Author's Note: After e-reading Peter Pan and Wendy by J.M. Barrie for the hundredth time, I wondered how the epilogue came to be, and if Wendy was truely happy in it. From that idea come this is a short little oneshot, simple and bittersweet.

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or its characters. Henry Abbott, however, is mine.

Bittersweet

On a good day, Wendy would only sit for an hour at the nursery window. She would leave the shutters open and let the curtains billow around her as her eyes scoured the heavens for that elusive star that was home to the strange, flying boy that had taken her on an adventure and captured her heart just two years ago.

On a bad day, Wendy would lock the nursery door shut and refuse to move from her spot on the window. Nothing her parents offered or threatened could shake Wendy's resolve. John and Michael attempted, but with no result.

Wendy would wait for Peter.

As she had waited for two years.

But as the days wore on and Wendy grew older, she found that she was too busy to keep up her vigil at the window. So she shortened it down to five minutes a day, every day of the week.

Mrs. Darling then entered Wendy into an after school dancing class, so Wendy's window visits were cut down to three times a week, mostly right before she retired to bed. Mr. Darling had also insisted that Wendy see her friends from school more often and arrange meetings and dinner invites so that Wendy could socialize. This cut her window visits down to one a week.

"Michael," Wendy had said one day, seated at the window. "Why doesn't he come? Do you...

"Do you think he's forgotten?" The tone had been enough to break the heart, the terrible insecurity ringing out from the usually happy and confidant voice.

Michael had awkwardly peered up into the starry night sky with her. He remembered their adventure vividly, from flying to fighting pirates to seeing mermaids. But as his life in London began to mature with him, Michael found his thoughts occupied with this science problem or that mathematical theory instead of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys.

Yes. He has forgotten. Michael wanted to say. Because it was the truth. Peter was a boy without a care in the world. He wouldn't care to remember the promise he had made to one girl when he could fly the heavens as he pleased.

But Michael didn't say that. His heart clenched as his sister looked at him with those big, hopeful eyes. He knew she was waiting, that a big part of her would hurt if it had to face the truth.

"No," Michael said slowly, not looking at his older sister. "I think he's trying to find a present for you, or maybe he's fighting his way here, like the princes from all yours stories."

Wendy's eyes lit up like Christmas Morning. "Really?" She gasped, smiling uncontrollably. "How wondrous!"

She reached over and hugged Michael tightly. They were almost the same height now.

His arms encircled hers, and he wondered how he would ever find a way to stop her waiting, to make her give up something she had never reslly owned in the first place.

Three years later, and Wendy was a young woman.

She was pretty as their mother, if not more beautiful, with blue eyes that twinkled and always seemed to be imagining something far away. Her brown hair curled into perfect spirals and her lips were full and pink. Her face was heart shaped and her cheekbones high. Her chin was stubborn and her nose snub.

In the short time since her coming out party—her official introduction into society—Wendy had enchanted the hearts of many men.

But her heart beat for only one.

The one she could not have, for he was just a boy. And boys have no room for some silly emotion like love in their lives.

Wendy understood this now, but her heart did not accept it.

She danced with many men and some tried to court her, but she always artfully avoided it. After a particularly exhausting evening, she would pretend to retire to bed, but would soon be in front of the nursery window. She was gradually getting better, but she still would continue stare into the heavens and wonder what was taking Peter so long to get to her.

"John," Wendy asked one night. "What do you think is taking Peter so long?"

John, now a young man, had stared at her helplessly. He was smart and knew his way around numbers, but the feelings of a woman are very complicated.

And Wendy was now a young woman, but in so many ways, she was a child. Her eyes were innocent and confused. John would never take away that innocence if he could help it.

"He probably gotten lost," John replied, lying through his teeth. He crossed the room over to Wendy and sat down beside her. "There are quite a few cities in the world."

Wendy laughed, her tinkling, happy laugh, and John's heart lifted.

He would never let something take that laugh away.

One month had passed since Wendy's second summer in the social circle since her arrival into society.

Wendy had found it rather dull and tedious before, but now that she knew a good number of people, the parties were the high point in her life.

She danced with many men, even allowed some to be pert with her, and she was cheeky right back. She ate and laughed with her fellow debutantes. She wore pretty, flowing dresses and stared too long at handsome, single men.

It was one such man that stared back.

Wendy's breath caught when she saw those eyes. They were brown and most would consider them plain, but she could detect the hidden gold and green tones behind the caramel brown. They were so familiar, she almost called out to him, and the name rose to her lips.

Peter.

But Peter was forever a boy and this was an aging man.

Wendy forced herself not to stare too much at the man, but she couldn't help it. Towards the end of the evening, the man approached her.

He smiled at her in a way so heart-achingly familiar, Wendy wanted to throw her arms around his neck and shout what took you so long?

But this wasn't him. Peter was still lost.

"I am Henry Abbott." The man introduced himself. His hair was auburn, brown and red, with tight curls. His jaw was masculine, but the structure of his face was that of a highborn ladies'. On any other man it would look ridiculous, but Henry…it fit.

Wendy extended a hand. "I am Wendy Moira Angelina Darling," She countered.

Henry took her hand and brushed his lips against it, his eyes looking up at her from underneath dark lashes. "A pleasure, Ms. Darling,"

Wendy flushed a faint pink.

