So, many months too late, another chapter. I kind of have too many stories running all at once, but I still like this one because Hook is such a great Byronic hero and I have so much fun writing the relationship between him and Alivia. So this is short, but I'm already writing the next chapter and will post it soon.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not these characters and I don't make a sign piece of gold, either.

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As Peter slept, Hook paced around his bedroom. He felt unnerved more than ever, as if he understood the true nature of fear and how it crept over him like black mist. The island had started to change. Somehow, the island was dying.

Hook felt his palm grow sweaty, and he gripped his right hand around his hook tightly. An awful thought had just presented itself to him – so terrible he could barely make himself keep standing. What if the island did die? What if the island died, but they all kept living? What if all the animals and the creatures from mermaids to fairies died? The trees rotted and the bushes wilted and the plants dried up, and they were left on a huge, barren island? What if the food finally ran out, and the sea dried, and they were left with nothing? Just a handful of men stranded on mud, left to wander hungry and thirsty for eternity?

Hook paled as he thought about. He glanced to the sleeping boy on the crates with the bunny held snug in his arms. Hook had known for a long time that Peter's spirit was drawn to the island. The island could sense the little boy's feelings – what if, like Alivia, it knew Peter was unhappy, and it began to die in sympathy?

Hook took a deep breath. No dream was worth the island dying, even a dream with his love – he could not endure eternity on a bare island with his men. They would end up killing each other just to escape the torture.

He knew what he had to do – he knew it more than he had known anything before.

He stooped and gathered Peter and bunny up in his arms, holding a blanket to cover both of them.

Peter lifted his head drowsily. "What?" he murmured. "Still tired . . ."

"Hush," Hook told him softly. "Lay your head back down and rest."

Peter flopped his head down on Hook's shoulder, one hand wrapping around Hook's collar to hold on. Peter's other hand held the bunny between them. Both the bunny and the boy seemed to fall asleep again, and Hook carried them both to the door.

His pirates were on deck, talking and joking, but they sobered up when they saw Hook carrying their new prisoner towards the gangplank. No pirate looked brave enough to ask their captain what was he was doing, but Smee finally stepped up and venture, "Sir?"

"Shh," Hook warned. "Don't wake him."

"But Cap'n," Smee whispered, "if I just knew exactly what you planned to do –"

"I'm saving this island," Hook hissed. "It's dying, and maybe it's because he's here. I'm letting him go."

One pirate made a move to say something angry, but Hook demanded, "Do you want this place to die and us to keep living? He goes back."

Understanding began to dawn across their stupid faces, and Hook went down the gangplank without further interruptions. He could feel Peter snuggle against him, the boy's breathing long and deep, perfectly at peace.

He carried the sleeping bundle onto the shore and into the woods on a wide path. Peter began to feel heavy, but Hook carried him several minutes before he found a small clearing covered in soft grass. He gently laid Peter on the grass, trying not to wake him. Peter shifted and made a face as if he were about to start fussing. Hook kept his hand on the boy's chest, rubbing his torso to soothe him into a deep sleep.

The clearing felt eerily silent without the twitter of birds or the scurry of woodland animals. The wind blew a little, moving the leaves, but the soft rustle only added to the creepy quiet.

Once certain the boy was fast asleep, Hook stood and crept out of the clearing. He nearly ran back to his ship, and he ordered his crew to hoist anchor so they could sail around to another part of the island.

Hook kept himself busy with overseeing his men who looked relieved that their captain was taking actions against the island. The pirates got the sails up, and by the time the sun began to sick, they were far from their original post.

Hook felt a little guilty at just leaving Peter alone in the woods, but he reckoned that the boy would survive. Peter had lived on the island for years – he would find food where it came from and eventually he would find new fairies, and that was the end of that. Hook's quarters felt rather empty after spending some many days with his little guest/prisoner.

He gathered up all the papers Peter had work on – big, oddly-shaped letters spelling out babyish words – and Hook stuffed them into a drawer. He lingered over the drawings of fairies a second or two longer, but eventually he jammed them into the drawer along with the others. He shoved the crates to the side in his bedchamber, planning to order Smee to move them in the morning.

Hook ate his supper in silence, hating how quiet his cabin seemed without any whining or arguing or sulky looks over the food. He had liver and tripe, and he could only imagine Peter's face if the boy were forced to chew down the meat. The boy would have refused, and Hook would have snatched him up, spanked him hard, and then plopped Peter back in his seat with an order to finish the food or take another trip over Hook's knee. And so there would have been even more sulking with sniffing and mean looks over the supper table.

Ha, Hook grabbed his wine glass with a sneer, who needed children anyway? They only served to disrupt his life, his orderly schedule and his daily – well, whatever he found to do everyday on the island. Torturing the boy had been a nice diversion for a while, but it was time to get back to work. He had better things to do than bully a brat.

