Wendy let the door close behind her and stepped into the warm light of Hook's cabin. Twilight glittered through the windows and reflected on the sea, but all she saw was the captain. He sat in a large armchair with a massive bound volume opened in his lap, hook poised to turn the page. She stepped closer. "I won't ask how you could do such a thing," she said, "because I would be lying if I said I did not already know."

Hook stared at her, genuinely puzzled. "What are you talking about, my dear?"

For a moment, Wendy's eyes rolled and she looked much younger than she ought to have, but she regained her composure and stood firm. Her arms rested at her sides, but her hands balled into small fists. "You know perfectly well what I mean, Captain." She tilted her head and stared hard at him, but he only looked back with a curious glint in his eyes. "You used me, sir. You used me to torment him." Dawn broke across the captain's glace as she spoke, and he nodded once then closed his book slowly. His lips crept into a familiar languid smile, but Wendy did not give him a moment to reply. "Please do not insult my intelligence by denying it."

"I would never do such a thing, my dear," he said, leaning against the plush back of his chair. "For one, you are absolutely correct—at least on one point—about what transpired earlier today, but I am also, of course, a gentleman, and—"

"You are not a gentleman!" Wendy shouted, finally letting out her anger. "A gentleman would not have spoken about me in such a fashion in front of his crew, and certainly not only for the sakes of embarrassing me and teasing a child!"

The instant Wendy's ire rose, the captain's face became dangerous, but he sat still. "What do you know of gentlemen?" he asked. "Is your father a gentleman? Do gentlemen seek to rid themselves of the treasure that is their daughters at the earliest convenience?"

"Leave my father out of this, Captain."

"A pity it is, Miss Darling, if you think so highly of him and so little of me. I took you in; I fought for what you asked of me, not for what I thought was necessary or best."

Wendy laughed and threw her arms into the air before placing her hands against her hips. "What could you know about what is best for me?" she shouted. If she had been paying attention to him, she might have noticed a small flicker of hurt pass over the captain's eyes, but she was blind to it, even as it passed into his words.

"I know what you claimed to want, that you asked to stay here."

"I asked not to go back to Peter."

Perhaps if she had taken note of the subtle mood changes of the captain, she would not have been as shocked by the more blatant shift of disposition, and, really, it ought not to have surprised her anyway when he stood, recklessly pounded his hook into the volume next to him, and threw it across the room only feet from her head. Wendy screamed and jumped away from the crashing book, looking both shocked and furious. She stared open-mouthed at Hook and attempted to catch her breath to more easily speak, but he did not give her enough time. "Ungrateful Whelp is the nicest name I can call to mind for you at the moment," he said. "I might have guessed you would be this predictable."

Wendy laughed. "I'm predictable? What do you call that crude song and dance routine you played today with Peter?"

"I call it winning the day," Hook said, not bothering to look at her. He fiddled with one of the buttons on his jacket and sighed. His smile returned, but it was as cruel and patronizing as it had been the day he made her walk the plank. "I call this," he said, waving a hand in her direction, "predictable. You are a simple two-act play, my dear. Act one is made of your attempts to receive something from some would-be fool, and act two is you throwing everything back into his face. First there was your father, then Peter, and finally me. I have been duped. I really did think better of you." He sighed again began to brush imaginary dust from the front of his waistcoat, pretending not to notice Wendy shake with rage.

Several minutes passed before Wendy spoke, but when she did, it was with tears pouring out of her eyes. "You are every inch a monster!" she screamed. "You think you did great things for me, and maybe you did, but it was only as a means to your end, the only end you've ever wanted!" She breathed quickly between sobs that only worsened when she saw the embarrassed look on the captain's face as he observed her. "I don't know what I expected," she said, glaring fiercely. "I ought to have known it would always be about Peter. It's always been about Peter. It's always going to be about your stupid obsession with a little boy! You're just as selfish and stunted as he is! You hate him so much, but all of the things you claim to detest are mirrored in your own disgusting personality!" She punctuated her shouts with a well-timed kick at the volume he'd thrown, and the book crashed into the table next to his chair.

Hook only glared at Wendy, and when he spoke his voice was perilous, "Tell me, my dear, what is this new epistemic privilege you are imagining, and from where has it come? What is it that makes you think you suddenly know so much about me, or even about Pan? You barely know yourself, silly girl." He casually bent down to retrieve his book and gently placed it on the table as if it was not totally destroyed by his own outburst. His words had affected her, but only in that they made her more furious, and he knew as much. She was right, of course, that he was obsessed with the destruction of Pan, but if she was daft enough to believe that it was because they were alike or because he was selfish, then she was not half as bright or interesting as he initially thought. He felt a sudden pang of disappointment at the idea that she did not truly understand his vendetta, that she thought it was so simple; he longed for someone to understand, but it could not be forced. At the very least, he desired someone in whom he could confide things darker than murder and more personal than flesh.

Wendy had no way of knowing what was on Hook's mind, but she was able to detect melancholy in his fantastic eyes when it flickered there, and it was for that reason that she managed to soften her voice, even through her anger. "I know more than you realize," she said. She didn't know—not really—why she felt suddenly compelled to be less abrasive, but she found that Hook's face softened slightly along with her voice; more importantly, she found that it pleased her to see him less agitated. Now that she was not overcome with rage, she found it difficult to look directly into his eyes, but she forced herself to lift her head and stare into his face after wiping tears away from her cheeks. "I know you didn't start the fight," she said. "I know Peter started it a long time ago when he… when he cut off your hand."

