Disclaimer: Peter Pan, all characters, places, and related terms belong to J.M. Barrie, and Universal Pictures, Columbia Pictures, and Revolution Studios.

Pan

Four days.

Four days, nineteen hours, thirty-seven minutes, and twelve seconds since his daughter had been kidnapped at gunpoint after she got off at her bus stop, mere blocks from the comfort and security of home. Four days, thirteen hours, forty-one minutes, and twenty-two seconds since he received the ransom note along with a photo of Wendy, bound, gagged, her blue eye full of fear.

He had almost become sick, staring at his daughter, thinking she looked like a vulnerable two-year-old instead of a nearly fourteen-year-old teenager.

Mr. Darling didn't care that he could not provide the demanded sum, being simply the manager of Bloomsbury Bank, the Eastside branch. There had to be ways – his retirement fund, what he had put aside for when the children attended university, that distant rich relative, friends. He did not care that police surveillance was placed on his neighbors the Smiths. (It was strongly suspected their daughter, Alexandria, a particularly close friend of Wendy's and great-niece of Bloomsbury Bank CEO Edward Quiller-Couch, had been the real target and Wendy mistaken for her.) All he wanted was his little girl back, and he would do anything to make that happen.

"Anything," according to police – and to George's mounting frustration and anger – consisted of sitting at home, observing teatime, and waiting.

"Let us do this our way, Mr. Darling," Inspector Smee had said in that low, irritatingly calm voice of his, waving away George's protest of providing the ransom somehow. "Leave it to us," the St. Nicholas lookalike insisted.

So here he was, seated in a chair with his elbows on his knees and clasped hands pressed to his mouth, his tea untouched and quite cold on the tiny table beside him. His eyes bore into the clock on the wall, tracking each long moment the second hand ticked off. Mary was huddled on the couch with John and Michael. As she hugged them to her chest, her pale face was calm, though her eyes tired and wet. Across from Mr. Darling was his widowed sister Millicent. For once keeping her mouth shut, she was the only one who did her tea justice, besides Inspector Smee. The man currently was smoking his pipe thoughtfully and humming – "Wagner," he'd explained at George's irritated look – under his breath.

Mr. Darling hated this suspense, of not knowing, not being able to do anything. Just sit, and think… Not for the first time did he promise himself that things would be different when Wendy came home. He had set too much store on being respected by his colleagues and those he admired. Had been too much aware of how Wendy was viewed in family and business circles – quite an unusual child – which reflected unfavorably on him. His daughter was very much a tomboy, even at thirteen. She played pretend with her brothers and told them twisted variations of the fairy tales she still loved. And she was very much a dreamer, with her head in the clouds, seemingly searching for something more than what was around her.

He should not have been so hard on her the days before her kidnapping, demanding it was time for her to finally grow up. If he could do it over, have a second chance, be kinder…

"How much longer, Inspector Smee?" he snapped, tension pulsing through his tight limbs.

The inspector straightened in his seat and fiddled with his pipe, still humming away, before he peered closely at the clock.

"Oh, I should think not much. The lads know what they are doing," he replied with a faint nod of the head.

George leaned forward and opened his mouth to make a retorting comment when a loud odd thump was heard at the door.

"Ah! Perfect timing, as always," Inspector Smee said brightly.

With a growl Mr. Darling raced to the front door and flung it wildly open. On the steps laid three dazed, beaten up men who looked like they had accidentally wandered off Captain Blood's ship. But what caught George's focus was the short figure clad in skeleton leaves floating down. It was Pan, with Wendy in his arms. The superhero barely lowered the girl to the ground before her family surrounded her.

Over his sons' joyful exclamations and his sister's high-pitched wailing, Mr. Darling overheard Pan comment to the inspector with a cocky grin, "It was Croc. He sent Bill Jukes and some of his thugs to do it. They had meant to kidnap the other girl. When they realized their mistake…that's when I arrived."

