Wendy

Wendy stood over the boy lying prone on the floor, gasping in great breaths of air and shaking her head back and forth.

"No, no, this can't be happening," she muttered, kneeling next to the boy and searching for signs of life. She had recognized him as the beggar from the corner a split second after she had thrown a ladder rung at his head. Please don't be dead, please don't be dead, she thought as she laboriously rolled him onto his back. Her eyes roved over him and caught on his chest rising and falling.

"Oh good, I didn't kill him!"

In her relief and exhaustion she collapsed on top of him, reveling in the small victory of not having committed involuntary manslaughter. She was surprised by how nice he smelled, like soap and ginger, which was not the scent she would expect from a homeless person. The next moment she realized how ridiculous she was being and pushed herself off of him. She rocked back on her heels and looked him over, wondering how she should try to wake him up, hoping that he would wake up. She didn't want to go back to the hospital tonight.

Lying on the floor in front of her, he looked almost serene. A corner of his mouth was turned up, as if he were playing a joke on someone. He was wearing a plain green sweatshirt and jeans, but his shoes were unlike anything she'd ever seen before. They were a thin brown leather and covered in all sorts of buttons and baubles. The soles were made of flexible metal plates, and she wondered how someone could walk without breaking them. She glanced back up toward his face and noticed there was something shiny in his wavy brown hair. Was it glitter? No, it was something more sophisticated. Before she could investigate further, she heard a low moan and scurried away from him.

"What was that?" He groaned, gingerly touching his temple where a large bump was forming.

"Well, it wasn't a kiss," Wendy snorted, not sure why she found that statement amusing.

The boy focused his bright green eyes on her, then looked around the room and frowned when he noticed the ladder rung on the floor behind him.

"You knocked me out?" He looked so heartbroken that Wendy momentarily forgot that he was trespassing in her flat.

"I-I'm sorry. You scared me, and I ..." she trailed off. He stood up and she found her courage. "Look," she said, "I don't know what you're doing here. I don't have any more money to give you, so please leave."

She was surprised and somewhat disarmed when he responded with a smile.

"Money? I don't need any money," he laughed.

"Then why were you begging this morning?"

"I saw those other people sitting there, so I thought I'd try it too."

"If you don't want money, then why-?"

"I was trying to find my shadow."

"Your shadow?" Wendy said dubiously.

"Yeah, I lost it yesterday."

"You mean, that?" Wendy asked, gesturing to his likeness on the wall.

He turned to see what she was pointing at.

"No," he responded, "that's an extension of my Essentia."

"Your what?"

"My Essentia. The components and characteristics that are unique to me. Your Essentia would be things like the sorrow in your voice or that freckle next to your eye."

Wendy stepped back, equally frightened and intrigued that he had noticed those things about her.

"No, I've been looking for my shadow," he continued. "I lose it more often than everybody else, so I finally put a tracker on it. I don't know how it got up here to the Grey World, but I'm betting one of those kangarabbits is responsible."

Wendy didn't even bother trying to hide her astonishment. This guy was definitely nuts. How was she going to get him out of her apartment? She watched as he held up a small stone. Then he looked intensely at her and before she knew it he was closing the gap between them and reaching for her hip.

"Stop! Get away from me!" She yelled, pushing him back as forcefully as she could. Once again his expression morphed into pained innocence. After several strained seconds he pointed to her leg.

"You have my shadow," he said softly. "It's in your thigh."

"What?" Wendy put her hand on her leg and was surprised to feel a lump there. She dug her hand into her pants pocket and pulled out the figurine she had found at Mrs. Nancy's. So much had happened since then, she had completely forgotten about it. The boy extended his hand and Wendy hurriedly pressed the metal figure into it.

"There," she said, stepping away again, "you have your shadow thing back. Now would you please leave?"

When he didn't move Wendy tried to look threatening, but he just returned her angry expression with a half smile and stepped closer.

"What's your name?"

