The Second Star to the Right

The Man Who Forgot

Peter looked up at the girl curiously, and he felt something stir inside of him. A deep churning in his stomach, and a quick skip in his chest. It was unlike something he had ever experienced...or at least, remembered experiencing. Wiping the few tears left in his eyes, he locked his gaze onto hers and studied her features.

The ugly plants and statues surrounding them certainly didn't change how beautiful she was.

Her long brown hair was tousled like she had been through a lot of something recently. It seemed like it was tied back before, but it no longer was and was flowing down past her shoulders. The girl's wardrobe was far from normal, and it almost looked like she was wearing some sort of animal skin. Her bright blue eyes were staring intently at him, expecting a response.

Despite all of this, he still thought she was absolutely gorgeous.

"I'm crying.." He started, clearing his throat. "Because I can't seem to remember who I am or why I'm here."

She offered her hand down to him without saying a word, as if she knew something he hadn't. It gave him an eerie feeling. Even though he couldn't remember anything about himself, he knew he shouldn't associate so closely with someone he didn't know. Knowing this, he still couldn't bring himself to defy her. Hesitantly, he took her hand and immediately a jolt ran through his entire body. Shivers made their way down his back and through his spine as he stood up, his grip tightening around her fingers.

This girl. This girl was no stranger.

Peter couldn't tell who exactly she was, but he felt like he knew her from somewhere. A small bit of excitement flooded through him. Maybe this girl could help him remember who he was.

"My name is Wendy." She stared at him intently, almost coldly. Wendy had seemed happy to see him before, but for some reason he noticed her mood change. The girl's cold eyes were sad, and although they were still a bright and brilliant blue, there was something missing from them. Discomfort made him look away. "Wendy Moira Angela Darling." She continued, nodding her head a little as if to egg him on.

"I'm Peter." He said simply. It was the only thing he knew about himself now. He didn't know his middle or last name, and he certainly didn't know where he lived. "It's nice to meet you Wendy."

She smirked a little, but he saw pain in her facial expression. "Of course. It is nice to meet you too Peter. Could you tell me what you're doing here in Kensington Gardens at this hour?"

"I actually can't. I can't seem to remember anything that's happened before I got here. You act like you know who I am. Could you help me?"

"I wouldn't know how to help you even if I did know you." She replied stubbornly as she crossed her arms. Something was astray here, he could tell. The look that was in her eyes was all too familiar. A familiar type of pain. She knew who he was, he was sure of it. For some reason, though, she didn't want to help him.

Or maybe, she couldn't.

Had he previously done something to her to hurt her? These thoughts raced through Peter's mind. Surely he wouldn't dream of hurting such a pretty girl, but she was acting so cold and broken toward him. It frustrated Peter that he had no idea why.

"You must know something." He pleaded, pacing around the clearing near one of the ugly statues. "You look at me like I'm a monster...Wendy."

He noticed her walking out of the gardens and into the streets. Panicking, he followed close behind. She turned her head a bit as she kept walking. "You're no monster, but you are a man."

Of course he was. What else would he be? Her voice cracked when she spoke and he knew she was upset about something but she wouldn't tell him what it was. They walked through the street, only lit by the few street lamps placed on the sidewalks. "Okay." He gathered, nodding a bit and falling in step beside her. "And you're a woman. What's the point?"