Mr. Darling tuned out the conversation. The super – boy was more what he looked like – sounded much too childish and entertained about it all for his liking. He had almost lost his daughter. So instead he turned his attention to his family, joining in the group hug Wendy was caught in the middle of. When he had a chance to give her a hug of his own, he studied her carefully. Physically, she appeared fine. But there was a different look in her eyes, some sort of innocence lost, a new awakening. And he blamed himself and considered giving the men being escorted away in handcuffs some punches. Hopefully, there would be healing, he prayed as he passed Wendy on to her mum. Squeezing his eyes shut, he drew in a shaky breath.

"Wait, please!"

Wendy's voice caused George's eyes to pop open in time to see her rush towards the super who had waved farewell to the officers and had just started to fly away. Floating inches above the sidewalk, Pan tilted his head.

"You're the best that ever was!" Michael shouted, jumping up and down, having trailed after his sister.

"Yes, I know!" he crowed proudly.

George's frown returned. Childish, cocky, and conceited young Pan was.

Wendy shared a smile over her shoulder with her brother and nodded, then faced the super who had returned to earth.

"I just wanted to say thanks for rescuing me," Wendy said shyly.

"We are so grateful," Mrs. Darling chimed in with her own thanks.

"That's what I'm here for!" Pan replied brightly with a deep bow.

Good form. Mr. Darling's frown deepened. He had not been blessed with such when he was young.

Wendy stepped closer, her arms fluttering nervously. "Thank you…for everything." Then she leaned forward and kissed Pan on the lips.

Mr. Darling feared he would pop a vein due to shock. His fingers twitched, wanting to rip his daughter away, far away from this super barely more than an insolent youth. But something – maybe his wife's shining eyes or the sudden ball of light no bigger than his fist hovering near Pan's shoulder – kept him still and quiet.

To his huge relief the kiss was nothing like those kisses of overly public displays of affection that inevitably concluded the romantic comedies his daughter was sometimes dragged to by her friends at the cinema. No, this one was chaste, brief, and even awkward – their noses bumping, proof this was her and his first kiss. A heartbeat later, Wendy pulled away and stepped respectfully back.

"What was that?" the boy sounded genuinely puzzled. Even under his large green mask, he was blushing hotly from the tips of his ears to his neck.

"You are dreadfully ignorant," Wendy chuckled lightly. "That was…a kiss, and a thank-you," she added.

"Oh!" He slowly returned her smile.

Mr. Darling had had quite enough. Calmly he strode up to the young people, placing a hand on Wendy's shoulder, while leveling a stern look at Pan. He fished for words to end this. It was done for him.

Pan backed away, impatiently waved away the ball of light tinkling furiously at him with a scowl – first teeth flashing – before melting into his well-known cocky smile.

"Smee," his tone brimmed with laughter as he nodded to the busy inspector who only provided a distracted wave. "I'll be in touch."

The super's eyes traveled over all the Darling family. His gaze hesitated a moment longer on Wendy than the others, the lightheartedness in his green eyes changing to something serious and wondering. "Citizens." He bowed to them, and when he raised his head, his look was light and merry again. Without another word, quickly he rose high up into the air to fly over the city.

George watched intently, daring to allow the tension to slide from his shoulders. Pan was flying out of their lives…forever. The superhero will save the day for London again and again and again. And he will rescue other citizens…other girls. Wendy is just one among countless for him. They will not be seeing Pan again – unless one counts the 6 o'clock news.

Mr. Darling scowled darkly when the super suddenly paused and looked back down at them.

"I will remember you, Wendy-lady!"

Somehow the words floated down to them. And George sensed more than saw his daughter light up like a Christmas tree as Pan disappeared swiftly across the sky. He was silent as his wife and sister, each taking one of Wendy's arms, gently led her into the house with John and Michael trailing after them, asking if they could order pizza to celebrate.

Tapping his chin thoughtfully, George brought up the rear. He will need to keep a much closer eye on that Pan than he had thought, had hoped. If only I had kept Father's old hunting rifle instead of giving it away…

THE END