrid cold place."

"Oh...." Wendy paused, the body behind her shifting slightly, "then just exactly where do you belong?"

"Neverland of course."

"Neverland? I've never heard of that place, is it in South America?"

"Stupid girl, of course not."

"Well how am I supposed to know? You come in here, climbing quite illegally through the nursery window, climb very improperly into my bed then call me stupid when I don't know where Neverland is. You've some nerve!"

An exasperated sigh gusted against the back of her neck, the arm suddenly loosening and the leg lifting off her. Feeling the body behind her start to back out of her bed, Wendy quickly turned over, her hands grabbing at the torso, her fingers getting hold of a handful of leaves, anchoring the warm body beside her.

"Oh no you don't!" Wendy hissed, still unable to see much under the covers, the heat from their combined bodies making the air muggy within the blankets. "I didn't say you could just go!"

A soft laugh greeted her angry whisper, the body jerking back leaving Wendy with a handful of loose leaves and bits of vines. Throwing back the covers, her hair over her face, Wendy sat up and stared about the dark nursery.

"Where have you gone?"

"Stupid girl.....look up."

Mystified Wendy did just that, her mouth dropping open when her eyes beheld a figure floating somewhere near to the ceiling beside the light fitting. The intruder appeared to be just hanging in space, his body laying parallel to her bed, but facing down, his arm crossed over his chest.

"Who are you?" Wendy asked, pushing herself back onto her pillows and craning her neck to see better. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That!" Wendy pointed at him, her arm dropping to her side when the figure slowly lowered itself until it sat cross legged on the end of her bed.

"It's called flying," the voice answered her disparagingly, Wendy able to see him tilt his head to the side but little else, beside his silhouette. Reaching beside her bed, Wendy fumbled for the candle lamp left for emergencies during the night. This certainly qualified as one in her book and she struck the match, light flaring as she settled the glass shade over the candle, softening the flame. Turning back to face the intruder she shuffled back on her pillows, staring open mouthed at the boy sitting nonchalantly on her bed.

"Good grief, you're a boy!" she exclaimed. The boy rolled his eyes and huffed.

"And you're a girl, albeit a very silly one."

"You said you were cold, are you warm enough now?" Ignoring his rudeness, Wendy drew her legs under her and pulled her shawl about her shoulders.

"Very, thank you."

"Oh....er...good." Feeling at a loss for words, Wendy let her eyes wander over the strange boy, cataloging his features and clothing with some curiosity. He appeared to be a year or two older than herself, his body lean and rangy with long legs and arms, the limbs well rounded with muscles as if he did a great deal of climbing or heavy work. His head was topped with a riot of blond hair that curled around his face and ears in an endearing tussle, the ends ragged as if cut unevenly with a blunt knife. His face and body were deeply tanned a golden brown as if he spent every second of the day out in the sun, that skin also liberally smeared with streaks of dirt, evidence that he'd not bathed for a week or possibly more. His costume was the most remarkable outfit Wendy had ever seen, consisting of a multitude of different shaped and colored leaves, all interwoven to provide a pair of green shaggy trousers that reached from his navel to his knees, a vine crossing his chest and wound around one upper arm. Around his waist was a woven vine belt holding several items including what looked like a homemade pan-flute and a leather knife holder. A skin pouch also hung from the belt and seemed to be filled with something soft while peeping over his shoulder appeared to be the hilt of a sword hanging down his back. His feet were bare and looked as grubby as hers had done only that morning, the toes quite black with dirt, as were his fingernails and hands. Her eyes roamed up his torso and reached his face, her lips parting in a small gasp as she found herself mesmerized by the most beautiful pair of blue-green eyes she'd ever seen in a male face. Above the thickly lashed eyes were straight dark brows, one currently lifted almost to his shaggy hairline, her perusal apparently not appreciated by the object of her scrutiny.

"When you've finished staring...." the boy drew his brows together in a scowl and Wendy lowered her eyes, a flush painting her cheeks scarlet.

"I'm sorry, I know it's rude to stare, but I've never seen anyone dressed quite like you before. Is that sword real?"

"Yes and of course you haven't seen anyone dressed like this....there's only one of me."

"Oh....I see. Do you have a name?"

"Yes."

"Will you tell me your name?"

"No."

"Oh......why not?"

"I want to know your name first," the boy replied smugly, his lips tilting up in a winning smile.

"Alright....if you insist. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. Now, what's yours?"

The boy looked a little discomforted, shifting his backside against the coverlet and glancing to left and right. He was scowled again, muttering something incomprehensible into his chest.

"What was that, I didn't quite catch it?" Wendy asked, leaning forward and tilting her head to hear better.

"Peter Pan."

"I beg your pardon?"

"PETER PAN....did you hear that well enough!"

"I should think that most of the street heard you," Wendy retorted, both of them turning to face the beds occupied by John and Michael, the sound of someone turning over in their sleep and grumbling reaching the two poised on Wendy's bed. After a second the sleeper, probably John, settled down and both of the watchers let out a sigh of relief.

"Keep your voice down unless you want to explain to my father why you are in the nursery at this time of night," Wendy scolded.

"He'd have to catch me first," Peter retorted, folding his arms and puffing out his chest. "Never known a grown-up yet catch Peter Pan."

"There's always a first time," Wendy muttered, pulling her shawl about her shoulders. "And just what are you doing sneaking about the nursery?"

"You don't remember do you?"

"Remember what?"

"What we did last night?"

"Last night? I didn't do anything....last....night..." Wendy's voice tailed off, the image of her grubby feet and face flashing into her mind, her eyes rounding as she did indeed remember. "I had dirty feet this morning."

"Well you would insist of on walking instead of flying."

"What of earth do you mean? I didn't go anywhere last night, and certainly not with you!"

Peter sighed, his shoulders drooping as he stared down into his lap. "Yes, you did. We went to Neverland and you stayed a day and a night, then I brought you back."

"Don't be preposterous....I haven't been anywhere for that length of time."

"How did your feet get so dirty then?"

Wendy gaped at him, her mind swirling with half formed images, but simply incapable of believing his outrageous claim. As she tried to sort out what to say her eyes picked up something tangled in the vine attached to his arm. "I found something this morning....I didn't know where it had come from...." she reached under her pillow and produced the green acorn on its slender twig. Holding it out she pointed to a similar acorn sprouting from his vine. Peter took the twig and twirled it between his fingers, smiling.

"Oh yes.....your kiss..."

"My WHAT!" Wendy cried out, Peter's hand coming up to cover her lips to silence her.

"Quiet, you'll have the whole house about our ears."

Peter still twirled the small acorn around, his eyes dancing. "You gave me something last night, and I gave you this in return.....a kiss."

"But that's not a kiss, it's an acorn. Don't you know what a kiss is?"

Peter was scowling again, tossing the small piece of greenery on the bed cover and folding his brawny arms across his chest. "You told me..." He relaxed his arms and reached into the pouch at his waist. "You told me this was a kiss." He held up a small silver thimble, the tiny article perched precariously on the end of Peter's finger. Wendy stared.

"But that's my thimble."

"Then why did you tell me it was a kiss?"

"I don't know.......I don't remember."

"Well if this isn't a kiss......what is?" Peter asked, looking intently at Wendy.

"Oh gracious." Wendy felt the heat rising in her face as she blushed, Peter's eyes narrowing as she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.

"Well?" Peter insisted, leaning forward so that when Wendy lifted her head they were almost nose to nose.

"I-I can't tell you," Wendy stammered, her eyes dropping to stare at Peter's mouth for a lingering moment before she ducked her head again. Peter stared at her in some perplexity.

"Does it hurt? Is that why you won't tell me?"

"A kiss.....hurt? No....at least I don't think so. I only have the ones I've given to my parents to judge by, and the one's they've given me of course." She still couldn't look at him, her hair falling forward to hide her flushed cheeks.

"Then give one to me......please Wendy," Peter earnest request brought her head up, her eyes sweeping over his face and coming to rest on his mouth again.

"It's not entirely proper for a young lady to give a boy she doesn't know a kiss, and certainly not a boy who sneaks into her bedroom and acts like a burglar."

"Wendy," Peter wheedled, drawing her name out, advancing towards her like a panther so that Wendy felt breathless and shockingly excited at the same time. Darting out her tongue she wet her lips in unconscious anticipation, Peter watching that small movement with interest.

Backed up against the headboard of her bed, Wendy found herself with her shoulders against the wood, Peter braced over her, his hands taking his weight where they rested on the edge of the decorated headboard. Wendy was having some difficulty breathing, her lips parting as she tried to draw in air, Peter's scent filling her nose with the smell of warm sunshine and sea air, all combined with the hint of trees and earth, altogether not at all unpleasant.

"How do you give someone a....kiss?" Peter asked, his eyes lit with mischief and his lips stretched wide in a grin of pure wickedness. Wendy swallowed and tilted her chin.

"You.....you press your lips t-to-together with someone else's....er...lips."

"Like this?" Peter leant forward the merest fraction needed to press his closed mouth to Wendy's, the pressure lingering for an instant before he pulled back. Wendy had automatically closed her eyes, but they blinked open when Peter withdrew. Peter was grinning at her with his head on one side.

"Why did you shut your eyes?"

Flustered Wendy looked away, inordinately disappointed with her first kiss. "It's what a lady does...when she's kissed by a gentleman, or so I understand."

"Oh....alright, can we try that again. This time I'll close my eyes."

With her heart fluttering in her chest, Wendy tilted her chin once more and Peter ducked his head, their lips meeting and holding, this time lingering and sliding, experimenting with pressure and position until Peter drew away once more. As if tasting a new flavor he licked his lips, appearing to contemplate what had just taken place before making a pronouncement. "I like it."

"You do?" Wendy felt both elated and slightly frustrated, the kiss lasting no longer than a few seconds, her curiosity peaked but not satisfied. "Do you think....." She paused, Peter once more staring intently, waiting for her to continue. "Do you think you'd like to...do it again?"

In answer Peter leant forward, his arm muscles bulging as he flexed his elbows to lower him sufficiently so that his lips met hers with flattering enthusiasm, the seconds ticking by as they explored the texture and sensations of their first real kiss. Breathless, they broke apart, eyes wide and chests heaving to suck in much needed oxygen. Peter sat back on his heels, his eyes never leaving Wendy's as they both experienced the intense physical reactions to kissing.

