'That was horrible,' Cassandra said once they had reached the deck above the brig level. 'In the book they went back to home London at the end and lived out perfectly boring, respectable lives. Now, it turns out they never even left the island. It shouldn't have surprised me I suppose. Practically nothing is the same as that blasted book, nothing good at any rate. But, I was hoping somehow it had turned out alright for them.'

She shrugged and fiddled with the hem of her still damp shirt. 'I suppose we shall just have to continue on as we've begun. It's only a matter of time before he really does kill me. Even you probably can't last forever, eventually he is bound to tire of the game. He was straight up insane before, but I think hundreds of years of being trapped in a child's body has left him even more rotten. Not to mention the fact that apparently I could now die in a dream, Nightmare on Elm Street style.'

Hook leaned against a doorframe, his arms crossed, 'the blackguard has already robbed me of a limb, and a goodly portion of my sanity. I am loathe to admit it, but I have often worried that there will come a day when I lose more than just a hand. I do not know this Elm Street you speak of, but this ordeal is most indubitably a nightmare of the first order.'

Cassandra laughed hollowly, and then shivered, whether from the cold, or the thought of almost certain impending death. She fished out an equally damp handkerchief from her pocket and attempted to wipe her dripping nose on it.

'I must insist,' Hook said, 'before we attempt to accomplish anything of a material nature, that you take a bath, or at the very least change into some dry garments. In this state, you are like to catch a chill and die of a fever, robbing both Pan and my good self the chance of finishing you ourselves.'

She thought must be joking about the last part, but she couldn't be quite sure...

He bent quickly and flicked a strand of seaweed from her hair with the tip of his hook. It was a very different gesture than she was accustomed to from him. It was abrupt and a little detached rather than threatening, or an attempt at seduction. She looked down at her dripping, salt-encrusted self and had to agree with his summation of the situation.

'You quite resemble one of the denizens of the deep,' he mused. 'It seems we cannot help but meet when you are in some state of disarray or distress.'

Possibly in the light of what he clearly assumed to have been a traumatic experience, the captain, with an unusually philanthropic gesture, made his cabin available for her use, so she might take a bath without the worry that she might be observed. He even presented her with the key to the door.

Still, she skulked suspiciously around for a few minutes, checking no one was lurking about outside, or spying in some way. But, with nothing arising to trouble her, she thankfully sank into her second hot bath since arriving in Neverland, feeling a little of her stress wash away with the grime.

As she worked soap through her briny locks, she considered Hook. The man was abrasive and even rather rude, but she grudgingly admitted she was coming to despise him a little less as time wore on. She would not go so far as to say she actually liked him, but she was willing to stretch to the relatively warm acknowledgement that at least she could tolerate remaining in his general vicinity.

Her eyes drifted shut, and she slid her head under the water to rinse the soap from her hair. For the briefest moment, the world jarred out of its proper place and she was drowning again in that dark and endless sea, with those long pale fingers wrapped around her throat. She snapped back out of the water, half afraid and half angry.

She had been on the job a long time, and while there had been instances when her limits were sorely tested, but she had never teetered this close to the brink before. She had seen it in others of course, it was something of an occupational hazard. Sometimes the stress was just too much for the puny human brain to take, and people just snapped – hopefully with minimal fuss and with as little collateral damage as possible. It was one of those things you were convinced could never happen to you… until one day it did.

The enjoyment of the bath having been thoroughly soured by now, Cassandra wrapped herself in the awaiting towel and climbed out. The long scratches on her side were healing nicely, and most of the bruises were starting to fade by now, but she still resembled a mugging victim. She dressed from her rather sorry array of clothes, most of which were still covered in fading bloodstains. She looked like the vengeful ghost from a horror movie, which, was strangely satisfying.

She ran her fingers through the tangled locks of her damp hair and then went out on deck. The Captain was nowhere to be seen, so she decided to wander around for a while. It was a fine day, but with enough of a breeze to catch up her hair and send it dancing around her head.

Several men were working busily around the ship, tending to various tasks, the nature of which Cassandra was wholly ignorant. The last two times she had found herself on board, Cassandra had had very little introduction with the crew. Really, the only two members she had spoken to at any length were Hook and Smee.

She was rather bored, having had little human interaction over the past few days, so she made her way over to a tall and rather gaunt man with an unusually scholarly air about him. He looked more like an office-clerk than a bloodthirsty pirate, but then again, Ted Bundy hadn't really looked like a serial killer.

