Disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other Paniacs like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: Now that I know who my OC is, definitely won't be M, but might go T+

Spoilers: This takes place after the real story leaves off and goes completely AU from there, so shouldn't be many spoilers.


Chapter Eight: Attempted Theft

There were animals in the woods, peering out at them through the leaves and undergrowth. Glassy eyes reflecting the light and revealing all there was to see of the hunters behind them. The pirate guardsmen had their weapons out now, but seemed fairly relaxed, all things considered.

"They're not exactly hiding," Hook said, when she asked what was up. "Normally you wouldn't even see this much of them. They're looking you over, sizing you up. Finding out about this new predator on their island."

"What kind of predators are out there, sizing me up?" she asked, giving a curve of the rainbow boa's body a stroke. She had already decided to name it Cooper.

"All sorts of snakes and smaller jungle cats, plus plenty of things you probably wouldn't expect. Lions. Tigers. Bears. Wolves. Then who knows what you've put here."

"Maybe taking a walk on this island's not such a good idea," Mackenzie said.

"It's not so bad. There are ways to protect yourself, and imagination is a good one."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'll give you an example. Wolves like to chase Peter's lost boys. The lost boys have come up with their own way of running them off: they bend over and look at them through their legs. Now, why on earth would that work to run off a hungry pack of wolves? But it does, because they imagine that it would work if Peter did it, so it works for them."

"I won't be trying that particular method," Mackenzie said.

"Nor I," Hook said. "But an adult with sufficient imagination to affect the Neverland could easily come up with a far more dignified method of animal control. You may simply be able to imagine them not attacking. You may even be able to imagine them friendly."

An ocelot padded silently out of the trees and up to Mackenzie's boots. It twined around and between her legs like a housecat and looked up at her plaintively, as if begging for treats or affection.

"See what I mean?" Hook said. "Bullies, I think we can put our weapons away for now."

"Okay, yeah, I did that, but that was an accident," Mackenzie said, shooing the ocelot back into the jungle as the pirates replaced their cutlasses in sheaths and sashes. "I just intended them to be friendly in a 'don't attack' way."

She yawned then and stumbled against Hook's arm. "You are fatigued?" he asked.

"Well, maybe a little," she said, shaking it off. "Well, maybe a lot. It was a… hellacious long walk to get here, and then I… haven't slept since then. I guess I've been running on pure adrenaline. It's starting to catch up to me. My legs have been hurting for a little while now and I'm starting to feel the exhaustion from the first walk again."

"Well we should then head back for the ship at once," Hook said. "A proper tour of the island can wait. Gentlemen, back to the boats."

"Oh goody. I was so missing the boats," Mackenzie muttered, but she now looked tired enough not to care all that much.

They turned and headed back the way they'd come. When they neared the beach, their progress was interrupted by a small entourage of very small people. The pirates drew their weapons but Hook raised his hand.

"At your ease, bullies," he said. "We want nothing to do with them today."

The boys' captain came flying up out of the back, dressed in leaves and looking quite different from the other boys in their animal skins. Peter Pan.

"The mermaids said you have a new pirate. Is that him?" he asked.

"Not exactly a new pirate, Peter," Hook said, "and not a he, but yes, this is she."

"That's a lady?"

"Bad form, Peter," Hook said severely, and Pan looked chastened, but only momentarily.

"If she's not exactly a pirate, then what is she?"

"My mother," Hook said, rather grandly. Peter was clearly taken aback.

"Mother! Yours!"

"Yes, mine. You have a mother when it pleases you. Why shouldn't I?"

"You're a grown-up!" Peter lobbed the word between them as though it were the worst epithet he could imagine.

"I had no mother. I was raised by people who taught me good form from bad form and then proceeded to show me all the ways in which it was to my best interests not to employ good form. I wish now to learn another way. I need a mother."

"And this then is yours?" Peter asked with a bit of a sneer on his face, less of scorn than of disbelief. "She looks a strange sort of mother. Does she tuck you in at night and tell you stories?"

"Strange and wild adventures she spins for me, full of knights and dragons and fair damsels who rescue their own selves from danger."

Actually she hadn't spun any tales for him specifically yet, but who was counting?

"She also sings for me, and has quite a fine and unusual voice. She also knows many unusual songs."

Peter landed to look her over appraisingly, clearly reconsidering his initial opinion of her worthiness as a mother, but then tossed his head in disdain. "Even so, she's a grown-up. Not the kind of mother for me."

"That's just fine, Peter, for she is my mother, not yours," Hook said menacingly.

"You really don't want to fight us anymore?" Peter asked, wonderingly.

"No."

"Well, that's no fun. What are we supposed to do?"

"What did you do for all those years we weren't here?"

"What do you mean 'years you weren't here?'"

Hook rolled his eyes. "Should've known. There are plenty of things to do on the island, Peter. Use your imagination. If you must fight someone, dream up someone else to fight."

"Like who?"