"Oh my...." Wendy breathed, her lips tingling and her cheeks hot. In fact she felt hot all over, her skin flushed as if she'd been sitting in the sun too long. Peter appeared to be similarly affected, gasping to draw in much needed air, his eyes bright, his cheekbones dark with color. Sinking down onto her pillows, Wendy pressed her hands against her chest, feeling her heart fluttering under her nightdress. Suddenly she felt the overwhelming urge to giggle, the soft sound muted at first, then breaking out so that she was forced to turn on her side and muffle the sound in her pillow. Peter felt a similar urge, his lips tilting into a grin, his eyes dancing. In the light from the candle, Wendy's hair gleamed like burnished gold, the shaking of her shoulders making it ripple down her back like a river. He reached out a hand to touch it, but the sight of his incredibly grubby fingers against the white of her nightdress made him pull back, Peter scowling down at the dirt as if to banish it with thought alone. Holding out both hands he stared at the grime, the condition repeated on his legs and feet, his toes positively black. Suddenly embarrassed to be sitting on Wendy's clean coverlet in all his dirt, Peter clambered off the bed and started to walk across the room towards the window.

Feeling the bed move, Wendy's giggles mysteriously vanished and she raised her head, alarmed when Peter started to walk away.

"Oh wait, please don't go. I'm sorry I laughed...." She scrambled off the side of the bed and ran after him, Peter stopping suddenly to swing around. Wendy cannoned into him, his arms catching her from falling while bringing them flush against each other. Peter was a half-head taller than her, his hands, gripping her waist, much broader than her own, the strength in his arms easily holding her steady until she found her feet. Away from the bedside candle, his face was in shadow, Wendy unable to read his expression in the darkness.

"I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't mean to embarrass you," she curled her own hands around his arms, feeling the flex of hard muscle under her fingertips. Abruptly Peter pushed her away, dropping his hands and jerking his arms to make her let go.

"I have to go," he mumbled, turning away from her and heading once more for the window, his hands yanking the curtains back to reveal the glass behind.

"But you can't go....you haven't told me what happened last night? How my feet got so muddy....where did I go and what did I do?"

He had the sash up and the window open, a cold blast of wintry air chilling them both instantly.

"Oh please Peter..." Wendy reached out her hand, not knowing how to stop him as he sat on the sill and lifted his legs out of the window. Her fingers were suddenly clasped in his, pulling her towards the opening, pulling her towards Peter who perched on the ledge outside, seemingly impervious to the cold. Wendy tried to resist but the strength behind the grip of his fingers was too much for her to pull away. Shivering in the cold air she found herself manhandled through the open window to stand on the small ledge outside, her hair blowing about her face as she stared in abject terror at the drop to the ground below. Tearing her eyes away from the drop, she stared instead at Peter, his blond curls dancing around his head, his eyes so bright and intense she felt mesmerized, the world reducing down to just his gaze, locked on hers. Energy seemed to be radiating from all around him, his skin glowing as if infused with sunshine, his costume of leaves fluttering as if still attached to their branches, the air almost crackling with suppressed excitement.

"I want to take you to Neverland..I want to show you all there is to see....come away with me, Wendy. Come away to a place where it's never cold, where you can swim in warm seas and walk on hot sand."

"But Peter....my family.....my brothers....I can't leave them!" Wendy tried to pull back but found his arm, like a steel bar behind her back, prevented her.

"Forget them....forget them all. I'll teach you to ride the winds' back, to soar among the clouds and swoop above the trees. We'll dance through the stars Wendy.......come with me and let me show you how."

Both entranced and terrified, Wendy stood undecided, his warmth enveloping her and chasing the chills away, his face coming closer until his lips once more pressed against hers, their heat infusing her with thrilling shivers that made her press her body closer, her hands finding their way to his shoulders as they kissed, her body jerking in surprise when his tongue touched her closed mouth. Pulling back Wendy stared into his eyes, stars appearing to swirl in their depths, her feet seemingly no longer touching the icy ledge as his arms held her effortlessly.

"Peter....I...." she started to say then stopped, her glance going over his shoulder to stare in shock at the nursery window now several feet behind them. Peter just quirked an eyebrow and smirked, his eyes darting down then up, Wendy followed his silent suggestion, looking down and seeing her bare toes suspended a long way from the ground. Quickly she squeezed her eyes shut, flinging her arms around his neck to hold herself close.

"Oh my goodness.....we're...we're....floating!" She managed to squeak, burying her face against his neck to shut out the sight of the ground so far below.

"We're flying Wendy. I won't drop you....look around, you're quite safe."

They were directly over the back garden, the tree beside them, it's branches stark against the clear sky. Through the now distant nursery window Wendy could just see her bedside candle flickering in the draft from the open window. Even as she watched the flame was blown out, plunging the room into darkness.

"I'm afraid..." she whispered, her eyes wide and dark as she pulled back, loosening her grip on his neck to see his face better.

"I won't let anything harm you Wendy......I promise, as I promised you last night, and the night before."

"Did I kiss you all those other times too?"

"No," Peter grinned, "this was the first time you kissed me."

"Oh......but why don't I remember those other times?"

"Because.....I didn't want you to remember. I usually only visit once or twice, never the same house each time. They never remember my visits, only in their dreams occasionally."

"Will I remember Peter?"

"Oh yes.....that's why I came back. I wanted you to remember, to never forget....especially now that you've kissed me."

"Oh," Wendy could feel her face getting warm again and buried it back against his neck.

"Are you ready to go Wendy?"

"I don't know....my mother and father...will I see them again?"

Peter shrugged. "If you want to. Neverland is magic Wendy, what will seem like days to you will be but hours to them."

"Magic?"

"Old magic....fairy magic. Neverland is full of it."

Looking down, Wendy could believe that wholeheartedly. "Will it take us long to get to Neverland?"

"Only as long as you wish it." Peter whispered against her hair, his arms supporting her easily as they slowly spun in the air. He felt Wendy draw in a big breath, her head lifting slowly from his shoulder, her eyes dark blue pools of barely suppressed excitement.

"Take me with you to Neverland Peter....I want to see this place you say is full of magic."

"Then away we go."

Wendy saw a glow envelop them, then the ground dropped away, her stomach lurching as they speedily ascended into the sky, London laid out below like a map. The buildings were getting smaller by the second, clouds started to obscure the details as they rose higher still. Feeling her head swirl with vertigo, Wendy squeezed her eyes shut and hung on, Peter's arm keeping her held tight against his body, her heart pounding against her chest wall.

"Open your eyes Wendy and look," Peter whispered, his voice penetrating the thundering of her heart. Lifting her head, Wendy stared entranced at the multitude of colors swirling around them, the heavens punctuated with huge sprawling ribbons of stars, their brightness only fractionally dimmed by the multicolored gas clouds surrounding them. Huge planets spun slowly past, some with rings, some with moons, all of them tightly packed as if crowded into one small part of the cosmos, the bright pinpoints of light like streaks as they sped through, one star appearing brighter.

"Hold on tight Wendy, don't let go," Peter instructed her as they flew like an arrow towards the brightest star, bursting through it's heart to emerge on the other side into darkness. They tumbled downwards, spiraling over and over until Wendy felt sick, the blackness scattered with points of light all around them. Slowly they stopped spinning, Peter loosening his grip on her.

"Do you trust me Wendy?"

"I suppose so..." she answered shakily.

"Let go."

"What?!"

"Hold on to my hand, but otherwise let go."

Cautiously, Wendy did as he asked, her hand gripping his in a vice-like hold but sliding her arms from around his neck so that she seemed to be floating free of him. It was if she was supported by a mattress of air, her limbs held effortlessly a she flew through the air, her initial terror giving way to curious wonder, her stiff face relaxing into a wide smile as nothing un-towards happened. They were now side by side, flying leisurely above a body of water in which the stars shone as in a mirror. Peter reached down and trailed his hand along the surface making the image ripple and break up before tugging Wendy upwards towards the clouds becoming visible in the sky above their heads. In front of them an island started to take shape, the sun rising behind the tall peaks and leaving the island in silhouette as Peter and Wendy approached. As they got closer the sun suddenly broached the islands mountain range, flooding the sky with bright light, the ball of flame rising much quicker than you would expect, at least it seemed that way to Wendy's surprised gaze. When they reached the tiny offshore islands the sun was already climbing to it's zenith, it's warmth reaching out to them and dispelling any lingering chill from their trip through the stars. Peter had drawn them up high enough to be able to look down on the tropical island below, it's rocky shore bordered by lush green jungle, the trees growing tall and thickly together, hiding the ground from view. Deep valleys and soaring mountain peaks undulated along the spine of the island, occasional glimpses of bright ribbons of water showing rivers and streams snaking across the slopes and flatlands as they flew past. The sun had finally stopped its hectic race into the sky, settling for a position just short of midday, although it had taken only minutes to reach that point in the sky. As they flew past a particularly high peak, Wendy saw something bright rise up out of the jungle and streak towards them, leaving a trail of sparkling dust behind it. Peter hadn't slowed and they appeared to leave whatever it was behind them, but that was not the case. The glowing trail overtook them as they circled behind a snowy ridge, the creature that produced the glittering wake circling around them both with the sound of an angry bee. Wendy couldn't tell if it was a bird or a bug, the creature moving too fast to discern it's nature, but that all changed when she felt it grab hold of her hair and pull. Hard.

Reflexively Wendy let go of Peter's hand and grabbed her hair, attempting to relieve the pressure on her stinging scalp. With Peter's magic no longer buoying her up she started to plummet, her body twisting as she fell, her screams piercing as she gave in to understandable panic. Peter swore loudly and dove downwards, the glowing creature that had caused the upset staying where it was and watching intently. Peter put on a burst of speed and managed to get under Wendy, catching her in his arms before she hit the canopy of jungle waiting to swallow her up. The force of the collision knocked the wind out of Wendy and she lay gasping in his arms as he flew them both towards a small hilltop, bare of vegetation. When he touched down he lowered Wendy's legs for her to stand, her knees buckling as soon as they touched the ground, the poor girl fainting dead away in his arms.

"Wendy?" Peter called to her in a panic,but she didn't rouse, her body boneless and insensible. Kneeling down he gently lay her down among the sweet grasses, his hand cradling her head. The mischief making sprite was slowly flying downwards to where Peter crouched, her sparkling trail not so brightly lit as before when she's been so furious. Now she was just curious to see if she'd killed the horrid Wendy creature for good this time. She buzzed around Peter's head, careful to keep beyond his arms reach, her body dancing back and forth to get a better view of the girl laying on the ground.

"Is she dead?" Tink was imprudent enough to ask. Like a snake striking, Peter closed his hand around his fairy companion and held the creature prisoner.

