A/N - You guys are awesome! Thanks for reviewing. I really appreciate it:) Here's the second chapter; I've gotten things drafted through Chapter 04, so if I keep getting reviews . . . Who knows what could happen? ((grins))

--Adusiriel

A Man of Feeling and a Storyteller - Chapter 2

Wendy heard a rough voice shouting, "You incompetant girl!", groaned, and wished that she could have stayed unconscious.

"Well . . . well . . ." a young female voice searched for a good retort, "You're ugly!" The voice sounded vaguely familiar to Wendy, but she couldn't quite place it. She winced, as her head still hurt and the voice wasn't exactly soothing.

"I," the man's voice commented gruffly, "am Captain James Hook. If you know what's best for you, you will cease this infernal racket before you walk the plank."

"And you smell funny!" the girl's voice shouted as if this was the ultimate insult, her voice rising in pitch and volume while decreasing in tonal quality.

"Smee!" Captain Hook yelled. "Remove this girl instantly, if you please."

"Girl?! I am no girl! I am a lady! And you are not!" Wendy heard the woman's voice protesting as it grew fainter with distance.

"Delusional," muttered Captain Hook.

"Who was that, and why did she inform you that you are not a girl?" Wendy inquired curiously.

Captain Hook visibly jumped, and then tried to cover it by stretching luxuriously. "That," he answered, "was my latest plan for Pan's demise. Apparently she tells rather good tales, but he doesn't like her at all. Though I can't say I blame him," Hook muttered, glaring at the door Smee had hauled the girl through.

Wendy smiled. "Neither can I. I didn't think girls could come here, though," she said accusingly.

"You did," Captain Hook pointed out. He shook his head, finally realizing that Wendy had awoken and that he had been talking to her for several minutes, glared at her, and said dramatically, "Now I have you in my clutches!!"

"Oh, whatever shall I do?" Wendy commented.

Hook had just begun laughing in a properly sinister fashion when noticed her lack of enthusiasm. He glared at her again. "I kidnapped you," he said petulantly. "I have you, here! You cannot escape!"

"Whyever would I like to do that?" Wendy inquired.

"Aha!" Hook said triumphantly. "You used to want to become a pirate yourself, did you not? 'Red-Handed Jill,' if I remember correctly, eh?"

"Eh," Wendy agreed. She sat up in bed and slung her legs over the edge, wincing as her head throbbed painfully. "What posessed you to hit me?" she grimaced.

Hook looked confused. "What else could I have done?"

"Um. Well. Recently, it has become common practice to issue invitations if you want to see somebody. I would have accepted, I assure you," Wendy assured him.

Hook mumbled something, and Wendy spent the next ten seconds staring blankly at him, trying to figure out what he had just said. When she had made quite sure that she didn't know, she said, "Repeat that, please, and more clearly."

"I can't read or write," mumbled Hook.

"Smee can," Wendy pointed out. "I know, because he made me a sign to hang above my door when I lived here years ago. It said 'Beware the Storyteller' on it, though I wanted it to say 'Welcome to the Storyteller's Home' on it, but he didn't feel that quite covered the power of stories properly, and I'm rambling now, aren't I?"

"Yes," Hook agreed.

Wendy waited expectantly for him to answer her implied question. It turned out that she waited in vain, so she inquired pointedly: "Why didn't you ask Smee?"

"I am not in the habit of issuing invitations!" roared Captain Hook irritably. He then spent a few minutes fiercely digging his hook into various bits of woodwork, hoping to frighten Wendy into submission or at least distract her from her absurd questions.

After his outburst, Wendy said, "Well?"

Hook glared at her. Did this girl never learn? "Be quiet, girl," he snarled. "You know nothing."

"Ah. That would be why you can't answer my question," she said politely. "That makes perfect sense."

Wendy stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of Hook, who stood stunned at her reaction. Nobody, nobody, could ask him a question which he couldn't answer – unless, of course, they died very soon afterwards. Ironically enough, they usually were mysteriously stabbed with a hook.

