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Awakenings	By : KimberlyA Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 16011 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Author's Note: No smut in this chapter, and therefore no warnings. This chapter is probably rated G! So those of you looking for smut ... sorry, Charlie. You'll have to wait. :)

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~
Chapter 9
If He is the One
~

In the days and weeks following that terrible night, Wendy dutifully attended all of the requisite balls and parties and dinners, just as she had always done since she came of age. She made small talk with all of the indistinguishably eligible young gentlemen to whom she was introduced, but if truth be told she barely even saw them. The only face her eyes could see was one topped with tousled light brown hair above blue-green eyes and a smug grin.

Mrs. Darling noticed that the spark had left her daughter's eyes, but knew not what to do about it. Some secret grief seemed to weigh heavy on Wendy's young heart.

* * *

In Neverland, a dreadful imbalance had developed, for it was simply not normal for Peter Pan to spend so much time indoors, and so little time flying and laughing.

The Lost Boys found that he was no longer so very irritable with them. Rather, he seemed somehow deflated, defeated. He sat staring at nothing, sometimes for entire days. He no longer minded the noise they made, he no longer threatened to run anyone through with his sword, and so the Lost Boys rollicked even more energetically in their attempts to bring the old Peter leaping to his feet in a merry bid to gut them.

But Peter did not leap to his feet in response to their antics. He did not grin or laugh or fly or crow or show off.

All Peter Pan did was sulk.

And it was terribly boring.

So the Lost Boys eventually gave up on trying to bait him, and simply went about their business without him, climbing trees, rolling down slopes, pushing and shoving each other, shooting arrows at birds and fish, and mocking the pirates from a relatively safe distance.

Deep in the ocean surrounding Neverland, the mermaids spoke to each other.

Deep in their hidden caves and trees, the fairies spoke to each other.

Something was wrong with Pan.

* * *

Passing her daughter's room one night after lighting the nightlights in the nursery, Mrs. Darling saw that Wendy's door was open, and so she went inside.

Wendy was in her bed, the white counterpane pulled up to her chin, her shining brown hair cascading around her as beautiful as ever. But Wendy's eyes were sad, which made them less beautiful, despite their clear blue color.

Sitting upon the edge of the bed, Mrs. Darling gently stroked her daughter's hair away from her face and smiled kindly. Wendy had become such a mature young lady. It sometimes made Mrs. Darling regret that she should soon lose her to a family of her own. Children grow up so quickly.

"Mother?" began Wendy, her voice quiet. "How did you know that Father was the man you should marry?"

Mrs. Darling thought a moment. She knew that Wendy was of an age soon to be engaged, soon married, but she had seen no evidence that her daughter yet favored any of the gentlemen in London society. She wondered if there was some secret suitor who had made her daughter so very unhappy, or if it was separation from some beloved young man that had slowed Wendy's step and stolen her smiles.

Whatever the source of Wendy's woe, Mrs. Darling would not mislead her daughter, and so she answered Wendy's question honestly. "My heart knew, dear. My heart knew he was the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life. There could be no other."

The younger woman was quiet, many thoughts flitting across her face and in her eyes, but none of them voiced in words.

"Mother, I think ... I have found the one my heart loves. But I sent him away." Wendy's eyes had filled with tears as she spoke, and one slid into her hair to hide.

"Oh, Wendy," soothed Mrs. Darling with a compassionate smile, "if he is truly the one, your heart will speak to him, no matter how far. And he will return to you ... if he is truly the one."

Wendy had always trusted her mother's wisdom and experience, but in this case she could not help but doubt.

Peter Pan would not come back. And there was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

The one creature in Neverland who decided to do something about Peter's depressed moping was Tinker Bell, for she had only a very small amount of space in her body for patience, and it had quickly been depleted.

She flew to him in his hiding place beneath the overhanging rock, where he no longer indulged in bodily pleasures, but instead only stared out at the ocean and sulked. He paid no attention to her, and so she yanked his hair. When she still received no response, she pinched his earlobe as hard as she could, which finally caused him to shout and turn toward her.

"What was that for?" Peter grumbled, rubbing his ear.

Tinker Bell jingled a diatribe about her displeasure with how boring and depressing he had become lately. They'd once been great friends, but now he was only a lump.

"I am not a 'lump'," Peter insisted, offended. Tinker Bell was glad to have succeeded in baiting him.

"Ever since you grew large," she jingled and jangled, "you've been boring."

"I am not boring!" cried Peter, his arms crossing in annoyance. "And, anyway, it isn't because I grew. It's because of Wendy."

Tinker Bell made various rude gestures indicating her opinion of this horrible great ugly girl "Wendy."

"It isn't really her fault," Peter sighed, growing melancholy once more. "She wants a 'husband'."

"What's a 'husband'?" asked Tinker Bell in her tinkling voice.

Peter hesitated a long moment, wondering how he could avoid admitting that he was not precisely sure.

* * *

As time went on, and months passed, Wendy grew even more certain that she had made a terrible mistake in pushing Peter away.

Sometimes when she went to the window in the morning, there were marks in the snow on the windowsill which looked perhaps like imprints made by hands, as if someone had hovered secretly at the window and peered in at her while she slept.

