I do not own Peter Pan.
Written for Rowena DeVandal's One Thousand Words or Less Challenge. You had to create an OC to play the role of a CC's doppleganger. Here it is...
Once, he had been a child, gay and innocent and heartless. He had once been a beautiful boy, who had befriended many a fairy, kissed many a tail of mermaids, and slaughtered many a pirate. He had once been James, but no longer was he. James was the non-existent ghost of Hook's childhood in Neverland, ever since Peter Pan had washed ashore. James found Peter and helped him.
Almost too soon, Pan was the fascination of all of Neverland. James found the softness of his baby blue eyes turn to stone, freezing before him in his reflection, and his hair growing longer, much longer, the ends frayed. In a time, James was dead. Hook recognized the vicious feelings towards Peter, nesting, seeding in his stomach, and took his blade to Pan's chest. As you can imagine, he was very surprised when Peter flew up and let out a battle cry. Conceitedly, Pan drew his sword. Hook felt his heart swell in anger and burst, leaving him out cold on the floor, with a gentle thud against the grassy ground.
"I killed him…" said Peter in a voice smug, yet remorseful. But Hook was not dead, even as Peter took his leave. Another creature visited him. Its intentions were not friendly, but in the end, Hook won. He almost always won.
Those days were long ago, when the wind bit and whispered into your hair, and snowflakes dropped and danced down in gentle flurries across Neverland. When Hook became captain, the dance of the snowflakes stopped, and no longer did you hear the secrets of the forest as a breeze floated by. Neverland missed James. Hook did not miss Neverland, but he did have a certain fondness towards Mermaid's Lagoon; misty, mysterious, damp, Mermaid's Lagoon. Anyone could hide there.
On the day was devoured by the crocodile, he went out to the lagoon secretly. It was one of his many annual visits to the lagoon, to linger in the mist and kiss the hidden beams of sun scattered throughout it. "'Tis a guilty pleasure,'" he said gravely, pathetically reassuring himself. Hook was never complete, even when he was a full and wholly man. He was always looking for something more, something you could not find in treasures. He greatly detested this need.
Much to his misfortune, Pan repeatedly (and silently) gloated that he had this. Pan had a mother, and Hook had taken her, just to spite Pan. It wasn't in his best character, truly. He didn't care. Wendy was her name, and she loved Pan to bits. It was obvious, but then, Peter was always an ignorant, horrible, child.
Giggles erupted from behind Hook, and he slowly turned around. "Pan? Come back from your Wendy?" he grinned, catlike.
"Pan? Well, I think dear Peter is in bed!" the girlish voice replied. Hook cautiously approached the voice, and soon fell down to his knees as he saw who the voice belonged to. It belonged to him. Hook, eyes tinted red, gritted his teeth and slowly got back up.
"Who… what are you?" hissed Hook.
"James!" exclaimed the girlish boy, shoving his hands into his pockets, and then taking out a beautiful fairy. "And this is… Light. She's one of the brightest fairies, and she hasn't exactly told me her name yet." James giggled and ran a hand through his hair, pixie dust flying into his dark locks.
"And she agreed to ride in your pocket?" asked Hook, amazed.
"Yes… uh, no. I sort of just stuffed her in there," giggled James. "Well, what's your name?"
"Smee," said Hook arrogantly, obviously proud of himself for thinking of the name so quickly.
"What a funny name!" grinned James. He spotted a butterfly and scooped it up. "I haven't seen this type yet!"
"Is that so?" replied "Smee" dryly, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, yes, yes! Doesn't it make you curious? Where did it come from?"
"The lagoon, of course."
Ignoring Hook for a minute, James studied the butterfly more closely. "Curiouser and curiouser! Its wing pattern is remarkable, and its size is slightly larger than all the other specimens I've come across!"
Uninterested, Hook said, "Pass it here." James did so, and Hook crushed it with his hand.
"You monster!" cried James, indignantly, "You're just like a pirate! You're disgusting!"
"Am I? What do you enjoy, James?" said Hook, putting emphasis on the boy's name.
"Sword fighting and collecting insects and little gadgets. I also like killing pirates and stealing away fairies."
Hook smirked. The boy was less like him than he had thought. 'Insects could go to hell,' thought Hook, 'and sword fighting isn't at all necessary when you have guns and ammunition. Little gadgets are never of much use, and fairies were vicious beasts disguised as beautiful little people.'
"You know, boy, I'm a pirate."
The boy leaned forward and grabbed Hook's hand silently. "Then 'ware, Hook," whispered the boy haughtily into his ear, "For the end is near."
Half expecting a sword to plunge into his gut, Hook jumped back to see only the mist, sweeping over where the boy's body and silhouette should have laid. Absentmindedly, Hook stared down at his hands. There was the slightest trace of pixie dust on his palms.