She liked him.

Her heart fluttered in a way it hadn't for years.

Not since she was a girl and Peter had come.

But Wendy pushed thoughts of Peter away, accepting Henry's invitation to dance with a warm smile.

The year wasn't halfway over before Wendy and Henry were engaged.

All of London was ecstatic to see the beautiful Ms. Darling and the handsome Mr. Abbott engaged. Everyone who received an invitation bragged about how splendid it should be, as the Abbott family was an old, blue blooded family. The Darlings were fairly rich.

Wendy didn't care about the connections. Neither did Henry care about the money.

They only cared that they were to be married.

The wedding was a dream.

Wendy looked like a fairy queen with her white dress and her brown curls tumbling down around her elbows.

Henry looked like the happiest man alive.

The newly weds enjoyed the reception greatly, acting like children and laughing the night away.

That night, Wendy forgot about watching the skies for the first time.

Her heart had finally accepted the fact that Peter was not lost.

…he wasn't coming.

"Mother, tell me another Peter Pan story," Jane begged, her brown eyes glittering excitedly. "The one where Tinkerbell runs away to the Hidden Caves!"

Wendy chuckled. Six years had passed her and Henry by in a flash. They now had Jane here, who looked like Wendy in miniature, with the acceptation of the eyes. She had Henry's eyes.

Sometimes, Wendy imagined what Peter and her child could've looked like. But she drew a blank.

It had been a childish infatuation, her first love, and the enchantment of Neverland.

Wendy had moved on and grown up, with the help of Henry.

Yes, she was still like a child in many ways, but aren't we all?

"No, Jane, I'm afraid it's time for bed," Wendy said softly, leaning down to pick up her young child.

Jane obediently let herself be carried to bed. "Leave the window open…" Jane whispered as her eyes drooped closed. "So…Peter…can come…" She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Chuckling silently, Wendy tucked her daughter in and straightened up to observe the room.

After John had found his own flat and Michael had boarded at the University, Mr. and Mrs. Darling had sold the house and retired to the countryside. They had sold it to Henry, of course, and Wendy had been beyond jubilant when Henry told her. It had been his wedding present to her.

Wendy sighed sadly as she walked over to the window.

She undid the latch and opened the shutters. The cold wind breezed in, causing the curtains to billow.

The night sky was hidden from Wendy's view for a moment.

When it returned, the stars weren't the only things floating there.

Wendy and Peter stared at each other.

He hadn't changed a bit. He was still the same young boy. Tall for his age with wiry, gangly limbs and the touch of manhood beginning to strength his features, Peter was exactly as Wendy had seen him last.

Wendy, however, was not how Peter had seen her last.

At first, he had denied it. His Wendy would've waited to grow up. She would've waited. This was someone else.

Peter had stumbled a step back on the balcony, intending to go and find the right house, Wendy's house, when Wendy finally broke the silence.

"Don't you remember me, Peter Pan?" She asked with her hips on her hips in a childish gesture. She sounded annoyed but her face was flickering with contained laughter. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief and laughter—just like Peter remembered them.

"Wendy?" He inquired. Peter slowly took a step forward, wary of her. "What happened?" He added softly.

It hurt so much, Wendy decided. He had just shown up, nearly a decade too late.

But she didn't say that. Instead, she answered his question.

"I grew up," She said quietly. Her eyes were now watery. "I waited for you Peter, but you…you're too late."

This shook Peter out of his trance.

"No, I'm not!" He jumped forward, grabbing her hand. "We can fly away, Wendy! Just like old times. You, me, and Tink and not a care in the world! We can leave all this growing up behind us!"

Wendy was shaking her head.

"Peter," She said in a broken voice. "Look at me. I've already grown up. I'm married. I have a husband."

Peter stood there, staring up at her with Henry's eyes.

That's right, Wendy thought suddenly. At first, they were Peter's eyes. Now, they're Henry's.

She slowly freed her hand of Peter's grasp, taking him by the wrist and leading him over to the bed.

"This is my daughter, Jane."

Peter had already gone up to the side of the bed. His hand hesitantly reached over, lightly fingering the familiar brown curls. His eyes watched Wendy's chin and nose, her delicate eyebrows, her lips, until they reached the eyes.

Which were wide awake and watching him back.

Peter sprung up, floating near the ceiling. Those were not Wendy's eyes, He thought sadly. But his boy heart quickly rebounded. Wendy had a daughter! She had to be like Wendy if she looked like her!

Wendy watched her daughter and Peter play around. She watched as Tinkerbell zoomed into the room and her daughter experienced flight for the first time. She watched as Jane flew clumsily towards her, Peter hovering in case Jane had a mishap.

"Can I go Mother? Can I go to the Never, Neverland and have adventures with Tinkerbell, Peter and the Lost Boys?"

Two pairs of similar eyes stared eagerly at her.

Wendy smiled and gave her blessing, as long as Peter promised to bring Jane back soon.

She watched as they flew away into the stars, flying to the second one and straight on till morning.

It was bittersweet, Wendy decided. She had finally gotten her wish. Peter had come.

But instead of feeling happy, she felt hollow. All her childhood hopes had gone.

But she still had her adult ones.

And her one big adult hope was that Jane would be happy as Wendy had been.

And Jane was.

The End.