"If Wendy breathes her last, you will follow her within seconds!"

Tink stared in some consternation into Peter's furious face, her aura of smug satisfaction turning to a pale glow of apology, her sudden change of temper not appeasing the young man holding her.

"And don't think I'll forgive your for this days mischief. I banish you from my sight, Tinkerbell. Be gone and don't come back."

Opening his hand he flung the fairy sprite as far as he could, the creature hitting the ground in a shower of fairy dust, one wing sadly crumpled from his rough handling. Disbelieving, Tink rose into the air and tried to approach him, her former buzz of anger turning to the tinkling sound of tiny bells as she tried to mollify his anger with her show of contrition. Peter remained unmoved, his attention all on the girl still laying unconscious at his feet.

"Go away Tink....this is one prank you won't wheedle your way out of this time."

In a flash of temper, Tink turned bright red and tiny flames danced around her body like she'd caught fire. Incensed, she flew directly at Peter's face, his hand swatting at her as if she was an insect. Just barely avoiding his attempt to brush her off, Tink flew up and away into the sky, a red ball of outrage, her passage marked by a thin trail of smoke.

Peter sat on his haunches and stared down at Wendy, his brows pulled together in a fierce scowl as he contemplated how to wake her from her insensate state. He remembered a story about a princess awoken from her slumber by a kiss, the idea making him laugh at the time he'd heard it. Now it didn't seem so fanciful having experienced the magical qualities of a kiss for himself. Bending down he pressed his warm lips to Wendy's, moving them over hers but getting no answering pressure for his efforts. Pulling back he stared down at her face and marveled anew at how her features seemed to please him so much.

Like all boys Peter had his share of arrogant over-confidence, sure in himself that he could charm the birds from the trees if he only put his mind to it. Girls were not that dissimilar to birds, their chatter reminding him of a flock of parrots sometimes. He'd known many girls in his travels between his world and theirs, their reactions to his appearance ranging from lascivious curiosity to shrieking terror. Only a few merited bringing to Neverland, and among those few only one had held his interest for more than one visit. That interest hadn't waned one fraction, and now with the discovery of kissing, his curiosity was starting to know no bounds.

In all the many years that he'd lived in Neverland, he never, before now, felt the need for a human female companion, his memories of his mother giving him a dread of managing women who only wanted to plan his future down to the smallest detail. Peter had been happy to be the eternal boy, the children brought to his world as his companions more than enough of a diversion for his insatiable need to be Master and Commander of his world. When Peter had told Wendy that timed passed differently in Neverland he was telling the truth, but only up to a point. True, Neverland had it's own way of counting the years, but more truly, Neverland slowed time down to keep the reason for its creation alive for as long as possible. Maybe not immortal, but as close as the magical world could render.

Neverland was a world separate from the one Wendy inhabited. Here were none of the mechanical marvels that were turning Wendy's world into one barely recognizable to anyone born the previous century. Machines were being invented and put into use faster than people could become used to them, and war was looming ever closer on the horizon. Neverland was bubble in time, a place where seventeenth century pirates still sailed the seas in eighteenth century ships, the Jolly Roger held captive in the waters around the island, another plaything to relieve the Pan's boredom and provide the excitement needed to keep him also a captive. But Neverland could not entirely stop the Pan from growing, from the tiny babe first brought to it's shores, carried on the dreams and desires of the fairies, to the strapping young man now it's master, the island could only watch him grow, knowing that eventually it's magic would not be sufficient to keep him within it's boundaries unless they let him go beyond and explore the real world of humans with all it's temptations.

Now it waited patiently for it's purpose to make his choice, whether to fly for the last time back to the world beyond the stars, or to stay within it's sheltering cocoon, the human world left to it's own devices.

It could only watch and wait, its creatures both magical and mortal held in thrall while their protector, sustainer and creator made the ultimate choice.

For now, such weighty consideration were not uppermost in Peter's mind, his entire focus on the slim girl laying at his feet.

At length Wendy started to recover from her swoon, her eyelids fluttering as she regained her senses. Peter leant over her, shading her face from the sun, her first view of Neverland after her fall being Peter's concerned face peering down at her.

"Wendy?"

"Oh my head...what happened?"

"Tink happened."

"Tink?"

"I've banished her, so you don't have to worry about her again, at least until I forgive her."

"Tink?" Wendy repeated, accepting his hand to help her sit upright.

"Tinkerbell....she's a fairy with a horrible temper."

"A fairy? But surely, there's no such thing as....." Wendy got no further, Peter's hand clamping over her mouth to stop her saying the fateful words that would condemn a fairy somewhere to drop down dead.

"Don't ever say that Wendy. To say that is the death of a fairy somewhere, usually the closest to you when you say it. Please, not even in jest." He lifted his hand and Wendy nodded her compliance.

"I'm sorry...I didn't know. I promise I won't say it again...ever." She smiled shyly, Peter returning her smile with a sunny grin of his own. Jumping to his feet he spun around like a boy half his age, his arms flung out wide in joyous abandon.

"Welcome to Neverland Wendy!"

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Chapter: Two - Wonders to Explore

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Wendy stared around at the dense jungle surrounding them, the tall peaks overshadowing them, and wondered how on earth she could have forgotten visiting such a wondrous place. Her initial fright had been transformed into an excited anticipation, the urge to explore this island paradise making her almost jump up and down like a small child. Peter lay flopped on the warm grass, his limbs splayed and his eyes closed, still breathing heavily from his mad twirling dervish impersonation. Above their heads a squadron of lazy white clouds drifted by, careful not to block the sun from the small hillock occupied by the Pan and his companion. While Wendy watched their curious progress, the clouds reached a snowy peak, their color turning from white to dirty grey before bunching all together and releasing their rain burden on the slopes of the mountain. Wendy blinked in bemusement, having never seen clouds behave quite so strangely, but she accepted it as par for the course with a sun that rose with indecent haste into the sky, then stayed in that same position for hours on end.

"This place really is magical," she breathed, hugging herself and drawing the sweet scented air into her lungs with relish. After the dusty, coal laden soot of London, Neverland air seemed as heady as champagne, her small taste at a relatives party her only comparison. As she breathed deeply she felt herself relax, her limbs deliciously limp, all trace of anxiety leaching out of her muscles.

"Peter?"

"Hmmm?"

"You said that when I came before, I didn't want to fly."

"That's right."

"I think I might have changed my mind.....is it really possible for me to fly?"

"U-huh."

"But how?"

"Faith, trust and pixie dust.....oh and a happy thought."

"Really? Sounds awfully...simple."

"I guess it does. I don't usually think too hard about it, it just....is."

"Oh...so you don't need," Wendy waved her hands, "all that?"

"Nope....just comes natural, I suppose." He finally opened his eyes and squinted up at Wendy, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "I've always been able to fly, even when I was small."

"Just how long have you been on this island?" Wendy asked, her eyes wide.

"No idea...a long time, certainly. But exactly how long? You'd have to ask the fairies. They brought me here."

"How......different. So you weren't born here," she waited while Peter shook his head, "do you remember your parents?"

"Not really. I sometimes think I remember my mother leaning over my bed, but I couldn't tell you what she looked like, it's all too hazy."

"But how on earth did you go on, without a mother I mean?"

"Go on?"

"Well," Wendy looked perplexed, "I mean.....who fed you, changed your..." she flapped her hand vaguely, "down there, who bathed you when you were little?"

"I don't know....not my mother, anyway. Maybe I didn't need one," Peter shrugged, already bored with the conversation.

"Oh you poor boy.....you never really had a mother."

"I never really wanted a mother, you mean. Who needs a mother when there's food dropping off the trees, ready and ripe to eat? When there's rivers and streams full of clear, fresh water to drink and fish to be caught and eaten. What has your mother done for you, that you couldn't have done for yourself, if you really tried?" Peter was starting to feel uncomfortable, not at all easy with the idea that he'd missed out on something, or that Wendy somehow pitied him.

Wendy was thinking with all seriousness about his question, her delicate brows pulled together as she pondered an answer. Peter had meanwhile risen to his feet in one lithe move, his hands gravitating to his hips as if he expected a battle, his muscles tense in anticipation.

"I suppose the one thing I've had from my mother, which I couldn't have by myself....is love."

"Pah!," Peter scoffed instantly, flapping his hand dismissively, " the very name offends me!"

Wendy looked a little taken aback with his reaction. "Don't you know what love is, Peter?"

"Love is for fools and sissy's. I don't give a fig for love," he snapped his fingers in her face, "and only idiots prose on about it." Very uncomfortable under Wendy's shocked stare, Peter jumped into the air and hovered above her, extending his hand for her to take. "Let's stop talking about all this stupid stuff. There's so many things to show you....come on!"

"But what about flying?" Wendy asked,deciding not to pursue the argument about feelings for the moment, her hand lifting to take his.

"Oh....right," he huffed, annoyed to have forgotten and already missing the feel of her hand in his when he let it drop while he landed on the soft grass. "Stand over here and think of something that makes you happy." While Wendy thought hard to bring to mind a happy something, Peter opened the pouch at his belt and pulled out a small glass vial with something glittery inside. "Have you thought of something?"

"Yes, thank you."

Peter tilted the small glass bottle and shook out some fairy dust into his palm. Replacing the stopper he put the bottle back in his pouch, then came to hover in front of Wendy, his feet not quite touching the grass. Lifting his hand he held it palm out towards Wendy, the small mound of dust at its center glittering in the sunlight. With a gently pursing of his lips he puffed air over the dust, wafting it in a sparkling cloud into Wendy's face where it settled over her cheeks and hair. Wendy blinked and smiled tentatively, feeling no different from a second before. Peter dusted off his hands and folded them across his chest. Still hovering several inches off the ground he circled around Wendy until he was directly behind her, then he leant over her shoulder.

"Are you thinking that happy thought?"

"Oh yes....but I don't really feel any different. When will I know if I'm flying?"

In answer, Peter circled around to face her, his face split with a wide grin. Flicking his eyes downwards, he cocked an eyebrow, Wendy following his gaze to find herself floating quite free of the ground, several feet in the air. Peter wasn't touching her, his arms still folded across his chest, so that Wendy understood that she was doing it all by her own efforts, with a little help from the pixie dust.

"Oh Peter....oh my....." her face was a picture of wonder and delight, her arms lifting of their own accord away from her body, which tilted her slightly a she continued to rise. "Er...Peter? How do I turn, or go forward, or anything?"