The first time it happened, Wendy became very excited, hoping that Peter had indeed returned to her but perhaps been too shy to let himself be seen. And so she waited at the open window all the following night, waiting to apologize to Peter and tell him how wrong she had been, but he never arrived, or at least she never saw him. The only result of her hopeful watch at the window was a slight cough resulting from the cold air.

As time went on, Wendy accepted that Peter was not returning. And she had no way of seeking him out.

As time went on, Wendy grew even more certain that the departed Peter Pan was the one her heart loved, the only one with whom she would ever wish to spend the rest of her life.

Her kiss was his, and always would be. And so was her poor heart.

* * *

All over London, fashionable ladies and gentlemen, wizened apple sellers and paper boys, people of all stations and all walks of life talked amongst themselves as they attended social events, walked along the street, went about their work, and even retired within their homes.

None of them noticed the strange young man who sometimes hovered in the shadows, listening attentively.

None of them noticed that sometimes the lamps were brighter than normal or shone in strange places, for they would have considered such things impossible. They would certainly have never admitted seeing a rapidly hidden shimmering light that listened in upon their conversations upon occasion.

None of them noticed how often they were eavesdropped upon, for few were visited more than once.

Through the shadowy evenings of London, a young man clad in leaves and a brightly-lit fairy searched for answers to their questions. Or, to be precise, their single question.

What is a "husband"?

* * *

Mrs. Darling sat by her daughter's bedside again, some time after her daughter's first mysterious questions about choosing whom to marry.

"Wendy, you still seem so sad, dear. Can you tell me what troubles you?" A mother's instinct told her that the weight her daughter bore might be lessened if it were shared.

But Wendy raised her hands to hide her face and whimpered, "Oh, Mother, you will be angry. I know you will."

Laying her hands gently upon Wendy's wrists, encouraging her to raise her eyes, but not compelling her to do so, Mrs. Darling replied kindly, "I should never be angry with you, Wendy. You are my child, and I love you."

Looking up into her mother's loving face, Wendy contemplated sharing her grief, but hesitated a long moment. Mrs. Darling simply waited.

"Mother, I know whom my heart loves." Wendy hesitated again.

Mrs. Darling waited, and then prompted gently, "Do you want to tell me who it is, dear?"

Closing her eyes tightly, not wanting to see her mother's face when she knew, Wendy whispered, "It is Peter Pan." A long silence eventually persuaded Wendy to open one eye, only to see her mother smiling as benignly as before.

"Did you think I would not know, my precious one? A mother knows her children's hearts as well as her own."

"But, Mother," Wendy objected, "why are you not upset? If I were to leave with him, I would be far away, where you would not be ablevisivisit. And ... it would not be what you and Father expect of me."

Shaking her lovely head with a smile, Mrs. Darling said, "Has Ellie Newton not married an American, and moved far from this country, with the blessing of her family? Parents must let their children go when they are ready to fly, and let them find their own nests."

Leaning forward to lay a soft kiss upon Wendy's cheek, Mrs. Darling continued, "And a mother who expected anything from her child but love and happiness would be quite remiss in her duties."

Wide-eyed with surprise at this attitude, Wendy whispered, "But what about Father?"

Mrs. Darling chuckled lightly. "Your father understands the world in facts and figures, but even he cannot deny true magic when it touches him. You have seen how he cares for the boys, though their mode of arrival was passing strange."

With a fond smile, Mrs. Darling added, "Your father and I would understand, if it made you happy."

Wendy could do nothing but marvel at this unexpected blessing, but at length she remembered that it was too late. Peter had gone, and would not return.

With a mother's wise eye, Mrs. Darling saw the thoughts reflected in her daughter's face. "Do not lose hope, dear. Love is a powerful thing."

* * *

It was, however, still a tremendous shock when Wendy woke one night to see Peter's face floating above her in her bed. She gasped, and he jerked backward instinctively, but not so far as to leave her sight.

"Peter?" she whispered with awe, wondering if she were still dreaming.

Peter flew to the side of her bed and landed lightly upon the floor. He stood stiffly, formally, as if he were exceedingly uncomfortable but determined to perform some task nonetheless. Wendy sat up and turned to sit on the edge of her bed, her nightdress twisting beneath her so that her legs were exposed almost to the knee.

"I would like to show you something," Peter explained tensely. "Will you come with me?" He looked terribly nervous, as if in an agony of suspense over her answer.

Wendy leapt from her bed, knowing that this was the chance she had been so certain would never come again. She would not let it pass her by. Not this time. She ran to the dressing table, Peter's anxious eyes following her, still waiting for his answer.

Wendy pulled out a pale yellow sheet of writing paper and wrote:

Dearest Mother,
You were right. He came back, and I am following my heart. Please explain to father, and kiss the boys from me.
With love and happiness,
Wendy

She rested the note upon her pillow and then stood tall, ready to face all that might lay before her. She extended her hand toward Peter, who looked quite wretched with nervous anticipation. When he stepped forward hesitantly, and put his larger hand in hers, Wendy smiled perhaps the happiest smile of her life.

"Yes, Peter. I will come with you."

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Author's End Note: 2 more chapters to go.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Awakenings