A/N: This is my first shot at a Peter Pan fic. This is based on the 2003 live-version movie with Jeremy Sumpter, Rachel Hurd-Wood, and Jason Isaacs.
"You won't forget me, will you?"
"Me? Forget? Never."
"Will you ever come back?"
"To hear stories...about me."
Wendy Darling opened her eyes wearily and sighed, turning her head slightly to look at the clock. The clock on the wall read half past two, and the young girl frowned. For the past few months, she had been waking up in the midst of the night, Peter's last words echoing in her dreams. Wendy had yet to forget about her adventures in Neverland, but she was beginning to fear that the longer Peter never came back, the more she would lose from her memory.
The brunette got up from her bed and made her way to the open window, sitting carefully on the ledge. The summer air was humid and warm, but Wendy paid no attention. Her parents had complained about her leaving her window open at night, but the young girl claimed that the room became humid during the evenings, especially in the summer. Unbeknownst to them, Wendy left the window open for Peter to swoop in and visit her, just like he had promised to her before leaving. However, despite her hopes, he had never visited. Wendy sighed and looked to the stars, searching for the slightest glimpse of the flying boy she had fallen in love with during her stay in Neverland.
Peter was nowhere to be seen.
A sigh escaped her lips and she stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from her dress. She took the handles of the window and before she knew it, Wendy was closing the window shut and locking it, feeling the smallest hint of bitterness.
"Never come back then, Peter. I've run out of stories to tell you, anyway."
Word had spread throughout school that Wendy had gotten terribly sick, and she was to be confined to her bedroom. She was not allowed to let anyone leave or enter her room with the exception of the hospital doctor who had been trying to determine a cure for Wendy's peculiar sickness. There was no specific diagnosis for Wendy's sickness yet, but the doctor believed he had the answer.
After today's session with Wendy, the doctor closed the bedroom door softly and turned to her parents, who were waiting nervously out in the hallway.
"She has a common disease, Mister and Missus Darling. It's not very commonly seen in women her age, but it appears to be what she has contracted."
"Well, what has she come down with, Doctor Lyons?" George Darling asked worriedly, squeezing his wife's hand in his own.
With a slight grin and chuckle, the doctor leaned in and whispered, "Miss Wendy Darling is lovesick, George."
Mary sighed with relief and thanked the doctor for his services before Mister Darling frowned.
"Who has Wendy fallen in love with? She's barely a woman, and she attends an all-girls school! When has she found the time to meet and fall in love, more or less, with a boy?"
Doctor Lyons chuckled heartily and replied, "Wendy is still a young girl, dreaming of nothing but sugarplum fairies and adventures untold. I'm sure this is only a little crush for a character of a story book or even a boy in her dreams. There is nothing to worry about, Mister Darling. What, do you think there's been a boy coming through her window every night?"
As the adults laughed, John and Michael sat quietly at the bottom of the stairs, their eyes wide.
"You don't think..." whispered Michael, turning to his older brother, searching John's equally surprised face for an answer.
John nodded in response, knowing perfectly well who Wendy was lovesick for.
Despite Doctor Lyons's assurances of Wendy's improvement, Wendy began to grow even more sick, her condition worsening within the next few weeks. Not only did Doctor Lyons come regularly for Wendy's check-up, but doctors from the town hospital came by as well. The hospital doctors were convinced that they had never seen anything like this before, but Doctor Lyons kept Wendy's diagnosis of being lovesick to himself. There was no need to be laughed at by advanced doctors. George and Mary Darling often listened from outside in the hallway as their young daughter cried out in pain or whimpered as a doctor approached her with a needle. They were scared; would Wendy ever recover?
As the last of the doctors left, George made his way into Wendy's room and smiled at the sleeping form of his daughter. She was smiling peacefully, no doubt having a dream about the mysterious boy. Sighing, Mister Darling made his way over to the window and opened it, allowing cool air to come in. Wendy would need the fresh air, and the early autumn nighttime scenery that was London was absolutely pacifying. Before making his way out of the room, George bent down and kissed his daughter on the forehead, bringing the quilt up to her neck.
"Get better soon, Wendy dear," he murmured, switching off the bedroom light as he closed the door.
