Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. J.M. Barrie wrote it and… someone besides me owns it now.

This is a short oneshot, or long drabble whatever you prefer, written entirely in Wendy's perspective

As I watch my daughter fly off with Peter Pan, I heave a sigh and begin another trip down memory lane. Sitting down next to the fire to continue my needlework, I think of the Lost Boys, not so lost anymore. All highly esteemed men now most have forgotten their first home. John had let go of the childish memory long ago. Michael had held on the longest, but eventually stopped believing as well.

A fairy died for each of them.

I am the only one left. They have their own children now, but refuse to tell them 'untrue' legends such as those of Peter Pan. Only my little Jane believes in fairies and mermaids and the forever-young boy who she as just flown off with.

I set my needlework down to gaze into the flickering flames. Why did I ever leave Never land? I could have stayed forever in that wondrous place, fighting pirates and having adventures with Peter. We could have played with the mermaids and fairies, never troubling ourselves with things such as school or our future.

Or growing up.

My hands clasp together as I look to the ceiling. The clouds have remained there after all these years. I never redecorated, never changed beds or designs. I guess I was holding on to that tiny shred of hope that Peter might come back for me. I figured that if he did, he would want everything the same.

He did come back, but it was too late.

Why couldn't I have just waited a bit longer? Held on to my youth? Maybe if I had…

No, I still wouldn't have been able to return to Never land.

I don't know why I entertain such foolish thoughts. Perhaps it's punishment, for what I put Peter through and letting the Lost Boys and my brothers stop believing.

Or for allowing myself to leave that amazing place.

I gaze out the window at the stars. One winks back at me and I know that Peter and Jane have made it to Never land.

Standing slowly to return to my room, I make sure to leave the window open. Just in case.

I leave the door open, looking back at the empty room. The fire has now died down, and I wonder just how long have I been lost in my thoughts?

Before I go to my room, I wonder just one more thing:

Will I ever see Never land again, or will I only be able to watch from behind the window?

I don't want to answer this, but I do anyway, wiping a single tear from my face. As I turn away from the window, a breeze softly brushes past me. I look back and whisper those words I always wanted to say: "Peter, I love you."