Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the book Peter Pan or any of it's movies although the look I'm aiming for is for the new one that just let out this Christmas. I wish I owned it's version of Captain Hook (god who wouldn't) and I wish I owned Peter's smile. I do own any characters you have not to hear of especially my main character Catherine Morgan.

I'm old, so old.

I can't ever go back.

I haven't ever been there.

Neverland

Perhaps it was because I never did do Spring cleaning, or never kept my window open.

But I did believe and I still do.

So isn't that enough to have

One

Last

Chance?

"Darling, have you seen my ruby necklace?" Mother called from her room across the hall.

My quill sped across my writing paper.

"Dear? Have you seen it?"

"Did you look in your jewelry box?" I asked back, still not stopping the flow of words.

"Dear," Father's voice came pleasant and deep, "In my opinion you don't need them." He chuckled.

"Don't you use your flattery on me, Mr. Morgan," Mother laughed, "save it for the people at the Smith's dinner party tonight."

"Will the Vihelms be there?" Father asked, cautiously.

"They certainly will." She answered, I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Spite!"

"John!" Mother exclaimed, scolding him.

I felt myself smiling as I continued writing.

"Catherine...." Father called.

"Mmmn hmnn?' I mumbled back.

"Turn around please, so I can talk to you."

"Just one.....moment," I gritted my teeth as the cramp in my hand tightened. "There." I proclaimed, dropping my quill and massaging my hand, I turned around in my writing desk seat.

Father stood framed in the doorway in his new dress suit, his glasses perched upon his nose.

"Why, father, you look quite dashing."

He chuckled again, walking forward, "Thank you, Catherine. We will be back around midnight, and you are not to sneak over to the Darlings house tonight. We want you safe."

"Yes, father." I promised grudgingly.

"All right then....." he said giving me a glance of doubt. His eyes caught sights of my works, "What have you been writing now?" He reached out a hand to them.

"No, father don't it's........it's not finished!" I made a wild attempt to snatch them back from his hands.

"Too late now, Catherine." He said smiling, smugly. His eyes scanned over my hasty writing. His face fell slightly, his eyes becoming slowly sober, "Catherine......" He sighed.

I lowered my eyes, ashamed.

"I thought you were over this.......infatuation with fairy stories."

I played with the delicate dark blue velvet lining of my night robe, nervously.

"I thought you told me you had moved past these ideas........flying.....pirates and savages......"

"Yes, you thought wrong!" I snapped suddenly.

Father took an unsure step back away from me. He was frightened of me for a second. I was frightened for more. I wrapped a hand around my throat in alarm. The voice had been mine but years younger when was a daily happening to argue with father.

When next father spoke it was with the warning hardness of ice, "Now you listen to me, Catherine. We have let this continue for a while now, but it must come to a stop. You are sixteen years of age.......and you must start to grow up."

I glared up at him.

"Do you understand me, Catherine?" He peered at me grimly from behind his glasses.

"Yes, father." I murmured.

"Very well then. Mother and I will be back soon." He leaned forward and kissed me gently, but always somewhat reserved, on the forehead.

I stood still, my hands clenched at my sides and waited until I heard the door slam downstairs. I let a harsh sigh escape from my lips. I began to pace.

It had been four years since Wendy, my best friend and neighbor, had told me of her adventures with her dear Peter Pan. It was four years since I absolutely refused to grow up, and despite my faithfulness in Wendy's soft spoken tales, I had yet to be visited by the boy. I was beginning to doubt and the doubt brought despair in never having an adventure of my own, of knowing something beyond my room.

Then the anger came. It was his fault, the forgetful boy! Why couldn't I go and join them and be their mother? (for truth be told they needed one badly) Why not me?!

The answer hit me hard in the stomach, like a punch, stealing my breath.

Because.......I was too old.

"Too old," Father's voice ran through me, "You must grow up."

"Getting old, Kate." Wendy had told me herself, "All children, except one, grow up."

"Can't remember how to fly." Came the imagined voice of Peter Pan.

I cursed the voice I had never heard. And to spite his memory, I took the many stories I had written and with a cry of rage I threw them into the fire, the others I ripped to shreds and they in turn were thrown in as well.

Sobbing, I dropped to my knees in front of the fire. As stupid as it was, I cried for my passed years that I could never get back, for the Neverland I would never see.

Too old, too old......

Sixteen.......

Too old..........

My cries began to soften to simple gluttoral moans and then merely to sniffles and whimpers.

I must have cried for longer than I had previously thought because the fire had died to embers, glowing softly, the charred remains of my stories curling like black snakes. I closed my eyes, but the tears burned behind my lids like the fire had been.

I sat in silence when what felt like a summer breeze blew past my cheeks, and the smell of honey suckle and lilies clung to my hair. Faintly, I heard the sound of bells.

"Girl," a voice whispered, "why are you crying?"

What, would I now hear his voice wherever I was, asleep or awake? Wiping my eyes on the back of my sleeve, I turned and found a small boy of fourteen silloetted in my window.