Later that night, as the town square's clock chimed eleven o'clock, a figure moved outside Wendy's window. A small light soon followed after, and with the grace of a skillful dancer, the figure landed proudly on the window ledge, both hands on his hips and a triumphant smirk on his face.
"Wendy?" the figure called out, descending from the ledge. "I've come back for you, Wendy. I've come to hear more stories of how Cinderella defeated the scoundrel pirates and—"
The source of the voice, no other than the infamous Peter Pan, spotted Wendy at her bed at once and quickly made his way over to her, smiling down at her sleeping form. "Wendy?" he whispered, reaching out to touch her face.
Once his fingertips made contact with her cheek, he quickly pulled away, staring at the girl's face in astonishment. Her face was warm and flushed, yet she was as pale as the mermaids that came out of Neverland's lagoons late at night. Tinkerbell, who was sitting on Peter's shoulder, flew down to feel Wendy's face for herself and gasped at the radiating warmth.
"Wendy!" Peter whispered again, louder this time.
The aforementioned girl stirred, and Peter grinned, believing himself to be the reason she awoke. "Oh, the cleverness of me!" he cried, stepping back away from the bed.
Wendy opened her eyes at once at the recognition of the voice, and she sat up in bed, her fever disappearing.
"Peter, that's you, isn't it?" she asked, barely able to contain her excitement.
Getting out of bed, she made her way over to him and stopped. Grabbing the hem of her nightgown, Wendy bent low and curtsied, in response to which Peter bowed before her.
"Peter," she acknowledged back at him.
The boy smiled, stepping closer to the brunette girl. "I-I've come back," he stated matter-of-factly, "to hear new stories to share."
Wendy smiled enthusiastically, all previous bitterness melting away. She then jumped to her feet and began to recite a new story she had recently heard, Peter and Tink as her audience.
"Snow White was no ordinary girl," the enthusiastic storyteller began, "for she was the great hero of a war with a wicked, wicked queen who tried to poison her..."
For the rest of the night, Wendy did nothing but entertain and thrill her Neverland guests with stories of battles and the prevailence of good over evil. She covered distorted versions of stories such as The Little Mermaid, Rapunzel, and Beauty and the Beast to The Tin Soldier, Thumbelina, and The Goose Girl, and even went as far as to act out her favorite scenes from a story. As the sun began to rise, Peter and Tink headed for the open window, preparing to leave.
Peter spun around, taken aback by the sadness in Wendy's voice.
Looking to the ground, Wendy walked slowly to Peter and said, "You don't have to leave."
"Of course I have to. Your mother or father could come in at any mo—"
Looking up at him with sad eyes, Wendy said, "No, Peter. I mean, come stay here."
Peter was silent for a moment. He finally spoke again just as Tink poked him in the shoulder. "You know I can't. I don't want to grow up, and I have a new group of Lost Boys to look after."
Then, looking at Wendy with a hopeful expression, he said, "Maybe you could come stay with me in Neverland. You could tell the Lost Boys your stories, and you could be their Mother again."
The girl looked away and said, "You know I'd love to, Peter, but I can't. I can't leave behind my own Mother and Father."
Peter climbed onto the window ledge and said with regret, "Then I guess we were never meant to be together, Wendy."
"Peter!" exclaimed Wendy, grabbing his wrist.
He spun around and much to his surprise, Wendy pressed her lips to his, cupping his face tenderly with her hands. Tink made a face and flew out the window, waiting for them to finish. Wendy and Peter broke away a few seconds after, staring at each other with a sad longing.
"Well...I guess this is goodbye, Wendy."
She nodded in return and stepped back. "Remember me, Peter. Even if you can't bring yourself to come back, please remember me."
Peter smiled a small smile. "Always, Wendy."
He then flew away with Tink, leaving Wendy to stare up at the sky, long after Peter had disappeared into the cotton candy-like clouds.
Although they did not say it out loud, both knew that it would be a long time before they ever saw each other again.
Wendy leaned against the window frame and smiled sadly, tracing a heart across the wooden post.
"I'll never forget you, Peter Pan. Not now, not ever."