A/N: This is based off of the recent movie...please do not kill me? Killing
is bad, and only mean people kill. Or insane people. Either way, no
killing me. By the way, I don't own anything that has to do with Peter
Pan. Not the book, or the movie, or the play, or anything. So...did I
mention that suing is also bad?
"Get your hands off of me, pirate!" Wendy spat the word out like she was saying a particularly nasty curse. The rough, calloused hands didn't budge, no matter how hard she twisted and struggled. She could smell the reek of alcohol and sweat, and some other smell that she couldn't identify, but made her stomach clench up in fear. What were they planning on doing to her? The cloth around her eyes was painful and she could feel her skin being torn away by its course folds. "I demand to know what you're doing with me!" she cried out, not really expecting an answer. She hadn't gotten any response to her previous yells and insults.
"Heh, we ain't doin' nothin' to ye, missy. Tha' be for the Cap'in to decide." She felt herself being pushed forward. With her hands behind her back, she was unable to maintain her balance, and plummeted forward onto the hard wooden floor. The reek of men and lust finally subsided as she heard the bang of a closing door and the click of boots nearby.
"So," purred a familiar silky voice, "You have managed to do something right for once in your miserable life. Leave Mistress Wendy here with me, we have some business to discuss. Do not touch her house or anything inside, Smee. Tell me the names of anybody who does. They shall have a little chat with me later."
"Ye-yes Cap'in!" Wendy heard the sound of scurrying shoes and the clang of a door behind her. The click of heels came closer. Suddenly, she felt two strong, but smooth hands lift her up and remove her blindfold. Wide frozen blue eyes, devoid of any spark that would normally indicate a human's soul inhabiting the body in question, peered down upon her. The man whose face had so often taken control of her dreams and forced them into nightmares seemed less frightening somehow, now that she could see it in the light that reality tends to cast on things. One inky black eyebrow quirked up and the bloody red mouth twitched to the side. That couldn't possibly be amusement of all things on his face! Could it? The famed Captain Hook showing amusement? Maybe it really was all a dream.
"Come, sit down, my dear." He waved towards a velvet lined chair, thick with padding, "We have much to talk about, you and I."
"I have no civil words for one of your kind, Hook."
"Oh, come now, stop being so stubborn. You forget, Wendy, that you are my captive. It is only because of my will that you are alive at all right now. So stop being so difficult, child, and sit down. You shall learn, when you are grown, if that day comes, to accept good hospitality when it is offered to you. Here," He said, waving his hand to the elegant carved wooden table that was next to the chair, "have some fruit." Glancing to the side, Wendy noticed something that the man had kept out of site, previously. A long hooked piece of metal with a wicked gleaming point was attached to his arm. Of course, how could she be so foolish as to forget his famed hook? He didn't need to carry a sword or gun, he could kill her on the spot with his bare...well, they weren't truthfully hands, but the point of the matter was that he could kill her if she did not obey. Besides, she was shaking so hard that if she didn't sit down she would collapse onto the floor, and now wasn't a time when she wanted to loose face in such an embarrassing manner. It was only a few steps to the chair, and a good thing it was, too. If she had been forced to walk any more she really would have fallen. But instead she managed to gracefully seat herself and select a green slice of apple from the gold tray before her. Gnawing on it, she looked up to see that the fearsome captain was imitating her actions on the opposite side of the table. Clearing her throat, she looked expectantly up at him.
The man stretched his lips out in what she assumed was supposed to pass for a smile. He chewed up his piece of fruit and looked at her, thoughtfully.
"No screaming, my dear? No crying or pleading for your life? I would have expected tears and panic from as young as you."
"My mother raised me to be a proud representation of the British Empire!"
"Indeed." Hook raised his eyes up to meet hers. "You seem to be quite mature for your age, Wendy. I hear that you are a mother to the Lost Boys?"
"What of it?"
"Surely these children who have never known a mother's love cannot fully appreciate the gift that you have given them?" He paused, seeing her expression waver. It was true, the boys were fun, and Peter was wonderful to be with, but none of them had ever really shown her that they cared about her, or indicated that they were thankful for what she did for them.
