Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine.

Justification: Practice makes perfect. Also, am rusty. In addition, need feedback from strangers. Sixth and lastly, was traumatised by recent film version and needed a better ending.

Chapter One

It was true that three years had passed. It was also true that she hadn't told a story in months, and that the ones she had told had been largely sedentary affairs on her part, but it had been something else that had prompted Wendy Darling to tell a special story tonight. Some sense of sadness, maybe, or some chill in the air. Most likely it was simply to distract herself from the tight feeling in her throat that she'd given in to the boys' pleading.

"You have opened the forbidden chamber!" John cried, brandishing the nursery key in her face. "See the blood on the key that all your craft could not remove!"

In response, Wendy pulled a sword from the umbrella-stand used for such things, facing Bluebeard John with a haughty eye. "I have seen your poor brides! Prepare to meet your just deserts!"

"Wendy," John said, dropping character and his own sword in the same motion. "You know you can't do the fights any more; you'll get beaten awfully badly."

Wendy jabbed, her skirts swirling magnificently around her, and John parried quite before he could think about it. "Have at thee!"

John set his jaw and returned blow for blow; and most marvellously they crashed and danced around the room, until all of a sudden Wendy lowered her blade, leaning heavily on the bureau. The boys stood in alarm as she gasped for breath.

"You all right?" John asked, and squealed absolutely like a girl as he felt a gentle thrust in his ribs. Wendy grinned unrepentantly, sword in hand.

"Beaten badly, was it?"

"That was a trick!" he declared indignantly, looking surprised when the boys behind him laughed. She panted, her corset seeming ready to snap her in two, her vision dimming a little as she struggled for air. It had been impossible to resist, but he had been right. She really couldn't do this any more.

Leaning more heavily on the sturdy bureau, she laughed a little. "Not entirely, I'm . . . awfully out of breath . . ."

He helped her sit. "Anyway, not fair. You got John, not Bluebeard."

"I know, but you did make me cross just now." She smiled at him, breathing as freely as she could again.

The boys relaxed as one, returning to sit on the nursery floor just as the door opened.

Mother popped her head around the door. "The guests are here children, you can come down now. Wendy, are you ready?"

"Oh yes," she replied, a shadow crossing her face as she rose. "Boys, Wendy's – I mean, the lady's brothers find Bluebeard and kill him in the end."

She thought she heard Nibs mutter, "Thought so," as they were herded out of the door, but she didn't stop to puzzle out the strange tone of his voice.