Chapter 1
"Play with me," the child demanded softly, staring at the Captain with sad eyes.
Hook ignored the boy hovering only a few feet away, keeping his eyes locked on the crewman he was addressing. "Keep her steady, Mr. Starkey. We should reach the island by midday tomorrow, if the wind stays true."
"Aye, Captain," Starkey answered, making the course adjustments Hook had given him.
"Please play with me, Codfish," the boy called again, his tone turning sulky. "I'm lonely."
"Not now, Pan," Hook growled under his breath.
"Sir?" Starkey inquired, looking at the man with a trace of worry in his eyes.
Hook shook his head and turned away, staring out over the ocean waves. Peter alighted on the banister and began walking along it, his arms out as he balanced himself. Hook watched the child's antics with a heavy heart, but soon his eyes were drawn to the stump of the boy's right arm. Without really thinking about it, he closed his hand about the small bag that hung from a string around his neck. My albatross.
"I'm sorry, Peter," he murmured. The boy looked up at him sharply and gave him a wry smile.
"Then let me go," Peter answered as he floated towards the man.
"I can't," Hook whispered. He turned away and quickly retired to his cabin, slamming the door behind him. He knew Peter would follow him, regardless. But it kept his crew from seeing his weakness and shut away their whispers from his ears.
Mullins glanced at the cabin door and shook his head. "This ship's accursed, and so's her captain. I say when we make port, we jump ship an' don't come back."
"We're all guilty o' th' same sin, Robert Mullins," Smee chided, worry lining his face. "If we be cursed, don't think fer a moment that fleein' th' ship'll save us."
"He doesn't blame us anymore," Bill Jukes spoke up. "We've made our peace and found forgiveness. It's just th' Cap'n that won't let Pan go."
"Cap'n'll never let th' lad go," Smee answered. "He can't live without Pan, and he's never been one fer forgiveness."
"Which is exactly why we should leave," Mullins growled.
Hook removed his hat and coat before pouring himself a glass of rum. He downed a third of it before sitting in his chair. Peter appeared by the bookcase across the room and idly began rearranging the books, according to color by Hook's guess. The boy quickly grew tired of that, though, and turned to stare at the man.
Hook couldn't meet the child's gaze, so he turned his attention to the hook attached to his own arm, watching the candlelight reflect off of the smooth metal. It gave him some fortitude and he felt the old, comfortable anger well up in his heart. That brat did this to me. It's his own damned fault!
"Go away, Pan," he snarled, but he knew such demands were wasted on the boy.
Peter approached the man and reached out with his left hand, holding it above the hook as if to touch it. Hook shuddered when he saw the transparent hand, seeing through the ghostly flesh to view his own claw. "Leave me in peace, spirit," the man pleaded, his voice breaking slightly. "I said I'm sorry, Peter. Why can't you forgive me like you forgave them?"
"Let me go," the boy said in answer, his hand drifting up to reach for the pouch hanging around Hook's neck. "Free me and free yourself, Codfish."
Hook removed the pouch and opened it, removing the contents and laying them on the desk. Peter drew back, giving a muffled sob before fading away. For a few moments after he had gone, Hook could still hear the child weeping.
On the desk lay the skeleton of a child's right hand, the small white bones seeming to glow in the candlelight. Reverently, Hook caressed a finger, touching it lightly so as to not damage it. "My trophy, my prize, my sin and my bane," he murmured, the words now a ritual whenever he uncovered the bones. He quickly finished off his rum and poured another, deciding that today was a good day to get drunk. He'd pay for it later with nightmares and memories, but he preferred the nightmares to the ghost. Peter couldn't bear the sight of Hook's gruesome trophy, and wouldn't return for as long as it was out. Hook had tried to use it as a talisman to banish the boy forever, but while Peter hadn't become visible during that time, his disembodied wails had nearly driven the man insane. At least when he could see the boy, he knew the child wasn't suffering as much.
