Chapter 9

Hook woke himself with his own pained whimper. Frightfully disoriented, all he could make out when he opened his eyes were blurred smears of green and brown and gray. He was so cold… all except his shoulder, which boiled with a heat so intense it had to be giving off steam. The pirate sucked in a breath; that resulted in such violent coughing that his ribs started to ache and he could swear he tasted blood. At the same time, shivers raced up his back and along his limbs.

Smee appeared with his customary expression of concern, holding a canteen. "Captain. How do you feel?"

Hook slurred a curse at his first mate. He wasn't sure if it even came out intelligibly. Disregarding it, Smee insistently held the canteen to the captain's lips.

"Let's try a bit of water, sir," he explained. "Just a sip though. It's only been an hour, at most."

Hook swallowed the liquid, and had to admit that it was soothing to his raw throat. He trembled again, his teeth chattering.

"Want to move closer to the fire? Starkey and I thought that might irritate your shoulder, but if you're cold-"

"No," Hook managed to whisper, before coughing yet again. He grimaced and tucked an arm around his ribs in an attempt to stop their jostling of his wound. Vacantly, he noted that he had regained control of his hand; only a slight tingle remained to tell of the strange malady. But with his current level of discomfort, he could not summon the mental acuity to be relieved.

Smee tentatively touched Hook's forehead, making a face at the unnatural heat radiating from his skin. "Once you manage to keep the water down, I can make a tea from some of the herbs Casey swiped this morning. It might help with the fever and stomach upset."

Each word uttered by Smee seemed extra loud in Hook's ears; loud enough to stimulate the beginning of a startle reflex at the center of his mind. The captain moaned quietly and screwed his eyes shut. Smee dabbed gently at the sweat on his face and then retreated. Hook obviously wanted to be left alone to his misery; Smee found he couldn't blame him. So he settled back to watch, hoping the water would indeed stay down. Dehydration could be just as dangerous as the blasted infection, and could kill just as easily.

The odds were stacking up against Captain Hook.

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A few hours later, near dusk, Starkey ducked into the camp. He had gotten minimal rest himself, but knew that Smee had to be equally tired.

The fire flickered listlessly, and as the bosun added fuel, he turned a questioning eye at Smee. The first mate tilted his head and shrugged; Starkey sauntered over, studying the trembling form of his captain, still in the same place he'd left him.

"He's not too lucid at the moment," murmured Smee. "Keeps calling me Liam."

Starkey winced. "Not a good sign."

Sighing, Smee passed a cup to the bosun. "Get him to drink this, if you can. Small amounts at a time."

"Aye."

"How are the others?"

"Concerned. They could 'ear the screams. But so far, no sign of pursuit."

"That's good." Smee licked his lips. "I just worry they'll bring dogs. There'll be no hiding, then."

Starkey nodded seriously. "Well, looks like rain tomorrow. May'ap it'll mask our scent."

The first mate got wearily to his feet. "Thanks for taking over. Wake me if there's any change."

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Three days of difficult travel, dragging an increasingly-unconscious Hook on a poorly-constructed litter; restless nights in between, watching him deteriorate and being powerless to stop it. At least the pirates had not encountered any other living soul, and as they made camp for another frigid night spent in the forest, they could feel better about the distance they had managed to put between themselves and their enemies.

"I don't think he'll last the night," admitted Smee softly as Starkey came to kneel beside him. The bosun scrubbed a hand down his face, studying their inert captain.

All signs of awareness had ceased days ago, and it had been hours since he'd made any sort of movement beyond shivering. The ever-present sheen of sweat glistened on too-pale skin, the fever-flush less striking than before. His breaths were shallow and quick, each accompanied by disturbing wheezing and rattling from his lungs: the cough that had started when he'd aspirated vomit had grown steadily worse, until Smee could only conclude that an entirely different infection resided there.

"He won't even swallow anymore," continued Smee wearily. "So no more teas."

"Much good as they've done 'im anyway," scoffed Starkey, and Smee sighed.

