Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan and since I made the mistake of not doing this last time, this is a carry over disclaimer for this entire story because I don't want to have to keep typing it.
A/N Okay sorry, the research for this story took longer than I thought it would. Hook ends up in a nomadic desert tribe and since I know nothing about nomadic desert tribes this took a fair amount of research to get started formulating my own people for the purpose of this story. They are mainly based off of the Tuareg and Bedouin peoples of the Sahara desert but I also used some Gobi desert and Zimbabwe tribes for inspiration. But without further ado, on to the story. The timeline for this story is directly after The Flight of Moira Pan for those of you who've read it but it should also function as a stand alone story. If you have not read my first story then what you need to know is this, Hook has been set adrift in the ocean in a rowboat with only one oar and Peter is grown up and has a daughter named Moira who has saved Neverland and is happily living there.
Waves crashed against the soft white sand that appeared to glow in the moonlight. A plank bobbed in the water being steadily drawn to shore. It washed against the sand and a man rolled off of it. Most of his clothes were torn and his soaking, dark curls were plastered to his face that was drawn and as pale as death itself. He lay still and silent before coughing up water and breathing. His eyes snapped open and the forget-me-not blue orbs scanned the beach. He looked around once before falling into oblivion once again.
The next time he awoke he was staring at a dirt ceiling. He attempted to sit up only to fall back down in anguish. He felt as though he was being torn in half and looked down to see his midriff seemingly held together by thin, off white bandages. He started to pull at them, trying to see what was underneath.
"Touch it and I swear to you I'll make the healing worse than the injuries."
He gave a start and immediately regretted it. He tried looking up again, this time slowly, and found himself face to face with a short, stocky young woman. Half of her face was covered in a bright indigo veil and he couldn't tell what color her hair was, but her seemingly pupiless eyes were glaring at him daring him to disobey.
"I did not spend all of this time healing just to have you ruining it all by exposing your wounds to infections. Did you know I used up almost all of my creosote trying to keep you alive? No, I suppose not, you've been either unconscious or delirious since we found you. But I'm starting to ramble now, what's your name?"
"James Hook, Captain…I think." He answered uncertainly.
"Well Captain James Hook, how did you end up here? Did your, what did they call it, crew, mutiny?" she briskly set to work cleansing his wounds. She removed the bandages carefully to reveal a large discolored gash along his ribs. She dabbed at it carefully with a soaked cloth. Hook gritted his teeth against the pain of the liquid soaking into the gash "What is that?!" he asked, a wounded animal licking its wounds.
"Boiled Creosote. It will clean your cut and if it stings that means it's working. But I'm the one asking questions here, now what happened to you?"
Hook's bright blue eyes clouded over, "I-I'm not sure." He furrowed his brow trying desperately to remember something, anything! My name is James Hook, I am a sea captain. Yes but who am I and where did I come from? She could see that he was confused and hurt and had no idea what had happened to him.
"Well," she began gently, "Your physical wounds will take awhile to heal, maybe by the time they do your mental hurts will have as well." Having finished her job she turned to leave when Hook called out,
"Wait, who are you? Why did you take me in?"
"My name is Fatima. I am the healer of the Northern tribe of the Kahdoak people. And we took you in because unlike you pale pigs we have hearts that are not blackened by cruelty." She finished in a huff adding in her thoughts well, at least we used to. And then she exited the small room leaving Hook to the mercy of sweetly intoxicating sleep.
When he next regained consciousness he seemed to be in less pain and the fog had cleared from inside of his head. He successfully sat up and, encouraged by this victory, took his stomach's advice and went to look for food. Each step felt like it was tearing him apart, like fire had replaced the blood in his veins. He made it five steps before collapsing, crippled to the floor. He lay there, eyes closed tightly against the pain, holding on to reality with everything he could to keep himself from crying out in pain.
Fatima found him there an hour later. His eyes dull and lifeless, utterly exhausted by the struggle.
"What are you doing out of bed?!" Fatima asked furious at him, but even more so at her self for leaving him unsupervised. Stupid! I should have known he'd do something like this. Men always push themselves too hard too fast. They never give themselves time to heal and just end up hurting themselves more. Idiots. If they spent just one more day healing and not go straight into battle training when their released they might not have to be back in the infirmary again for another week just two days later. But no that wouldn't be manly. "I'm going to go get help, I can't lift you by myself, but first you have to promise me that you'll never do something that foolhardy again. Promise?" she looked him anger in her eyes but also, was that worry?
"I promise." Hook rasped struggling just to get the words out.
"Good I'll be right back, don't you dare move." Fatima rushed out to find someone strong to help her. She may have had lots of strength but she wasn't about to try and lift a full grown man who was deathly ill back into bed. Now with a little bit of luck I'll find someone quickly and he won't have an infection on top of everything else when I get back. "Someone help! Captain Hook tried to walk and fell. We need to get him back into bed, he's very ill." A portly, battle scarred man walked up to her.
"And why should we help him? We've kept him alive for three weeks wasting our supplies and time on him. We decided we'd only keep him until he got better, he's awake now, he should leave." He glared at Fatima his eyes narrowing to pitiless shards of flint.
"And where do you propose we send him Zaifel? To the desert?" she asked with a contemptuous tone entering her voice, "He'd be dead by nightfall even if he were healthy. And speaking of which I believe I will be the judge of when he's well, not you." She sent a poisonous glare toward him and searched the crowd that had gathered to watch the argument for someone who might help her. A slim young man stepped forward, what skin that was not covered by his head scarf and robes was paler than most and his eyes had a curious greenish tinge to them. He walked toward the healer saying,
"I will help you Fatima, we should be kinder to strangers. What happened to our open and hospitable people?" he glared pointedly at Zaifel, his eyes carrying a quiet steady fire that seemed to burn within.
"Thank you Nom." Fatima replied curtly accepting his offer of help. They walked away together a dignified silence surrounding them.
"Well of course he'd help the foreigner, they're practically brothers." Zaifel shouted after them hoping to get a rise out of Nom.
"Don't respond." Fatima whispered soothingly to him, "He's not worth it." Nom nodded and they finished the gauntlet of stares to the infirmary. When they reached it Hook looked up at them, his blue eyes pained and pleading. Fatima felt her heart clench to see him, or any human in such pain. Together she and Nom carefully lifted him back onto the carefully woven mesquite mattress. Hook settled gratefully into the cushioning and knew no more.
A/N It's been awhile hasn't it. Well I finally got around to starting this story and I apologize for it's delay. I believe the reason and everything else is explained in the note above so all that's left for me to say is read, review and (hopefully) enjoy. I'd love any feedback you'd have for me. Even criticism as long as you include a suggestion on how I might make it better.
Animetor777
P.S I apologize for the OOCness of Hook, it's part of the plot, he has amnesia and can't remember who he is and therefore does not act like himself.