The children were madly infuriatingly happy in the nursery. They danced, beat drums and sang. Mother, father and Nana were an apt audience for their glee. What was lost had come home again and an almost unhealthy joy pervaded the room. The lost boys were welcomed with open arms and were declared no longer lost. The treasure that accompanied this merry party was disregarded and had been kicked (quite by accident) into a corner of the room.
Peter Pan watched all this from the window, his toes several inches above the ledge, and an odd sort of smile on his face. It was not a smile of happiness or satisfaction of a job well done, in fact it wasn’t really a smile at all. It was an expression of uncertainty that faded when he bared his teeth... becoming an expression of jealousy. All those that had been his friends had abandoned ship readily, Wendy too. Had she forgotten already? Standing there in the protective circle of her mother’s arms she looked sweet and content in her bedraggled nightgown; laughing gentle laughter at the boys’ antics. Peter was so full of longing that he felt he would explode, unable to budge he just stayed and watched for hours.
Tinkerbell became increasingly anxious, all her pinching and buzzing in front of his eyes was completely ignored. She knew Peter better than anything else in the world and sensed that his weakness was about to become his downfall.
Peter entered the nursery at midnight (when he could no longer contain himself) and the eldest of the room raised their heads to watch. While most of the boys had fallen asleep Wendy had stayed up with her parents to speak of their adventures, John occasionally threw in a word but was drifting off as well. Silence had never been so loud...until Wendy ran to him, taking his hands in hers she whispered “Have you come to stay?”
And he had.
Years passed. The Darlings moved to a much larger home, the boys all succeeded in one way or another, becoming useful members of society. Peter threw himself into this brand of life just as recklessly as he had thrown it away years before. He surpassed the others quickly because of his gnawing hunger to be first and the best, the need had never left him. Wendy was courted but her suitors always mysteriously stopped calling, and when spotted around town were always reported to have bruises and swelling. She had been his from the beginning, he had wanted her first and Peter had no qualms about protecting his possessions.
Tink would come to the house every night at first to see if Pan had changed his mind. Her visits slowed before stopping altogether. She had seen the couple in sleep, Peter’s arm clutched around a growing Wendy, her face pale even in the relaxation accompanying slumber. Tinkerbell understood that it was too late for him now but not for her.
When the child was born Peter looked into the baby’s small red face and felt not pride but something else. He looked at his wife and saw her joy but no matter how hard he tried he could not feel the same. They were children no longer and this baby was proof of that. Peter felt a dawning horror and hated Wendy for it. He hated his child for anchoring him and most of all he hated his life. He felt hunger for travel and tree hammocks and embittered battles. He began to sit by the window every night to watch for his faerie while Wendy cried herself to sleep.
At last one night what was thought to be a star journeyed closer and closer. Peter, squinting, recognized his long lost companion. He stood, knees popping, and spared a last look at the bed. Wendy met his eyes, dull realization draining her, she gave a nod then turned to the wall. Disappointment overcame Peter, he had looked forward to some sort of battle at the end, but his wife was not going to give him further satisfaction.
Facing the window once more panic overwhelmed Peter. Where was his faerie? The light had disappeared! Lips soundlessly repeating 'no, no, no,' he yanked the window up with quivering hands and leaned out into the night.
There! Tink was entering through the nursery, just like old times, confusing little Michael's room for his. Peter hurried out to the hall to catch her before she made a mistake, behind him he could hear Wendy's frantic footsteps as well, perhaps there would be a fight after all.
Flinging open the door Peter stopped dead at what he saw. The chubby cheeked four year old he despised was making the same choice Pan had made decades earlier. Tink and the boy were hovering at the open balcony doors, preparing for flight. “Why not me?” Was Peter's question, standing limply, understanding finally that there would be no great escape from the choices he had made.
The faerie did not deign to answer, or if she did Peter could no longer understand the language. The duo left just as Wendy skidded to a halt behind her husband, they left with her screams ringing out behind them, they left Peter to what was his.