Two

It was hot, despite the early morning. The sun had started peeking above the horizon about half an hour ago. Rose was sitting on the edge of the ship-head wearing only a white shift because of the heat. She drew her arm across her forehead, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated there. She was all alone, and she preferred it that way – she had risen early this morning just for that purpose. She stood and reveled in the feel of wind and sea spray on her face, as well as in what it felt like to be on the waves, rocking up and down. She felt more at ease with herself on a boat, though she couldn't fathom why. After all, she'd never been on a boat before, not ever in her life. Yet somehow, someway, this felt so natural – this progression from land to sea. It felt right.

♥♡♥

"Pe-tah," Amínah nudged Peter on the shoulder. "I tink it would be in yur best interest to speak wit yur wife."

Peter did not look behind him when he answered. He only continued to hold fast to the wheel. "And why might that be, Amínah?" The heat was unbearable: he was wearing naught but his trousers and hat.

"Because, she be lonely." Amínah's tone spoke much more than her words. "And if yu're not careful? She be fallin' in love wit sometink else." Now, Amínah sounded sly.

Peter, becoming defensive, asked, "Who?"

"Just you watch, Pe-tah."

Peter watched. Peter watched Rose for the next few days as if his life depended on it. She was social, to be sure, but he couldn't see what Amínah was talking about. She didn't flirt. She didn't assume relations with anyone. She only spent an increasingly growing amount of time on her own. She would come to bed late. She would leave bed early. And he could always find her as close to the water as possible. No harm, it would seem. On the contrary, it was wonderful, because they would be out at sea for a few months. Then again, maybe it would be longer than even that.

♥♡♥

It happened on a hot, sunny day: there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the ocean just seemed to go on forever. Aiden was busy shouting bearings and orders around, most of which was repeated even more loudly by Dré because that was his job – to repeat things. Or, as Rose had always enjoyed telling people, it was in Dré's job description to be a parrot.

Rose didn't like Dré; she wasn't entirely sure why, she just knew she didn't like him. Peter had insisted that he was loyal enough despite his mischievous streak, but Rose just couldn't believe that. Perhaps it had something to do with how he had tricked once, that day in Pirate Cove, or maybe it was just his cunning, impish demeanor. Whatever it was, it spoke volumes to Rose, and Rose alone. For instance, today, Rose was sitting on the rail of the ship, enjoying the way the waves rolled her up and down, up and down, up and down, up and do…DOWN! "Hey, what the hell?" Rose looked up from where she had crashed on the deck. Dré stood above her, chest heaving and a glare clearly visible on his face. "What do you think you're doing?" she shouted.

"Saving my Captain's beautiful wife from an untimely death." The emphasis on the word 'beautiful;' was not to glorify it, but to soil it; to make it seem tarnished and ugly. "One more heave like that and you would've been hurled into the sea." He crossed his arms, preventing himself from helping her up.

"I wouldn't have minded so much," She said as she rearranged her shift and gown.

"That's because you only ever think of yourself before others – you don't care what happens to others if something happens to you."

Rose looked at him, and hated the look of sincerity on his face. He didn't care about her, he cared about Peter. "It's hard to care for others if you never care for yourself." And with that, she marched away and into Peter's cabin for a rest. She mocked Dré, mouthing his words to herself as a makeshift lullaby, hating him more and more with every word. She soon fell fast asleep between the rocking of the ship and the gratification brought on by her mockery. It was only a few hours of sleep for her though, because soon, she was interrupted….

BANG! Rose awoke with a start to the sounds of gunfire and swordplay – she mulled it over in her head for a few moments, deciding that it was probably some pirate game Peter had started out of boredom – being on the sea all the time seemed to make him just a tad bit jittery. So, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillows, but was suddenly shaken by something much larger than a wave: cannon fire. And it wasn't this ship's cannons – the ship had been hit. Which had to mean there was another ship right near the Starchaser. Which had to mean that Peter and his crew were actually in combat. Right now. For real.

Rose shot up from her position and made to get out of bed, but she wasn't nearly quick enough because only seconds later, the door to the cabin was kicked in and two men with shaggy beards and bulky muscles settled their eyes on her. Smirks appeared on their ugly faces and they stumbled toward her, tattooed arms outstretched with fingers grasping. Rose screamed and grabbed the nearest potential weapon (a bed warming pan), and rammed it smack into one of the men's faces, sending him crashing to the wooden floor. The second man spared only a glance at his comrade's body before turning back to Rose with an angry leer. He hurdled forward in an attempt to capture her, but she lunged over him, hitting him on the back of the head and knocking him out as well. Satisfied with this, she reached in the drawer by the bed and pulled from it a shiny, unused pistol.

