Author's Note: This story was inspired by parts of Enola's Kidnapped Series. Much thanks for an image that would not get out of my mind, and thus spawned this story. I do not own Peter Pan, Captain Hook (alas!), or anything else from the Peter Pan universe. I'm a huge fan of the 2003 Peter Pan movie, and so my Captain Hook is really the one embodied by Jason Isaacs. This story is set just after the crocodile has leapt from the water to swallow the captain in the final battle between Hook and Pan.


Chapter 1: In which the captain makes a bargain

Old. Alone. Done for.

The words echoed in his skull, throbbing and taunting as the beast roared through the water and closed its massive jaws around him.

Well, that's it, then, he thought, preparing for imminent oblivion in the belly of the crocodile, for the foul slime of the beast's innards to overwhelm him. Captain James Hook would expire at last in one magnificent gesture of futility and resignation.

But the fates were not so kind. The beast had apparently swallowed enough air that he could still breathe.

Blast it to hell.

He explicitly had not wanted to be aware at this point in his demise. He could feel the sides of the beast's stomach constricting him, a stinking vise of muscle dripping with stomach acid. He would have to endure this unholy prison until the air ran out, instead of the swift end he had expected.

To die would be an awfully big adventure. So Pan had said, when so recently facing his own demise. Hook considered the boy's words fitfully, twisting his shoulders in his dank prison, his own hook pressed into the flesh of his chest. To die, perhaps - but to die like this? This was no spectacular gesture. This was...demeaning. Risible. Something Pan and his band of dirty miscreants would giggle over had they but known.

With the thought of the boy, the first embers of fury began to burn in his belly.

Not yet, thought Hook with a sudden vicious clarity, not yet for me. Thoughts of Pan were fueling him, firing his well-honed sense of revenge, leaving his despair in ashes. It was a brittle piteous thing, unworthy of him. I will find a way to you, Pan. By the demons in the deepest bowels of hell, I will find a way.

His thoughts raced, as his body had little where else to go. His arms twitched, pinioned by the slick muscular wetness of the stomach walls. If he could just move the sharp steel of the hook to the right position...ah, but the stomach acid of the beast did burn, damn the accursed reptile! But there - yes, he could pierce the stomach wall just there-

Stop.

The voice was low, commanding. He realized it was not spoken, but had insinuated itself directly into his mind. It was unnerving, to say the least.

Who in blazes are you? he thought furiously, pausing his hook before its plunge.

What would you do to find this way of which you spoke? continued the voice, smoothly ignoring his question. What would you give?

What? What are you babbling about? he spat back, preparing his hook again.

I can give you a way to Pan. The words crackled like frost in his mind, sharp and painfully suggestive.

Hook paused again.

I see I have your attention. There was a definite amusement in the words, a cadence of sly laughter.

The familiar burn of rage stirred in Hook's mind. Indeed.

Don't harm my pet, and we will speak more on this.

Hook grit his teeth, assessing possibilities. And how shall I survive inside your "pet" until that blessed event?

Count to ten, came the insouciant reply.

What the bloody hell? The rage was a pulsing thing now, turning his inner vision red.

Indulge me please, Captain. If you would be so kind.

The polite turn of phrase startled him, catching his attention for a moment. His vision faded again to black, as the rage within him quelled briefly. Good form was good form, even in this thrice-cursed bilge of a situation. One must always show good form. It was one rule he tried hard to keep to. Egregious physical discomfort was no excuse.

Resisting the urge to take a deep breath, he began. One...two...three...

When he reached eight, he was unceremoniously vomited onto the floor of a cave, along with vast quantities of slime and stomach acid. Sputtering and coughing, prone on the cave floor, he gasped for air that hadn't been inside a crocodile. At last, he was able to prop himself up on his elbows and turn to assess his surroundings.

Cold reptilian eyes regarded him from a few feet away. The beast's head and front legs were at eye level for him, with the rest of the massive, armored body submerged in the black, chill waters beyond.

He froze, a fine trembling running through him. The adrenaline surge was immediate, his muscles tensing, readying for swift and deadly action.

A low rumble came from the beast, and those vast jaws began to open.

His hook clanged suddenly against the rocky ground, an involuntary lapse of muscle control in his arm. The sound jolted him, reminded him of what else this beast had done so long ago, what it had taken from him.

The hot burn of rage began to smolder again within him as his vision took on the first tints of feral red. He dragged the hook against the rocky ground in a deliberate, violent motion, and bared his teeth. "You won't take me again without a fight, demon," he snarled quietly. He tensed his body to spring, as the beast opened its jaws all the wider and heaved itself forward.

"Stop, please. Both of you." The voice came from behind him, with that same sinuous confidence from the mental conversations before. It held a faint note of admonishment, almost as if it was chiding two boys caught playing a bit too roughly. It was a feminine voice, regal and cultured. Yet something about it warned him of a powerful threat behind the polite surface. It was most...invigorating.

