"And now for something completely different!"*
* Kudos to anyone who can tell me where that line is from!
Okay, so some of you may know (but most of you probably don't) that I am not solely interested in the Teen Titans fandom. Even less of you will know that I have actually been tempted to write in some of these other fandoms I've become enthralled with on an off and on basis.
My interest (read: obsession) for these fandoms come and go in varying levels intensity. Sometimes, all I do is read fanfiction. Sometimes, Puck spawns a whole mess of story ideas (most of which are never finished) for any one particular fandom that I become involved in, and then, after awhile, the urge passes and I'm left with unfinished one-shots or multi-chaptered stories (sometimes, just snippets of ideas) for these fandoms. Sometimes (very, very rarely) I finish something worth showing.
Some of y'all will be familiar with the Dead Like Me fic I've posted. Some of you will remember the one lone story I posted for Ugly Betty (and you might even remember the ones I had planned).
Quite a while ago, it was Ouran High School Host Club. I played around with some ideas for Haruhi pairings outside the norm (Tamaki/Haruhi) and became enamoured of Haruhi/Kyouya or Haruhi/Twins and even Haruhi/Mori (which was a bit of a secret heart favorite), but I never really finished anything I could post and the thrall passed.
Not so long ago, I got into X-Men fandom. Here, I was first drawn in to the obvious (after the movies) pairing: Wolverine/Rogue. I found an excellent cite that celebrated the pairing with some really really well written offerings and I drenched myself in it. But then, I started craving the totally impossible, rarely seen Scott/Rogue pairing. There was a sad lack of stories on that front. I actually was randomly inspired for an angst-ridden one-shot that I finished almost entirely in one shot and I posted it onto that website. I called it Cup of Coffee and it was inspired and based loosely on the song of the same title by Garbage. (Very very angsty song).
Cup of Coffee - Garbage
Then, that thrall passed.
Next, I fall into the Bones fandom. (I'm still sort of in/ sort of out of that one and although I've had a few ideas, nothing's been written) and the Little Women. Yes, as in Louisa May Alcott. (All because I can't believe Jo was stupid enough to say no to Laurie and Laurie was stupid enough to push her when she wasn't ready.), but nothing really gets written there either. Neither of these hit me hard enough to make me write something (although Bones is close...)
But then there's a fandom that keeps coming back. It goes away, but then in random moments, I get urges to read more fic, and the first time I got it, I actually wrote something -- a few somethings -- but then forgot it, and then when the urge came again, I remembered I had written something and read what I had written and thought it was pretty good and wrote more and...well...it's Peter Pan. As in the book and the 2003 movie, not the Disney-fied version. Still...I know.
Anyway, that's the one I'm writing about tonight...although, come to think about it...
Okay, so what I was going to do was just post what I had written -- just as a way to get it up somewhere, have someone read it (maybe) and have it not wallow in obscurity (because I don't really see myself finishing it -- it seems to be a long one...).
BUT, now that I made all this fuss about the other fandoms I'd written stuff for and never published anywhere...
Would y'all be interested in reading those? I could post them onto here just for posterity and you could comment or not as you see fit. I don't really need anyone to comment on them since I don't particularly see myself as finishing any of them (but, maybe if someone out there is a fan and wants to talk about the movie or show or book with me, they're welcome to, of course!)
Anyway...I'll post the Peter Pan fic behind a cut. It doesn't have a title.
This is, by the way, based more on the book and on the 2003 live action movie (not on the Disney movie).
Prologue
Peter never came to her. If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that she never thought he would.
At first, she held fast to her belief of what had happened those days she was missing, but the boys, her one line to the truth of her time in the Neverland, never spoke of it, as if by communal consensus. They were content to allow themselves to be renamed for the adoption papers, and to let everyone believe the story told to explain their presence.
Soon, even her parents convinced themselves that Wendy, Jon, and Michael had been abducted by some faction, had somehow managed to escape and had found themselves living for days with a gang of ‘lost boys’ - street urchins, orphans, and the unwanted boys that frequently inhabit the dark and easily overlooked alleys of London’s slums.
The boys, her brothers included, adopted their stories of their time in the Neverland to stories about the streets of London and people listened with awe, some horror, and a lot of sympathy. They had been so good to take in the Darling children when they were lost, so good to help them get home - their initial lack of breeding, blood ties, and niceties was easily forgiven.
And eventually, the boys seemed to believe it themselves.
And it only took six months.
