Radar was the one who finally said it out loud.

"Hey, I love animals better'n most people ever will, Pete. But its time we moved on. Face it, he ain't here to be found!"

The Iowan Immortal found that his usual foil, Wesley Crusher, was on his side in this.

"Peter, listen to me. We can't rescue every reality we find. Penny, Will, little Blake---not to mention your wife---are all waiting for us back in Japanimeopolis. I'm for going there. Now."

But the being known as The Rock Of Prophecy was as steadfast as his father, Captain James T. Kirk.

"Have either of you ever been cold, or alone? I have. Its not a good place to be. I---"

Kirk's eyes glowed silver.

"I know where he is. Radar, get his friends. Wes, freeze him if he tries to run."

Crusher and Kirk kept on to a place near a waterfall.

"Why are you doing this? Do you even need to be the ultimate hero to a bunch of stuffed---"

Peter looked at Wesley.

"Wes, my baby brother had a doll of him. The Disneyfied version. It was his wuvvy. When I couldn't be there for him, that doll and all it symbolized was. I even believe he entered Heaven carrying it with him."

A small weak voice from a tiny opening near the waterfall joined the conversation.

"His-his name w-w-was Marc. He really loved me. And you. I ne-never thought I'd meet you, Peter. Of all the older brothers and sisters the little ones tell me about--you always seemed the most special."

Peter held out his hand and smiled.

"We're all special. You folk most of all. How long have you been here?"

"Oh, sill-silly me. I got lost, and every time I tried to find my friends or our boy, I just got loster and lostest."

Radar was smiling at the tiny triumph his friends had wrought as he and the fabrical magical menagerie wandered up and took their littlest, most helpless friend home at long last. A legendary figure in yellow smiled at the heroes.

"Thank you ever so much. We worried so when he left us. It hurt even more than when the boy put us away."

Radar nodded, feeling very young again.

"It weren't nothin'. Its kinda what we do."

Wesley was actually holding back tears, as memories of hearing the stories while staring at his father's picture came through.

"We were glad to help."

Peter picked up the figure, and gave it a hug before teleporting the outsiders out.

"It was no botha--silly old bear."

----------------------------------------------

EARTH, MID 20TH CENTURY, THE UNITED KINGDOM

The famed author's son spoke on the telephone to the American book promoter.

"Well, as long as they're cared for properly, I can send all the stuffed animals. Except for the smallest one. Yes, you'll have to have a duplicate one made up. When I was a child, I lost the original in the real Hundred Acre---"

The man stopped, and looked at the display case that held the physical basis of his father's famous childrens' books. He stared in wonder. For there was now one more--or rather, there was one restored. Excusing himself, he put the phone down and opened the display. He held the lost one, now found. Down to every scar and resewing, there could be no doubt that this was no forgery.

"Piglet? Its My Piglet!"

And as he sat down and puzzled upon this small miracle, the gift of a true hero's devotion to a lost child, Christopher Robin Milne suddenly found himself wishing he had never turned six.