Her instructor laughed and reached for her hand, tugging her around to face in the other direction, inordinately happy that Wendy still needed him after all. "Just hold tight, you'll get the hang of it in time. Watch what I do and you'll catch on."

He flew off with Wendy in tow, the jungle passing below them at a faster and faster rate until Wendy called to him to slow down, her new found confidence eroded by fear. They had passed over a vast tract of heavily forested land, the far side of the forest giving way to open grassland, the plain dotted with herds of animals of many different breeds including deer and antelope, goats and sheep all grazing together in apparent harmony. Peter brought them lower so that they almost skimmed the fluffy fronds of the taller grasses, Wendy laughing when they tickled her toes. The animals, which had been peacefully grazing, took off at a gallop when the strange flying creatures dipped and swooped over their heads.

Palm trees appeared up ahead and Peter didn't slow, Wendy letting out a small shriek as Peter dove into and between the tall, slender trunks, weaving in and out with Wendy still in tow. Fortunately the belt of palm trees was relatively shallow, Peter and Wendy emerging on the other side to find a wide, gleaming stretch of sand gently washed by a clear blue sea, the water so transparent Wendy could see hermit crabs scuttling along the bottom of the shell strewn bay. For a second Peter hovered over the sparkling water then went to fly onwards, but found Wendy's hand had slipped from his, her attention taken by the myriad fish darting below her in the water. Entranced by the silver flashes of fish across the sandy bottom, she lay staring face down at them, her face wreathed in smiles, her hair falling forward to screen her face. She lifted her head to beam at Peter who returned her smile for a second, his expression changing in an instant from a smile to a frown, his mouth opening to shout a warning just as something surged out of the water and reached for Wendy. Peter was faster and managed to grab Wendy's gown and tug her upwards and out of the reach of the enraged mermaid thrashing below. The calm sea was a froth of disturbed water, the creature beating the water with its muscular tail, spray arcing high into the air as Peter and Wendy hovered higher up. Peter could feel Wendy shaking from her close call, staring wide eyed as the mythical mermaid sank below the water and sped away with powerful thrusts of its tail flukes. Flying them both back to the beach, Peter set Wendy down on the pristine white sand and peered anxiously into her face.

“Are you alright?”

“I think so......was that a-a-a mermaid?”

“Nasty creatures, and that's when they behave themselves. Don't ever let one catch you in the water, it'll sweetly drown you before you could cry out or escape.”

“How horrid. I always thought they were kind and rescued drowning sailors, or so the stories tell.”

“More like they would be drowning the men or carrying them off to Neptune's Lair as slaves.”

“Neptune? But surely.......he's.....” She saw one dark eyebrow start to rise, “.....not....” A grin tilted Peter's lips as he waited for her to finish, “......real?”

“I'll take you to meet him sometime. Neptune isn't as bad as he makes out, as long as you don't disturb him or try to steal his horde.”

“Oh my,” Wendy murmured to herself.

“And then there's the pirates,” Peter announced apropos of nothing, a wicked gleam in his eye. Wendy started and turned to stare once more.

“Pirates?” She swallowed, “ did I meet them last time I came here?”

“Meet the pirates?” Peter hooted, slapping his knee and doubling up. “You don't want to meet the pirates. They're as bad as the mermaids, but instead of drowning you, they'd as sooner slit your throat or make you walk the plank!”

“Good Lord,” Wendy whispered, thoroughly alarmed. “Is there anyone on this island that doesn't what to kill you as soon as look at you?”

As if suddenly realizing that he wasn't painting Neverland as a particularly attractive place, Peter looked nonchalant and tried to brush off her worries. “The pirates tend to sail around the waters of the Black Castle and the Mermaids usually stay near Mermaid Lagoon or further out into the Four Points sea.” He leant forward as if imparting a secret. “They like to keep an eye on what the pirates are doing.”

“I see.” Wendy looked doubtful but smiled gamely. “So apart from yourself, there are pirates, mermaids, fairies....?” She looked expectantly at Peter, who looked blank for a moment then realized she wanted him to tell her who else inhabited Neverland.

“Oh right......well apart from them, there's the Lost Boy's....”

“Lost Boy's?”

“They're sort of my....er...soldiers. I live with them, usually, and we plan battles and strategies against the pirates, as well as the Piccaninies......”

“And they are?” Wendy interrupted, raising her eyebrows this time.

“You met them before.....but you wouldn't remember, I guess. They are the Redskins......er....Red Indian's that live beside the Green River. I introduced you to the Chief and Tiger Lily.” Peter told her, his brow furrowing for a second, “For some reason I didn't get the feeling you liked the Princess, I don't know why.” Unknown to Peter, Wendy had taken an instant, and quite irrational dislike to the Indian Princess, trusting her feelings despite not remembering them.

“Is the Princess beautiful?” Wendy tried to appear unconcerned with the answer, shading her eyes from the sun and peering over the bay to the distant horizon.

“You thought so, when you first saw Lily, but not long afterwards you had this look on your face,” he shrugged, “I don't know....for some reason you and she just didn't hit it off.”

“I see,” said Wendy, seeing far more than Peter on this matter. “So apart from the Lost Boys and the, er Piccaninies, is there anyone else I should know about?”

“Not really, but you never know in Neverland. Unusual people and new animals turn up at the oddest times and in the strangest places.”

“Goodness. Don't you know where they come from?”

“Not really. Oh, there is one thing you should be careful of, in fact I'd make a point of keeping well clear of it, if I were you.”

“What Peter, what is it?”

“The Crocodile. It's not your ordinary croc, this one is huge,” he spread his arms wide, “with the biggest teeth and the wickedest temper. You can usually hear it coming because it ticks, like a clock...”

“It what?” Wendy exclaimed, laughing nervously and half hoping that Peter was only teasing.

“Ticks, like a clock. It swallowed an alarm clock and you can hear it ticking. Sometimes the alarm goes off as well, as an added warning.”

“How did a crocodile, even a big one, come to swallow an alarm clock?”

“Because Hook threw the clock at the creature to distract it after it bit off his hand!”

“Good Lord, how dreadful, the poor man!”

Peter looked askance, not expecting his enemy to garner pity. “James Hook is a pirate and not worth your pity!”

“But to have lost his hand...” Wendy reproved, her soft heart imagining some poor sailor with a grievous injury. Peter scowled at her angrily.

“Hook manages quite well for a pirate with only one hand. He quickly replaced it with a wickedly sharp hook which he uses for gutting and slitting throats without turning a hair, so don't feel sorry for him. He wouldn't feel sorry for you!”

“A pirate?”

“My enemy and yours. Captain Hook would not hesitate to put you to the plank, so don't spare any pity for him.”

Wendy stared at Peter, noting his high color and tense body, correctly deducing that this Captain Hook was a considerable thorn in Peter's side. “I'll remember what you said Peter, if I'm every captured by the scurvy rat.”

“I'll teach you to fight with a sword so you can defend yourself,” Peter offered, drawing his blade from over his shoulder and pretending to fight a fierce battle with an imaginary foe, the steel blade cutting and slicing the air with quite vicious precision. Wendy watched admiringly, her eyes bright, clapping when Peter finally finished his demonstration of swordsmanship by tossing the blade end over end before catching it in his hand and sheathing the sword once more. Peter looked pleased with himself and gave her a small bow to acknowledge her applause. Wendy found herself having to stifle a jaw-cracking yawn as the long hours without sleep caught up with her.

“Oh please excuse me, it's just I haven't been sleeping well and I'm just a bit tired,” she explained, ignoring the quick frown of annoyance that crossed her companions face. “Maybe you should show me where you live?”

“I suppose so. Maybe you'll remember it, you've been there twice already.” Taking her hand he took a step and leapt into the air. This time Wendy was ready and leapt with him so that they lifted effortlessly into the sky and above the tree tops. Leaving the bay behind them, Peter flew speedily towards the heart of the forest, the trees densely packed like a carpet beneath them. Without warning, Peter dove straight down towards the topmost branches, Wendy drawing in a breath of alarm before finding herself plunged into the canopy and surrounded by leaves on all sides. Miraculously they avoided being speared or snagged by any of the branches, Peter leading them through the filtered green sunlight as if following a well trodden path. Wendy barely had time to take in the fluttering green leaves and dense jungle before Peter pulled her through what appeared to be a thick hedge, the leaves parting before him like a wave and closing behind her just as mysteriously. On the other side was a clearing carpeted with a variety of flowers and low growing plants forming a circle around the base of a tree. Peter set them down, Wendy's feet cushioned by the flowers and sinking in ankle deep. Dropping her hand, Peter raised his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle, the sudden sound making Wendy clap her hands over her ears in protest. Before she could remonstrate with him the tree seemed to sprout a multitude of openings, camouflaged hatches swinging open and disgorging several small bodies as if catapulted from the inside. Wendy took a step back as the furred and feathered bundles unwound themselves to reveal a motley collection of young boys, all of them heavily armed with a variety of cudgels, knives and bows. Peter stood where he'd landed, his feet braced apart and his arms folded across his chest. Wendy edged to stand behind him as the assorted weapons carried by the boys seemed all to be pointed at her. In the silence that followed Wendy could hear the soft swish of the leaves above their heads as the wind rustled the branches while birds chirruped and squawked overhead. In a blink the tableau disintegrated, the Lost Boys lowering their weapons and relaxing their martial stance on recognizing their Captain and his companion.

“Oh, its just that girl again,” one particularly grubby individual commented disparagingly. Lowering his tomahawk, he tucked it in to his belt and rolled his eyes at Peter. “Couldn't you get rid of her this time Peter?”

“Shut up Crate,” Peter growled, scowling at his henchman. The other's took their cue and kept their comments to themselves, staring round eyed and warily at Wendy, who still stood half behind Peter and peered back at them with equal caution. “Line up men!” Peter ordered, his troops hastily sorting themselves into a ragged line according to height. Peter unfolded his arms and clasped his hands behind his back before marching down the line to inspect the boys ranged before him. Wendy thought the whole scene very comical and had to swallow hard to stifle the giggles welling up in her chest. His inspection finished, Peter turned and held out his hand for Wendy. “This is my Wendy, as you know, she's here to stay this time.”

“Oh no, Peter really, it was just for a visit....” Wendy protested faintly, but her voice was drowned out by a the outraged and angry arguing of the Lost Boys. Peter clapped his hands over his ears as the boys gathered around him, the one called Crate shouting the loudest between shooting scowling looks at Wendy.