"I'll just be going now," Wendy continued. "Unless there was something you wished to discuss . . ."

"No," Hook said gruffly.

"Right," said Wendy with a tinge of sarcasm, "because I'm sure you kidnap people for absolutely no reason on a regular basis." She then realized that she had just said that to Captain James Hook, the most deadly pirate in the history of Neverland, and repressed the urge to cringe and beg for mercy.

"My dear girl," Hook said incredulously, "this is Neverland. And I am a pirate. You think I need a reason?"

Wendy considered this carefully. "No," she said at last. "I don't suppose you do. Still, in the future, at least give me some warning or something. I don't appreciate being knocked unconscious. Good-day," she waved as she left the room.

Hook sat slowly down on his bed. That had not gone at all as planned; initially, he had in mind discussing things condescendingly with a timid, sniffling, remorseful Wendy who believed every word he said. This new, grown up Wendy had thrown him off balance, and he didn't know what to do about it.

---

Wendy flew back to the Underground Home. Since she couldn't find her permanent place of residence, she supposed that she had better sleep there. First off, it was warmer - the air grew colder as Peter slept - and secondly, she knew exactly who lived there and wasn't afraid of them.

If truth be told, her encouter with Captain Hook had been a slight let-down. All her stories told of a man, ferocious and dramatic, and true, he had been those, but she had also supposed him to be intelligent. That dream had just crashed down around her ears. Any man stupid enough to think kidnapping a nice way of seeing somebody needed some help with his social skills.

She came to the Underground Home and flew quietly down into the main room. Boys had draped themselves everywhere: over the table, on chairs, on the floor, and someone had even taken up residence on the mantel piece. She would definitely have to do something about the chaos within, but not tonight.

Wendy settled down on the floor and slept.

---

The instant Peter woke up, he crowed, and the seemingly constant brawl continued. The Lost Boys, before so much as rubbing the grime from their eyes, threw themselves at each other, giving each other greetings.

Wendy sat up, rubbed her eyes, and wished that everyone would be quieter. However, as she couldn't make anybody be quiet, she instead looked around for breakfast. She didn't see any.

"Peter?" she asked, pulling him out of the fighting boys. "I'll make breakfast if you'll show me what I can use."

Curly's head emerged under Slightly's arm and he grinned up at Wendy. "You mean that you'll actually . . . cook . . . for us?"

Wendy, deciding that she could get no better answer for the moment, nodded and went off in search of breakfast. Before she got far, she saw Sophie sitting alone in a corner, her little arms wrapped around herself. "Good morning," Wendy said kindly.

Sophie glared at her.

"How are you doing today?" Wendy inquired.

Sophie heaved a great sigh, as though Wendy had asked her some deeply personal question.

Wendy waited a few seconds for her answer, and then made another brave stab at conversation. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know," Sophie muttered.

Encouraged, Wendy asked, "You're the new story-teller, aren't you?"

"Yes," Sophie admitted grudgingly.

"Oh, that position was so much fun. How are you enjoying it?"

"No need to patronize me," Sophie snapped.

Wendy felt surprise, and then a sudden stabbing anger. "Patronize? I do not patronize, my dear. I am simply making conversation as all civilized people do."

"Go away," Sophie said, jutting her lower lip out in a pout.

"No. I need to look in the cabinet you happen to be sitting in," Wendy pointed out.

Sophie gave Wendy a look that should have made her shrivel up and die. Wendy smiled blandly back as Sophie slid out of the cabinet and brushed past her.

"Good grief, did I harm her in another life or something?" Wendy murmured to herself.

"No," said Curly, who had come over in the hopes of food. "She doesn't like you because Peter likes you. I think she might be jealous."

"How stupid!" Wendy said, shocked. "Peter and I go back a long way; that's all . . . though I'm not entirely sure he remembers that very often."

"Yes, exactly. Aha!" Curly exclaimed as he came across a basket full of eggs. Soon afterwards, Wendy had made breakfast, and everyone settled down to eat.