Six months of having Peter’s name never mentioned, of falling into routine, of adapting to having six new brothers, and she the only girl. The boys went quite easily from thinking of her as ‘mother’ to thinking of her as ‘sister’ and as they began to learn the London ways, they began to see her as ‘little-sister-to-be-protected’.
Wendy’s memory of Peter couldn’t help but fade - not when it was so logical, so understandable, to think of him as a little girl fantasy, a story. That ache in her chest, the empty feeling and unspecified longing in her heart wasn’t a longing for anyone in particular…rather, it was merely the ache of wanting to find love - wanting to find someone to give her hidden kiss to.
She would not relent, however, to wanting to find someone like Peter to love - even if he was only a figment of her imagination - a character from a fairy story.
She would find someone to protect her and fight for her, and choose her over even a friend if that friend had done something to hurt her, someone who would be willing to die if he thought she would forget him or leave him.
And the memory of the soft warmth of his lips under hers?
Well…Wendy Moira Angela Darling always did have a very vivid imagination. Everyone said so.
So although Peter had promised never to forget her, as she had told him once, ‘Never is an awfully long time’ and in the end, it was Wendy who forgot about Peter.
Or, if not forgot, remembered only like a vague shape in a mist filled room.
When she thought of him at all…
Chapter One
The Neverland was dying. Or fading, or whatever it was a place like the Neverland did.
It started when the Indian’s hunters started to notice a lack of fish in the lakes and game in the forests. The Mermaids too noticed a lack of food and things to play with. The Fae, having no need of mortal animals for food were the last of the Neverland inhabitants to notice anything physically amiss with their home, but they were, however, the first to notice the fading of the magic.
Very few people knew, outside of the Fae themselves (and the Mermaids who knew everything) that Fae magic was only one kind of magic present on the Neverland. The magic that drew all of the inhabitants onto the Island in the first place came from Neverland itself, not from the presence of the Fae. The Fae themselves had been drawn to its borders because of the inherent magic, much as they had been drawn to Avalon. And like Avalon, they knew what it felt like when the magic began to fade.
Ever a secretive people, however, the Fae would not disclose the nature of the magic on the Neverland until it was absolutely necessary.
“Much as we die when people stop believing in us, the Neverland too will fade away when people stop believing in it.” Oberon, High King of the Fae announced to the council of elders. “We have had no new lost boys to bring here,” he reminded them. “No new stories told about us…belief is fading, and with it, the Neverland.”
“And what do you suggest we do, Your Highness?” Chief Big Bear of the Tribe asked.
“We leave,” Serine of the Mermaids announced flatly, or as flatly as a series of clicks and pops could be flat.
Chief Big Bear turned to King Oberon, knowing that if there was any way of saving the land, he would know of it.
King Oberon nodded, slowly.
The Chief and his people were not strangers to being uprooted and moved. His people had been nomads when they had to travel for food and warmth with the change of seasons, but they had become comfortable in the Neverland. There were children in the Tribe who had never known any other place and for whom the move would be difficult. “Should we not inform the boy?” Chief Big Bear inquired. “Perhaps he can think of a way…”
They all looked at the King.
“He comes not to play with us any longer,” Serine announced. “We see him not frolicking with the stars or teasing the fish…”
“He does not challenge my warriors,” Chief Big Bear admitted.
“The boy is confused,” King Oberon announced. “His heart is confused.”
“A boy’s heart is never confused,” Chief Big Bear pointed out. “A boy’s heart wants what he wants and works to get it, and has nothing to be confused about.”
“For the first time, this boy could not have what he wanted…” King Oberon explained somewhat sadly.
“Then he will forget about it,” Serine determined. “A boy’s heart forgets easily.”
“He cannot forget her,” Oberon admitted. When they looked at him in question, he sighed and admitted what he would have perhaps preferred not to. “He gave an oath that he would not.”
“Stupid boy!” Serine spat.
“Perhaps no longer a boy…” Chief Big Bear mused.
King Oberon could not comment - he had wondered the same.
After a few moments of silence, Chief Big Bear sighed and stood. “The Tribe will migrate from the Neverland by the new moon tide,” he announced.
Serine clicked and popped in such a way that not even the elders could make out her words. “The Mermaids are always the last to leave any dying place,” she foretold and with a quick, brusque flick of her hair, disappeared beneath the crystalline water.
“Perhaps it is time you grew up, Peter Pan,” King Oberon said to the air before he too spread his wings and in a flicker of dust and a slight tinkling of bells, flew toward their Mound.