“QUIET!” Peter bellowed, cutting short the many and colorful arguments being debated on all sides. “I'm Captain here and what I say goes. Now cut line and get out of my sight!” He punctuated his order with a sweep of his arm, the boys scattering and darting away into the jungle, the clearing miraculously clear of noise and bodies within seconds. Wendy stood a little aback, wringing her hands and biting her bottom lip as Peter hung his head and breathed heavily, fighting to control his temper.

“Peter?”

“Forget them, forget them all. What I say goes, and I say you're here to stay.”

“But Peter...don't I have a say in the matter?”

For a second Peter maintained his ferocious scowl, then just as quickly it was gone and his expression cleared. Grinning, he flung out his arms and made Wendy a handsome bow, his eyes alight with laughter. “Of course you don't Wendy, this is Neverland and I am it's King. Now you are it's Queen, and a Queen always does what the King wants.”

“What if the Queen decides to abdicate?” Wendy muttered, unable to entirely repress the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth at his engaging grin.

“Then the King would just have to persuade the Queen that she really wants to stay and keep him company. You will stay, won't you Wendy?”

“For a little while,” Wendy agreed, dipping into a curtsy, her eyes lowered as her nightdress swept the ground. On rising she found Peter had moved so that they almost bumped noses, his lips covering hers in an intense but brief kiss before he moved away and drew her after him.

“Come on, I want to show you the Hollow, it's where we live, at least for this week.”

“This week? Don't you live here all the time?”

“Nah! We have half a dozen hidden hideouts scattered all over Neverland. If we stayed all the time in just one, the Pirates would have us dead to rights. So instead we move between them, a different one each week. It keeps the Pirates confused and incapable of finding us.”

“I suppose that's a good reason, but hardly comfortable, I'd have thought.”

Peter was standing beside the broad trunk of the enormous tree, leaning against the rough bark with a smug grin on his face. When he had Wendy's attention, he poked a finger into a knot-hole, the action precipitating a large area of the trunk to swing outwards and reveal a doorway into the tree. Wendy gasped and bent forward to peer into the darkness.

“How clever, I never would have thought to look there.”

“Follow me, and keep close or the booby-traps will get you.”

“Booby-traps?” Wendy asked in some trepidation, clutching Peter's hand as he led her reluctantly forward into the dark maw.

“Trust me Wendy, I won't let them get you,” Peter whispered, his voice sounding strange within the confines of the tree trunk, Wendy clutching at his fingers as they started down a spiral staircase cut into the living heart of the tree. Wendy couldn't see a thing in the darkness, her senses reaching out as they slowly made their way down below ground level. She could smell the damp sweet smell of freshly dug earth as well as the aroma of fresh cut timber. Her free hand braced her against the wall of the hideout, her fingers brushing over the fibrous walls that felt almost spongy under her fingertips.

“Nearly there,” Peter voice floated to her out of the darkness, her feet stumbling a little on the uneven stairs as they continued down into the roots of the tree. Down below Wendy could see light starting to highlight the stairwell from a archway at the bottom, the golden glow a welcome sight after the suffocating darkness. Wendy crowded past Peter to enter the large room that opened out from the stairwell. She felt relieved to be free of the confining entrance and looked about the room with interest. Peter had left her and sauntered over to what looked like a large, barbaric throne, the high back made of smoothly polished wood hung all about with animal skins, shells and feathers. Supremely at his ease, Peter undid the vine holding his sword harness, dropping it to the floor before sitting down and looping one long brown leg up and over the armrest, his foot swinging as he watched Wendy explore the hideout. Brushing off her skirts she stepped forward and tilted her head to look up at the ceiling several feet above her head. Spidery roots hung down through the earth while bigger roots twisted and writhed around the walls. Several niches had been carved out of the soil to form what Wendy supposed were sleeping bays for the boys, the alcoves lined with more animal furs or soft grasses for bedding. The floor had been lined with soft moss to fill in the hollows in the dirt and provide a soft carpet underfoot. Around the walls blazed small lamps made out of large sea shells, their flames kept well away from the dry roots while providing a steady and bright light. In all it was warm, dry and very cozy

“What do you think?” Peter asked, appearing quite nonchalant while he picked at his nails with a sharp knife, but Wendy could tell that he was actually keenly awaiting her verdict.

“Very......homely. Although I have never lived in a burrow underground, I would say that this is a very snug and comfortable home Peter. Are your other hideouts as comfortable as this one?”

“Some are, some aren't,” Peter replied enigmatically, thumping the tip of the knife into the wooden arm of the chair and launching himself off the throne. “You said you were tired, so you can sleep here if you want to.” He indicated an animal skin hanging on the wall, sweeping it back with his arm to reveal a much larger alcove dug into the wall of the room, the roof and walls covered in small roots that twisted and wove around each other to form a bower. Each root was smooth as if polished, holding the earth back and making a secure cradle for the bed. A multitude of animal skins of many different hues and sizes lay scattered over the surface of the bed, some heaped up to form a pillow at the head and all looking soft and inviting. Wendy smiled tentatively at Peter before hitching up her skirt and climbing up onto the bed, her fingers digging into the soft furs as she turned to kneel in the center of the soft mattress and turned to face Peter. He had secured the animal skin curtain back so that she could see out into the room and now stood waiting for her to speak. Suddenly shy, Wendy blushed and concentrated on stroking the different types of furs.

“This is your bed, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“It's very nice Peter. Did you.....er.....kill all these animals yourself?”

“No,” Peter laughed, “I traded with the Indians for them. They make the best and softest furs.”

“What did you use for trade?” Wendy asked, curious. She was well aware that animal fur in her world was highly prized, her mother owning only a few pieces herself while her Aunt Millicent owned a fine collection of muffs and silky fur collars, all of them costly. Peter shrugged.

“Pearls mostly, sometimes coral. They use them to decorate their dresses and headbands. The mermaids find them for me.”

Thinking of her mother's highly prized but small, single strand pearl necklace, Wendy nodded her head. “Pearls would be a fine trade for these lovely furs. And of course, you can always eat the oysters.”

A brief expression of disgust crossed Peter's face before he hopped up on the side of the bed himself and swung his legs. “Oh we don't eat them. They can't keep producing pearls if we keep eating them. No, they give up the pearls to the Mermaids who give them to me in tribute after they've picked out what they want for themselves.”

“So the pearls are like money on Neverland.....I see.”

“I suppose so. Do you like my bed?”

“It's very comfortable. It seems much bigger than the other beds......” Wendy halted her observations, realizing the implications of what she'd just said. “I mean......I suppose because you're the biggest....er the tallest.....oh dear.” She blushed bright red and ducked her head, hiding behind the curtain of her hair. Peter appeared not to notice anything amiss with her statement and blithely linked his hands behind his head and lay back on the furs.

“Well of course. I'm the King, and Kings always have the biggest bed, don't they?”

“Of course, I had forgot. So as Queen, do I get a big bed too?”

“Yeah, you get this one, if you want it?”

“Oh I don't think that would be entirely proper Peter. The other's would, well....I don't think the Lost Boy's would like me to be sleeping in your bed.”

“Why not? Kings and Queens sleep together, don't they?”

“Well actually, from what I've read about royalty, I don't think they even sleep in the same palace, let alone the same bed!”

“Then how do they have princes and princesses?” Peter asked, turning on his side and propping his head on his hand. Wendy didn't know what to do with herself, the alcove seemingly full of Peter and the air suddenly very thin.

“Um.....I'm not sure we should be having this conversation.”

Peter frowned. “Don't you know where children come from?” He asked, looking at her pityingly.

“Don't be stupid, of course I know where children come from, I'm fifteen for heaven's sake......do you?”

“I'm not stupid, I've seen where babies come from at the Indian village......and anyway, how did we get on to this talk about babies.” Suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed, Peter flung himself onto his back again and stared frowningly up at the roof of the alcove. “Girls always have to talk about blasted babies,” he muttered, rolling onto his other side and presenting his golden brown back to Wendy.

“Well it's not my fault,” Wendy replied heatedly, “you started talking about Kings and Queens and princes and whatnot.”

“I thought you were tired,” Peter growled from the end of the bed.

“I am, and if you'll remove yourself from the bed I'll have a little lie down and close my eyes.” Wendy nudged him with her toe before scooting back up to the head of the bed. With an aggrieved sigh, Peter sat up and slid off the bed before marching back over to the throne and throwing himself into it. Wendy watched him for a second or two before carefully stretching out on the luxurious furs and laying on her side.

“Peter?”

“Yes.”

“I know you said something about days here being only hours back home, but is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. But you do realize I can't stay here forever, even if it is longer than I stayed before?”

“Maybe.”

“Peter?”

“Go to sleep Wendy. The Lost Boys won't be back for a while, but I'll stay and keep watch.”

“I just need a little nap,” she yawned, her eyes already feeling heavy as she snuggled into the soft furs. Once more her eyelids rose, as if to check that Peter was still sitting in his ornately decorated chair, before slowly closing as Wendy gave in to the lull of the soft furs and fell asleep, her cheek pillowed on her palm. Peter swung his foot back and forth over the arm of his throne, watching the girl on his bed slip into dreamland, a smile curving her sweet lips. Somewhere inside him a feeling started to grow, a warmth that was only a spark now, but just as a spark can grow into a blazing fire, so this spark inside him felt as if it could grow to encompass the world. Being supremely confident, he didn't attribute the sensation to nerves or insecurity, but instead decided it was just the way that Wendy made him feel, like the jolt he felt every time she turned her smile on him, her eyes lighting up when they met his, the glow inside making his heart thump and his muscles twitch until he wanted to explode in all directions. Then there was the feeling he got when his lips had touched hers that first time. It was as if an ember had jumped between them, a crackle of energy that acted like magnetism and drew him back again, and again. Even in the glade above, he felt the overwhelming urge to see if the ember was still there, his curiosity urging him to kiss her again, the sensation as alive and vibrant as the first time. He wanted to ask her if she felt it too, but his tongue tied itself up in knots and the question remained unasked. He had to find a way to make sure that she never left Neverland, never left him. The two previous times he'd brought her to his island she been in an all fire hurry to return home, despite apparently enjoying her time with him and the fun they'd had together. This time he wasn't prepared to let her return home, sure in his own mind that if he did let her go, he'd never entice her back again or worse, she not ever want to see him again. So she was here to stay, forever and ever, she was his choice from all the others, she was the one, there would be no others. A yawn suddenly interrupted his musings and he opened his mouth wide, his jaw cracking as he sucked air into his lungs. A moment before he'd felt wide awake, but now he felt the pull of sleep on his eyelids, his chin sinking to his chest as weariness stole over him. Slumped on his throne, he dozed fitfully, his head jerking up every few minutes as he shifted to find a more comfortable spot. At last he gave up the unequal battle and got up, making his way over to the couch where Wendy slumbered peacefully. Divesting himself of his remaining weapons, pouch, pan pipes and other paraphernalia, he crawled onto the bed and up behind Wendy, the bed wide enough to hold them both in comfort. Wendy was still on her side, her back to him, so he lay as she did, staring for a moment as the cascade of hair flowing over the pillow and her shoulders to half way down her back. Careful not to touch her, he lifted a length of her hair and let it fall through his fingers, his mouth opening on another enormous yawn as he settled down to sleep, his eyes drifting shut as Wendy's steady breathing lulled him into a doze. Just before he dropped off, he jerked upright and flicked the animal skin curtain he'd pulled back before, the skin falling forward to seal the alcove off from the room beyond, light leaking in around the edges so that they lay in a faint gloom, safe and secure in a world of their own.

