Hook spiraled down the stairs as he ran into his office. Hook was a fearful man, somewhere in his mid-thirties. His hair ran slicked back and black, ending in gentle waves. It was cropped behind his ears, ended just at the top of his spine and gave way to his grimacing face. His eyes were dark crimson in colour. He had a moustache and a soul patch surrounding his thin, pale, pursed lips and a scar that ran from the widow's peak of his forehead to the cheek under his left eye. Clothed in the finest of red corduroy, Hook's trench coat flew as he fled. He stomped his way in his big black boots to his desk, where the seat was occupied by his assistant, Smee.
Smee looked up from his mustard sandwich as he noticed Hook's tall figure shadow above him. He adjusted the glasses that sat upon his nose and wiped his mouth quickly. "What is it, Captain?" he asked.
"Pan – where is he?" Hook asked. "And get that damn sandwich off of my desk. The ship already smells like enough mustard and I surely don't need my shit to match," he shook his head. Smee nodded quickly as he got up with his plate and sandwich in hand. He quickly ran to the opposite side of the room. "So Pan – where is he?" he reminded in demand.
"I-I don't know captain," Smee shrugged. "The last time I heard about him, the boys said he was just on the island but he didn't dare come close to the ship," he confessed. "What's the matter?" he asked.
Hook played with the curved piece of metal that replaced his left hand and shared his nickname. "I heard he's been planning some things… some new things… new ideas," he said. "And I don't like the sound of those ideas, Smee. He's planning to take over and steal my sweet Jolly Roger," he sighed, caressing the wooden plank walls that built his ship.
"Th-that's not good," Smee stuttered. "Do you want me to send out a search party?"
"No!" the captain pounded his hook into the desk as he slowly scraped away a little of it off. "If we send out a fucking search party, he'll know right away that I'm looking for him. And that, I cannot afford. I've had to deal with that bastard for too many years and through those years have I learned that he's a clever little rascal," he shook his head. "But no fear, Smee, soon enough Pan will be finished with for once and for all."
Smee nodded. "Well I'll tell the rest of the mates and if any of us see him, we'll let you know right away, sir," he saluted. Hook nodded as he shooed him away. Smee left instantly in a rush, his big belly bouncing along as he jogged.
On an island not too far from the Jolly Roger was Peter Pan. He laughed loudly as the wind blew through his light ash brown hair. It messed about in waves, toppling all over his head and some of them covered just about the top of his forehead. His eyes were light gold, filled with excitement. His pale skin was tinted in a glorious shade of pink at his cheeks and his smile was the most genuine kind. He looked about nineteen or twenty, but had no sign of facial hair anywhere. He was dressed head-to-foot in dirty ragged clothes. His top was a mid-length green shirt that was ripped here and there and had a v-shaped neckline, whereas his bottoms were simple khaki capris that were rolled up just to his knees. Peter Pan never wore any shoes, and therefore he had plenty of dirt stains covering his feet.
"Well Tink, what do you say?" asked Peter, turning over to his companion. She was about three inches tall. Her body was a perfectly curved hourglass figure and she wore a tight golden dress. A yellow-gold glow surrounded her body and she had lovely fairy wings that glimmered in a subtle shade of copper. Her hair was platinum blonde and was tied up in a bun, and she had eyes blue like the sea. "Tinkerbell, don't look at me like that," Peter sighed as she rested her hands on her hips.
"I am telling you Peter, we are perfectly fine here alone with the Lost Boys," her squeaky voice replied. "I don't think we need to bring them with us," she rolled her eyes, looking back up at him.
"That girl is beautiful," Peter said. "Come on. There's no such thing as too late to try."
And with that, Peter and Tinkerbell flew off into the sky and past the stars. They flew and they flew until they finally made their way to a place called New York, where he did his usual routine. He knocked on the windows of children and placed gifts at the foot of their doors and showed himself to orphans and told them stories. Finally, he made his way to his favourite place of all – the Darling residence, where he didn't go anywhere but the third floor of the home. He stood by the window and gazed in awe, while Tinkerbell started throwing a fit, throwing curses left and right. But Peter didn't care. All he cared about was once again seeing the beautiful girl that he watched sleep every night.
He then realized that he didn't even know her name. He quickly, but quietly, opened the window of her room and tiptoed in. Tinkerbell tried to scream to wake her up but Peter quickly covered her small face with his thumb and shoved her in his pocket. He slowly crept around the room until finally, he found a little diary. He opened it and skipped everything else she wrote, considering the fact he didn't like to read, and then finally saw what he was looking for. There it was, her name, written at the very end of the page. He closed the diary and placed it back into the bookshelf as he sat there and continued to watch her. "Sweet dreams," he paused in a gentle whisper. "Wendy," he added before drifting off to sleep to dream of sweet dreams of his own.