It was a few hours later that Hook was summoned to collect his son. Peter lay in his hammock, crying out in that strange language that gave everyone chills but no one understood. Hook groaned when he heard a bit of what Peter was saying. Pan was out again, and he was getting loud.
"Pan, you are persistent aren't you. Go back or I'll hog-tie you," he growled in the boy's ear, not wanting the others to hear him.
Pan froze when he heard the man's voice, then he whimpered a bit. "Don't want to fight," he said slowly.
Hook stepped back in shock. "Well, that's a first," he mused. "I'm taking you to our room. Stay if you want, but no tricks or I'll tie you up and leave you till morning." Without waiting for an answer, he picked the youth up, slung him over his shoulder, and made his way to their room. Pan was rarely ever strong enough to take full control of Peter. Even if he tried anything, he was unarmed and weak, and couldn't do any harm.
He put Peter in the bed and covered him up. He had just decided that Pan had gone back into the oubliette of the memory spell when he spoke again.
"Touch me… please," he said softly. "Let me feel something."
"What?" Hook asked in confusion.
"So cold in here… so alone… please let me remember… what it's like to feel." Pan began crying again. "So cold."
Hook felt uneasy with this strange exchange. Pan wasn't acting like he normally did. The other half of Peter primarily came out in some of the worst of Peter's nightmares, usually when they'd been at sea for too long. Those times he was incoherent, railing against Hook and swearing vengeance. Once a year, on the anniversary of Peter's amnesia, Pan would gain some control and awaken. He'd scream at Hook, and usually had to be restrained to keep him from doing something drastic like killing himself or the Captain. The last two years, Hook had used ether to keep the boy incapacitated for the duration of the day. Pan would fight with every fiber of his being to break the spell, and the closer he came to succeeding the worse it affected Peter when Pan once again receded. That internal struggle was the true cause of Peter's yearly illness.
But this time Pan wasn't fighting, and it made Hook suspicious. He placed his bare hand on Pan's cheek, and to his surprise the boy merely pressed against him and sighed. "It's so lonely here, just me and the memories. I've lived our life so many times, I'm tired of it. No feeling, no sight, just faded memories." His sobs intensified and his nose began bleeding more. "Please help me… I don't want to go back. Please, I promise I'll be good. I promise I won't talk to Peter. If Peter grows up, the spell will lock and I'll never ever get out again. I wish you could kill me without hurting him."
Hook felt a searing pain in his heart, and a series of emotions flooded him: fear, emptiness, despair, and grief. He realized that this was how Pan felt, the emotions flooding through their link with Peter into him. He jerked away in horror, breaking his contact with the boy. The ache was still there, but it was greatly reduced; apparently he needed contact with Peter to sense Pan. "Go back to sleep Pan. I can't help you, go back."
The boy gave a wail, and his nose began bleeding worse than before. "Please, help," he sobbed. Hook left the cabin, going out on deck to get away from the cries. "I'm sorry," Hook whispered, breathing deeply to calm himself. "I did things so badly, I didn't consider that you might be aware. I thought you a collection of memories and hate. I wish I could help you, but I won't risk Peter. He's better off without you."
After awhile he dared to go back into his room. Peter lay still, and when Hook called to him there was no answer. Hook wet a cloth and wiped the blood off of his son's face, careful not to wake him. He wasn't certain the one that awoke would be Peter. Six years… six years existing inside the memory spell, unable to feel or see or do anything but relive his life through those memories. And every time he was able to peek out, or reach through the bars of his cage, I've been there beating him back. If he ever gets free, I'll deserve the death he'll give me. Hook sat on his bed and wept. He wept for the pain he'd given the only person he'd ever loved, and he wept for Peter Pan, the eternal child he'd utterly destroyed.
In her nest where she could hear the entire exchange, Dria wept too for the lost little boy.
To say that Peter was depressed the next day would be a huge understatement. At breakfast, he barely spoke and wouldn't look his father in the eye. He had no real appetite and spent the entire mealtime picking at his food. When his father dismissed him, he quietly went about his duties.
Hook didn't do anything for awhile to dispel the boy's mood. He was fairly depressed himself. He kept thinking about Pan, and it upset him. Pan cut off my hand and I cut Pan off from the world. He'd dreamt badly all night, which was frightening because he rarely ever dreamed.
In his dream he fought Pan, and the boy was still the ten-year-old from Neverland. At the end of the battle he defeated the boy. He chained Pan in a cage and, brick by brick, walled the cage up. The wall was imperfect, having small cracks to let in a little light. But the only things of the child that could get out were his screams and cries of despair.
I'd free him if I could, but not at the cost of Peter's life or his sanity. I won't fight Pan anymore, no matter how he tries to fight me. His brief times in control will be as comforting as I can give him. No one deserves to be buried alive. He tried not to think of what else Pan had told him: when Peter grew up, he'd be locked in forever, and never be able to come forward again.