So Hook drank, as was becoming his habit more often of late. After Peter's death, he'd worn the pouch with as much pride as shame. He hadn't intended for the boy to die, but Peter had and there had been no sense in feeling guilty for it then. His relief at being free of Pan had momentarily overwhelmed the shock he felt. But when Neverland had disappeared below the horizon, he'd found himself weeping for the dead child. And that night, Billy Jukes awoke the entire ship with his screams of terror.
Peter had stood on the deck, his ghostly form leaning against the railing, staring out at the ocean. He'd disappeared again soon afterwards, but he'd reappeared often enough for all the men to see. The crew became fearful and edgy, seeing the child on the deck, in the kitchen, the brig… all the places he'd been kept that fateful day. The bloodstain on the deck was given a wide berth, even though Peter was never seen in that spot. Mullins briefly spoke of mutiny, but Jukes interceded to stop him.
Unknown to the crew and the captain, Billy had begun speaking to the spirit. He claimed he didn't know why, just that he'd felt pity one evening when he saw Peter crying. He'd asked the spirit if he could do anything to help him, and Peter had smiled and asked to play. Jukes had granted the request and played a rhyming game, and soon Peter had begun to smile. That small reassurance had given the gunner the heart to speak candidly with Pan, and in the course of the next few days he'd spoken with the spirit more often. When Peter heard Mullins speak of mutiny, believing that disposing of Hook would rid the ship of the ghost, he'd assured Billy that that wasn't the case. He told the boy that he was still a prisoner of all the pirates, and that he'd still be bound to the ship if Hook was gone. Seeing no benefit to a risky mutiny, Mullins had withdrawn his idea.
Not long after that, Billy had apologized to the spirit, expressing his heartfelt regret for his part in Peter's murder. The ghost had smiled and faded away. Jukes never again saw nor heard Peter… but the other men did. Mullins had been the next to swallow his fear and speak to Peter, hoping for the same result that Billy got. Soon all the pirates conversed with the boy, and one by one they asked for and received Peter's forgiveness – all except for Hook. Peter wouldn't speak to the man, only stared at him sadly before turning away. When one of the men spoke to the child in Hook's presence, the captain never heard Peter's side of the conversation. It wasn't until all the men had stopped seeing Pan that the boy finally answered Hook.
The Captain had cut right to the chase, offering the boy his apologies in proper form. He hadn't been prepared for Peter's tears, and had been very upset the next time he'd seen the boy. At first he didn't understand why the child still haunted him, why the offer of peace hadn't worked for him as it had for the other men. But he knew now. He knew and understood all too well.
I'm beyond redemption. I never forgave Peter, and he paid for it with his life. How can he possibly forgive me for the sin I committed against him? How can I ask for something I couldn't give a child? Hook looked at his bottle of rum, and nodded when he saw it was nearly gone. Working carefully, he put the hand back into the pouch and set it on his desk. He wore it most of the time when he was awake, but the skeleton was too fragile for him to sleep with. As soon as it was out of sight, Peter's voice echoed in the room.
"Why do you hurt yourself so much?" the childish voice asked.
"No one else here is man enough to do it," Hook growled as he staggered to his bed. He felt surreal, thoughts of Peter unable to upset him while he was in this state. And Peter hated it when he drank… even when he was alive, the child wouldn't come near the ship if he saw that the Captain had been drinking. Once he reached his bed, he collapsed upon it, sighing as he sank into the comfortable softness. It didn't even bother him to remember that Peter had died in this bed. He was beyond caring, and his only regret was that he couldn't feel like this forever.
He was nearly asleep when he felt the blankets being shifted to cover him, and heard the boy's voice whisper, "Sleep well, Codfish."
Not for the first time, Hook wondered why, if the boy could move things, why didn't he take his revenge and kill the man that had killed him. But then he fell into sleep, and in sleep he found the nightmare he knew would come. And the nightmare was even more horrifying because it was true.