"Peter, look! The road!" She pointed excitedly, dragging him behind her. "And the buildings! Oh, oh, look, a bobby!"
Peter swallowed hard. He was finding it hard to breathe now, and an unfamiliar clench held tight in his throat. He tried to be happy for her happiness, excited by her glee, but he found himself at an utter loss.
Wendy pulled him to the sidewalk and they continued walking towards her home. She was still gleefully shouting and pointing, completely unaware of his misery.
When they neared her home, Peter tugged on her hand. She turned to him, a look of grief and regret filling her small, girlish face.
"Peter, you know I have..." Her soft voice drifted into silence.
He nodded slowly, and he felt the clench on his throat boiling up into his mouth. He tasted salt, and it took him a moment to realize that he was crying. He felt his heart breaking once more.
"Oh, Peter, you know I don't want to leave you." She whispered, her blue eyes spilling over in tears. "But...but I have to stay with my family. They need me."
"I need you." He said, forcing the words from his mouth as if they were a bitter fruit.
She raised her bandaged hand to his cheek, delicately tracing it with her fingertips. She stood on her tip toes, feeling them curl into the snow as the tiny icicles crept between then. She brushed her lips gently against his for a mere moment. To her, and to Peter, I presume, it was an eternity.
She sniffled, wiping her eyes. He pulled her to his chest, hugging her tightly. They stood there, their lower extremities slowly losing feeling to the chill, for quite some time. She felt his heart beating through his chest, her own heart in synch with his.
He pulled away from her reluctantly, only doing so because he had lost all feeling in his left foot. He grasped her hand tightly in his, and began walking towards her home.
In her mind, she was screaming to herself "No! No!", but she let herself be led, freely sniffling.
When they reached the stoop, his hands began to tremble. His heart felt as it were going to beat out of his chest, and the imaginary fist was once more clenching his throat to near suffocation. She sat down, bringing her down with him.
"Peter, you must know that I will miss you terribly, don't you?" Wendy asked him quietly, a tear falling onto her soiled skirt.
"Yes." He replied as he bit the inside of his lip to keep the lump in his throat at bay.
"And you will miss me?" She said, her voice slightly stronger.
"Of course." The familiar iron taste of blood began to swell on his tongue.
"I think you're going to starve to death." She said, smiling. "You can't even make a proper sandwich!"
He had to smile. She nudged him gently, leaning onto his shoulder.
"I love you, Peter." She whispered, somewhat tentatively. "I don't want you to forget that, please, don't ever forget that."
"I won't." He looked at his near purple toes.
The door was shoved open abruptly and they found themselves nearly underfoot of Tootles and Curly. Tootles' small eyes grew to unimaginable proportions and Curly looked as if he had seen a ghost. Both gasped audibly.
"Mother!" They shouted in unison, turning and running back into the house.
The thunder of numerous footsteps was heard and all of the boys, Nanna, and Mrs.Darling burst from the door. Shouts of glee and relief were heard, some neighbors peering out their windows in disapproval.
"Wendy! Wendy! Peter!" The cacophany of the boys shouts drew more disapproving glances.
Nanna's barking did not help the matter. All the boys were crowding around them, shouting. Each wanted to hug both of the children, as they fought each other for their turn.
Mrs.Darling's eyes were hard as she first glanced Peter standing next to her daughter. She had not quite forgiven him for this offense. Her eyes immediately softened when she saw the tell-tale swelling and redness around his eyes. She parted the boys and took Wendy into her arms. She clutched her tightly to her breast, as most mothers would do if something like this were to happen to their children.
"Wendy. My dear, sweet Wendy." Her mother breathed the words as if they were precious gems.
"Oh, Mother, I missed you so." Wendy whispered, hugging her mother tightly.
Michael grabbed Wendy's broken hand, without realizing it, jerking it for attention. Wendy cried out in pain and Mrs.Darling immediately noticed the damage.
"Come inside, now, everybody come inside." Mrs. Darling ushered the children into the house, Peter lagging behind. She smiled warmly at him. "You, too, Peter."
His face brightened at her welcoming words, and he followed her inside. They went along into the sitting room, where all the boys sat in a circle, ready and waiting for the tale of Peter and Wendy's latest adventure.
"Tell us a story!" Slightly cried.
"Yes, do tell us a story!" Michael chimed in.
"Where have you been?" John asked.
"What adventures have you had?" Nibs asked.
"Were there pirates?" the Twins squeeled in fright at the thought.
"Or...spiders?" Tootles shuddered; he was terribly afraid of spiders.
"Or the Spanish Armada?" Curly was fascinated with the history of everything.
Wendy laughed at her brothers' exuberant questioning. She turned to Peter, hugging her wrist to her chest.
"Why don't you tell them a story?" She asked him - well, she more told him to do it - and he readily complied.
Mrs.Darling rushed back into the sitting room, delicately bringing Wendy's wrist out of the bandage.
"Come, darling. I've already telephoned the doctor." She motioned Wendy into kitchen, grabbing a cloth from a cupboard as she went.
She heaved open a heavy wooden door, revealing an ice block. She chipped at it with the miniature ice-pick in the bin, putting the chips into the cloth. She folded it over tightly and handed it to Wendy.
"Put this on it. It should at least numb it a little." She said, reviewing the damage on her daughter's wrist. "It doesn't look too bad, after all. Did Peter set it?"
"Well, yes, or at least, he tried." Wendy stammered, nervous that her mother would disapprove of Peter's method.
"He did a fine job, it seems." Mrs.Darling smiled, hugging her daughter once more. "I missed you so much, darling. So very much."