Hook only blinked in response, but something happened behind his eyes that Wendy would have called surprise if she didn't know better. He regained control of his eyes and let an amused shadow cover any hint of how genuinely interested he really was in what Wendy might have to say. "How could you know such a thing?" he asked, tracing the hook with his left index finger as he spoke. "I am quite famously a murdering pirate; I might have started any old quarrel for any old reason, and certainly with such riff raff as one is likely to encounter in these parts."

A smile cracked Wendy's face momentarily, but she was too conscious of the truth of his words to take them lightly. "A thief and a murderer, no doubt, Captain," she said, "but not a man who would needlessly waste years on a few innocent children."

"They are most assuredly not innocent," Hook said, and the renewed anger in his voice surprised them both.

"My point, sir, is that you have spent—well, I really have no idea how long, and I suspect you don't either—fighting back and forth with Peter, and I'm sure that had he not wounded you so egregiously and without provocation, then you would not still try so desperately to kill or equally cripple him." Wendy watched as Hook internalized her words; his eyes were shining but veiled with mistrust, and she thought them beautiful. As much as she wanted to hold onto her anger and lash out at him, she could not deny how much she had come to empathize with what she understood to be his position in the conflict. Peter was an obnoxious, arrogant, selfish child, and he would always be all of those things, even when he was adorable and enticing, it was his nature. Hook was more arrogant, sometimes more obnoxious, and more dangerous than anyone Wendy had ever known, but he at least owned up to it. He never claimed to be anything other than that for which he was known. It was that realization that diffused Wendy's anger.

Such ownership of one's deeds was not by any means an excuse or reason to pardon heinous acts, but it was at least honest, and it was more than she ever got from Peter. Moreover, it had been enough for the last couple weeks, and he had done more than prove his ability and even willingness to perform good acts. Wendy felt a jump in her chest as she finally allowed herself to feel that empathy again, and she stared intensely at Hook. She closed the space between them and carefully wrapped a hand around his hook. "I know how it happened," she said. "Peter told us. He said you were just leaning against a tree and… I don't know, but he even said that he only did it because he wanted to, that you had only just arrived and had never harmed him."

Confused, and a little annoyed with her sudden change in disposition, Hook frowned at Wendy and extricated his hook from her hand. "Why are you telling me this now?" he asked. Hadn't she just been screaming at him? What now possessed the girl?

"I don't know, sir."

Her intensity was beginning to trouble Hook, and he had to struggle not to push her away. He was angry that she was angry, but now she seemed full of pity, and there was very little that James Hook found more distasteful than pity. His annoyance grew and blossomed into full-blown acrimony, and he shoved Wendy backward. Her hurt expression made him feel worse than he expected. "I do not need your pity any more than I needed your contemptuous whining about being used," he snarled.

Wendy glared and again closed the gap between them, but this time she shoved him back, and because he was not expecting it, she managed to push him back into his chair. Pretending it was not a lucky accident, Wendy used the opportunity to crowd him so he could not get up without harming her and pointed a slender finger at his chest. "First of all, Captain, it was not pity. It was compassion, and you would do well to learn the difference! Second, you obviously do need it or I would be dead by now and not part of your crew, and, finally," she said jabbing her finger hard into the flounce of his silk shirt, "What you call 'contemptuous whining,' I call correctly pointing out when you were being a first class, arrogant fool who could have at least had the decency to warn the young lady about which he spoke so crudely and certainly ought to have apologized afterward!" Wendy seemed to realize by the end of her outburst that she was in an extremely dangerous situation, if not through common sense, then definitely through the face of the captain. He was staring at her as if he could not decide how to kill her rather than just whether or not he would do it in the first place. As she realized this, she made an effort to jump back that failed when Hook snared her wrist in his left hand and used his sitting position to trap her legs between his; she was effectively immobilized. "Captain, I—"

"I apologize," Hook said. "I am not sorry for taunting Pan, or for what I said, but I am sorry that you felt violated by it, as that was not my intention." He waited patiently for a response, and when none came, said, "Well?"

"I, well… thank you, Captain," Wendy whispered.

"I trust you are sorry for manhandling me," He said, letting go of her wrist to inspect his shirt.

"Yes, sir, very," Wendy said quietly. "Only," she continued, "you did push me first."

"I already apologized. Now," he said, "no doubt you believe yourself to be fully informed on how this," he indicated his hook and continued, "came to be a part of me. You are more than likely somehow misinformed, but I do not desire to speak of it this evening. It is enough for me to know that you do not blame me or assume certain facts based on my past. Let that be enough for you for the time being, Wendy, please, and I will do my best to accept your compassion." He released her, but she did not move. Wendy smiled softly and stayed still between his legs. Sitting straight up, he was still nearly at eye level with her, and he could see a flush creep along her throat. He had meant every word he said to Pan that day; she was lovely. "Come here," he sighed and tugged her wrist gently until she fell into his lap and he allowed her to give him the hug he needed.