Peter was mostly depressed because of what his father had told him the night before. He felt guilty for the pain he'd caused him, and he believed himself to be an unworthy son. Everywhere he went on the ship, he felt out of place and alone. Mullins, Mason, Starkey, Cookson, Little and McNeery had been with him since the beginning, and he thought of them as uncles more than as shipmates. Smee was for all intents his grandfather, and Billy was his brother in everything but name. They were his family and he loved them. But they'd known about what he'd done, and he couldn't face them right now. His duties forced him into contact with the crew, but if he bent himself to his task he could forget everything for a bit and didn't have to look them in the eye.
But there was something else wrong with him, and he couldn't understand it. For weeks he'd felt odd, like there was someone else on the ship, watching him. He'd feel a tingle, and turn to see who it was, but there was never anyone there. It didn't bother him so much right now, there were other feelings that were distracting him. He felt lonely and lost and there was an emptiness within his soul that ached. They were his feelings and they weren't… it was a lot like when he sensed his father, but he knew it wasn't coming from the Captain. This other source felt different.
And to top it all off, he had the worst headache he'd had in a long time. It was nearly as bad as the one that accompanied his yearly illness. He was thankful when his father cancelled lessons for the day, and he spent that time taking a nap, hoping the rest would ease the pain.
Dria hadn't gone to sleep last night after listening to Hook's conversation with Pan. She'd immediately taken the trunk below to a dark storeroom, enlarged it, and picked the lock. It was easy to shrink it again and carry it back to her nest, and she'd been reading the journals nearly non-stop since then. She had realized that the boy was running out of time, and knowing that Pan suffered so gave her all the urgency she needed.
She'd found Hook's entries about his alliance with Shimi and the charm he'd made under her guidance. Dria was furious when she realized what spell had been put on Peter, and how Hook had twisted it when he cast it. She'd been horrified at Hook's recount of Peter's escape attempt, and had seen the man's own feeling of horror and remorse in his logs when he'd figured out what he'd done to the boy.
Hook was meticulous in his notes, and he was very vivid in his description of healing Peter's mind. He's bungled this spell so much it's a wonder Peter survived. But for a human he's actually done fairly well. Shimi, though… what was she thinking, putting this spell over the memory spell? She has no excuse for what she's done! It doesn't matter that she tried to make it easier on Peter. The Feyan will banish her to the mists for this!
She kept reading, pausing only to eat and nap when her body forced her to. Pan was right, if Peter grew up the other soul would be locked away forever. As long as Pan could still get free, there was hope that Peter Pan could be restored to Neverland. She didn't understand how the split in Peter's personalities came about and why that created two souls in one body, but she still had a long way to go in the journals. If Hook had any inkling about how this happened (and from his comments he obviously knew something), then everything he knew and thought on the subject would be recorded in these books. She would not stop until she knew everything Hook did.
"Cap'n?" Jukes approached the man carefully. He knew both Hooks were in bad moods, and he didn't want to irritate either one… it could be dangerous.
"Yes, Mr. Jukes?" Hook turned to the teen.
He looks tired, Billy thought. "Is Peter doing something else for ya, Cap'n? He's supposed to help me with th' cannons, but I've finished one already and he hasn't showed."
Hook frowned. Peter never shirked his duties. If he was sick, he had to be ordered to bed because his sense of duty wouldn't let him rest otherwise. That's why Jukes is worried enough to come to me about this. He'd never rat on Peter unless he thought something was wrong with him. "I'll find him and see what's kept him. Get Johnson to help you, the lad needs to learn."
"Ay, Cap'n," Billy nodded and left.
Hook went to his cabin and found Peter asleep in the bed. He called the boy's name, and Peter awoke with a start. "Shirking your duties, lad?" he asked mildly.
Peter hung his head. "I'm sorry, Cap'n." He stood and went to leave, but Hook snagged his arm before he could get far.
"Did I dismiss you, boy?" Hook growled in irritation.
Peter sighed and faced the man. "My apologies, sir. I'm not myself today."
You haven't been yourself for six years, Hook thought sourly. "Sit boy, I want to speak with you. The air has become too clouded since last night and I need to clear it."
Peter took a chair and waited. He knew he was in trouble and he hated that he'd upset his father. He just didn't care about being punished. To his mind, anything he got was justified.
Hook sat down and stared at his son. "I'm sorry Peter," he said finally. "I'm sorry for everything. One day you'll remember and when that happens remember that I'm sorry." He held his hook up when Peter tried to interrupt. "I've wronged you so much, when you remember it all you will hate me. That's fine, I expect it. I just hope that you'll eventually forgive me. I never should have taken you away from them."
"From who? The spirits?" Peter said softly. He felt his confusion grow when his father nodded. "I'm glad you did! How could I not want to be with my father? Why would I ever want to stay with evil spirits?"