The beast stilled itself at the sound of the voice, and settled back into the waters.

Hook turned his head slightly, noting a figure hidden in shadow. She was tall, elegant in limb. But beyond that, he could not tell in the dimness. She flicked a hand dismissively. "Thank you, Bubu."

For a moment, Hook couldn't imagine why she would call him such a ridiculous, silly-sounding name as Bubu. But then, realization dawned and he turned back just in time to see that great reptilian maw receding into the dark. Turning again to the shadowed figure, Hook couldn't contain himself. "Bubu?" he blurted, incredulous. "That's the name of that hellish creature?"

He could feel the amusement from the woman, like honeyed ice. "You were expecting something more...intimidating, perhaps?"

Hook closed his eyes briefly, shook his head, and slowly drew a breath as he stood up. Calm was required now, good form. "I'm not sure what I was expecting, madame." He paused. "Except perhaps that something might happen at the end of ten counts. Not eight."

This time he could see her smile, lights glittering off teeth in the darkness. "You started late, if you recall."

A slight smile tugged at his own lips in response, as a soft snort escaped him. "Well, I suppose I did, at that." After a moment, he decided the best way to proceed was likely to be caution and courtesy. With a formal bow, he said, "Captain James Hook, madame. I believe I owe you my life."

"I know who you are, captain. It's why I saved you."

He had expected as much, but pressed on. "I see. May I ask whom I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"I have been called the Witch, captain." There was a touch of disdain in her voice, a curl of regret. "You have heard of me, I'm sure. The mermaids do whisper so."

"Ah," he said, "of course." He had indeed heard of this witch. Really, who hadn't heard tales of a sea witch? But this one in particular, he had heard the mermaids of Neverland speak of with a vague horror and deep respect whenever the subject had come up. The mermaids were fairly fearsome sirens in their own right, so this witch was clearly no one to be trifled with.

He inclined his head, his voice smooth and accommodating. "Might I inquire what this simple pirate captain could offer a lady of your considerable skills and talents?" Of course, he was far from looking his best at this moment, but charm had rarely failed him when conversing with the gentler sex.

He caught another flash of a smile in the dripping darkness, the hint of that amused laughter. "My, you can be quite a silver-tongued fellow when you wish to be, can't you, captain? Even under such duress. But really, you are far from simple." She began to walk towards him, and her voice dropped low, humming with a liquid persuasion. "And that is why I want you."

She emerged into the silver-gray light, and she was a vision of winter beauty, gems clear as ice sparkling at neck and ears and fingers and wrist and throat. Lithe of limb and fair of face, aristocratic features framed by a wonder of silver hair, eyes the flashing blue of chill ocean waters, lips so ripe, so inviting, so cold and perfect...

His pulse began to race again, the blood to pump vigorously through him in a way he had thought nearly forgotten. It was heady, exhilarating, overwhelming.

And dangerous. With a concerted effort of will, he stilled the heat in his veins. This was a creature of power. He could not afford such things, not yet. "I see I'm not the only one with a silver tongue, madame."

Their was laughter in those cool eyes, and a definite approval. "Indeed, captain. But I digress. Let me tell you why I desire you."

Her words were deliberately suggestive, of course. He continued to breathe evenly, unbaited, and waited for her to continue.

"First and foremost, you are possessed of an acute sense of self. I saw it in the belly of the beast just now, and again as you controlled your more...carnal inquiries." She smiled at his sharp intake of breath. "That is a fine amount of self control, captain. A very fine amount indeed. It means you cannot easily be undone by unexpected events." She raised a delicate hand to his face, trailing her fingers across his cheek.

Ah, such sweetness! He closed his eyes, willing his voice to neutrality. "And?"

Her laughter skittered across his skin like ice crystals. "A justified hatred of the boy Peter Pan."

His eyes snapped open and he felt a growl trickle from him, a thing of threat and promise.

"Yes, I know." She removed her hand slowly, a somewhat regretful smile on her lips. "I do know."

He breathed in, and then out once, measured and precise. "Anything else, madame?"

"A finely tuned code of honor." She raised a hand to quell his immediate snort. "No, listen before you scoff. You may have few enough scruples in the common way of things, but you abide the code you have established for yourself. You have good form in the face of many...difficult situations."

He considered this, as he regarded her. "What are these things to you?"

Her smile was immediate, sparkling as sun on snow. She moved closer to him, wrapping her graceful arms around his neck, close enough for him to breathe the deep sea scent of her. "I have a way to end Pan, captain."

He leveled his gaze at her, unblinking, and belligerently unmoved by her not-inconsiderable wiles. He was not some dunderhead to be taken in so easily. "So you intimated while I was...traveling with Bubu, madame. I repeat: What are my qualities to you?"