Wendy awoke several hours later to the sound of voices on the other side of the hide curtain. They were hushed and muted and she could only make out one word in ten, but curiosity kept her still, her body warm and relaxed against the furs as she listened intently.

“I say it don't mean anything good for us if she's here,” one of the voices announced loudly, only to be shushed by others.

“Keep ya voice down Crate, we knows how you feels,”

“We managed to get her to leave the last two times, what's so different about this time?”

“He's never brought a mort more than once to Neverland. This one's been here three times now. You don't think that's significant?”

“What's significant mean?”

“Important.”

“Oh....ta.”

“Stow it Squid. I say this time she's here for good. So how are we going to get rid of her?”

“Why do we need to get rid of her?”

“Stupid twit. This one is different. There's only one reason he's brought the mort here to Neverland to stay.”

“Why Crate, why?”

“Cos' he's gonna marry her!”

A muted chorus of awed voices chittered for a second or two before being shushed.

“Hush the lot of ya, you'll wake them up!”

“How do ya know that what he wants with her?”

“Lawd Grub, it's obvious?”

“What's obvious mean?”

“Easy to see,”

“Oh.....ta.”

“He could just want her to cook and clean for us......like a maid or something?”

“A gentry mort like that ain't a maid.”

“She could be here to be our mother?”

“I don't need no stinkin' mother, neither does Peter.....no, she's here for another reason and it can only bode ill for us.”

“I thought she was pretty.”

“Hah! You aint no judge Rat. You think flowers are pretty and rainbows and butterflies!”

“Well, they are....”

“One day your daydreaming will get you caught by the pirates for sure.”

“No it won't.....I'm always the one that warns the rest of you.”

“That's true. Rat has the best hearing......”

“We're not talking about Rat, we're talking about her and how to get rid of her!”

“Well Peter might have something to say about that Crate.”

“Shut up Harry and keep your hoity toity views to yourself.”

“I've got as much right as you to speak Crate, you're not the leader here.”

“Maybe not now, but that could change.”

“Crate, what are you saying?”

“Nuffin....this is stupid talk. All I want to know is how to get rid of the mort.”

“Well I suggest we talk to Peter, find out why she's here...maybe she won't want to stay.”

A murmur of voices in agreement drowned out the next comment, and then it was silent for a while. Wendy lay listening intently, her senses stretching out to the room beyond. Her heart was thumping unevenly, her fingers pleating the bodice of her night gown as she waited to hear what fate the Lost Boys had in mind for her. She had never understood the old adage about eavesdroppers hearing no good about themselves, but now she realized how true the old saying was. Despite knowing that the voices belonged to children not much older or younger than her brothers, their intent sent a chill down her spine, their obvious dislike of her making her want to cry. She must have made a sound because the next thing she knew, a warm hand had captured hers and Peter spoke softly in the darkness.

“I won't let them hurt you Wendy. I'm the captain here and what I say is the law. Don't be afraid.”

Taking care to make as little sound as possible, Wendy turned over so that she faced Peter, his face barely discernible in the gloom.

“You are making a habit of being in my bed, Peter Pan!” Wendy whispered, both angry and immeasurably pleased that he was by her side.

“Well it was my bed first,” Peter argued, also whispering.

“They don't want me here Peter,” Wendy whispered back, “they don't like me.”

“They don't know you Wendy. I want you here and that's all thats important.”

“Am I to be your servant, your maid?”

“No.”

“Then.....” Wendy swallowed. “Did you bring me here to marry me?”

“NO!” Peter hissed, only just stopping himself from shouting the word out loud.

“Then why did you bring me here? If you don't know, how do you expect them to understand?”

“They don't need to understand, they just have to obey orders.”

“Well that won't work.......maybe I should just go home.”

“No. Wendy....please. I want you to stay...to stay with me. You've seen them, they're children, not like you. I need you.....I....”

“Alright Peter......I'll stay, at least for a little while. But what are you going to do about them?”

“Leave them to me Wendy.” Peter's whispered affirmation went a long way in dispelling some of Wendy's trepidation. They lay facing each other, an inch apart, wrapped in the cocoon of the bed, lost in the moment. Leaning forward, Peter pressed his lips to hers, the darkness making the experience more exciting as Wendy responded and tilted her head to give him greater access. Where it would all have led was never to be found out as a loud noise beyond the alcove jerked them apart and Peter swept back the animal skin curtain before leaping off the bed to face his band of boys.

The Lost Boys sat on the floor of the Hollow in a ragged circle. As one they rose to their feet and faced their leader. The tallest stepped forward and pointed a grubby finger at Wendy who sat on the side of the bed watching.

“What's with her Peter? Is she staying for good?”

“What's it to you Crate if she is?”

The younger boy bristled and drew himself up to increase his height. Even so, he was a good inch shorter than Peter who remained relaxed but alert, his arms folded over his chest as he waited for Crate to speak.

“Is she to be our skivvy or your.....” Crate didn't finish, just looked over at Wendy and leered horribly.

Peter remained unperturbed, shifting his weight from one hip to the other as if uncaring of the answer. Wendy sat tensely and watched with wide eyes.

“If Wendy wants to help out with the chores that's up to her to decide. As for the other......that's none of your damn business Crate. I'm Captain and what I say goes......unless you want to issue a challenge?”

“Oh no Peter, Crate didn't mean.....” one of the other boys spoke up only to be silenced by a look from the taller boy.

“I don't need you speakin' on my behalf Grub....I can speak for myself.”

“Yes.......I noticed.” Peter dropped his relaxed stance and stood with his arms at his sides, his muscles tense. “Choose your weapons Crate and lets get this over with.”

For a second the group of boys stared wide eyed at Peter, then suddenly they started to whoop and holla, jumping up and down and rushing around the Hollow in what seemed to Wendy to be a chaotic scramble. Peter and Crate stood still among the chaos while the others leapt and gamboled about them. Totally confused, Wendy slid off the bed and stood clutching at the skin curtain for support.

“What's happening?” She asked, Peter half turning his head to acknowledge her question.

“Crate has issued a challenge, and I must answer it. It won't take long.”

“A challenge...you mean a duel?”

“Stupid mort......we're going to fight of course!” Crate snarled, his dark eyes never leaving Peter's face. “I choose daggers and rope.”

“I agree.” Peter's answer was almost drowned out by the howling boys, the noise like wolves as they scattered about the room, disappearing up a series of concealed tunnels towards the outside. Crate was the last to leave, sauntering over to his bed and collecting his knife. Tossing it casually into the air, Crate left the Hollow via a concealed tunnel leaving Peter and Wendy alone. With Crate's departure, Peter turned to face Wendy, his body losing it's tense stance as he approached the bed. Wendy stared at him wide eyed, not at all sure of what she'd just witnessed.

“Peter, are you really going to fight that boy?”

“It's the law Wendy. He challenged, I accepted.”

“But.....but.....”

“Don't you think I can win?” Peter asked, pulling a rueful expression.

“Of course you'll win. You're taller, stronger and you can fly.”

“Yes, I suppose those could all be advantages, but then you've never seen Crate fight.”

“Is he good?”

“The best there ever was in hand to hand combat.”

“Oh Peter......you don't really mean to hurt each other, do you?”

“You'll just have to watch and find out.”

Rummaging among the furs, Peter produced a leather scabbard which he attached to his vine belt before holding out his hand for Wendy to take. “Come on, they'll be waiting for us.” Once more he led her up the spiral staircase carved within the heart of the tree, the journey seeming to be much shorter this time. Wendy had to shade her eyes when they stepped through the bark doorway, the sun still high in the sky despite the passage of time since she'd arrived. Peter dropped her hand and led the way towards a path that disappeared into the jungle. Wendy followed, all the while looking around and wondering where the Lost Boys were hiding. After a short walk they arrived as what looked like an earthen amphitheater. The bowl like depression had gently sloping grass covered sides and a large circular beaten earth floor. The Lost Boys were seated around the grassy edge while Crate stood in the center of the circle of flattened dirt, tossing his knife repeatedly into the air and catching it. Each toss made the blade catch the sun, flashing wickedly sharp before being caught deftly by its owner again.

“Stay up here Wendy.........this shouldn't take long.”

“Be careful Peter......” Wendy whispered, standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Peter grinned and turned to leave, jumping down the broad grassy steps to reach the bottom of the amphitheater while the other Lost Boy's scattered to seat themselves at vantage points around the terraces. Wendy seated herself on the grass and tucked her skirts around her, her hands shaking a little at the prospect of the fight to come. Peter looked relaxed and confident as he stood while one of the Lost Boys bound his left wrist to the other boys' forearm, their difference in height now not so apparent. Peter had drawn his knife and held it in his right hand. The remaining Lost boys seemed to have split themselves into two groups, one to cheer on Crate, the others to cheer their Captain, Peter. Wendy sat in splendid isolation and watched the proceeding with interest and a little fear. The boy that had bound Peter and Crates wrists now stood back and raised his arms to silence the watchers.