Having cocked the gun, she hid it in her bodice, and took a running start onto the deck only to find total chaos: it was men against Lost Boys, and of course, leading them was Peter, who was entangled in a battle of his own with a man only slightly taller than him. Rose, no longer being the most intelligent of creatures, could only stare in wonder at the pirate battle before her – this shouldn't have felt quite like a game, but somehow, it did. Only when she found herself being lifted from the ground and swinging in the air did she finally react, mainly by pounding her fists into the man carrying her.

The man laughed a hardy cackle and shouted over the noise of clashing metal and the firing of arms, "I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, missy!" She screamed as she passed over open water and speeding cannonballs. "I might drop you down into the depths, and something tells me you wouldn't like that!"

Her scream ended hoarsely as she crashed onto the unfamiliar deck of the enemy ship, curling into a tight ball – a heap of white dress, brown hair and slight tremors. She was too traumatized to look up or at anything at all. By the time she could focus again, the skirmish had ended and Peter's ship was nowhere in sight. When she dared to move from her ball of false security, she was greeted by scattered chuckles from across the deck, and then by a tan, worn-looking hand in her face: it was turned palm-up, fingers spread, as if in offering. She just stared at it, then up the arm it was attached to, and she stopped at the leather-covered shoulder because she didn't think she dared to know any more about this person.

"Well, are you going to take my hand or not?" A suave, tainted voice asked her. It sounded as sun-drenched as it's owner, and perhaps a little bit drunk.

Rose reached up and grasped the man's hand without hesitation, and without looking at his face. She retained a blank stare into the direction she assumed would have led her eyes to Peter's ship.

"That a girl, up ya' go!" he was cheerful, whoever he was. "I'm Captain Teagúan, by the way, and I believe I owe you an apology?"

This forced her to look at his face: Captain Teagúan was handsome, to say the least, even if it was in his own weird way. His skin resembled the color of coffee, and his hair was dark and dreaded, little charms and beads jingling when he moved in the slightest; he was wearing a large, black, leather coat, though it was nothing like Peter's red coat. It lacked the playful pompousness of the red coat.

"Do you now?" she asked sarcastically. It wasn't the proper thing to say in this situation, but then again, she hadn't yet collected her wits.

Captain Teagúan cracked a smile, revealing a few golden teeth as well as a hint of rum. "That I do. I would like to offer my most humble and sincere apologies to you, m'lady, for it seems that when my men kidnapped you, it gave you quite a scare!" he doffed his tri-corner, exposing a few more dangles as well as a purple scarf tied tightly around his head.

Rose sniffed, "Imagine that." She was quickly regaining her sharp tongue. She thought about the position she was in, and then responded. "I accept your apology, Captain Teagúan…."

"Please, I beg of you miss," he said with a teasingly furrowed brow, "call me Teague."

She raised her own delicate brows and his smile widened, becoming a feral grin. "Well," she thought back to the time she'd spent on Hook's ship, "what do you want with me?"

"Want?" Teague's voice cracked.

"You must have some reason for taking me aboard." She said, worry beginning to drip between her words as if they were leaking.

"Oh, and I do," he said, lifting his heavily bejeweled index finger. He swaggered forward, "What reason does a pirate such as meself usually have for bringin' a woman such as yourself aboard his ship?" He waited while Rose contemplated. When no reply came forth, he said, "You're a beautiful girl, missy. What's your name?"

Suddenly reaching an understanding, she began to fear for her life – she couldn't give this man her real name…then again, she ought to give him her real name. She hadn't used it since her first time in Neverland. "Alle," she said, backing away from Captain Teagúan. "My name is Alle. Short for Alison."

"Is it now?" Teague cocked his head. "How interesting. Gents!" he shouted, attracting the attention of his crew, "could two of you kindly escort mistress Alle to my cabin? An extra ten percent of me plunder goes out to ya' if ya' don't harm her."

Alle began her screeching tirade once again as she was pulled, ankles dragging across the deck, to Captain Teague's cabin. She sat on the bed and cried, holding her face, wondering what she'd gotten herself into….


A/n: I apologize profusely to all who waited for this since it took so long, but I've been wearing writer's block like a chain around my neck, so, it finally broke. Also, extra special thanks to Sailor Usagi Chiba for her encouragement. It really helps me when I know people are interested. love, annie.