She tilted her head to the side, still smiling. "My plan requires a deft hand, captain, and a very particular sort of person with very particular desires. I believe you to be this sort of person."

He cocked an eyebrow, and allowed the ghost of a smile to echo hers. "I see. I admit that my interest is piqued."

"As I hoped it would be."

"Might I ask your interest in, as you say, ending Pan?"

Her smile sharpened, became a thing of edges and secrets. "You might. You know the entanglement of the boy with Neverland, do you not?"

He nodded, suddenly very aware of the nearness of her mouth to his, that tantalizing curve of lip.

"The boy has traveled to the mortal world too often, captain. He begins to feel things he shouldn't." Her voice was measured, deliberately neutral. "The land will fall apart if he and it are not disentangled soon."

His eyebrows raised again. "Altruistic motives, then?"

Her laughter was sudden, soft and bubbling around him. "Well, not entirely - I am a witch, you know." She began to trace a finger along the length of his shoulder, letting nails bite ever so gently into skin.

He found his eyes involuntarily closing in stolen pleasure, and snapped them back to hers. "Mmm, indeed. And your more witch-like motives?"

"Suffice it to say that Neverland has been held back from its full potential for being tied to Pan."

"Ah, of course. And if he were, as you say, ended?"

She raised and lowered her shoulders in a gentle shrug, affecting innocence. "Why, I suppose the land would tune itself to other wills, were they strong enough."

He raised an eyebrow, a dry smile on his lips. "Such as, perhaps, yours."

Her smile mirrored his. "Perhaps."

He laughed in a short appreciative burst. "Well, I hardly need much convincing when it comes to Pan." He gave a pointed look at the graceful arms encircling him. "Tell me how we are to kill him, and I will do my best to help you in this pursuit."

"Ah, captain," she said sighed softly, almost chiding, "we don't kill him."

Darkness spread across his features as fast as thought, though his tone remained courteous. "No?"

She shook her head gently. "No. We force him," she said softly, "to grow up." Her eyes darkened, anticipatory. "We push him past this threshold he has hovered at for so long. A grown up Pan is no Pan at all, captain. He is something different entirely. Something this land will be far less interested in."

He closed his eyes briefly, feeling those tantalizing threads of hope abandon him. "Madame, I admire your ambition - truly I do. But the boy will not age within Neverland. And he cannot be removed from it against his will. The accursed land knows him. It protects him."

Her hands caressed the side of his face. "Its fairy magic is what protects him currently. If he were to be...severed from that magic, he would be yours for the taking."

He shook her hands from him with a jerk, looking at her with black suspicion. "Taking, madame? Taking how exactly, if not to kill?"

Her eyes flashed with approval of him again. "Nothing...improper. But haven't you ever considered what it would be like to control the boy, captain?" Her voice curled and coiled around him, caressing where her hands had been only moments before. "How good it would feel to have absolute power over his will?"

His pulse began to quicken.

"It would be so much more satisfying than merely killing him, don't you think? You could turn him into anything, anything you wanted."

He inhaled sharply. His thoughts were thrumming, twisting, imagining.

"You could even make him into the very thing he despises. Make him," she said, the threads of possibility crackling in her voice, "into someone like you, captain."

His eyes narrowed suddenly, as complications became apparent. After a considered moment, he said, "He loathes pirates. And me especially. He would, I believe, prefer to die than ever submit to my will."

A confidence emanated from her, glacier cold. "But if he had no choice, captain - if circumstances were such that he could make no other choice...would it not be a fine revenge, to turn your enemy into the very thing he loathes? To remake him in your own image - you, whom he detests? Does this not tempt you," she asked, her voice kissing across him, "even a little?"

The possibilities burst forth again in his mind's eye, so clear and clean and sharp. Pan forced to comply with his will, Pan grounded and fearing his wrath as the rest of the crew did, as the rest of the world did. Pan obeying his commands. Pan showing him proper respect. Pan, his.

Oh yes, that would do very well, indeed.

At last, inclining his head, he said, "You do present an attractive proposition."

She cupped her hand along his cheek. "I thought it might appeal to you. I give you a warning, however."

"Oh?" His eyes were focused again, sharp as daggers upon her.

"The way to accomplish this thing will require some sacrifice on your part."

Ah, of course. Such things always did. Images of Pan subjugated to his will flashed again before his eyes, heady as the finest wine. So sweet, so right...the intensity of his desire burned in his throat. "Madame, tell me how to accomplish this thing and I can promise you I will not care."

Her smile was brilliant, dazzling as sun on new snow. "I had hoped you would be of such an inclination. You do live up to my expectations of you so admirably." She turned suddenly, and linked one slender, pale arm through his. "Come, let us discuss this further."

What a day is this. He smiled in return, feeling the strong possibility of a very satisfactory turn of events at long last. "As you wish."