“The first to draw blood is the winner,” the boy announced, waiting for the combatants to nod their agreement before continuing. “If Captain Pan wins, then she stays, unharmed and unmolested. If Crate wins, she's out of here!” His speech finished, the boy scrambled out of the arena and seated himself with his friends. Almost at once the boys started up chants to encourage and support their side of the fight, the air filled with shrill voices and loud shouting. Wendy watched in horrid fascination as the two young men, bound together, started to circle around each other, their bound arms held out at full length to give them room to move. The shorter boy gave his arm a sharp tug, pulling Peter closer while at the same time snaking out his right arm to aim his blade at Peter's mid-drift. Wendy pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop herself screaming as the sun caught the wicked blade as it sliced in an arc aimed at Peter's ribs. Pan danced out of reach, the dirt at his feet puffing up in clouds as both fighters pulled and shifted to bring the other closer to the exposed blades. This shuffling dance went on for several seconds while they tested their balance and strength, both staring intently at the other, the jeering crowd watching all but forgotten as they concentrated on the other's blade. Knife blades flashed towards each other at the same time, the clash of metal on metal ringing out as the two boys circled and parried, the dust rising up to obscure Wendy's view of the fight as the combatants jerked and circled each other in a fierce struggle for supremacy. To Wendy it seemed the barbaric dance would never end, but even as she thought it Peter somehow managed to twist his arm and throw Crate off balance, the shorter boy landing on his back from a clever leg tackle by his opponent, Peter ending up straddling Crates chest, his knife pressed to the boys throat. All around the arena both groups of Lost Boys cheered and whooped, saluting both the victor and the vanquished, Wendy only able to stand there and clap her delight in Peter winning the fight.

“Do you surrender?” Peter asked, his chest heaving from the wrestle to lay Crate down.

“Never!” Crate hissed, the press of Peter's knife against his throat not restraining him one whit.

“Then first blood it is,” Peter announced, pressing home his blade and drawing a thin line across the boys neck. Blood instantly welled from the cut and another cheer rose from the onlookers. Peter then cut the rope binding their wrists and climbed up off his adversary, holding out his hand for Crate to take to help him up. Hesitating only a second, Crate took Peter's hand and leapt nimbly to his feet. Both boys were liberally coated in dust and sweat, the trickle of blood very bright against Crates pale skin.

“You win Peter.....the gentry mort stays.”

“Unmolested and unharmed?”

“As you say,” Crate agreed, taking Peter's hand and clasping it briefly before turning away to face his supporters. Peter wiped his blade on his trousers before sheathing it at his belt. Looking up he saw Wendy still standing where he left her, her hands clasped together and held in front of her mouth. Jumping into the air he flew up to where she stood, landing gently beside her, his face split with a triumphant grin.

“I won!”

“I saw.” Wendy was still staring down at the group of Lost Boy's milling around Crate. “I've never seen a fight before.....”

“Oh that was nothing. You should have seen the fight I had when Jack wanted to be the Pan. That was much worse.”

“Which one is Jack?” Wendy asked, scanning the collection of boys below them.

“Jack's no longer one of the Lost Boys,” Peter stated, staring pensively down at the younger boys milling about the arena.

“He's dead?” Wendy asked, shocked at the thought that Peter might have killed another boy.

“No, worse. He joined Hook's crew and became a pirate.”

“A pirate?”

“Black Jack they call him now,” Peter looked up at the sky above their heads, his mood unreadable. “It'll be dark soon, and I need to wash off this dirt. Come with me?”

“Alright.” Wendy slipped her hand into his and they lifted off into the air, the arena and Lost Boys left far behind as they flew over the tops of the trees. Peter flew them to a clearing which held a pool at its heart, the edge fringed with reeds and bull-rushes. On one side was a shallow gravel beach leading down into the water. On the opposite side was a heaped cairn of rounded boulders that reached up over the pool for nearly twenty feet. It looked strange in the middle of the clearing but Wendy didn't worry about the geological oddity as she touched down on the short turf, Peter letting go of her hand straight away.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” Peter crowed, galloping away to clamber up the rocky pile only to leap off into space and plunge into the pool, Wendy's cry of alarm unheard above the tremendous splash of water. Peter's head appeared on the surface and he quickly dived out of sight again, his body slicing through the clear water like a golden carp. Wendy approached the pool from the shallow beach, her toes digging into the gravel and she extended her foot to test the temperature of the water. Peter appeared in the shallows and started to splash water at her, making her laugh and scream.

“Stop it Peter, I don't want to get wet!”

“Why not.....the water's warm and clear and your feet are dirty.” He scooped up a handful of water and doused her, making Wendy dodge back out of range.

“No really Peter....I don't want a bath.....please!”

“Aw...come on Wendy. You can swim, can't you?”

“Well actually.......no, I can't.”

For a moment Peter looked taken aback by her answer, his eyebrows knotting as he pondered what to do next. Wendy stood shaking out her nightdress to dry it from the few water droplets scattered about the hem, not paying attention to what Peter was doing. Her inattention was her downfall when she found herself scooped up and flung over Peter's shoulder so that her head hung down his back.

“Put me down!” Wendy shrieked as Peter started to wade back into the water, unhindered by Wendy's kicking legs.

“As you wish m'lady,” Peter answered, flipping Wendy off his shoulder and on to her back in the shallow water. Flailing, Wendy found herself half submerged and thoroughly soaked, her hair blinding her as she cried out at her sudden wetting.

“Oh you beast....I'm soaked now, and only this nighty to my name. What am I supposed to wear while this dries, I'd like to know?”

Peter lay in the shallows on his stomach beside her, his head gleaming wetly in the sunlight. Unrepentant he grinned up at her, his eyes dancing.

“You could wear something like what I wear,” Peter suggested, idly twirling his finger in the water as a small raft of green leaves floated past him. Wendy also noted the leaves floating on the surface of the water and glanced down at Peter's legs, noting that more of his skin appeared to be showing than normal.

“Er....Peter....are your leaves supposed to be coming off like that?” She pointed to the increasing number of leaves floating on the surface of the water. Peter glanced at them and shrugged.

“Oh yes......they do that if they get wet. I just get myself another suit of leaves when I need them.”

“But.....er....do you wear anything other than leaves?” Wendy asked, Peter looking at her blankly for a moment. “I mean, do you were......underclothes, under the leaves?”

“What?” Peter asked, staring down at himself then over his shoulder as more leaves floated past. “Oh no....nothing at all usually.”

“Oh dear.......oh dear......” Wendy started to mutter, scrambling to her feet and hastily retreating from the pool, her nighty clinging wetly to her body. “Oh dear....” she continued to murmur as she plucked at the wet material to stop it clinging so closely to her outline. “I think I'd better leave you to your bath Peter.......I'll wait for you....er.....over there.” She indicated a large clump of shrubby plants near to the edge of the clearing, averting her eyes from the golden youth still lounging in the shallows, surrounded by a growing flotilla of green leaves.

“Wendy?”

“I'll be over here.......” Wendy hurried over to the bushes and turned her back on the pool, her face scarlet as she contemplated just how many leaves Peter must be wearing, or not wearing by now.

Back at the pool, Peter shrugged again before turning around and plunging into the deeper part of the pool, the last of his leaves giving up the unequal struggle of remaining on his body and instead sluicing off with his dive underwater. Peter emerged with only the vines remaining about his body, his leaf trousers completely missing as he trod water and shook his head to free his hair of water. Looking over his shoulder he could see Wendy still standing with her back to the pool apparently absorbed in looking at the leaves of the bushes beside her. Wendy's hurried departure from the pool had only afforded him a brief flash of wet legs and damp dress as she'd run out of the water, her nighty clinging to her limbs and body in places and exciting his curiosity, outlining as it did the dips and hollows of her body in strange ways. Peter was not unaware that girls were put together quite differently than boys, his insatiable curiosity piqued to find out how different Wendy looked under her voluminous dress, the water affording him only a confused and frustrating glimpse. He knew from his association with the Indians that females came in a variety of shapes and sizes and his close handling of Wendy had told his hands that she had many interesting curves that didn't correspond to what he knew of his own body. It was all bound up in these new feelings that seemed to be taking over his mind and heart, all of them conspiring to make him mad with wanting to know everything there was to know about Wendy and how she made him feel. It had been true when he'd told her that love was something he knew little about, or even wanted to know about, but that it offended him was not entirely true. Were all these jumbled feeling and sensations love? He didn't know, but he was willing to find out.

Standing up in the pool he found the water waist deep, his skin now free of sweat and dust, his hair curling damply on his forehead and against his neck. Wading out of the water he quickly lifted into the air and floated quietly over the grass before silently rising up then lowering himself into the embrace of bushes that Wendy seemed to be so interested in.

Wendy had heard the sound of splashing and hoped fervently that Peter hadn't lost all his coverings when she peeped over her shoulder at the pool. Peter was just rising out of the pool and Wendy gasped before shutting her eyes tight and facing forward again, her back to the glade. She could feel her whole body blush as she stood rigidly to attention, her dress drying about her as she waited for the sound of splashing to cease. A breeze blew past her and she heard the rustle of leaves beside her. Opening her eyes she saw Peter standing within the grove of shrubs, his arms held out from his body as he waded amongst the greenery, his head bent as he looked down towards the ground. Wendy tried to shut out from her imagination the image of Peter flying through the air without a stitch on, but it was hard, she had brothers after all and was not unaware of the male anatomy. Now he was walking through the bushes towards her and she didn't know what to do for the best.

“Don't come any closer!” She finally blurted out, holding up her hands to ward him off. Peter looked up in surprise, as if not realizing how close she was to where he stood.

“It's alright, I'll be done in a minute,” he glanced down at himself and grinned, then strode out of the bushes just as Wendy clapped her hands over her eyes and gritted her teeth. She heard Peter laugh then his fingers prising hers from her face. “Look.”

Wendy blinked at him, noting his laughing eyes, then her own drifted down and widened as she noted his new coating of leaves decently covering him in a thick layer from his navel to his knees once more.

“Goodness........how clever! I thought the leaves of this bush looked familiar. This is where you get your outfits?”

“Yes. They could make you a new outfit too, if you wanted one.....like this.” He looked down at himself then up at her.

“Oh no......I'd need more than a pair of trousers.....I mean....well, it wouldn't cover enough!” Wendy protested, blushing anew.

“Silly......they know what you need without you telling them......they're magic bushes.” Peter rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Well of course they are. I've never known bushes in the park do anything like that before. They usually lose their leaves, not stick them to anyone.” Wendy retorted, nettled by his laughter. Still, the idea of wearing a leaf costume did rather appeal. “I suppose if you promise to turn your back and not peek, I could just try. If it doesn't work I could always put my nightdress back on.”

“Go on Wendy.......try it,” Peter encouraged, stepping back and holding out his hand to indicate for her to enter the bushes.

“All right, I will....but you have to promise not to look and turn your back.”

“Cross my heart,” Peter inscribed an invisible cross on his chest with his finger, grinning all the while. “I'll go back to the pool and wait for you there.”