"I missed you, too, Mother." She hugged her mother tight, wishing she could tell her of her adventures with Peter, and how much her heart longed for him, but knowing that it was not the correct time, nor the place.
She heard a loud gasp from the sitting. As she and Mrs.Darling walked in, they were just able to hear the last bit of Peter's story.
"-and then Wendy, she cut the evil fairy in half with my sword! Slice!" He made a dramatic sweeping motion with his hands. "She saved my life, you know."
"That was very heroic of her." Mrs.Darling laughed, noting by the bemused expression on her daughter's face that the boy was exaggerating quite a bit.
Wendy joined Peter in the middle of the circle, passing the afternoon telling stories of their adventures. Peter embellished a bit of it, but Wendy did nothing to reveal him. They both omitted the parts that involved the feelings - they blushed even thinking about it - and stuck to a harrowing tale of danger and mystery.
The doctor arrived, and cast Wendy's arm in a goo of plaster in the sitting room, as she and the others listened to Peter tell the story of how Wendy had broken her wrist. Except his version mentioned something about a Doogle Dragon.
Soon after the doctor had taken his leave and the plaster had hardened, Mr.Darling was heard entering the door.
"Dear, have you seen the steps? They look dreadful. I nearly slipped to my death on my way in, covered with ice, they are." He mumbled for a second before coming to a stop in the sitting room entryway. "Oh, hello, children. Really, we ought to do something about the ice."
He stopped for a second, his hat and coat still in mid-air, ready to be hung on the coat-rack.
"Children! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine! Nine children!" He exclaimed happily, seizing Wendy in his grasp and hugging her lightly. "I don't have nine children but I don't care!"
He noticed the cast on her wrist and his eyes glanced suspiciously towards Peter. Mrs.Darling noticed immediately and pulled Mr.Darlilng back.
"George, dear. Peter helped Wendy to set it." She tried to make her voice sound as if it were the greatest accomplishment one could have. "The doctor said it's going to heal just fine."
"I don't like, no, I don't like it at all." Mr.Darling shook his head, frowning. "My daughter runs away with some hooligan and comes back nearly dead! No, don't like it at all."
Mrs.Darling laughed at him.
"Nearly dead, George? It was just a broken bone!" She laughed again, a resonating soprano scattering about the room. "Besides, she's home now."
Wendy watched as her mother led her father into the kitchen. She supposed that her mother was going to tell him how she had returned and make sure that he did nothing to harm Peter or upset Wendy. Wendy watched silently as Peter played with her brothers, laughing and shouting with them like they had when they were all still in Neverland.
She wondered when he would go. Would he leave her in the night, without a goodbye, in the cloak of darkness to cover his ache? No, she spurned herself, he would not do that to her.
The evening was spent telling stories, just as the afternoon had been. When dinner came, everyone was famished, but could eat little due to the excitement in the household.
As bedtime drew nearer, Peter began to look more forlorn. Wendy's heart could not help but swell for him. He was going to miss her, she knew that much.
When the happy evening came to a close, and the boys were in their nightclothes preparing to go to bed, they all seemed eager for Peter to stay with them.
"You can sleep in my bed, Peter." Michael said shyly, holding his hands behind his back.
"Yes, won't you stay?" Slightly asked pleadingly.
"Please?" The Twins chorused.
"I can't stay, you know I don't belong here." Peter said, forcing a smile. "I belong in Neverland, where I can crow all I want!" He let out a loud, long crow.
The boys ran about the nursery attempting to imitate him, but in the end, it sounded as if an entire coop of chickens were being beaten.
After the boys were tucked in and on their way to the Neverland in their dreams, Wendy and Peter sat on opposite ends of her bed.
"I guess you have to go now, don't you?" Wendy asked quietly.
"Yes." Peter whispered, afraid of the answer itself. "I'll try to come back. I really will."
"I know you will, Peter." She smiled sadly at him. "But I'm going to grow up. You'll come to visit me one day and you will find a woman."
"Let's not talk about that now." Peter said, sniffling a little. "I'm going to miss you, Wendy."
"I'll miss you so much, Peter." She sniffled, too, before jumping off her bed. "I have something for you."
She crouched between her and Slightly's beds, pulling a worn wooden box from beneath her bed. She opened it carefully. It was filled with small treasures. He saw the kiss he had first given her (in all actuality, it was an acorn) but he thought it best not to mention it. He saw her pull a slip of thick parchment from the bottom of the box. She shut the lid and slid the box back underneath her bed.
"Here." She handed the paper.
It was thick, a sepia-toned image on the front. It was Wendy.
"It's a picture. Mother and Father had all of our pictures taken right before Christmas." She blushed as Peter gazed at it. "I want you to have it, so you won't forget me."
"I'll keep it forever." Peter said, a full truth evident in his voice.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Wendy leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. As they parted, she pulled him into a hug, her head resting on his shoulder.
"You should probably go." She said, already beginning to cry.
He didn't reply, but he did get off of the bed. Wendy stood up and walked him to the window. Together, they unlatched the stiff lock and lifted the window. A cold breeze hit them and they both shivered involuntarily. When the window was up all the way, Peter stepped off onto the balcony.
"Goodbye, Peter." Wendy said, tears flowing from her eyes. "I'll miss you."
"I'll come back on every full moon! I swear it!" He said, returning to the window ledge. "I'll miss you, too, Wendy."
He kissed her ever so gently and stepped to the farthest edge of the balcony. Wendy began to close the window.
"Wendy?" He asked.
"Yes, Peter?" She ducked down and stuck her head out of the open part of the window.
"I love you, too."