Hi! Oh, wow. It's the last chapter. NO REMINISCING TILL THE BOTTOM.

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan.

Chapter Twelve: Good-bye Doesn't Always Mean Forever

Numb.

That's what described Wendy Moira Angela Darling's heart for days afterward.

Complete numbness.

She tried to have a one-on-one therapy session with herself once. "We both knew about this. He warned me. Why am I so surprised?"

Maybe she thought that she was going to have more time; more time to convince him that the air wouldn't hurt him even though she didn't believe it herself. Maybe she was holding on to a thin rope, a slender hope, that he would change his mind.

For her.

Maybe, just maybe, she saw this coming all along and was just ignoring it. "Ignorance is bliss," they said. Well, her bliss was now broken and maybe her ignorance was never completely ignorant.

If anything, she was more aware of the hurt in the world, now. She spat and she grumbled and she was just acting like Peter Pan when he did not get his way. Usually and eventually, Peter Pan did something about it when he had no more secret tears to cry and no more fire to yell.

This, she could do nothing about.

Her friends and brothers (both kinds) and even her parents tried to help. She thanked them for their concern, but, no, she was okay. She smiled. He was just a boy.

But, later on that night when she just could not surrender to sleep, she felt traitorous toward that boy who was supposed to be "just a boy." He was never "just a boy." She then raised a finger to the right corner of her mouth, trying to pinpoint the exact area of where that hidden kiss used to be.

"I don't know what has happened to Wendy," Mr. Darling said one night when they thought everyone was asleep.

"She's heartbroken," Mrs. Darling said calmly. "Give her some time."

Wendy paused; the water in her glass was slightly shaking as she slowly turned her head to her parents' bedroom door.

"She's no longer in the nursery. She can't just throw fits…." Wendy started jogging down the hall toward her room. Her heart was beating fast and she thought that she felt tears pricking her eyes.

When she reached her door, she turned the doorknob, entered, and then closed the door. She locked it. Click. The brown-haired girl took a breath and sunk down to the carpeted floor. She placed the glass down, not caring if it spilled, and then hugged her knees close.

"Father is just a practical man," she tried to reason to herself. "Even I know that I have no reason to act like this."

Those words didn't help.

She wasn't sure if she felt very numb. Her heart was, maybe. Her eyes could still cry. She could still feel. She raised the glass to her dry lips.

She knew that she had a part of Peter in her; a part that he could never take back. He might come back for it, maybe. But, she could not return it. It numbed her and kept her safe.

Safe, she repeated in her mind as she closed her eyes, placing the glass down. Safe.

Wendy jerked awake, not exactly sure what she had heard or when it was made. Her eyes immediately went to the window.

It was closed.

The girl then sighed and dragged herself to her bed, leaving the spilt glass on the floor. She didn't notice that a candle was lit.

On returning, Peter Pan discovered a group of boys who were stupid enough to fall out of their prams and not get claimed in seven days. They said that the journey to the Neverland they could not remember, nor their parents. Could they stay?

Neverland was on its last legs when Peter Pan returned from his stay on Earth. After a couple of days of his presence cock-a-doodling in its atmosphere, however, it soon began to grow. Slowly, but ever progressing to become the brilliance that it once was.

The house – Wendy-lady's house – was in various states of decomposition. Peter Pan did not bother to fix it. Maybe, just maybe, it would help ease the memories of the girl and her thimbles the more dead it became.

Tinkerbell was oh-so-happy that Peter Pan was back. Something was off, she knew, but she did not pester. It had to go away. Peter Pan had to forget. And if she did not talk about it nor the new Lost Boys nor Peter Pan himself, it might just fade into a distant memory and then into nothing more.

The window.

Wendy Moira Angela Darling woke up from a dreadful nightmare that she just could not remember. It was taunting and hopping to-and-fro in her mind, never letting her get close. It had to do with a window; that was all she knew.

What had woken her up?

"Wendy-lady."

She looked at the window again. No, it was closed. She looked at her door. Nothing. Her bookshelves were even. She then looked directly up at her ceiling.

"Oh!" she said.

Peter Pan sheepishly smiled and floated down to stand at the foot of her bed, casting a long shadow over her.

"Hi, Wendy," Peter Pan said and bowed.

"You came back," she then said sternly after truly realizing that he was here, there. "You dared to come back."

He sadly frowned. "I'm sorry, Wendy. Please-"

"You put me through so much and you dared to come back?" she scrambled off of her bed and ran toward her window. Peter Pan spun around, hopelessly watching.

Wendy tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. She then glanced at him. "How'd you get in because you need to get out."

"Wendy, please listen. Please, oh, please listen!" Peter Pan said, walking toward her. He gripped her fisted hands in his own. "Please."

She met his eyes. They did look truly sorry. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Peter. I didn't think that you were going to come back."

"I didn't say good-bye, Wendy-lady. I just said 'bye.'"

She hung her head. "Oh." After running over his farewell so many times in her head, she couldn't find a loophole of him coming back. A chance of him coming back.

He tipped her head upwards with a now-grimy finger. "It's not the same there, Wendy. Oh, I have a new group of Lost Boys and everything," he said off-handedly, "but, it's not the same. Neverland needs a girl."

"Then just find a Lost Girl," she said quietly.

"Don't you remember, Wendy? Girls are much too smart to fall out of their prams."

"And 'they're worth more than twenty boys,'" Wendy quoted, smiling the tiniest of smiles.

He nodded and then took a deep breath. "Please come, Wendy-lady."

"Tinkerbell?"

"She'll just have to get used to you."

Wendy bit her lip. "But, what about Mother? Father? The boys…"

"They'll be fine," Peter said. "I need you more than them. The Lost Boys and me and Neverland need a mother."

Wendy wanted to lower her head, to avoid his earnest green eyes. Just when she was about to, Peter Pan managed to duck in and give her a thimble. "Please."

"I can't give it back to you," she said softly against his lips, internally clutching that part of him in her heart; in the smallest part of her Wendy-lady being.

"I know."

One word.

One word was all it took to say yes or to no; to disturb the still night air and its peace. To heal Neverland or completely break it.

Just one word.

"Did Wendy mind very much?"

"No."

The girl looked up at her parent, slightly cocking her head. "She gave up everything."

Former Slightly, who was now called Mr. Thomas Darling, did a grim laugh. "Yes, yes she did. But, she was happy," he paused and then added. "She is happy."

The little girl mulled over this for a second. "Does she remember us very much?"

The man kissed her forehead. "Sometimes."

The End.

Ta-da! Oh, people, I can't believe that this story is over. :O

Every single person who has reviewed or favorited or story-alerted or who will/might do so, thank you. Sorry that it took a little bit over a year for this story to end, but, hey. At least we enjoyed it longer, right? I hope that you loved this story as much I did writing it. :)

Thanks again,

-MythScavenger