A shadow crossed over the moon as Wendy slept uneasily. She did not witness the man slide down the rope from above her house and land silently on her windowsill. He was tall with long hair as black as coal pulled back at his neck. Aged about 30, he had a regal look about him punctuated by his blood red captain's doublet. Slowly moving over her he crept into the room that he might see her better. The years had been kind to Wendy. She was slender with chestnut hair that curled around her sleeping form. He ached to reach out and run his fingertips over her delicate cheekbone, but he resisted unwilling to wake her prematurely. His eyes fell to her hand in which he saw the red feather. He frowned at this. He had watched Wendy from a distance for the past 10 years and knew she remembered nothing. How and why had she found this? It didn't matter, he would explain everything and she would understand just how important she was. He just needed to get her there first. Wendy shivered in the cold air and stirred from her sleep. The man moved seamlessly into the shadows his hand moving to a small bag attached to his belt.

Wendy sat up and blinked. The events of the evening came flooding back to her and she slumped her shoulders in defeat. Thankful for even the few hour reprieve, she shuttered as a gust of fringed air from the night hit her back. She stood and turned to close the window when a hand clapped over her mouth. A sickly sweet smell from a cloth held in her assailant hand hit her and she clawed at the arm holding. Another arm wrapped around her waist to still her movements and to her horror realized it ended in an iron hook. The wallpaper of the room began to move out of focus as she felt her traitorous limbs give way to the drug pressed to her face. With one last futile effort to get away Wendy slumped heavily in his arms. Captain James Hook gently lifted Wendy into his arms and crossed the room to the window. Shifting her so her head rested on his shoulder he held the sleeping woman to him. Wrapping his good hand around the rope he tugged to signal his men to lift them onboard. She would be confused and frightened when she awoke, and he was worry for this. But she would understand with time. She had to. Wendy after all was one who understood love more than most.

The first thing Wendy became aware of was that she was comfortable, much more so that she ever imagined a kidnap victim would be. She was laying on her side on something incredibly soft. The second thing she heard was 2 male voices.

"She is just as lovely as you said Cap'in"

"Aye she is Smee."

"What do you reckon she will make of all the changes?"

"That's the problem; she doesn't remember any of it."

"Nothing?!"

"No."

Wendy managed to peer through her eye lashes to make out the two men talking across the room. Through her blurred vision she could see that one was shorter and stoutly built, he was dressed in breeches, a shirt and a Monmouth cap, while the other was tall with black hair and finely dressed almost as a military officer. As the taller of the two shifted she noticed with a shutter that he was the one that possessed a hook in place of a left hand. Where on earth was she and who were these people?

"How could she not remember any of it?"

"It's hard to explain Smee, but a large part of it was her choice to grow up. I just hope that…"

The dark haired man was cut off by a bellow from outside of the room.

"Pan off the port bow."

"No! Not now!" Raged the man that had been speaking.

He started moving quickly toward Wendy and she did her best to slow her breathing and appear to be unconscious. She felt a calloused but gentle hand push a few stray locks of hair from her face.

"Please, don't wake yet." The man implored.

Without another word the two rushed out of a door. Wendy counted to 10 and then opened her eyes wide. She looked around the space holding as still as she could fearing that others could be in the space with her. When she saw no one about she sat up. She felt light headed and sick to her stomach. Moving her hand to her mouth she finally noticed the shining silver manacles chaining her to what she now saw was a huge canopied bed bedecked completely in red. Noticing the locks on either side of her wrists she franticly surveyed the room searching for keys or something to aid her escape. The room was large and finely appointed. Besides the bed that she occupied there was; a large desk, a table with 6 chairs, a screened off corner of the room. Large windows occupied the largest of the wall but were currently draped with heavy velvet, the room was lit with many candles. On the far side from her a wall lined with every weapon you could imagine. Swords of all shapes, guns of many designs and was that a small collection of hooks? Oh lord those were for his hand!? She looked away knowing these items were far outside her reach.

Glancing at a small side table beside the bed she saw a small dagger. She looked up to the metal plate that held the chain to the bed. Could she possibly cut enough wood away to allow her to pull the chain out of the post? She would have to try. Outside the room she could hear men shouting. Wendy reached for the knife. It was only an inch or so from her grasp. She pushed and pushed her arms toward the small blade desperate for freedom. A small line of blood pooled at her skin where the metal dug into her flesh. She could feel her fingertips numbing under the strain and knew her wrists would badly bruise. Her middle fingers brushed the hilt of the knife and with a small flick of her hand she had it. Leaving no time to celebrate the small victory Wendy began to hack at the fine wood of the bedpost. She jolted when she heard the first of the gunfire. She needed to get out of there. Whatever was happening outside of this room she wanted no part of. Gunfire and shouts continued as she whittled away at her bonds. When she could almost see the ends of the screws that held the plate in place she turned and propped her feet on the headboard and pulled against the chains as hard as she could. With a loud crack the plate released and sent her sprawling back over the side of the bed. Gathering herself she stood to find that not all of the drug had left her system. She gathered the chains still attached to her and wobbled toward the wall with the weapons and snatched a short cutlass. She would not leave this room unarmed. Seeing there were no other options she headed toward the only door. A huge explosive sound and tremor roared through the room. Was that cannon fire? She needed to get out of here?

She threw the door open wide and was momentarily blinded by bright sunlight. She staggered toward freedom and as her eyes adjusted saw she was on the deck of a great Spanish galleon. Men were running around on the deck shooting all manner of weapons out toward the sea. Wendy looked out to the port side but saw no other ship. What had they called it, the Pan? Looking off to her right she saw a set of stairs and started to climb. Perhaps if she moved quickly enough no one would spot her in all the excitement. As she reached halfway he heard someone sob her name. She looked down to see the man with the hook give her a frightened desperate stare before looking sadly into the sky. She followed the stare to the far side of the ship and saw something that defied very reason. There in the sky floated 7 young men. They were garbed in leaves, vines and furs and had a wild unkempt look. All looked equal parts trilled and concerned save the largest man at their center. He was looking at Wendy as a blind man beholding his first sunset. Flying slowly toward her, his hands outstretched as if not to frighten her he whispered her name. Everyone on the ship and in the air had stopped all motion to witness the exchange. His eyes frightened Wendy, they were the personification of the dread she felt at the nursery window. Deep blue green and full of knowledge that no man that age should possess. She knew this man. How could she possibly know a flying man in the middle of an ocean? Wendy began to wonder if the shock of the telegrams had driven her quite mad. Frozen in place she was broken from her trance only when she again heard the man with the hook scream her name.

"Wendy! Watch out!"

She turned toward the voice and the last thing she saw was a rigging tackle swinging wildly at her. Hitting her in the side of the head she was already out cold before she was knocked overboard and hit the water.