My mouth managed to whisper these words back, "I wasn't crying." I stood then, gathering the thick underskirt. Seeing my height he seemed scandalized.

"You're not a girl, you're a lady!" He protested.

"I'm not that old!" I exclaimed rather annoyed, "I'm only two years older than you! Certainly not old enough to be a lady." I muttered.

"I thought......." he began, "I thought you were a girl."

"I am a girl, you half wit!" I exclaimed indignantly.

"No......you're old...." He had not moved from the window and he looked as if he would flee, as if my age unnerved him.

The word prickled me unpleasantly.

I started forward to shake him if it came to that and beg him to take me to Neverland. But the movement startled him and he leapt from my window, "No! Wait!" I cried as I sprang to the window. I stopped short. I leaned out the window farther.

"Oh my........" I murmured. I saw him, simply floating on air as a beam of light whizzed by his ear.

I pulled in a sharp breath as the dazzling form landed on his shoulder and I caught sight of delicate, translucent........wings.

"Tink!" The name sprang from my lips, "Peter, is that Tink?!"

I got a chorus of bells for a response.

"How do you know Tink?" Peter asked, flying closer to be nose to nose with me, "And how do you know me?"

I wanted to pull back, but that would show weakness and the last thing I wanted was to seem weak to him.

"Why, the stories of course......"

"Stories....?" Peter drew back, his eyebrows raised in expectation, "You know stories?" His eyes lit up.

"Oh, I know so many of them, Peter!"

"Really?!" He asked excitedly.

"Oh yes, stories like Rupunzle, Sleeping Beauty, the Arabian Nights....."

He flew nearer, and I pulled back into the room as he flew in.

"Treasure Island....." I continued running over to my bookshelf, "of course that one's about pirates......."

Peter sailed over to me, "Do any of them die gruesome deaths?" He asked.

"Quite a few." I replied giggling.

"It's perfect." He smiled, and at that moment I knew how Wendy fell in love with him. The quirk of his lips caught my attention. I clutched the book to me. It was right there, it was perfectly clear in the right hand corner. The kiss. How many times had I seen it on Wendy? I reached out my hand to it, "It was you......" His hand reached out and held mine, "....wasn't it? That's what the secret smile of hers' was.....it was you."

"Who?" He asked, he was still holding my hand.

"Peter......" my expression darkened, in remorse, "Peter, you don't remember her......?"

"Who? Is this a game?"

I searched his face for any recollection of my friend, and found none.

"Wen.......oh my dear lord!" I yelped alarmed as an orb of gold light broke apart our hands, followed by several sharp tugs on the dark locks of my hair. The angry buzz of bells alerted me to the cause.

"Tink!" Peter shouted and pried the pixie from my hair, "What is the matter with you?!"

There was a sharp response from Ms. Bell.

"You silly ass." He translated, "She's a funny thing." He said smiling again.

"It's strange," I said wincing as I discovered the small knots Tinker Bell had tied in the strands of my hair, "I wonder as to why I do not find it at all humerous." I muttered, going over to my dresser, retrieving my brush to sort out all the hideous mess.

"Well, she's not very polite," He said matter of factly, "she's quite the common fairy."

"I can see that," I replied, running the brush through my hair, "But I quite doubt she is common," I said putting the brush aside and coming towards the light being on his shoulder, "I think she's the most lovely creature." I couldn't help smiling.

Tink's harmony of bells changed into a slightly lighter note.

"I suppose so," Peter replied, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, as he began to walk around my room, picking up such things as my perfume and nearly spraying it in his eyes, blinding him, of course Tink got the full blast of it. She zoomed over in her beam of radiant light and pinched me as if it were all my fault. I simply smiled at her attentions.

When Peter made his way over to my writing desk, I followed.

"What's this?" He asked holding up a small manuscript, the only one I hadn't burned.

Peter Pan by Wendy Moira Angela Darling ( a fantastical work in progress)

I took it gently from him, "It's a story." I said softly.

"Well," he said rising into the air as if he were merely resting on it, "what's it about?"

"You."

He leaned forward, pleased, "Is it really? Was I magnificent? Was I clever and wonderful in it?"

"Yes, quite." I assured him dutifully, for truth he was.

"Of course I was!" he exclaimed proudly, rising higher. And then her crowed. The very same crow I heard Wendy try to imitate in the past.

I clapped my hands happily, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

"Oh, Peter crow again! Crow again!" I laughed.

He did.

I stood in complete awe of him, "Brilliant, Peter. Simply brilliant."

He bowed graciously at the waist. When he arose that slight smirk of his was splayed across his face. I laughed again.

"So, how do you know all of your stories?"

I waved my hand at the bookshelf, "From these........"

"Books!" Peter sneered, "Oh loathsome books.....!"

"Oh, no Peter! Books are far from that!"

"Do they not make you study from them at schools?" Peter asked, picking up a book about mathmatics.

"Well, yes........" I admitted, and jumped when he ran the leather bound book through with his dagger. "But Peter.....stories are also in books."