Chapter Two
Wendy remembered once, when she was younger, her mother telling them about her father’s dreams. She remembered her mother explaining to them, back when she still slept in the nursery, how her father had been forced to lock his dreams away in a drawer, only to look at them every so often for a little while, before having to put them away again, all for their sake. She remembered feeling sorry for her father, possibly as sorry as she might have felt for him had she been told her father was missing an arm or an eye.
She remembered considering, despite how vexed she had been at him at the time, that perhaps he wasn’t so horrid after all, not if he had put away his dreams for them.
It had never occurred to her, not until that very moment as she watched her mother from afar, to wonder at her mother’s dreams. Had her mother put them away as well? And if she did, where did she put them?
“You are so serious, my darling.”
Wendy looked at her mother and said the first thing that came to her mind, “What ever happened to your dreams, mother?” she asked quietly. Her mother’s eyes showed her surprise, although her composure remained, as always, calm. “Where did you put them?”
Her mother smiled, “Oh, Wendy my darling,” she said, reaching out to caress Wendy’s cheek. “Do you really not know?” she asked, smiling that smile only her mother seemed to have.
Because her mother seemed to be expecting it, Wendy shook her head.
“I have not put them away, my love,” she said softly, kindly, warmly. “You are my dream - and there,” she motioned to where John was speaking to one of the _______________________ sisters. “is another,” she said. “And yet another is asleep in bed upstairs, or should be,” she said, laughter in her voice.
Wendy, understanding as well as her mother that Michael was most probably wide awake in the nursery, cooking up some mischief with one or both of the twins, chuckled and hugged her mother.
“And when I thought all my dreams had come true, you and your brothers brought five more to me,” she continued. “My love, I watch my dreams live and breathe and walk every time I see any of my children.”
“Oh, mother,” Wendy sighed.
“I know it is a difficult decision to make, my love,” Mrs. Darling soothed. “You should follow your heart,” she admitted. At Wendy’s surprised look, she continued. “But before you do, should you not take time to consider what is your heart? What are your dreams?” she counseled. “My dream was to be a mother and I am that, but what is yours?”
Wendy sighed, once again, and didn’t answer right away as she might have but three years prior. “Should I not wait until I find someone that I love?” she asked, after a few moments. “Would that not be the only true path to take?”
Mrs. Darling looked torn for a moment, between her understanding of a young woman’s heart and counseling her daughter to the path that would mean less trouble, less suffering. “Love is something that grows and changes,” Mrs. Darling decided. “If he is a cruel, heartless man, or if his morals, his desires and dreams were opposite of what you could live with, would want to live yourself, then you could definitely not love him,” she conceded. “But Edward is a good man,” she said. “And he seems to love you truly, for everything that you are.”
Wendy looked up at her mother in surprise and bit her lip.
Mrs. Darling laughed. “Oh, I know what you have thought of the other men that have asked for your suit, daughter,” she answered. “And for the most part, I must agree - they are pompous and cared very little about you as a person other than what you would look like on their arm.”
Wendy hmphed her agreement. “Poppycocks, the lot of them,” she said under her breath.
“Do you feel Edward is the same?”
“He is kind,” Wendy admitted. “And honorable,” she remembered the time he stood up to the rude man in the park who had walked through the child’s game of jacks. “He does seem to care about me.”
“He would make a loving, kind, devoted husband.”
‘I could live with someone like that,’ she thought. ‘Even without love.’ Her expression softened, became pensive. “I have seen him play with Michael and the twins,” she added, glancing and finding the handsome profile of the object of her discussion. “He would be a good father.”
Mrs. Darling nodded slowly. “I believe he would.”
The mention of father brought Wendy’s mind back to the memory of her mother’s revelation about her father and his dreams - his courage. Her mother had said her father’s courage came from being able to look at his dreams and then close the drawer again, but in that moment, on the verge of the decision that would lock away Wendy’s dreams - at least part of them - she felt his true courage came not in putting them back, but in locking them away in the first place.
Any further comment she might have made to her mother was interrupted, however, by the approach of Edward himself.
He bowed to her mother and then to her, his eyes soft and questioning, patient and gentle. For a moment, Wendy looked at him, her mind trying to piece together a puzzle of a memory, like a shadow just out of reach, but when she realized she must be searching for something in him that reminded her of her childish dreams, she lowered her gaze and exhaled, coming to a decision much easier than she ever thought she would. Raising her head to meet his eyes once again, she smiled.
And if Edward noticed how it didn’t quite reach her eyes, he was much too much of a gentleman to comment.
So? What did you think?