"Mothers aren't supposed to care about things like that! Mothers are supposed to love their children no matter how horrid or ungrateful they are!" Her protest was obviously too loud for the small room that they were confined in.
"Ah, but Wendy, my dear, you forgot something. You aren't really their mother, are you? No, you're just pretending. Peter knows you're just pretending, Wendy." She stared at the grain of the polished table, not wanting to look into those fierce, numbing eyes. She knew he was right. All of this, all of her pretense, it wasn't real. And Peter. She really wasn't married to him. He really didn't care about her. "I understand, Wendy. As humans, we all love to escape to our own little dreams. But child, you could be a mother for my crew. We would appreciate you. My boys and I know how to treat a lady. We would listen to your stories, and do exactly as you say." What he said was ridiculous. She knew that pirates would never want a mother. But the way that he said everything, it was so wonderful, so hypnotic. For a second she believed his words, she could see herself in this very chair, telling a group of eager listeners seated about her the tale of Cinderella, watching them all laugh and cry at the proper moments. And at the end of the story they would all sigh and dream their own personal adventures for the heroine. Then she would tuck them all into bed...no. Tucking pirates into bed? The very sentence was silly, not to mention the image that her mind conjured up. No, there was no possible way that she could be this rabble's mother.
Hook had been observing her face ever since Smee had dragged her through his door. Now he watched her more intently than ever. Could that be a bit of weakness her eyes? He hadn't expected to be able to get her to consent straight away. Any foe took time to wear down, even a child, especially a child such as this. But perhaps the task of acquiring Wendy would not be quite as formidable as he first imagined. Oh it might take some time to deteriorate her good will and hate for pirates, but he had time to spare. Hook had waited years to get his hands on Peter, he could afford a few days before he could control Peter's main line of defense, the girl.
"Come, my dear, there's no need to decide today. You may sleep over here on this bed. I assure you, you'll be quite safe. None of my crew shall harm you." He smiled with as much charm as he could muster, and led the girl over to a nice little cot in the corner, covered in down quilts. She seemed as if she would resist, at first, but the day overcame her, and she sunk into the bed's fluffy folds.
"Get your hands off of me, pirate!" Wendy spat the word out like she was saying a particularly nasty curse. The rough, calloused hands didn't budge, no matter how hard she twisted and struggled. She could smell the reek of alcohol and sweat, and some other smell that she couldn't identify, but made her stomach clench up in fear. What were they planning on doing to her? The cloth around her eyes was painful and she could feel her skin being torn away by its course folds. "I demand to know what you're doing with me!" she cried out, not really expecting an answer. She hadn't gotten any response to her previous yells and insults.
"Heh, we ain't doin' nothin' to ye, missy. Tha' be for the Cap'in to decide." She felt herself being pushed forward. With her hands behind her back, she was unable to maintain her balance, and plummeted forward onto the hard wooden floor. The reek of men and lust finally subsided as she heard the bang of a closing door and the click of boots nearby.
"So," purred a familiar silky voice, "You have managed to do something right for once in your miserable life. Leave Mistress Wendy here with me, we have some business to discuss. Do not touch her house or anything inside, Smee. Tell me the names of anybody who does. They shall have a little chat with me later."
"Ye-yes Cap'in!" Wendy heard the sound of scurrying shoes and the clang of a door behind her. The click of heels came closer. Suddenly, she felt two strong, but smooth hands lift her up and remove her blindfold. Wide frozen blue eyes, devoid of any spark that would normally indicate a human's soul inhabiting the body in question, peered down upon her. The man whose face had so often taken control of her dreams and forced them into nightmares seemed less frightening somehow, now that she could see it in the light that reality tends to cast on things. One inky black eyebrow quirked up and the bloody red mouth twitched to the side. That couldn't possibly be amusement of all things on his face! Could it? The famed Captain Hook showing amusement? Maybe it really was all a dream.
"Come, sit down, my dear." He waved towards a velvet lined chair, thick with padding, "We have much to talk about, you and I."