She watched as he swaggered off, whistling loudly to underline his apparent nonchalance and disinterest in the whole affair. She waited for him to reach the bull-rushes before cautiously entering the thicket of shoulder high bushes. They rustles and parted around her, the leaves seeming to stroke against her legs and arms as she entered their sheltering center. Unbuttoning her nightgown she cautiously drew the thick fabric off over her head, the leaves reaching well up to her armpits and clothing her modestly. Even so she ducked down so that only her head was visible, the bushes around her seemingly closing in and surrounding her as if to hide her from prying eyes. It was very odd and most peculiar to be standing in a clump of bushes with no clothes on, her skin prickling as she stood not knowing what was about to happen next. The bushes seemed to shiver and shimmy, the leaves pressing so close to her body that she felt every vein in the surface of the leaves, every tickle and stroke as if the bushes were alive. Thoroughly unnerved she decided to push her way out of the bushes and away from the unsettling sensations. As she emerged she found that the leaves were coming with her, her body clothed from shoulder to knee with a thick layer of shimmering leaves, one shoulder and arm left bare while the other had leaves down to the elbow. The green swathe of living cloth covered her chest down to just below her breasts, leaving her mid-drift bare to her navel, then they extended from her waist down over her hips, tightly molded to her thighs and legs down to her knees like a pair of breeches. Against her skin it all felt like the softest velvet, moving when she moved and stretching when she stretched. On the outside she looked much like Peter in his leaf-green, with the addition of a thick layer of leaves covering her chest. It was warm and very comfortable and after her initial misgivings that the whole ensemble would fall of at the slightest tug, a quick experiment set her mind at rest and she stepped out fully, twirling to show off her new outfit.

“Peter.....you can look now,” she called, holding her arms out and turning, twisting her neck to see over her own shoulder to her shockingly bare back, the leaves stopping at her sides and starting again just above the base of her spine. Her hair hung down that far and covered the bare skin of her back quite adequately. Peter walked slowly over from the pool, his eyes ranging over her new clothes in obvious admiration. As she turned around for his approval he slowly circled her, his gaze drinking in her pale, slender arms and legs, her golden brown hair swirling like a cape about her shoulders.

“You look beautiful,” he finally stated, standing with his hands on his hips as he surveyed her from top to toe.

“It is all very strange. Ladies don't ordinarily wear knee breeches, you know. Although I will admit I did try on John's trousers one day, just to see what it was like. It was very shocking.”

“And how do you feel now?” He asked, his hand coming out to stroke over the leaves at her hip. They were of a lighter shade than his own, and felt much softer to his touch, almost like the feel of the softest leather.

“Very comfortable, much more so than John's breeches,” Wendy laughed, twirling again before stopping to smooth the layer of leaves over her waist and hips, preening under Peter's approving gaze.

“Then if you're done, we'll go back to the tree and see about something to eat,” Peter announced, jumping into the air and preparing to take off. Wendy hurriedly gathered up her nightgown and folded it into a neat bundle before tucking it under her arm. Remembering to think of a happy something, she felt herself lift off the turf and into the air, following Peter as he slowly rose until he hung suspended above the trees. Wendy followed more slowly, her confidence building as she rose higher and higher, her parcel held secure against her body.

With her clothing taken care of for the immediate future, Wendy concentrated on watching Peter and learning how to control her ability to fly, while wondering what her mother would say if she could see her daughter flying in the air clothed in nothing but leaves and a silly smile.

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Chapter: Three - The Banquet
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Peter took Wendy on a different route back to the Hollow, showing her other places of interest, some distant spirals of smoke indicating the location of the Indian village, a destination Peter promised to show her the next day. As soon as they both touched down the tree and surrounding foliage once more erupted with the appearance of the Lost Boys, Crate heading the posse as they surrounded their leader and Wendy.

“Wotcha Peter,” called one of the boys, grinning from ear to ear. Peter turned to Wendy and indicated the cheeky boy.

“This is Top Hat.”

Wendy stared at the boys' head gear and thought how appropriate his name, even if his hat was showing distinct signs of significant wear to the point of almost losing it's black crown.

“How do you do?” Wendy asked politely, the boy executing a small bow, the grin firmly in place. After that each of the other boys wanted to be introduced and Peter signaled each one forward in his turn.

“This is Stretch,” Peter told her, indicating a thin, willowy boy with an elfin face, his bare arms well defined and belying his fragile appearance.

“I looks weak, but I'm tough as old boots......ain't I Peter?” Peter nodded in agreement.

“I'm sure you are,” Wendy agreed, thinking privately that the boy looked as if he could do with a good meal once in a while.

“This one if called Rat,” Peter indicated one of the smaller boys, the child's pointed face almost twitching like his name-sake. “He's the best at getting into small and difficult places, and sniffing out the best game trails as well as setting traps.”

“How do you do Rat,” Wendy inclined her head, the boy called Rat giving her a nervous smile before scuttling off to hide behind the others. The next boy appeared to bristle with weaponry, his outfit of skins and feathers looking fierce and intimidating, made all the more by his beefy frame and bright red hair.

“Name's Squid,” the boy announced, not waiting for Peter to speak, “I'm the points man and tracker. Best of the bunch for setting an ambush and coshing the enemy.”

“I'm sure you are, Squid,” Wendy replied, shooting a glance at Peter before giving the boy a smile. Squid didn't smile back but instead cleared his throat noisily before spitting a wad of mucus an impressive distance.

“And I can spit the furthest, so there!” Squid announced before turning his back and swaggering behind his mates.

Crate was the next to push himself forward, his chin thrust upwards belligerently. He stood staring at Wendy as if daring her to make a comment, Peter remaining quiet as the boy and Wendy faced off.

“Hello Crate...that is your name, isn't it?”

“It is. I'm the eldest and been here the longest of the boys. I'm Peter's first mate and best fighter.”

“As you showed us all today Crate. Is my being here going to be a problem?” Wendy eyed the scowling boy with some misgivings, his dark eyes searing her. “Do you hate me so much?”

Abruptly Crate's expression cleared and he looked down at his feet. “Don't hate you,” he muttered, scuffing his feet, “just, girls are always so bossy and wantin' a bloke to always wash his neck and mind 'is manners.”

Wendy manfully controlled the nervous giggles welling up in her throat, the boy in front of her obviously trying hard not to insult his leaders new companion. “If I promise not to mention your neck or your manners?” Wendy asked, exchanging a glance with Peter who had remained silent throughout the conversation.

“Guess that would be alright.....seein' as 'ow your wearing the green, does that mean your going to be our mother?”

Wendy gasped and choked a little. “I'm a little young to be anyone's mother Crate.....” she felt a small hand tug at the leaves at her hip. Looking down she saw the smallest member of the Lost Boys staring up at her from his grubby face, huge brown eyes pleadingly begging her.

“Please be our mother.....I miss mine, an' if the other's wos truthful, they'd tell you they miss theirs, an' all.”

“What's your name?” Wendy asked. Peter answered, his lips quirking up at the corners.

“That's Grub.....he looks small and innocent but he's the best thief in the gang. He'd lift the hair off your head and you'd never know it was going!”

Wendy stared down at the small boy, his face now lit with a wide, gap-toothed grin, bathing in Peter's approval and approbation. “Just as well I have nothing worth stealing then, isn't it?”

Peter was looking around the glade for the last member of the troop, seeing a tousled head hiding behind the broad trunk of the Hollow tree. “Come on out Harry and meet Wendy....what'cha hiding for, back there?”

Harry appeared in answer to Peter's summons, the slender boy shuffling forward to stand at the front of the group. He was almost as tall as Crate, but much more delicate looking, the shaggy cut black hair brushed forward to almost obscure the fine featured face. Blue eyes peered at Wendy out from under the thick fringe.

“Hello Harry....I hope you weren't hiding from me?”

“No.” Harry flicked his shadowed gaze over to Peter then back to Wendy. “Are you going to marry Peter an' have babies and stuff?”

“Good Lord,” Wendy blushed furiously, her startled gaze taking in the interested looks of the boys and the amused look painting Peter's face. “Well, as I said before, I think I'm too young to be anyone's mother, let alone my have my own children.”

“But you could marry Peter, couldn't you? If you love him, of course?”

“Oh I don't think.......that is.......well......this really isn't the time to........oh dear........um...” Wendy trailed off, her face as pink as a strawberry.

“Okay you lot.....enough with the questions. Who's on provisions duty tonight?” Peter's voice broke in to the pregnant pause after Harry's unanswerable question. Immediately the boys broke out into a chorus of replies and recriminations, refuting ownership of the chores needed to be done and generally blaming everyone but themselves for no supper on the table. Harry had melted back into the throng while Wendy spun on her heel and walked a way a few steps, fanning herself to bring her hot face under control. Having dispatched the boys with orders to get a meal on the table, Peter casually walked over to where Wendy stood. She was standing with her hands pressed to her cheeks in a vain attempt to leach the wash of color from her skin, giving a startled jump when Peter laid his warm hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?”

“Yes....of course. It's just a little warm, don't you think?”

“Certainly warmer than your world,” Peter quipped, coming around to face her, his stormy green eyes intent on her face. “Would it be so bad to marry me?”

“Peter, how can you ask that?” Wendy answered breathlessly, her fading blush returning with a vengeance.

“Well?”

“I don't know you.....and....and...I'm only supposed to be here for a visit, not forever.”

“I know enough, why don't you?”

“Because.....well because I don't. Good grief, I've heard of brief courtships, but this is ridiculous. And anyway......you haven't asked me!”

“If I did........would you say yes?”

Totally flustered, Wendy spun away from him, her eyes darting around the glade for some sort of escape. Peter wouldn't give up and darted around to stand in front of her again. Wendy couldn't understand how the conversation had progressed so far out of control and tried to push past him. Peter pushed back and Wendy found herself held in place by his grip on her upper arms.

“You like to kiss me......don't you?” He asked, his eyes locked with hers. Wendy felt her knees start to weaken as she moistened her lips before replying.

“I.....yes.”

“And you don't mind sleeping next to me?”

“Peter, that's hardly proper....”

“Don't you?”

“No....I don't mind.”

“Then you don't mind the idea of being married to me, do you?”

“What?” Wendy asked confusedly. Peter shook her lightly.

“Isn't that what married people do? They kiss and sleep in the same bed and stay together forever?”

“I suppose so...but....but....”

“And now you can fly and Neverland has obviously accepted you.....” Peter continued, his face breaking out into the wickedest grin.