"Oh....." He said looking down at the slaughtered book, regretfully for as much as a second, "well, then I shall bring them back to Neverland with me!" He smiled a triumphant smile, "Tink!"

Tinker Bell flew over to my bookshelf and began dusting it with her fairy glow. The books began moving of their own device, "Farewell girl- lady, many thanks for your stories." He said flying out the window, the books following them, some of them hesitating. Tink stopped long enough to stick her tongue out at me.

"Peter!" I cried, running after him to the window.

"Yes?" He asked turning back to look at me curiously.

"Do you know how to read?"

He looked at me oddly.

"You have to know how to read to know the stories........" His expression darkened, he turned away.

"Peter! I know how to read, I could read the stories to the Lost Boys....I know songs too! I could sing them lullabyes....." He began to slowly face me, "I could be their mother....." I finished hopefully.

He was fully turned around now and a disquieting smile was inching across his lips.

His small hand grabbed my wrist in startling hardness, "Yes...." he whispered mischieviously, "you could........and you will!" He began to pull me out.

"Peter..." I began fearfully, "teach me to fly."

He smiled charmingly again, "First," he said raising his eyebrows, "you need a bit of fairy dust," with this he plucked Tink from the air despite her protests and held her over my head. I felt each spark of light him me like warm rain, "and then all you need is a......."

"Happy thought." I finished for him, looking up into his eyes.

He nodded, "Yes."

What if I have more than one happy thought?"

"All the better."

I closed my eyes. I thought of singing with the mermaids, fighting pirates maybe one even more terrifying than Hook had been, dancing around a bonfire with the natives, flying to the stars.....seeing them all.

A boyish laugh made me open my eyes. I was no longer on the ground. I held on to Peter's arm.

"You're a natural." He claimed.

"Yes indeed....." I whispered, "naturally afraid."

His hands held my shoulders hard, "That you must not be. There is nothing more dangerous than your fear."

"Not even falling?" I asked trying to joke.

His expression remained serious, "Do not fear."

I gave him a tight smile.

"There are fairies....." He whispered, "every child has a fairy, every child.....even you."

"You mean, my fairy's in Neverland?" My eyes widened at the thought of seeing my own fairy, talking with her....

"Ow!" I cried as my head hit the ceiling.

Peter spun around laughing, "That must have been a large happy thought!"

"I think it was!" I replied laughing as I rubbed my head.

I heard the downstairs door open.

Father!" I exclaimed.

"You must leave behind it all, or you can not go." Peter warned me.

"Then I leave it." I assured him.

Another boyish smile graced me, "Then let's go, second star to the right......"

"....and straight on til morning."

"Yes......Neverland."

Father's footsteps climbed the stairs, as the remaining books flew out the window.

He was at the bedroom door as Peter took a hold of my hand.

"Catherine?" Came his deeply familiar voice.

"Leave it behind." Peter commanded of me again.

"Catherine, why is this door locked? Catherine?"

"Wait....." I begged of Peter, as I broke from his grasp.

"Catherine!" Father pounded on the door, "Grace! I can't get to Catherine!"

I swapped up Wendy's small twine bound manuscript from my writing table, rolled it up and put it in the pocket of my robe, which merely covered my full underskirt, white blouse and corset.

"Now, I leave it." I told him.

He grinned as if he knew this would always have been my choice.

He held out his hand to me.

"Catherine! Oh god, Catherine, please open up!"

I almost turned back to Father's voice when I heard the despair in it.

Peter's voice pulled me back, as he whispered in my ear, "Come with me."

I turned and looked into his eyes. His eyes that had never held fear, or doubt, or disbelief.....I wanted that again.

His hand still waited.

"Catherine!!"

I took it, "I will come with you."

"I know."

I supposed Father and Mother broke through the door just as my feet left the floor again for the last time. And I suppose I would have heard my father call out another time.....if Peter and I hadn't been laughing as we flew to the stars.

"Peter, there are so many of them....." I murmured as we sailed among the stars.

"They're very funny." Peter laughed.

"You talk to them?"

"Yes, don't you?" He asked me. When I didn't answer he tugged me along, "Come on! I want to show you something!"

He brought me nearer to a star that seemed to quiver with it's light of white fire. Peter took my hand in his and brought it to the unnatural flame. It curled around my hand like smoke, traveling up my arm, winding around it. You know the feeling in your throat when you take a big sip of hot chocolate, and so this felt as if the fire itself ran through me and everything I was, filling me. I imagined the star was now in the irises of my eyes.

I turned to stare at Peter amazed, "What was that?"

"That," he said smiling, "was hello."

I merely gazed at him in absolute wonder.

"Come on!" He shouted, spinning away as if he were now suddenly disinterested. He grabbed my hand, "We can't keep Neverland waiting for it's new mother....by the way, what's your name?"

I told him my childhood name, as he pulled me faster into the dawning of a large star ahead of us, "Kaaaaaaate!!!!!!!!!!"