Despite having so much to do, Hook took his time over supper and then went to bed shortly after ten. As he stretched out his maimed arm, twisting it back and forth to get rid of the soreness from the metal contraption, he thought he heard a noise outside. From the inky blackness around the ship, he would have sworn he heard an animal wailing and keening from the shore. So the animals were back – Hook growled and the shut the window, locking out all sounds.

He threw himself back on his bed, not expecting to sleep much or have any dreams worth enjoying. He had gotten rid of the boy – he had closed out the possibility of seeing Alivia again. He missed her so bad – he ached for her with a desperate sort of longing.

He reached to rub a hand across his eyes, and he froze when he realized he had run his left hand over his face. He stared at the fingers of that hand before he glanced around the room.

Alivia stood by the door, still bright and shining, but her wings had grown smaller.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, agitated and upset.

"Nothing, I was sleeping," Hook stood up.

"Sleeping!" she exclaimed as if it were the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. "Sleeping? You stupid man, go out there!"

"Go out where?" Hook said, bewildered.

"Out there!" she pointed towards the door. "Don't you hear him? He's crying – he's miserable. You left him all alone. How could you? How could you leave him alone in the woods by himself?"

"I let him go free," Hook insisted. "I took him and that absurd bunny into the woods, and I left them. That way the island will stop dying, and the creatures will come back, and everything will go back to the way it was. Believe me, I had no satisfaction with the way it was before, but I don't plan for the island to die and I continue to live, along with my crew. So I set him free."

"He's miserable!" Alivia cried. "He can't fly, he has no fairy or other children – he's all alone in the darkness, sobbing. Go get him!"

"I will not be ordered around," Hook declared. "This is my ship, and I decide who comes aboard and who sits on the shore."

"You listen to me," her eyes flashed as she stepped closer. "You go out and get him, or I swear you will never see me again. I meant it, James – this is your last chance."

Hook went to the window and opened it. He could see nothing – no stars shone or moonlight lit the sea. But from the direction of the shore, he could hear someone crying. A long, low moaning, punctuated with gasps for air before resuming the sobs.

Hook growled as he reached for his coat. "It's the middle of the night," he complained though he had no exact idea of the time. "How will this look to my crew? Their captain waking just to bring some urchin back on board?"

She said nothing, holding her ground and not budging an inch.

"The gangplank isn't even out," Hook argued as he shrugged into his coat. "I'll have to pull it out myself."

"Have you forgotten how?" she demanded. "When you courted me, I remember you boasted that you knew every task onboard ship and could do it better and faster than your crew, that you were the highest order of captain because you knew more about the way of a ship then they do. Is that no longer true?"

"How was it that you were never beaten?" Hook muttered as he pulled on his boots with his one hand. "You never showed me such a mouth before."

"You never acted like such an idiot before," she snapped.

"I swear, you best be grateful," Hook told her. "Any other women – I would never let speak to me that way."

"No other woman would endure you!" Alivia replied.

"Very well," Hook stood, dressed and ready to go. "I'll go out and bring that brat back. But I warn you, I'll spank him once I get him back for carrying on so when I am trying to sleep."

"Just bring him back," Alivia said. "He'll be tired. Let him sleep, and try to go ten seconds without bullying him."

"Meddlesome woman," Hook growled. But he stopped beside her. "I want a kiss before I go."

She moved towards him, fitting against him as if they belonged together. She took her lovely hands and held his face before crushing her mouth against his. He savored the kiss, the taste of her, the feel of her hands on his face and neck.

Aggressively, he grabbed her and dug his fingers of his right hand into her long dark hair. He could feel the curves of her body, the softness of her lips, the flutter of wings against his arms. Hook kept kissing her, willing the moment to go on and on. He wanted her – he wanted her in his bed, her naked body against his, her ragged breathing in ecstasy for him.

She pulled back, her lips red from kissing him so hard. "Go," she whispered. "Go, Jamie, and I promise I will come back."

Hook nodded. He got outside on the upper deck, before he realized that he no longer had his left hand. He blinked and turned around, but his cabin was empty. Somewhere, his dream had merged with his waking, and now he stood on deck in his coat, boots, and breeches with one hand.

"Sir," a voice called out softly.

He turned to see Smee holding a small lantern.

"Ye heard him, too," Smee said in a hushed voice. "Little one's being there crying since nightfall. Took the liberty of putting out the gangplank, sir. Can't have him crying all night – not good for the island. We could cut out his tongue, though. Hard to cry without a tongue, Cap'n."

"No, I'll go get him," Hook reached his hand out for the lantern. "You wait here."

"Aye, aye," Smee stepped back. He pushed his spectacles up on his round nose and peered into the darkness. "Been watching, and island's getting worse, sir. Now, it's mighty dark out there – like the bowels of hell."