"Wendy," she spit out before her common sense could stop her.

"Wendy," he repeated. "My name is Peter," he said, bowing to her.

Wendy didn't know how to react, so she just remained motionless. He took another step towards her. He looked older than she'd thought he was when she saw him that morning. He was probably about her age, and he was at least a foot taller than her.

"You've been crying."

"Yes, I have."

"Why?"

Something about the sincerity of his tone coaxed the words out of her.

"This day has been awful," she admitted. "I think they're going to close down the place I work at, and then I came home and found my mother unconscious on the floor. She fell off that ladder and now she's in a coma." Wendy knew it was ridiculous to confide in this stranger, but somehow it made her feel better to tell someone about it.

"What's a mother?"

She laughed at the inquiry, but stopped herself when she saw he was serious.

"It's a... she's my..." Wendy didn't know how to answer, and finally gestured to a photo of her mother on the wall. Peter studied the picture and his expression darkened.

"You care about this woman?" He asked, a trace of alarm in his voice.

"Yes, very much."

Peter ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered.

"It's not your fault," Wendy responded.

"Yes, it is."

Wendy rolled her eyes. She had to remind herself that this guy was probably crazy.

"I want to make it up to you," he said, the smile returning to his eyes.

"Great. You can make it up to me by leaving."

"Okay, I'll leave," he conceded, "but I want you to come with me."

Before she could answer with a vehement 'no,' some sort of huge insect flew into her face and pricked her cheek.

"Are you kidding me?" Screamed a shrill voice. "We can't take this monstrosity back with us! She'll ruin everything!"

"Tink, stop that!" Peter yelled as the talking insect pulled at Wendy's hair. She covered her head with her arms to try and protect herself, but the thing was relentless. Suddenly, Peter pulled Wendy against his chest and caught the fluttering pest in his free hand.

"Tink!" He scolded. "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? You left me out there with that feral animal! Thanks to you, I now have fur in my joints!"

Peter chuckled. "You're telling me you can't outmaneuver a little cat?"

"Of course I can! But it's been over half an hour and my battery is running low. I'm dying out there while you've been inviting some hussy to invade our sanctuary!"

Wendy squinted at the tiny entity in Peter's hand that was spouting off such offensive sentiments. She finally focused on a small metallic woman with wings. The creature turned its head to her and shined a blinding light in her eyes.

"Stop touching her!" The contraption demanded. "You don't know where she's been!"

Wendy gasped, realizing that she was still pressed against Peter. She hurriedly pulled out of his embrace, but with her eyes still impaired by the light, she stumbled and ran right into the wall. The tiny woman laughed, and Wendy had the sudden urge to throw her into the garbage disposal.

"Tink, calm down! She's not going to ruin anything," Peter exclaimed.

"Yes, she will. She'll throw off the balance. Plus, she doesn't have anything to contribute."

"But she'll love it! I want to show her everything."

"Peter, you can't just bring anybody into Neverland, they have to be chosen. They have to be screened. They have to fit the parameters."

Wendy was beginning to feel like she was in a nightmare. Perhaps the stress of the day was causing her to hallucinate. This situation was far too insane for reality.

"Stop!" She commanded. "You don't need to argue about it, because I'm not going."

"There you go," the tiny woman remarked, "she's much smarter than I gave her credit for."

"But Wendy, you'll have so much fun, I know you will," Peter pleaded. "Once you see it you'll never want to leave."

Wendy was unnerved by his use of her name and the confidence in his voice. "There is no way I'm going anywhere with you," she declared, folding her arms across her chest. To her dismay, a hint of mischief lit up his eyes.

"That sounds like a challenge," he murmured, his mouth curling into a smile that was so charming, it was unsettling. He unhooked something from his shoe and crossed to her. She backed away but wasn't fast enough. He sprayed something in her face and within moments all the colors in the room began to blend together, spinning around in her vision until she slumped over and lost consciousness.