An Acorn and a Thimble

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, Wendy, or any other characters associated with Peter Pan. They all belong to the brilliant mind that created them, JM Barrie, and to Universal Studios who finally brought this timeless tale to life in an amazing way. I salute you.

A/N: This story is dedicated to Moe, whose enthusiasm, great ideas and all around love for Jeremy Sumpter sparked this idea for a fic.

A/N2: This is based on the movie. I read some of the book, but not sure everything's accurate, thus it is based on the movie. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: Three Years Passed

Three years. It had been three long years since Wendy Darling last saw the boy that didn't age. She was now sixteen, and had since moved out of the nursery into her own room. She understood that there just wasn't enough room for her, John, Michael and the Lost Boys all in the same room, but did she have to be alone? Even Nana still resided in the nursery. She walked to her bedroom window, and just as she did every night before, she sat out the acorn that Peter gave her on the window ledge. It had saved her life once, as he had on many occasions. She kept hoping, praying that she'd awake to find him hovering over her again like he had when she first met him. But he had not yet returned. She rested her head against the window pane, and soon drifted into a restless sleep.

Unknown to her, a figure watched her helplessly. How he wanted to wake her up, and see her beautiful blue eyes upon him again. But he couldn't, not just yet. He was changing, and it scared the crap out of him. Maybe she wouldn't like him when she had seen what he had become. He gathered her in his arms, and laid her softly in her bed.

She gave a small sigh, and snuggled against her pillow. Peter pulled the covers over her, and went to stand guard on the rooftop, just as he did every night.

Mrs. Darling came in to find her daughter's window open as she did every night. As she went to close it, Wendy jumped up.

Mrs. Darling put a hand to her heart. "Wendy, I thought you were asleep."

Wendy sighed. "I thought…"

It was what Mrs. Darling had feared. Her daughter, her baby girl was in love with a boy that could never be her own. She sat on the end of Wendy's bed, and took her hands. "Wendy, you're a young woman now."

            "I'm scared," Wendy interrupted.

A look of confusion crossed Mrs. Darling's face. "Scared of what, precious?"

            "I'm scared I dreamed him," She sobbed. "I'm scared he's just someone I made up… and I'm scared that he's forgotten me."

Mrs. Darling didn't know what to tell her daughter about this. She had never seen this Peter Pan. If it were an ordinary boy, like Matthew Davis, she'd be able to handle it better. What could she tell her? "Oh, sweetheart, first loves are always the hardest."

            "Who was yours?" Wendy asked, drying her eyes.

            "Your father," Came Mrs. Darling's reply. She kissed the crown of Wendy's head. "Try and get some sleep, it's very late."

            "Okay," Wendy whispered resigned. But it was very hard for her. Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was his face. Why did he haunt her?

Mrs. Darling got up.

            "Can you leave the window open… just in case?" Wendy asked.

            "But sweetheart, it's freezing."

            "Just a little?"

            "Okay," Her mother whispered.

            "Mum?"

            "Yes?" Mrs. Darling asked.

            "Do you think he's forgotten me?"

            "…No," Mrs. Darling answered. "But, you know, he just must be very busy."

Wendy gave a small smile, and closed her eyes.

George Darling was laying on their bed, reading when his wife walked into the room. She did not sit down, or undress, but began to pace in front of him, wringing her hands. After a minute or two, he looked up from his book. "Problem, dear?"

            "It's Wendy," She moaned. "It's been three years, yet that boy is still in her heart."

George went back to reading. "She'll get over it,"

            "George," Marianne said, taking the book from him and closing it with a snap. "This is serious. She's a young woman now, and she sleeps with her window open every night waiting for him to return."

            "So then we shall shut it."

            "It won't solve the problem."

            "Marianne, what can I do? Go to this place and drag this boy to London? If he's not here, he's not good enough for my daughter."

Marianne took George's hands in her own. "You've forgotten,"

He cocked a brow at her. "Forgotten what?"

            "When we met, and I had that terrible relationship with Seymour Snuggins, and you helped me forget all about him."

George gave a mischievious grin. "I did, didn't I?"

            "Yes," Marianne said. "Wendy's heart is broken, and she needs someone to mend it. I think it's time for her to start dating."

George made an odd choking sound.

            "George?"

            "Dating? My Wendy, my little girl going out with these hoodlums?"

Marianne just smiled at him. "Come now, there are some nice boys in London."

George gave a sigh. "Speaking of that, Tom Davis's has a son that is interested in Wendy."

Marianne gushed. "Oh, little Matthew Davis, he'd be wonderful!"

            "Yes, wonderful," George said, rubbing his temples. "Do we have any aspirin?"