Hello dear readers! I admit up front that this was written to cope with my peter pan obsession. Please enjoy and ideas are always welcome!

Chapter 1: Not an Angel

Eleanor's body shook again as she sobbed into her pillow. A gas light on her wall flickered and she was thankful it was not brighter, as her teary eyes already stung. It was quiet so very quiet. If her heart ached before when her brother Edwin coughed relentlessly, night after night, it was nothing compared to now. It had been a month since he grew sicker and illness took him. As if the horror wasn't enough her parents made it all the worse. At the death of her brother her mother had retreated within herself, her blue eyes staring blankly into the distance. All the life from her seeming to have been drained, Eleanor thought it only a matter of time before she refused to leave the bed altogether. Her father was worse, he raged about now not as explosively as he did in the beginning, now only bitter and wounded. She rubbed the ugly knotted scar inside her hand. She had gotten that cleaning up the carnage of her father's rage. It became a routine now: He destroyed the house and Eleanor would put it back together. When he was gone, at work in the city, Eleanor stayed and worked to clean the house and feed her and her mother. She prepared dinner and set the table and made sure her mother was dressed and present went her father arrived. He would come with the smell of liquor on him and Eleanor would keep her mouth fixed shut most of the time, just waiting until it was over and she could clear the table and they would all go their separate ways.

Tonight she just hadn't been able to manage. Her mother had been unruly in the night and Eleanor stayed up with her stroking her hair calmingly until the sun had risen and her father had left. The cleaning that day had been so very slow and so very hard. She stumbled through the day as best she could and even kept upright at the dinner table. But she stumbled when she was clearing the table and broke all the plates she was carrying. He father stormed in from the living area, where he had either been reading or drinking, and preceded to yell at her whilst also making her clean up her mess. His biting words still rang in her ears: "Useless is what you are and all you'll ever be! Why couldn't god have taken you instead of my boy?" Eleanor wiped away the new wave of tears. Sometimes she wondered much the same. But as she pondered it she realized that even though losing Edwin had been tragic, the was still a world full of little boys and girls being brought up and that for them the world must go on. But her parents couldn't seem to understand that. What is it, Eleanor wondered, that made adults so very blind? Was it part of growing up? That being so extremely engulfed in the everyday routine of life and the problems accompanying it that they just forget about the rest of the world and opportunity? If so she hoped that it never had to happen to her. She would rather just never grow up at all…

She didn't remember going to sleep, but she sat up now wiping the sand from her eyes as she did so. It was the middle of the night but she had left the gas light on, as she turned to extinguish it, she noticed the figure standing above Edwin's bed. She inhaled sharply and stared at the boy. He was tall and lean and wore green and brown clothes made from different types of fabric. He had dark brown curls and blue eyes and he looked very pale in the light of her room. But none of that caught her attention like his shadow. The thing was dancing around of its own accord seemingly unattached to the boy whenever he ceased moving. She almost didn't register the boy talking to himself.

"Makes no sense… should have come sooner…" He started pacing and his shadow snapped back to normal. Oddly Eleanor wasn't afraid of him but she felt like she needed to say something.

"He died a month ago." She said because the way he was circling Edwin's bed it was as if he were waiting for her brother to reappear. He whipped around to look at her as if he didn't know she was there. He seemed dumfounded by her words.

"How?" He asked shaking his head.

"Illness." Eleanor managed to choke out. Speaking of Edwin still made her throat tighten. The news seemed to be particularly depressing for they boy as well.

"I'm sorry." He sounded sorry, though Eleanor didn't think it was for her. He started to pace again mumbling, "But the child, she couldn't lie to me, the child should have been…" he stopped and turned to look directly at Eleanor. "Here" he finished.

There was a pause in which neither of them moved. The stillness seemed to allow his shadow its freedom and again it started to dance. The quiet made Eleanor uneasy and thinking of nothing better she said, "Your shadow has a mind of its own." She didn't know why it wasn't more of a question; it seemed quite possible, it was happening right before her very eyes, yet many would have still been unable to believe it.

But not Eleanor.

The boy smiled at her, genuinely. "Yes" he said. "I'm afraid it gets a little restless being trapped down all the time. Sometimes he gets away and it's a nightmare to recapture." He said with mock grief, and it made Eleanor giggle. The tension was ebbing away as if the dancing shadow and mysterious boy were normal.

"I'm Eleanor by the way." Eleanor said. Seeing the boys face scrunch in distaste she laughed and added. "Call me Ella if you like."

The boy smiled and extended a hand. "I'm Peter, Peter Pan."

"Like the plays and the book?" Ella asked skeptically. But Peter shook his head.

"Nothing like, I'm afraid. I am the original and source of those stories, they're just distorted and inaccurate. How old are you Ella?" The question caught Ella off guard for it was very strange.

"Fourteen." She said, still somewhat bewildered.

"Excellent, Do you believe in magic Ella?" He asked with a sly smirk, stepping backward toward the window of Ella's room. She followed nodding.

"I do, I believe in a great many things. Been told it was my best trait even." She said absently remembering her mother's complement from many months ago.

"Excellent," He said again, "My homeland, Neverland, its full of magic. And kids never have to grow up, and we can be free. Will you come with me, Ella?" He backed up until he was standing on the sill of her window and he held his hand an open hand toward Ella.

Ella opened up her mouth, then closed it and bit her lip. Her mother she knew would hardly register her absence, she had died with Edwin and Ella knew that. Her father wouldn't care either, he thought her useless and wished her gone. Perhaps it was a wish she could grant. Never grow up, isn't that what she had wished for? Ella believed in many things but coincidence wasn't one of them.

"Are you an Angel?" She asked bluntly and that boy laughed and shook his head.

"Never met an Angel before but I am magic." He said with a shrug.

"I don't understand." Ella said with a furrowed brow, "How could you know I needed you? Why did you come here?"

He seemed a bit shocked at that question, but answered all the same, "I was looking for destiny, and a very powerful fairy pointed me in the right direction. May I take that as a yes?" He stretched out his hand again. Ella nodded to him but ran to her beside and hastily put on her brothers old boots. Who could possibly go adventuring without boots? She hopped up on the sill next to Peter before taking his hand.

"What now?" she asked.

Peter smiled at sideways, it was quite the mischievous look and it made Ella somewhat uneasy. "Now we test your beliefs," he said. And with that he jumped out the window pulling Ella along with him. For a moment Ella's stomach dropped as they started to fall and she very much hoped she had made the right decision to believe in Peter Pan.