Hook winced and looked away. I am his father. In my heart and his, I am his father. I will not deny him as my son, ever! Even if he remembers and denies me, he'll still be my son. "You were happy there, Peter. You had friends and you could do anything you wanted. The spirits gave you abilities normal children – and normal adults – don't have. You were happy, you were free, and you would have lived forever. I took everything away from you, I chained you to me, and I condemned you to a mortal life and eventual death. I am truly sorry, Peter."
Peter stared at his father in disbelief. The words he'd spoken to him shone so brightly with truth that it nearly blinded him. "Live forever?" he whispered. He shook his head, "I don't care about that. I have friends here, I have people that I love and that love me. Who wants to live forever? It sounds boring. I don't care what my life could have been like. I'm happy with you, and I'm happy with what I remember of my life…"
"Don't try to make me feel better!" Hook snapped. "I nearly killed you three years ago, and that was just the last time I nearly did it! I've better control of my temper now days, but how many times have I hit you? Last night I hurt you, and don't tell me your back isn't bothering you this morning. I don't beat you like my father beat me as a child, but I've put my hand on you too many times for my liking."
"Yes, you've hurt me," Peter said slowly, "but I'm not afraid of you. And we both know that I can beat you in a fight if I wanted to. What matters to me is that you've been there for me a hundred times more often that you've hurt me. Any time I'm hurt, sick, or afraid, you help me and stay with me till I'm better. And when someone wrongs me, I know you'll make it right." He sighed, "Father, I love you. I'll make you a deal: if I ever remember and I become what you fear, I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me for all the grief and pain I've given you."
Hook chuckled for a moment at the boy's naivety. "You'll find that a hard deal to keep." He tried to envision what he would do if Peter Pan came back… I don't know what I'd do. I had Peter Pan in my hands for awhile before I wiped his mind, and I became rather fond of him. But what if I feel only hate when I see Peter Pan again? Could I kill my own son? "Yes, Peter, I'll forgive you. I already have, but I'll do it again if you regain your memories."
Peter smiled, but Hook could see something else was wrong. "What else is bothering you?"
"I don't know. Something strange is going on. I feel someone else's feelings, and it's not you. I feel sadness and loneliness and it's so strong I want to find this person and help them. My heart aches for the child."
"Child?" Hook frowned.
Peter closed his eyes and explored the feelings. "It's a little boy. Do I have a brother somewhere? Is our bond inherited?"
Hook knew better than to lie. "My only child is sitting right in front of me." Peter was his adopted son, he'd done it officially but quietly in London five years ago, to ensure that if he died the boy could legally inherit his possessions (Hook wasn't the name he used there, he took Peter's given name as his own alias. Peter knew that legally they were James and Peter Morgan, to keep Hook's assets from being seized). "I felt those feeling too, last night. I told you the spirits' influences are still inside you. Last night they spoke again. I think what you are feeling is from the memories that might have been stirred in your sleep, and are merely echoes of what you went through as a child."
"Perhaps," Peter said softly as he considered it. The presence was familiar, and if it weren't that he knew he was sensing a child he'd swear it was a twin brother or something. "I think maybe you're right, sir."
Hook nodded and stood, "Do you feel better?"
Peter stood also and shook his head, "No, but I can deal with it better. I hate that I ever hurt you, father, but if you've forgiven me then I can forgive myself."
"That's a good start. Now, I believe Mr. Jukes wanted your help," Hook said as he escorted the teen outside.
"Oh, damn! Long Tom and the cannons!" Peter groaned. "Billy's going to give me so much shit." Hook laughed and Peter found that he could join him.
A week later, Dria sat in her nest and listened to the Captain and his son as they bantered over a game of chess. They do love each other. But Hook's hurt him so much, does he deserve Peter's love? I've read his journals, all of them from that time, and he does regret the harm he's done, but is that enough to off-set the evil? Dria sighed and carefully flew to the top of the mainmast. They need to know what I've found out. They'll know what to do and tell me. She cast her spell, and watched in satisfaction as the small shaft of light streaked away, carrying her message. Contained within that shaft was everything she had learned and seen, and a few comments of her own about what she thought (she didn't think a Feyan would care a whit about what she thought, she was a lowly pixie after all… but she was the only fey here, so her opinions might be useful).
Not knowing what else to do, and knowing better than to leave the ship, Dria went back down to her nest. I guess I could re-read the logs… maybe I missed something they need to know. She hoped someone would come soon. She needed off this ship. The short times they'd weighed anchor and gone ashore wasn't enough to sustain her much, and she felt herself wearing away.
She heard the summons through the dreams and swam to the surface of her sleep. The voices urged her to return, to end her vigil, to find the child that was stolen. Stolen? What child is stolen? The voices explained, the knowledge they imparted bringing her speeding back to life.
Kaylee opened her eyes, gasping for breath for the first time in ages. "PETER!" she screamed at the stars. She tried to sit up, but the effort was too much for her so she rolled over on the stone altar. Oberon, Matias, Tatiania… dozens of Feyan stared at her in sympathy.
Kaylee fixed her eyes on Matias, the Elven King. "Where is that son of a bitch hiding my son?"