"I know we did our best, but… I can't help wondering what would have happened if we'd managed to make it back to the ship. Maybe in more familiar surroundings, not having to traipse around in the cold and damp…"

"No use thinking that way, Smee," Starkey chided. "For whatever reason, this was what was meant to 'appen. And… perhaps it be for the best. Cap sure ain't deriving much pleasure from 'is life at present."

"I just worry what will happen with Pan," Smee shuddered, and Starkey narrowed his eyes.

"Little wanker." The bosun glanced again at his ailing captain. "If… if 'e does… leave us… do you suppose Pan's magic'll still take 'im back to Neverland along with us?"

"His…" Smee lowered his voice to a respectful whisper. "His corpse, you mean?"

"Aye," Starkey winced.

"I hope so. He would hate to be deprived of a proper sailor's burial. Probably come back and haunt us 'til we did it right."

Smee's voice faltered as he realized he was likely crossing the line of decency; Hook wasn't dead yet. Starkey didn't seem to put off by the comment, though. Nodding sadly, he addressed Hook, unbothered by the fact that he wouldn't hear him.

"Don't you worry yer 'ead, sir. We'll take care of you, we will. Even if it means trekking back through this blasted forest to recover yer bones."

Smee shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, sir; count on us." Then he turned back to Starkey. "Can we not talk about this anymore? I'm not sure it's entirely proper."

Starkey shrugged. "Only trying to put 'im at ease. It's what I would want."

"I know, but-"

Without warning, a mighty blast of power ripped through their camp, snapping branches and stirring leaves and soil into a stinging whirlwind. The pirates yelled and sought cover, but there was none to be had. All six were pelted with debris as the earth shook and seemed to swallow them whole; it flipped them upside down and right side up, like dice in a cup, then spat them out roughly upon a humid shore.

Neverland.

Smee whimpered and uncurled, brushing dirt from his eyes and face as he heard his companions all struggling to catch their breaths.

"Bloody 'ell," groaned Starkey from nearby. "Some bleedin' portal. Bloody cyclone, that was."

Through vertigo, Smee located Hook, lying flat on his back some distance away. The others were clambering to their feet in an attempt to get their bearings. Starkey brushed himself off, saying,

"All right, buckos?"

Murmurs sounded in the affirmative, and Smee stumbled stiffly in the direction of Hook.

In the space between one step and the next, a figure appeared, standing haughtily over the dying pirate. Smee ground to a startled halt as the rest instinctively drew their weapons.

"P-Pan," stammered the first mate. The boy folded his arms.

"B-Bean," he mimicked with a sneer. Confused, Smee glanced at Starkey, down at Hook, and back at Pan.

"Uh… Smee," corrected Smee timidly. The boy ignored him.

"What have you done to my dear captain here?"

Smee gulped. "I… well, it was…"

Pan waved him off. "Forget it. How does he put up with you?"

Starkey took a step forward, ending up beside the first mate. "I think it's plain 'e's at death's door, matey. So 'ow's about you allow us to take 'im back to the ship-"

With a flick of his wrist and a bored expression, Pan flung Starkey aside. The bosun landed with a hard grunt, the wind momentarily knocked from his lungs. Smee swallowed again.

"P-Please, sir; he's very sick. I don't think he'd be very good company right now anyway…"

Pan grinned wickedly. "G'night, Bean."

Another bout of dizziness, and the five pirates were landing heavily on the deck of the Jolly Roger. Startled cries greeted their appearance, until they were recognized and helped to their feet. Frustrated and worried, Smee left explanation duties to Starkey.

Pan wouldn't allow Hook to die… would he?

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AN: It is my headcanon that until they found a way to escape for good, Hook and his crew were forcibly returned to Neverland at Pan's whim, regardless of whether they were aboard ship or not. Otherwise, it doesn't make sense to me that they would keep going back for centuries, especially if Hook is being forced to do things with Pan that he would rather not do.