I own nothing.

Wendy Darling is about to die. Very, very soon.

Tink knows this and she tells Peter of what she's seen through the open window this time while visiting their little house in London.

Though Peter does not weep. He smiles fondly and begins to prepare.

With all things considered, life was kind to Wendy, so she's not that frightened. Even though there is a quiet sadness cloaking around her now, Wendy merely rests comfortably in her bed, old and fragile, surrounded by her loved ones as though she's waiting to drift off to sleep and nothing more. Years ago, in Springtime, Wendy had obeyed her parents' last wishes and married a strong and respectable Englishman named Edward. Even if Wendy has never been completely in love with her husband, Edward has loved her dearly anyhow and sheltered her, and for that, Wendy has learned to love him as a part of her family nonetheless. And with him, she had given birth to two delightful children. There's Jane, the firstborn, who is quite like Wendy in many ways—although Jane has always had more of a seriousness edging around her words—which she got from Edward. Edward has wanted her to be a very responsible daughter, capable defending their family whenever he couldn't, and Jane was willing to do so. Their youngest however, their son Daniel, believed in Wendy's fairytales a bit longer, a bit deeper. Between him and Jane, he is the one who still remembers every single story Wendy has told them by heart without the help of a book.

Wendy's not upset. She's had a full and normal life with them. She's played her part in this world and rarely took anything for granted, but that, has always meant that death was going to be the ultimate consequence.

(To die would be an awfully big adventure.)

Peter, I'm ready now.

The moment Wendy passes, her soul caught in the midpoint of life and death, sleeping and awake, she feels a coolness on her face, and there's a white blinding light and a shadowy hand that reaches out for her to take.

She can suddenly smell the spray of the sea, soaring through and over the back of the wind.

Her angel of death is not a smiling skeleton in a dark funeral shroud, but a grinning boy wearing a forest green tunic and brown leather shoes, with a pixie hovering at his shoulder.

The next morning, the sun and stars are shining especially bright over Neverland's shores as Peter and the Wendy Bird fly together in endless circles, laughing and rejoicing, and this time, they both know she's here to stay. There's no growing old, and no growing up, and for an eternity she will remain young and happy, as Neverland has promised them just that.