'How long have you been here? In Neverland I mean,' she asked conversationally. The man looked at her wearily, 'I really couldn't say, miss. But far too long for my liking,' he said, his eyes darting away to survey the expanse of deck.

She stuck out her hand, 'I'm Cassandra,' she said with a smile. He took her hand and shook it cautiously. 'Jasper Starkey ma'am, although I go by Gentleman Starkey.'

'Have you always been a pirate Mr Starkey?' she asked, 'or were you press-ganged or something?'

'I joined the crew in the early days. I was once the usher in an educational establishment for young gentleman, but having fallen upon hard times I turned to a life of crime, and finding myself adept, continued as a pirate.'

'Must have been a bummer when you ended up stuck here for hundreds of years,' she said, 'how did that even happen, may I ask?'

'There was a dark and uncanny storm,' he said solemnly, 'it engulfed the ship and brought us to these strange and treacherous shores, from which escape seems impossible.'

'So, what do you think of Hook?' she asked, 'what kind of captain is he really?'. The man blanched, 'I really could not say,' he said carefully, 'but I really must continue with my work. Good day miss.' He bobbed a low bow and hurried away.

A harsh laugh rang out from behind her. Cassandra rolled her eyes, 'you realise that you are a massive creeper,' she said turning around. Hook was, of course, standing feet away, a smirk adorning his face. She fished the key from her pocket and tossed it at him. Disappointingly, he snatched it out of the air and tucked it away into his waistcoat.

'The crew are hardly about to speak ill of me to you,' he said, 'not when they fear I may overhear them at any time. Their trepidation is not unfounded, I have indeed shot a fair number of them for insubordination in the past.'

'What if they all ganged up against you and staged a mutiny, have you ever thought about that?'

Hook smiled, his eyes glinting red. 'Oh, they have tried. But only the once.'

Cassandra wanted to know more, because mutinies are interesting, but she also did not want to ask him because he was already conceited enough. So regretfully, she didn't.

Hook swept out his arm and gestured towards the lower decks, 'shall we begin to sow the seeds of our little deception' he said, 'I have had a room just above the brig prepared. It is close enough for the occupant to hear every word, but not so obvious that it would raise suspicion.'

As they were on their way down, Smee puffed his way up the stairs to meet them. 'I roused the boy,' he huffed. 'He was sleeping, but I tossed a bucket of water over him like you said and he's up and swearing and clawing at the walls like a wild animal'. He shook his head in solemn disapproval, frowning over the tops of his spectacles.

'We can only hope,' Hook said quietly as he led the way into a small room, 'that it still retains enough human intellect to comprehend the nature of our conversation, for if not, all will be lost and we must be resigned to spend the last few days which remain to us, seeking solace in each other's arms.'

Cassandra snorted, 'we can only hope,' she said wryly.

Down below, in the cold gloom of the brig, the boy stalked around the narrow length of his prison. He growled, low and deep in his throat and hurled his shoulder into the cold iron of the bars again and again, careless of the bruises which slowly began to bloom up across his skin. A voice drifted through the boards, light and female, catching his attention. It was joined in conversation by a harder, male voice. The boy stilled, his eyes dark as he stared upwards.

'It's a shame we didn't manage to net Pan as we planned,' the female voice commented, 'but then we always knew that he was too cowardly to actually face more than one or two of us at time. Of course he would send his pathetic minions instead of facing us himself.'

The boy sat carefully down on the floor, legs crossed and listened intently.

'It is of no matter,' the male voice said, 'the boy is of no match to me, tis only a matter of time until I hunt him down and carve him open, gut him like an animal.'

'In a fair fight, out in the open, it would be no contest at all. That's why he lurks in those woods, because is afraid of you. I mean, you're a grown man, strong and, intelligent and a fighter. There is no way he could take you on, one on one.'

'No doubt,' the man agreed, 'even when the brat managed to sever my hand, he snuck up upon me unawares, like a coward.'

'Even when I knew him back in the agency,' the woman said, 'he was exactly the same. Everyone thought he was a loser and we all laughed at him behind his back. The only reason he was able to kill all those people was because no one ever thought he would have the guts to do something like that. I mean, he was such a coward, he pretended to be this brave adventurer, and a good agent, but we all saw through it. We all thought he was pathetic. That's probably why he hates you so much, you're the kind of man he could never be.'

