A/N: A short story inspired by the awesome art work by Altalamatox on Deviant Art where Hook is an imaginary friend to a little girl.
"No little children love me." He remembered saying on more than one occasion to Smee. It was not just a statement, but fact. At least it was as far as he was concerned. In all his many years, no little children ever loved him. Even when he was a child. Other little children his age would prefer to stay away or simple did not like him. Time and time again, this was a proven fact that no little children loved him.
Even when they called him to them.
It was not the first time, and certainly would not be the last, but the Captain was once again summoned away from his ship and home, so some other land where no one could see him. Except for one. It was always a child. Rarely older than 13 and always frowning or smirking proudly at him with a toy sword or stick. Most often, it was a young boy pretending to kill pirates. He found that if he pretended to die, the child would be satisfied and send him on his way once more. Even the girls who called him only wanted him so a boy pretending to be Peter could save them. Never were they happy to see him arrive, only to him die. Each time they proved that no little children loved him.
Then one day it changed.
Once again, when Hook was quite content and finally at peace, he was summoned away to that strange place. He grumbled quietly as his eyes darted around for the troublesome boy so he could get it over with. The boy was not around; at least he did not appear to be waiting for him anywhere. Taking in his surroundings, he found he was outside. Another one of those places where children were allowed to roam free while their parents watched nearby. How he hated these places, always so loud with children everywhere yelling and shouting, running and jumping, fighting and playing. This time was different.
The children were farther away in one of those odd structures they climb, run, and slide down. Looking down, he saw that he was by one of the small boxes in the shape of an animal, if you could call it that, full of sand. Sitting close by was a young girl, 8 or 9 years old, her short hair in a ponytail, looking up at him with wide curious eyes. It was a rather unusual reaction but almost pleasant.
Her hand reached out and gave his coat a gentle tug. A surprised gasp leaped out when he pulled his coat away. He waited for her to scowl or grin menacingly. She did neither. Instead, she smiled sweetly and offered a colorful shovel. Hook was so taken back by this gesture, much to his own surprise; he took the shovel and knelt down. The young girl smiled brightly and began to take an equally colorful bucket and place sand in it with a matching toy shovel. The Captain watched awhile as she filled it up, and then quickly turned it over onto the sand. After she carefully lifted the bucket up, showing a neatly made mound, she repeated the process again.
This time as she put sand in, Hook took the shovel in his hand and poured some in as well. The girl gave him the sweetest and brightest smile that he completely forgotten what a trivial and useless task he was doing.
They created another mound on top of the one she had created. Followed by another next to it. When they had two towers, the girl grabbed a twig with a leaf, holding it up proudly before placing it carefully into the top of the first tower. Hook saw the makeshift flag and pointed out another twig for the other tower they had made. She took it, and placed it atop the other tower, smiling just as brightly as before, if not more. The girl looked up at him with something in her eyes that Hook never had seen before in the eyes of a child, not to him. Not wanting to dwell on it, he began to dig by the first tower with his hand. As he dug around it, the girl started to dig around the other side, and they began to make a moat.
It did not take long for them to finish, so it felt, though really much time had already passed since he had first arrived. Their little towers and moat was complete. The leaves hung silently in the air, as there was no wind to move them. The pair sat looking almost proudly at their sand made structure. A smile had crept its way to Hook's lips before he knew it. He was too late to hide it from the girl when she looked up at him, still smiling with the same look in her eyes.
He was then made aware of the lateness of the day when the girl's mother came to collect her, though all she did was call out her name from where she stood. The girl was quickly saddened but looked up at Hook with a smile once more. This time he smiled of his own accord. Had he known the reaction that would have proceeded from it, he may not have smiled after all. Two arms had wrapped themselves around his thighs, her head buried for a moment into his stomach, then turning it to the side so she could speak, and run off to her mother.
"No little children love me." That was a fact he always knew, and had never changed. Until that little girl who so proudly declared, "Thank you Hook, I love you." Now, he could no longer say it, for one little girl loved him, and he think he might love that little girl too.