Interested in seeing other random bits of random fandom I've written?
Okay, so some of you may know (but most of you probably don't) that I am not solely interested in the Teen Titans fandom. Even less of you will know that I have actually been tempted to write in some of these other fandoms I've become enthralled with on an off and on basis.
My interest (read: obsession) for these fandoms come and go in varying levels intensity. Sometimes, all I do is read fanfiction. Sometimes, Puck spawns a whole mess of story ideas (most of which are never finished) for any one particular fandom that I become involved in, and then, after awhile, the urge passes and I'm left with unfinished one-shots or multi-chaptered stories (sometimes, just snippets of ideas) for these fandoms. Sometimes (very, very rarely) I finish something worth showing.
Some of y'all will be familiar with the Dead Like Me fic I've posted. Some of you will remember the one lone story I posted for Ugly Betty (and you might even remember the ones I had planned).
Quite a while ago, it was Ouran High School Host Club. I played around with some ideas for Haruhi pairings outside the norm (Tamaki/Haruhi) and became enamoured of Haruhi/Kyouya or Haruhi/Twins and even Haruhi/Mori (which was a bit of a secret heart favorite), but I never really finished anything I could post and the thrall passed.
Not so long ago, I got into X-Men fandom. Here, I was first drawn in to the obvious (after the movies) pairing: Wolverine/Rogue. I found an excellent cite that celebrated the pairing with some really really well written offerings and I drenched myself in it. But then, I started craving the totally impossible, rarely seen Scott/Rogue pairing. There was a sad lack of stories on that front. I actually was randomly inspired for an angst-ridden one-shot that I finished almost entirely in one shot and I posted it onto that website. I called it Cup of Coffee and it was inspired and based loosely on the song of the same title by Garbage. (Very very angsty song).
Cup of Coffee - Garbage
Click to viewThen, that thrall passed.
Next, I fall into the Bones fandom. (I'm still sort of in/ sort of out of that one and although I've had a few ideas, nothing's been written) and the Little Women. Yes, as in Louisa May Alcott. (All because I can't believe Jo was stupid enough to say no to Laurie and Laurie was stupid enough to push her when she wasn't ready.), but nothing really gets written there either. Neither of these hit me hard enough to make me write something (although Bones is close...)
But then there's a fandom that keeps coming back. It goes away, but then in random moments, I get urges to read more fic, and the first time I got it, I actually wrote something -- a few somethings -- but then forgot it, and then when the urge came again, I remembered I had written something and read what I had written and thought it was pretty good and wrote more and...well...it's Peter Pan. As in the book and the 2003 movie, not the Disney-fied version. Still...I know.
Anyway, that's the one I'm writing about tonight...although, come to think about it...
Okay, so what I was going to do was just post what I had written -- just as a way to get it up somewhere, have someone read it (maybe) and have it not wallow in obscurity (because I don't really see myself finishing it -- it seems to be a long one...).
BUT, now that I made all this fuss about the other fandoms I'd written stuff for and never published anywhere...
Would y'all be interested in reading those? I could post them onto here just for posterity and you could comment or not as you see fit. I don't really need anyone to comment on them since I don't particularly see myself as finishing any of them (but, maybe if someone out there is a fan and wants to talk about the movie or show or book with me, they're welcome to, of course!)
Anyway...I'll post the Peter Pan fic behind a cut. It doesn't have a title.
This is, by the way, based more on the book and on the 2003 live action movie (not on the Disney movie).
Prologue
Peter never came to her. If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that she never thought he would.
At first, she held fast to her belief of what had happened those days she was missing, but the boys, her one line to the truth of her time in the Neverland, never spoke of it, as if by communal consensus. They were content to allow themselves to be renamed for the adoption papers, and to let everyone believe the story told to explain their presence.
Soon, even her parents convinced themselves that Wendy, Jon, and Michael had been abducted by some faction, had somehow managed to escape and had found themselves living for days with a gang of ‘lost boys’ - street urchins, orphans, and the unwanted boys that frequently inhabit the dark and easily overlooked alleys of London’s slums.
The boys, her brothers included, adopted their stories of their time in the Neverland to stories about the streets of London and people listened with awe, some horror, and a lot of sympathy. They had been so good to take in the Darling children when they were lost, so good to help them get home - their initial lack of breeding, blood ties, and niceties was easily forgiven.
And eventually, the boys seemed to believe it themselves.
And it only took six months.