'Even you,' the man said, 'a mere, weak, feeble woman, is perfectly capable of vanquishing him. I believe, if what you say is true, the reason he took the form of a child is because that is what he is at heart, a fragile and fearful infant.'

'I have a plan,' the woman said, 'he hides in the woods because that's where he feels safe. He can sneak up on us, never having to face us in the open. He thinks himself untouchable. So, we should start clearing the forest, build a stockade so we can gain a foothold on his territory. Then, eventually when we have culled enough of the trees he won't have anywhere to hide and we can hunt him down. Besides, there is no danger he will attack us on the beach, he would be too afraid of facing us in the open, and by the time we have a stockade, and then another built, it will be too late'

'I will order the men to begin preparations immediately. We will set up camp on the beach. It will be easier to oversee the work at closer quarters.'

'What shall we do with the boy?'

'I will wrest out any secrets he may be hiding and then, I will dispose of him,' there was a low menacing chuckle and then the scrapping of a chair and the tap of footsteps leaving the room.

'I bloody hope that worked,' Cassandra said, 'I will be so mad if I had to say nice things about you for nothing. For the record, I definitely do not think you could take Pan on, he would fillet you like a piece of tuna.'

'Likewise my dear,' Hook replied, 'I fear neither of us are present a convincing adversary for the band of demon children,' he grinned, 'it was rather gratifying to hear you speak well of me for once. If you were less snippy and more tranquil and agreeable in your disposition, you may not be yet unmarried.'

'I hate you,' Cassandra said, 'and your stupid 18th century masculinity.'

Cassandra dined with the Captain, he was rather more pleasant company than previous experience had led her to expect. With seemingly unspoken mutual agreement, they avoided topics which might lead to discord, such as his archaic opinions of woman and her general disgust for his aforementioned opinions of woman. Instead they conversed lightly about literature and the arts. Cassandra was not surprised to discover that Hook had an excellent grasp of classical literature, Eaton was famous after all for producing accomplished gentlemen.

On her part she relayed some of the more interesting stories of her travels, like the time she stole a horse from Genghis Khan and narrowly avoided fighting a duel with a young Leonardo da Vinci. She avoided anecdotes taking place after his time because her brain was already too preoccupied to get into having to explain the last three or so hundred years of world history. They finished off the night with a rather long game of chess, which Cassandra won by a hair's breadth. It was overall, the least unpleasant evening she had spent since her arrival.

When she went back to her room that evening, she was surprised, but nevertheless pleased to discover it had been set to rights. Someone had even cleared out the stacks of assorted goods, no doubt to dry them after the deluge. There was what appeared to be a fresh hammock. Despite the upgraded amenities she barely slept. The night was spent drifting in and out of a restless half sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was an unending stretch of dark, deep water and that cold pale face, waiting just beyond the edges of consciousness.

What the next morning would bring she wasn't sure. If all went according to plan, they would move to the next step – let the boy think that he had outsmarted them and managed to escape. If it went well, she might be home in few days, if not, then nothing would matter much anymore she imagined. For now, though she lay in the hammock listening to the sound of waves and the creak of the ship, staring at a ceiling she hoped never to see again.

In his cabin, Hook poured himself another glass of brandy, downing it in one swallow. He looked morosely down at the stump which had once been his hand and swore vengeance upon the enemy which had robbed him of so much more than an appendage. He dispensed with the glass and began to drink straight from the bottle.

In the brig, the boy had finally quietened, apparently from sheer exhaustion. In sleep he looked almost innocent and painfully childlike. The bones in his wrists and shoulders stuck out with sharp gauntness. The chain around his neck, dulled with the accumulation of dirt and years of exposure to the elements, the one remnant of a past where someone loved him.

The sky stretched dark and boundless above all of them, the stars which glinted down already dead and cold and a million, million miles away.

A/N: This chapter took me a long time to write. I was trying to get it finished over the holidays, but university happened again – hello criminology essay, goodbye sleep. I have had a ridiculous amount of law tests, seriously, sometimes I wonder why I do this, the amount of stress is unreal, I would much rather stay home and write about Cassandra and her rather unfortunate adventures Anyway, it's done and here it is, hopefully it was worth the wait, even if it is a bit shorter than other chapters. I apologise if the plot is moving along quite slowly, I'm aiming for the whole story to end up being around a novel length, and I promise it is all heading somewhere, I have an end in mind and a vague idea of how to get there, so bear with me. I am writing this quite late at night in between studying, so if there are any errors, it's because my brain has decided it doesn't even want to try anymore.