"Whom. And I don't know, Peter. I can't come up with everything for you."

He ordered the men to push ahead, and Peter and the lost boys got out of the way. The pirates headed back to the boats, and Mackenzie felt little fear whatsoever as they rowed back to the ship. She was alert, but too tired to waste energy on feelings of fright. She was, perhaps, beginning to get over her fear of water as well.

Back aboard the ship Hook led her into his cabin, where she sat on the edge of the couch and waited for him to leave. He did not.

"Would you care for something to eat?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No thank you."

"Something to drink, then? Perhaps a glass of wine to help you sleep?"

"I don't drink, and thanks, but I'm not thirsty."

"Very well. Would you please then help me out of my waistcoat and blouse? The fastenings are difficult to work left-handed."

"Aahh… you're getting undressed because…?"

"I don't rest often or at regular hours. I find that I am rather tired as well, so I thought I would take this opportunity to sleep."

She gave him a suspicious glare, and he grinned back at her. "Don't worry, I'm only getting half undressed. I know it's not exactly proper for a man to bare his chest before a lady, but you did not strike me as the prudish type. If I was wrong about that I can have Smee help me as usual."

Tentatively she stood up and crossed over to where he stood and began unfastening hook and eye fastenings that, to her eye, shouldn't have been hard to manage left-handed at all. Still, what did she know about trying to do anything with only one hand? And of course maneuvering the garment down off his shoulders and over that hook had to be difficult without assistance. She tried not to get caught looking too much at the chest exposed to her eyes as she unfastened the shirt he wore. Lean, strong, satisfyingly hairy… oy, there she went again, staring.

After she had his shirt off he seemed to require no assistance in taking off the leather harness that held to him his dreaded hook. He hung it over the post at the foot of his bed - an actual bed and not a bunk - and in that moment he turned from her and she saw his back. Not hairy, which was good, but alarming was what she did see upon it.

"Dear God - what happened to you? That looks like… I don't know what it looks like. Wounds like a whipping but… they're blue."

"Yes," was all he said.

"Blue?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"Oooookay. Don't want to talk about it, I understand. But uh… who the hell whipped you?"

"I did."

"You?"

"I ordered it done. There was a man on my crew who didn't care for my new style of discipline. Called me weak, among other things. It wasn't mutiny, but it was insubordination that pushed the line, so I ordered a flogging. Twelve lashes, to be administered by him, to me."

"Okay, I… wait, huh?"

"I had to show him I wasn't weak. A flogging from a whip like our cat-o'-nine-tails can kill a man."

"Okay, I think I get the point now. He… respected the fact that you'd borne pain in his stead, straightened up and became a model sailor, right?"

"Not exactly. Some of the men banded together that night and beat him to death in his bunk and tossed him over the side come the morning. Raised morale wonderfully."

"Oh. Well, that's not a feel-good ending, and yet… somehow not unexpected."

"You are dealing with pirates, my dear."

She kept her eyes resolutely off the stump of his arm, which made them stray all the more to the hair on his chest, and she wished he'd put on a nightshirt or at least lie down and cover up or something so she wouldn't have to keep catching herself staring at the broad, strong shoulders and on down to the almost too-lean waist. There was muscle there but clearly not the slightest hint of body fat.

She dragged her eyes up to his face and saw the taunting smirk on his lips and knew he knew what she had been looking at and knew he enjoyed both her interest and her discomfiture, damn him. She blushed and looked away altogether.

He yawned and stretched and sat down on the bed and took his boots off, then lay down and covered up at last. "Pleasant dreams, mother," he said, and turned away from her. She didn't even take off her boots but lay down on the fainting couch in a ball facing forward defensively, certain that she would wake at the slightest provocation because she always did - she was nothing if not a light sleeper, and the faintest sound would send her popping out of bed and ready to attack. But she quickly fell asleep and she fell asleep hard, far more deeply than usual for her.

Hook waited until he was certain she was quite deeply asleep before he slipped soundlessly out of bed himself, but he wasn't particularly stealthy as he crossed the floor to her couch. He confident he did not need to be. He knelt down at her side and gently brushed a tendril of her almost copper-colored hair off of her cheek and back behind her ear. And then, carefully, Jas. Hook attempted to commit a theft. He leaned in and tried to steal that special hidden kiss at the left-hand corner of her mouth. He did not get it, but it would not be the last time he tried for it.


A/N: Sorry this chapter took longer: I figured out how it ended before I knew how it went in the middle, and that makes it tough to get from beginning to end, for me. It's like having writer's block when you know exactly what to write, which is all the more frustrating, and I didn't have any Lofthouse cookies to munch on. I did have some Babybel cheese which helped me through, but cheese is dangerous, you know. Can't eat too much of it at once. I'll be going in the hospital for a week on the 23, and I don't know how that will affect my posting or indeed my writing. Could be I'll feel too cooped up and decaffeinated to get much done. We'll see.