Six months of having Peter’s name never mentioned, of falling into routine, of adapting to having six new brothers, and she the only girl. The boys went quite easily from thinking of her as ‘mother’ to thinking of her as ‘sister’ and as they began to learn the London ways, they began to see her as ‘little-sister-to-be-protected’.
Wendy’s memory of Peter couldn’t help but fade - not when it was so logical, so understandable, to think of him as a little girl fantasy, a story. That ache in her chest, the empty feeling and unspecified longing in her heart wasn’t a longing for anyone in particular…rather, it was merely the ache of wanting to find love - wanting to find someone to give her hidden kiss to.
She would not relent, however, to wanting to find someone like Peter to love - even if he was only a figment of her imagination - a character from a fairy story.
She would find someone to protect her and fight for her, and choose her over even a friend if that friend had done something to hurt her, someone who would be willing to die if he thought she would forget him or leave him.
And the memory of the soft warmth of his lips under hers?
Well…Wendy Moira Angela Darling always did have a very vivid imagination. Everyone said so.
So although Peter had promised never to forget her, as she had told him once, ‘Never is an awfully long time’ and in the end, it was Wendy who forgot about Peter.
Or, if not forgot, remembered only like a vague shape in a mist filled room.
When she thought of him at all…
Chapter One
The Neverland was dying. Or fading, or whatever it was a place like the Neverland did.
It started when the Indian’s hunters started to notice a lack of fish in the lakes and game in the forests. The Mermaids too noticed a lack of food and things to play with. The Fae, having no need of mortal animals for food were the last of the Neverland inhabitants to notice anything physically amiss with their home, but they were, however, the first to notice the fading of the magic.
Very few people knew, outside of the Fae themselves (and the Mermaids who knew everything) that Fae magic was only one kind of magic present on the Neverland. The magic that drew all of the inhabitants onto the Island in the first place came from Neverland itself, not from the presence of the Fae. The Fae themselves had been drawn to its borders because of the inherent magic, much as they had been drawn to Avalon. And like Avalon, they knew what it felt like when the magic began to fade.
Ever a secretive people, however, the Fae would not disclose the nature of the magic on the Neverland until it was absolutely necessary.
“Much as we die when people stop believing in us, the Neverland too will fade away when people stop believing in it.” Oberon, High King of the Fae announced to the council of elders. “We have had no new lost boys to bring here,” he reminded them. “No new stories told about us…belief is fading, and with it, the Neverland.”
“And what do you suggest we do, Your Highness?” Chief Big Bear of the Tribe asked.
“We leave,” Serine of the Mermaids announced flatly, or as flatly as a series of clicks and pops could be flat.
Chief Big Bear turned to King Oberon, knowing that if there was any way of saving the land, he would know of it.
King Oberon nodded, slowly.
The Chief and his people were not strangers to being uprooted and moved. His people had been nomads when they had to travel for food and warmth with the change of seasons, but they had become comfortable in the Neverland. There were children in the Tribe who had never known any other place and for whom the move would be difficult. “Should we not inform the boy?” Chief Big Bear inquired. “Perhaps he can think of a way…”
They all looked at the King.
“He comes not to play with us any longer,” Serine announced. “We see him not frolicking with the stars or teasing the fish…”
“He does not challenge my warriors,” Chief Big Bear admitted.
“The boy is confused,” King Oberon announced. “His heart is confused.”
“A boy’s heart is never confused,” Chief Big Bear pointed out. “A boy’s heart wants what he wants and works to get it, and has nothing to be confused about.”
“For the first time, this boy could not have what he wanted…” King Oberon explained somewhat sadly.
“Then he will forget about it,” Serine determined. “A boy’s heart forgets easily.”
“He cannot forget her,” Oberon admitted. When they looked at him in question, he sighed and admitted what he would have perhaps preferred not to. “He gave an oath that he would not.”
“Stupid boy!” Serine spat.
“Perhaps no longer a boy…” Chief Big Bear mused.
King Oberon could not comment - he had wondered the same.
After a few moments of silence, Chief Big Bear sighed and stood. “The Tribe will migrate from the Neverland by the new moon tide,” he announced.
Serine clicked and popped in such a way that not even the elders could make out her words. “The Mermaids are always the last to leave any dying place,” she foretold and with a quick, brusque flick of her hair, disappeared beneath the crystalline water.
“Perhaps it is time you grew up, Peter Pan,” King Oberon said to the air before he too spread his wings and in a flicker of dust and a slight tinkling of bells, flew toward their Mound.
