Chapter 10
Wendy could do little to console the younger boys as they cried. No child should have to see such violence, and even the older Lost Boys were pale and shaken.
They were locked back in the brig where they had started; without their leader or his fairy to guide them. Wendy wished desperately that Hook would take pity and allow her to nurse Peter again… but she didn't believe he would. She didn't even know if Peter was alive. Pulling Michael and Tootles closer to her, Wendy also began to weep.
Captain Hook felt calmer. He leaned back in his finest armchair, whiskey in hand, a cigar dangling from his mouth. Smee had been right; he just needed to relax and collect his thoughts.
A gentle knocking on his cabin door caused Hook's brows to furrow in annoyance, but he kept his eyes shut as he grumbled entry.
"Begging your pardon, Captain, sir… But… Cookson thought you'd like to know that Pan isn't dead."
Hook's eyes flickered open and he looked at the young crewman before him.
"No, Jukes… I would not like to know that. I'd like for that boy to be rotting in hell where he belongs."
Billy gulped and twiddled his fingers, unsure of how to proceed.
"Would you be liking us to cut his throat then, Captain?"
Hook sighed and sat up, refilling his glass from the bottle on his desk.
"No, Jukes… I suppose not. If anyone is to have that pleasure, it will be me."
The crewman continued to stand before his captain awkwardly as Hook took another swig of alcohol.
"Is he awake?"
"No, sir… not fully. He's been wailing in pain a bit… but hasn't opened his eyes."
"Well, that sounds rather delightful." Hook stood up, smiling eerily, "Take me to him… I could do with being cheered up."
Peter felt a pulsing agony in his head with every heartbeat and each breath. He willed himself to return to the peace of oblivion, but he remained awake. Finally giving in, Peter tentatively opened his eyes… then immediately regretted it as light stabbed at him.
"Tink…" he mumbled, "Too bright..."
The light dimmed a little and Peter was able to open his eyes a little wider, the shapes of his surroundings clearing. He was gazing up at a wooden ceiling, the gentle swaying sensation confirming he was still on the Jolly Roger.
As the memories started bombarding him thick and fast, Peter squeezed his eyes shut again and wriggled under his covers, trying to fight back the tears as well as the images filling his head.
"Hush, Pan. I did give you a good licking, didn't I!"
Peter sat bolt upright as he realised the voice was in the room with him and not in his mind. Looking over to a dim and gloomy corner, fear rose in him has he beheld Captain Hook peering at him menacingly.
"Hook..."
The pirate smiled disturbingly and stepped into the light. Peter saw the bruises and swelling he himself had inflicted, and knew Hook hadn't satisfied his thirst for revenge. But looking at the Captain also filled Peter's head with memory after memory; of fights… of pain… of blood…
As Hook moved closer, Peter could feel his fear a guilt welling up and bubbling over, and he yelled out;
"I'm sorry!"
Hook faltered and stopped in surprise.
"What…? What did you say?" He was staring at his young enemy in disbelief; Peter Pan had never apologised to him before. Not even to save his own skin. Even worse, Hook now saw tears well up and cascade down the boy's cheeks.
"Peter?" Hook could not avoid the tinge of concern in his voice.
"Please, Hook. I'm sorry! I'm sorry I hurt you… I'm sorry I cut off your hand!"
The captain could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed.