Peter caught sight of his own reflection as he hovered before the house. Floating closer, his nose touched the cool glass, and he shielded his eyes with his hand as his breath fogged. There was no movement, but he could just distinguish the shapes; a wardrobe, a table, a bed, the subtle, still lump of its sleeper. Wendy.
The nightlights had blown themselves out, but the nursery door was ajar, and a crack of light seeped in. Peter stayed until he was sure it was safe, then gently rapped at the window.
Wendy's eyes crept open, foggy and blind. When she had adjusted to the dim room, she quickly remembered what had woken her. She sat up suddenly, awake now, and shot to the window. There she beheld her dearest, most-missed friend; Peter Pan. He shot her a sly grin through the glass, and waited patiently while she fumbled with the lock.
The night poured in and brought the boy with it. Wendy locked him in a hug that he did not resist, and beamed at him, teary-eyed and ecstatic.
"Peter. Why have you been so long? How are you?" Peter continued to gaze at her for some moments before giving his answers.
"Hello Wendy. I'm sorry... but I didn't know I was that long. How long was I?" His face fell into a strong expression of difficult thought, as he pondered his own question.
"Far too long!" and she embraced him again.
Nana's furious bark reverberated through the house. Peter and Wendy jumped apart, and stared at one another, shocked. The sound of barking was immediately replaced with the din of heavy footfalls bounding up the stairs.
Instead of employing the sensible option and flying out the window, Peter dived under the bed, reluctant to leave Wendy so soon. The girl came to her senses and clambered under her bedclothes just as the nursery door burst open, and Mr Darling raced into the room.
Heading straight for the window, George gasped as he saw it gaping wide. He ran to the ledge, leaning out as far as he could, and shouted for his wife.
"Mary!" Mrs Darling entered almost immediately, having been rushing to catch up with her husband since he had bolted from her side.
In a moment she had surveyed the room; George precarious on the window ledge, her three children nestled sweetly in their beds...
"What is it, George? What's wrong?" Mary was somewhat taken aback to see the panic and fear in her husband's eyes. He was out of breath, his chest heaving, and as he turned to her, his eyes darted about the nursery, and he too noticed the little dears, all fast asleep.
Michael wriggled and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he was pulled from his dreams. John too felt reality return to him, and both boys sat up in bed, blinking at the sight of their parents.
"What's the matter?" slurred Michael. His mother gently rushed to him and sat before him on his bed.
"Nothing, angel. I'm sorry we woke you. Go back to sleep." And she planted a soft kiss on the child's forehead as he sank back into the sheets.
Wendy, a poor liar, feigned a yawn and pulled her heavy body up in bed. "Mother. Father. Is anything the matter?" she cooed, with a look of innocent bewilderment.
"No, darling. Nana just thought she heard a noise, and we came to check on you... Did you hear a noise?"
"A noise? Why, no! Poor Nana... it must be her age." Wendy answered, all too excitedly. But to her relief, her parents seemed satisfied, and headed for the nursery door.