"I'm sure hell is lit with fire," Hook took the lantern and started for the gangplank.

The sand fell soft under his boots, but Hook held up the lantern trying to see up the beach. He could only see sand and rocks, but he kept on towards the sound of crying until he made out a crouched figure on the sand.

Peter was curled in a ball, holding the bunny tight and crying freely. He clutched the blanket around him, but it was ripped and tattered with loose leaves scattered over it. He saw the light and lifted a dirty, tear-stained face towards it.

Seeing Hook, the boy gave a sob of relief and jumped up with the bunny. Leaving the blanket behind, Peter dashed over the sand until he reached Hook. He looked ready to hug Hook, but Hook quickly looped the handle of the lantern over his maimed arm so he could grab the boy before he got too close.

"What is the meaning of this?" Hook demand sternly, giving Peter a shake. "I let you go like you wanted, and I find you crying in the middle of the night. I'm here to tell you to stop, and then I'm going back to my ship alone."

Peter burst into fresh tears and began shaking his head frantically.

"What you don't like it?" Hook frowned. "I seem to remember a little boy who tried to jump off my ship because he didn't like staying with the pirate captain. So I let you go."

"No, no, no," Peter nearly choked on his own sobs. "Don't want to. No one – can't find anyone – let me stay."

"Let you stay?" Hook pretended to look amazed at such a preposterous idea. "Let such a naughty, disobedient boy stay after he had behaved so atrociously?"

Peter probably didn't know what "atrociously" meant, but he nodded anxiously. "Yes, I'll be good. No running away. Minty and I will stay with you, and do our writing and take naps and no arguing."

"A likely story," Hook scoffed. "Why should I take you back? You the great Peter Pan? You are king of this island – you should stay and enjoy it all by yourself."

"No," Peter begged. "Please let me come – I'll be good, gooder than ever, the goodest boy ever."

"Hmm," Hook drew the torture out, wondering how long he could get the brat to plead and cry. "I suppose I could let you stay for the night, provided you do exactly what I say without complaint."

"Yes, yes," Peter agreed hastily.

"Well, then come along," Hook took hold of the back of his neck and turned him towards the ship. "We'll get you cleaned up and in bed, and I better hear not a single word of whining."

They made it back to the ship, and Hook marched Peter up the gangplank. Smee was waiting, peering through his glasses with that childlike interest at both of them.

"Smee," Hook took Minty from Peter's hand, "take this animal and clean him up before returning him to my cabin. I'll be dealing with this naughty one."

Hook got Peter into his wash cabin, washed him up with a rag, and dressed him in the oversized nightshirt. The whole time, Peter said nothing, but he kept edging near Hook long after his tears had dried. Hook figured only ten to twelve hours had passed since he saw the boy, but apparently that was too many for the child. Hook could see that Peter barely resisted the urge to grab onto his right hand when Hook took him back into the bedchamber.

As was his nightly custom, he sat down on his bed and pulled Peter over his knees.

"Oh!" Peter sighed, but he said nothing else.

"Nothing pleases you," Hook declared. "You want to leave, you want to stay. Fickle-minded child."

He smacked the small bottom four times as was the custom, but Hook made his wallops extra hard to show the boy that he did not appreciate his indecisiveness. When he stood him up again, Peter looked exhausted and could barely keep his eyes open, yawning and rubbing his red eyes.

Hook glanced over at the crates, but they had shifted apart and without the blanket, it wasn't much use as a bed.

"Up in the big bed," Hook ordered.

Peter looked up. "Your bed?"

"Just for tonight," Hook decided. "It's late, and I'm tired too. You stay on your side, or I'll make you sleep on the floor."

Peter hastily climbed up on the bed, wiggling his body back and forth to get up. He drooped limply down onto the pillow, curling up on his side with a content whimper. Hook pulled the bedclothes up over him, wanting to keep lecturing him. But he couldn't think of anything else to say, and he doubted the boy would hear him even if Hook shook him awake. The brat's breathing had already evened out, and he looked as if an earthquake couldn't move him.

Hook took off his coat and boots, but he pulled a loose white shirt over his head to sleep in. It hung down around his breeches, but he got into the other side of the bed and covered himself up. He had just closed his eyes when he felt something beside him move. He opened his eyes, irritated.

In the dim glow of the candle on the bed stand, Hook could see that the boy had squirmed over to rest his head against Hook's right arm. Hook pushed him back, rolling the boy over to his side. Peter did not wake, and Hook moved back to his side of the bed.

Two seconds later, Peter had rolled back and cuddled against Hook's side. Hook raised his hand to beat the boy back to the other side of his bed, but hesitated.

The burning wick of the candle droped into the hot wax, and the bedchamber went dark.

Hook snarled, but he lay back, closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the bundle of trouble snuggled against him. The boy would sleep in his own bed after that, Hook decided, right before he went to sleep himself.