"I have no civil words for one of your kind, Hook."
"Oh, come now, stop being so stubborn. You forget, Wendy, that you are my captive. It is only because of my will that you are alive at all right now. So stop being so difficult, child, and sit down. You shall learn, when you are grown, if that day comes, to accept good hospitality when it is offered to you. Here," He said, waving his hand to the elegant carved wooden table that was next to the chair, "have some fruit." Glancing to the side, Wendy noticed something that the man had kept out of site, previously. A long hooked piece of metal with a wicked gleaming point was attached to his arm. Of course, how could she be so foolish as to forget his famed hook? He didn't need to carry a sword or gun, he could kill her on the spot with his bare...well, they weren't truthfully hands, but the point of the matter was that he could kill her if she did not obey. Besides, she was shaking so hard that if she didn't sit down she would collapse onto the floor, and now wasn't a time when she wanted to loose face in such an embarrassing manner. It was only a few steps to the chair, and a good thing it was, too. If she had been forced to walk any more she really would have fallen. But instead she managed to gracefully seat herself and select a green slice of apple from the gold tray before her. Gnawing on it, she looked up to see that the fearsome captain was imitating her actions on the opposite side of the table. Clearing her throat, she looked expectantly up at him.
The man stretched his lips out in what she assumed was supposed to pass for a smile. He chewed up his piece of fruit and looked at her, thoughtfully.
"No screaming, my dear? No crying or pleading for your life? I would have expected tears and panic from as young as you."
"My mother raised me to be a proud representation of the British Empire!"
"Indeed." Hook raised his eyes up to meet hers. "You seem to be quite mature for your age, Wendy. I hear that you are a mother to the Lost Boys?"
"What of it?"
"Surely these children who have never known a mother's love cannot fully appreciate the gift that you have given them?" He paused, seeing her expression waver. It was true, the boys were fun, and Peter was wonderful to be with, but none of them had ever really shown her that they cared about her, or indicated that they were thankful for what she did for them.
"Mothers aren't supposed to care about things like that! Mothers are supposed to love their children no matter how horrid or ungrateful they are!" Her protest was obviously too loud for the small room that they were confined in.
"Ah, but Wendy, my dear, you forgot something. You aren't really their mother, are you? No, you're just pretending. Peter knows you're just pretending, Wendy." She stared at the grain of the polished table, not wanting to look into those fierce, numbing eyes. She knew he was right. All of this, all of her pretense, it wasn't real. And Peter. She really wasn't married to him. He really didn't care about her. "I understand, Wendy. As humans, we all love to escape to our own little dreams. But child, you could be a mother for my crew. We would appreciate you. My boys and I know how to treat a lady. We would listen to your stories, and do exactly as you say." What he said was ridiculous. She knew that pirates would never want a mother. But the way that he said everything, it was so wonderful, so hypnotic. For a second she believed his words, she could see herself in this very chair, telling a group of eager listeners seated about her the tale of Cinderella, watching them all laugh and cry at the proper moments. And at the end of the story they would all sigh and dream their own personal adventures for the heroine. Then she would tuck them all into bed...no. Tucking pirates into bed? The very sentence was silly, not to mention the image that her mind conjured up. No, there was no possible way that she could be this rabble's mother.
Hook had been observing her face ever since Smee had dragged her through his door. Now he watched her more intently than ever. Could that be a bit of weakness her eyes? He hadn't expected to be able to get her to consent straight away. Any foe took time to wear down, even a child, especially a child such as this. But perhaps the task of acquiring Wendy would not be quite as formidable as he first imagined. Oh it might take some time to deteriorate her good will and hate for pirates, but he had time to spare. Hook had waited years to get his hands on Peter, he could afford a few days before he could control Peter's main line of defense, the girl.
"Come, my dear, there's no need to decide today. You may sleep over here on this bed. I assure you, you'll be quite safe. None of my crew shall harm you." He smiled with as much charm as he could muster, and led the girl over to a nice little cot in the corner, covered in down quilts. She seemed as if she would resist, at first, but the day overcame her, and she sunk into the bed's fluffy folds.