Chapter Two
Wendy remembered once, when she was younger, her mother telling them about her father’s dreams. She remembered her mother explaining to them, back when she still slept in the nursery, how her father had been forced to lock his dreams away in a drawer, only to look at them every so often for a little while, before having to put them away again, all for their sake. She remembered feeling sorry for her father, possibly as sorry as she might have felt for him had she been told her father was missing an arm or an eye.
She remembered considering, despite how vexed she had been at him at the time, that perhaps he wasn’t so horrid after all, not if he had put away his dreams for them.
It had never occurred to her, not until that very moment as she watched her mother from afar, to wonder at her mother’s dreams. Had her mother put them away as well? And if she did, where did she put them?
“You are so serious, my darling.”
Wendy looked at her mother and said the first thing that came to her mind, “What ever happened to your dreams, mother?” she asked quietly. Her mother’s eyes showed her surprise, although her composure remained, as always, calm. “Where did you put them?”
Her mother smiled, “Oh, Wendy my darling,” she said, reaching out to caress Wendy’s cheek. “Do you really not know?” she asked, smiling that smile only her mother seemed to have.
Because her mother seemed to be expecting it, Wendy shook her head.
“I have not put them away, my love,” she said softly, kindly, warmly. “You are my dream - and there,” she motioned to where John was speaking to one of the _______________________ sisters. “is another,” she said. “And yet another is asleep in bed upstairs, or should be,” she said, laughter in her voice.
Wendy, understanding as well as her mother that Michael was most probably wide awake in the nursery, cooking up some mischief with one or both of the twins, chuckled and hugged her mother.
“And when I thought all my dreams had come true, you and your brothers brought five more to me,” she continued. “My love, I watch my dreams live and breathe and walk every time I see any of my children.”
“Oh, mother,” Wendy sighed.
“I know it is a difficult decision to make, my love,” Mrs. Darling soothed. “You should follow your heart,” she admitted. At Wendy’s surprised look, she continued. “But before you do, should you not take time to consider what is your heart? What are your dreams?” she counseled. “My dream was to be a mother and I am that, but what is yours?”
Wendy sighed, once again, and didn’t answer right away as she might have but three years prior. “Should I not wait until I find someone that I love?” she asked, after a few moments. “Would that not be the only true path to take?”
Mrs. Darling looked torn for a moment, between her understanding of a young woman’s heart and counseling her daughter to the path that would mean less trouble, less suffering. “Love is something that grows and changes,” Mrs. Darling decided. “If he is a cruel, heartless man, or if his morals, his desires and dreams were opposite of what you could live with, would want to live yourself, then you could definitely not love him,” she conceded. “But Edward is a good man,” she said. “And he seems to love you truly, for everything that you are.”
Wendy looked up at her mother in surprise and bit her lip.
Mrs. Darling laughed. “Oh, I know what you have thought of the other men that have asked for your suit, daughter,” she answered. “And for the most part, I must agree - they are pompous and cared very little about you as a person other than what you would look like on their arm.”
Wendy hmphed her agreement. “Poppycocks, the lot of them,” she said under her breath.
“Do you feel Edward is the same?”
“He is kind,” Wendy admitted. “And honorable,” she remembered the time he stood up to the rude man in the park who had walked through the child’s game of jacks. “He does seem to care about me.”
“He would make a loving, kind, devoted husband.”
‘I could live with someone like that,’ she thought. ‘Even without love.’ Her expression softened, became pensive. “I have seen him play with Michael and the twins,” she added, glancing and finding the handsome profile of the object of her discussion. “He would be a good father.”
Mrs. Darling nodded slowly. “I believe he would.”
The mention of father brought Wendy’s mind back to the memory of her mother’s revelation about her father and his dreams - his courage. Her mother had said her father’s courage came from being able to look at his dreams and then close the drawer again, but in that moment, on the verge of the decision that would lock away Wendy’s dreams - at least part of them - she felt his true courage came not in putting them back, but in locking them away in the first place.
Any further comment she might have made to her mother was interrupted, however, by the approach of Edward himself.
He bowed to her mother and then to her, his eyes soft and questioning, patient and gentle. For a moment, Wendy looked at him, her mind trying to piece together a puzzle of a memory, like a shadow just out of reach, but when she realized she must be searching for something in him that reminded her of her childish dreams, she lowered her gaze and exhaled, coming to a decision much easier than she ever thought she would. Raising her head to meet his eyes once again, she smiled.
And if Edward noticed how it didn’t quite reach her eyes, he was much too much of a gentleman to comment.
So? What did you think?
Interested in seeing other random bits of random fandom I've written?