Obligatory Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, I just like to play with them.

He never imagined it could be so silent. That was the first thing he had noticed upon his return, the complete stillness of the place now that everyone had gone. The pirates were dead, slumbering forever at the bottom of the sea, and the Indians who had not perished in that last great battle had gone to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Most importantly, and hardest to bear, the Boys had gone. It was the hardest loss of all, being abandoned by those he had taken care of and nurtured in his own way, that rag-tag band who had been a part of so many of his greatest adventures.

It was a strange feeling for Peter, the aching empty place in his chest. His heart was still beating, of that he was sure, but he didn't feel that it was beating with the same determination as in times past. Something was wrong, but Peter didn't want to admit what it was. His somber mood had even sent Tink packing, she who was his staunchest ally and greatest friend. She had departed a few days after they had come back, promising to return in a few weeks. Tink gave no explanation or inclination to her whereabouts, but Peter was respectful of her privacy. Besides, it gave him time to think without interruption by her constant barrage of rude remarks designed to make him forget.

A routine had emerged in the days following her departure. Peter would spend his days wandering aimlessly about the island, and as the sun set would bed down for the night wherever he happened to be, avoiding the little house where they had once lived so happily: himself, Tink, the Boys, Wendy.

Wendy. Just the thought of her or the sound of her name made the ache in Peter's chest sharpen. His beautiful Wendy, who wanted everything but to whom he could promise nothing. Peter hadn't been sure yet just what everything was, but he knew it involved staying behind, turning into a man and losing himself. He had offered Wendy Neverland, holding it out to her like a ripe plum, and she had rejected it for her own world, a world Peter believed rotten to the core.

It was a world where he had been forgotten, when in returning to his window he saw his parents with a new child, cooing happily and showering such love upon it that Peter had no cause to believe his parents cared at all what had become of their firstborn son. Now Wendy had gone back, taking the Boys with her, and he was soon to be forgotten in their hearts as well, the only clues to his existence a few half-remembered dreams in those soft moments just before dawn, where one hovers between asleep and awake.

Lying on his stomach, peering down into a deep pool of water, Peter sighed. "Am I always to be abandoned?" A single tear rolled down his cheek and fell, a tiny ripple in the smooth clear surface. It was strange, but somehow Peter felt that tear in the pool represented his place in the world, in the lives of Wendy and the Boys--a brief disturbance in an otherwise calm existence. Had she really changed him that much, that he was now able to draw parallels between these minor occurrences and his own being? Before Wendy he wouldn't have even known what a parallel was, and now this type of thinking filled every corner of his mind. Had she aged him somehow, brought him to a new level of maturity?

Anger flared briefly at this thought, that she had somehow tricked him into growing up, just a little, despite everything she knew he wanted and believed in. The feeling subsided almost as quickly as it had risen, because as much as it pained him to admit it, the things he wanted and believed in didn't seem as important anymore. There was no one here to have adventures with now except Tink, and currently they couldn't stand to be around one another. There was no one to look up to him, no one for him to lead, and no one for him to crow to. You can only tell yourself how clever you are so many times before it begins to grow old.

It seemed to Peter that he was standing at a crossroads with no markers to give him direction. If he went one way he would remain eternally youthful and free to roam the world as he chose. After all, there were other windows, weren't there, and other children he could bring to the Neverland. But if he chose the other path, the only sure thing he knew laying ahead was Wendy, and only one window in London led to her beautiful face. It suddenly seemed he was far too young to make this kind of choice and he wept, wept for his lack of experience and knowledge, wept for his losses, and wept because for the first time in his life he wasn't sure what to do.

He fell asleep, tears still streaming down his cheeks, but slept soundly all through the night and most of the next day, exhausted from the rush of emotions that had overcome him. It was a dreamless sleep for once, no clashing swords or men in suits. Just blackness, sweet deep blackness helping him to arrange his thoughts. He woke to the realization that he had made a decision, and his heavy heart was slightly lighter. He would fly to her window that night, just a little peek, just to see if she remembered him. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it would work for now, affording him a few moments' peace. Now that his world had been turned upside down, what more could he ask for?