Disclaimer: I do not own any of the works I am going to mention below. The concept of Peter Pan belongs to J.M. Barrie who left all proceeds to the Great Ormond Street Hospital. Additionally, the Disney Corporation, SyFy, and Hyperion (a branch of Disney) have some sort of legal rights to the works listed. So please don't sue me D:

Author's Note: Hello! I've had this burning dream that keeps trying to grab ahold of me. That dream is to create a story that explains as many of the Peter Pan centered books and movies and weaves them into a coherent tale. After many hours (more like days) of pondering until I became nearly mad, I think I've constructed a story that is worth telling which will (hopefully) explain the entire life of Peter Pan.

Inspired works that are woven into this story:

Peter and Wendy (1911 novel)

Peter Pan (1953 Disney film)

Hook (1996)

Return to Neverland (2002 Disney film, sequel to Disney's Peter Pan)

Peter Pan (2003 film)

Peter and the Starcatchers (2004 unauthorized Hyperion/Disney novel)

Peter Pan in Scarlet (2006 book, authorized sequel)

Neverland (2011 SyFy miniseries)

^You honestly do not have to read/watch the aforementioned as I will weave their contributions into this story, but if you would like to, they're pretty awesome. ^.^

I really hope you enjoy this tale.

1. Nine in the afternoon

"Back to the street, back to the place,

Back to the room where it all began, hey

Back to the room where it all began

'Cause it's nine in the afternoon"

- Panic at the Disco

Neverland

On a bright spring morning, Peter woke up to Nibs' particularly loud snoring. Smiling lazily, he got out of bed and was on his way to way up Tinkerbell when he spotted something glittering in a nearby chair. Befuddled, he crept closer. It was a shiny silver thimble. Picking it up, his mind was suddenly filled with an image of a beautiful young girl, happily looking at him with big blue eyes and long brown curls. Her lips were as red as roses, with a hidden kiss peeking out from the right corner, easily hidden when she flashed her dazzling teeth. The Wendy-lady.

With eyes moving rapidly as he focused on his surroundings, he caught a glimpse of the rocking chair with the word "mother" affectionately stitched into a throw pillow. He smiled. His Wendy. Looking around at his sleeping crew, Peter decided it was high time that he fetched Wendy. After all, spring had just come and he did have a promise to keep. Grabbing his hat, Peter headed towards the tree trunk to go toward the surface. The thought of Wendy smiling at him allowed Peter to rise up; he swiftly flew toward the sinking moon, just catching the star to its right. 'I'm coming Wendy.'

London 1997 (New Year's Eve)

At long last, Peter flew out of the second star to the right into London. The familiar stench of the River Thames assaulted his nose as he searched for No. 14 interwoven within the moon's glow. Quickly spotting it once he traced the clock tower, he flew down to the balcony as he was eager to see the pretty girl. The room was completely empty save for a chair and ottoman by the fireplace and a medium sized crib toward the back wall. Walking toward the crib, Peter searched, but no baby lay.

Suddenly a voice cried out, "Peter, is that you?" Fearful of the prospect of an adult catching him, Peter sprinted to the balcony. "Wait Peter! It's me, Wendy!"

Wendy? Peter froze at the thought. He turned back to see an elderly woman emerging from the dim doorway, slowly walking toward him. Flying to her face, he examined her. Silky brown hair turned musty and white, once taunt skin marred by dozens of wrinkles, Peter could barely recognize her. But her eyes had remained the same, full of life and still as blue as the ocean.

"Wendy?" he asked. "You've changed," he said crossly, stubbornly looking away.

Wendy giggled, and decided to copy herself fifty-three years prior.

"Not really," she smiled as she lightly touched his face to turn it back to look at her, "Not ever." As soon as these words left her lips Peter began remembering this exact scene.

Upon bringing back Wendy's daughter, Jane, Peter smiled as he saw her go up to a younger boy and begin to tell stories all about him. 'The story continues' he thought. He then saw a figure approaching the window. Scared, he rushed toward the side of the window, nervous to look at the person. He waited a few seconds, and then dared himself a peek. It was a pretty middle aged woman. Baffled, he looked again but he barely saw her as she started to walk away. 'Wendy?'

"Yes that's Wendy you silly ass!"scolded Tinkerbell.

'"Shhhh!" cautioned Peter. He turned to leave but stopped himself and hid under the window.

He hearing her coming back, he decided to fly up to her face to look more closely. 'She looks a lot older than fourteen' .

"Wendy?" he asked confused.

"Hullo Peter," she smiled graciously as she tucked a loose strand behind her ear.

He decided to take another look. Still beautiful, Wendy stood there, blue eyes shining as bright as they ever were. 'But she's much older' he thought sadly.

"You've changed," he said hotly, crossing his arms at her evident betrayal.

"Not really," she whispered, gently taking his face, "Not ever".

"Let me see! Let me see!" Tinkerbell cried, flying directly between them to land on Wendy's palm.

"Hullo Tinkerbell," Wendy brightly said.

Tinkerbell nodded back to Peter as if to say, she's still the same at heart. Peter looked astonished but smiled nevertheless as Tinkerbell flew about Wendy to allow the older woman a nostalgic thrill. Wendy laughed as she rose a few feet.

'Just like the good old days,' Peter thought. He then realized that this would be the last time he got to see Wendy smile as Neverland was burning itself at the back of his mind.

"Madame," Peter said as he bowed graciously.

Wendy reciprocated with another laugh as she curtsied. Sad but trying to be happy for her, Peter held his hat in hand, "Goodbye Wendy" he uttered as he flew away.

"Goodbye Peter!" she cried.

Shaking his head, Peter came back to present-day, gazing at Wendy. She didn't look at him as she kept a steady rhythm. He stared as she continued darning socks by the crackling fire.

"Come, sit by me, will you?" she said, eyes still locked on her stitching, "I bet you have a lot of questions."