Fan Fiction ❯ His Wendy ❯ Chapter 1

R_S: A simple unedited, quickly typed spur of the moment take on Peter Pan. It examines Peter in a less-than-sound state of mind, a psychotic possessiveness over Wendy. Based of the scene in the 2003 movie when Peter goes to the Darling's nursery window while the kids are in Neverland.

 

 

His Wendy

 

“We can't both have her, lady…”

 

He'd never felt so powerful as the moment he'd shut that window. Not battling Hook, not ordering the Lost Boys around, not when he banished Tinkerbell. He'd had an amazing power, the power to keep his Wendy with him forever.

 

His Wendy. She was his. She was mother, and he father. He knew what she had meant during their talk of feelings. He hadn't actually been angry, either. No he'd known he felt the same way, but letting her in on that could ruin everything. Should she get sick of him, had they gotten together, she'd leave. There would no longer be his Wendy, just a little girl that once was. But that was no worry, for she was still his Wendy.

 

For now, at least, she was. But that bitch at the window, eyes so tired from searching the night sky… oh yes, he'd watched her. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. He'd not lose his Wendy to this… adult. The very word was poison to him. How could his darling Wendy miss these people? An old woman, a man who was, if you asked him, disturbingly similar to Hook in appearance, an old dog, and a witch of an aunt. What did they have that he did not?

 

They were her family, the obvious answer. But he could be her family, could he not? The Lost Boys her sons and he her husband… they lived in Neverland, you needn't grow up to be a mother or wife there. But no, she had to miss them, be a girl, and have deep feelings. Why could she not be like her brothers, forget her past life in under a week with a jovial Neverland, make-believe world replacement?

 

It was true; Neverland was but only a make-believe world. Sure it existed, and certainly what happened there was real, but the place was an illusion. Nothing of actuality, only what every child wishes to see: paradise. His Wendy was a smart girl; she'd realize this sooner or later. And, when she did, she'd leave. That is, if she wasn't planning on leaving already…

 

No, his Wendy would not leave him. She was his, belonged to him. He'd rescued her, had he not? He'd taught her to fly, had he not? He'd helped her countless times, had he not? She owed him homage, practically worship. And if not, she certainly owed something…

 

He'd be willing to accept her permanent residence as a repayment. He'd be that lenient, even though her staying should have been a given already. His Wendy should be thrilled to stay with him, to belong to him. He could've kept Tiger Lily or Tinkerbell, or one of the mermaids for his own, but no. He'd chosen her. Why did his Wendy not understand the honor bestowed upon her?

 

She was going to leave, Peter knew this. It was no hidden fact; she was panicking in Neverland, already having been forced to far into maturity before her belated arrival. If only he'd brought her sooner, things would've been different. Now she would leave, and he'd be left alone once more.

 

No, his Wendy would not leave. He would not allow it. Be it whether or not he had to chain her down or take her prisoner, she would stay. He supposed he could just not offer her an escort home, but really that was too simple. She might take it the wrong way and think he was completely uninterested in her.

 

She would not leave him; he refused to lose his property. With that thought, he returned to the window with increase vehemence and began a reverse tug-of-war that lasted through the night. He'd shut the window and attempt to bar it from the outside, and the hideous creatures in silk would open it back up again. But he had to shut it; it was his last line of defense. For in the back of Peter's mind, he knew, that when the time came for her to desire departure, he'd lose his resolve. The sheer beauty of his property would manipulate him once more.

 

Love could be a dangerous thing.

 

The End

 

 

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