It was several nights later when Dria got the answer she had been waiting for. She was asleep, and she dreamed of a human girl she had not seen for ages. The woman thanked her for her efforts and reassured her that something would be done. Then she told Dria what she must do next. Dria awoke, knowing she had dreamt truly. She looked in her hand and saw a large bag of dust. This wasn't her dust, this was the dust of a Feyan pixie, Oberon himself. Even had the dream not told her, she would have known it was special by the power she felt within it. Oh wow, was all she could think for a bit. Eventually she overcame her awe and her fear and crept from her nest. There was no hiding her glow now, if she changed to a bird the dust's power would kill her. This dust contained a very specific spell, and it was meant for one man and one man alone.
Please, Lady, I hope Captain Hook doesn't wake up when I dump this on him. They do remember he was a bit allergic to pixie dust, don't they?
Fortunately it was a warm night, and the windows had been left open. She flew into the cabin and hovered over the pirate captain's bed. He lay on his back, snoring softly, oblivious to the glowing girl above him. She glanced over at Peter, but the boy lay facing the wall, lost to his dreams. She fumbled with the pouch, nearly dropping it at one point. But she got hold of herself and poured the glowing blue dust onto Captain Hook's face. His breath hitched as it settled, and his nose twitched a bit. But the dust disappeared as it landed on his skin, completely absorbed, and Hook calmed and settled into an even deeper sleep.
Dria glanced at Peter, hearing the boy moan a bit. It's okay, Peter, let them look. I can't put this spell on you, there's too many on you as it is. But there're none on Hook, and he can see into your mind for us. Satisfied that her job was done, Dria flew back to her nest and reverently set the bag aside. It had come to her from King Oberon and was now a treasured possession.
Hook stood on the deck and watched his son. The boy was wearing only his pants, his toned and tanned body glistening with a sheen of sweat. He fairly danced with his sword, dodging and parrying effortlessly. His opponent was also shirtless, the larger, older man just as honed in body and skill. Hook wasn't terribly surprised to see that Peter's opponent was his father.
A dream, Hook thought in amusement, watching his other self spar. He'd had dreams before where he'd known it was a dream. It was rare, but if Peter's nightmare was especially bad it could bleed through their link. He'd recognize the dream as not being his and could stay distant from it, even awaken most times.
"He's beautiful," a woman's voice said softly.
Hook turned and saw a woman standing beside him. She had brown, slightly curly hair, and her eyes were a deep blue. She looked so much like Peter it was startling. It took him a moment to recall where he'd seen her before. "Kaylee," he whispered in shock.
"Call me Katherine, the children called me Kaylee. You've raised him well," she continued. "He's strong, well-mannered, compassionate, and you've seen to it he's educated. He has his dreamer's soul, intact and relatively unmarred, in the poised and deadly body of a fighter. I don't know how you managed it, but you've done well. He's coming into his full potential. But, most importantly," she looked away from Peter and stared at Hook, "he loves you and he's happy."
"I'm dreaming," Hook tried to reassure himself. "You're just a dream." He was afraid of this woman, she had deeper ties to his son than he did. "Peter's mother is dead."
"Yes," she smiled, "you are dreaming. Dreams can be real, though, when they touch upon the realms of spirit. I am real, but I walk the realm of dream as surely as I can walk reality. My son has been found, and I have been awakened for a short time, to see that he is well. Because of the magic you've used, I cannot touch him directly, so I'm using you to reach his mind. He's not ready to see me right now, he may never be ready. You and I, however, have much to discuss."
The scene changed a bit. Peter and Hook still fought, but it was three years ago. A thirteen-year-old Peter struck in a flurry of moves, his feet lifting from the deck for a few seconds, allowing him to dodge and get within Hook's defenses. In triumph the boy crowed, and the man roared in fury. He buried his hook in the child's shoulder and tried to strangle the boy. Peter screamed and fainted from shock, and the other men had to pull his father off of him.
Another change and it was more recent. They were in Hook's cabin. Hook and sixteen-year-old Peter were arguing, the boy denying Hook's accusations that he'd read the journals. They watched as Hook slammed his son into the bookcase, then into the wall, hurting Peter.
Another change, and Hook sat atop ten-year-old Peter Pan, carving an insignia on the boy's chest, then strangling him to the point of death and beyond. His complete dominion over the boy's soul allowed him to command Peter back to life, but the boy's mind was broken. Another change, and another. They watched each time the man had abused the child he claimed to love.
Hook had always regretted those times he'd lost control and hurt Peter. He reeled now under the onslaught of memories, watching the pain blossom in his son's face and hearing the boy scream over and over again. He sank to his knees, sickened with himself and tried to close his eyes. Even then he could still see the images. "Please, stop," he whispered, and it did.
"You've hurt him," Kaylee said softly, the anger in her voice unmistakable.
"Yes," he answered. "I don't deserve him. I've hurt him, but I love him so much. Please don't take him from me."
"I have no intention of taking our son from you," Kaylee answered, staring down at him. "But changes must be made, and I will explain why. Whether Peter leaves you or not is up to him. As much as you've hurt him, this is what he thinks of when he remembers you."
The scene changed, and Hook sat beside the thirteen-year-old Peter's bed, reading to the pale child. Peter's shoulder was heavily bandaged and his left arm was in a sling. But Peter was smiling, enjoying the story, and his other hand clasped the steel hook. There were no recriminations in his eyes.
A change, and Hook held a sleeping Peter, night after night, through the years, calming the boy and driving away his nightmares, giving the lost and frightened child the comfort and reassurance he needed.
Peter with chicken pox, his father dabbing the sores with ointment to give him relief.
Hook and his men breaking into a dark room, where Peter and Billy were bound and naked. Hook killing the perverse man that had kidnapped the eleven and thirteen year olds, killing him before he could harm the boys. Hook and Mullins wrapping their cloaks around the crying children and carrying them to safety.
Peter sitting silent in their room, haunted by the ghost of the child he'd killed. Hook knelt before him, assuring him yet again that it had been self-defense, taking the blame upon himself for not being there to protect Peter, for making him fight in a battle he wasn't ready for. Peter saying "Daddy" softly, then being embraced by the man.
The images came and went, a hundred times more of them that of the images where he'd hurt Peter. They showed all the times Peter had been sick or hurt or frightened. Each time, without fail, Hook had cared for him, giving him his love and support, his rare soft side showing plainly for the boy to see.
"You were always there for him. You gave him the love and security I could not," Kaylee said softly, bending down to stare in the man's eyes. "I always regretted that Peter's father would not be a father to him. I regretted more that I had to leave him behind, alone in Neverland while I walked the mists. You took him for the most selfish of reasons: vengeance. You broke him mind and gave him amnesia for selfish reasons: anger and hate. But you give yourself selflessly to him in all the other ways that count. You have been the parent I could no longer be. You do him a disservice in thinking he would hate you if he remembered his old life."
Hook stared at the woman, not quite understanding. "I never should have taken him, but I'm glad that I did. My life was empty before Peter; I was driven by greed and hate. He's the only light in my life, and he's given me a better reason to live. He's saved my soul." Hook looked down, feeling awkward in trying to explain his feelings and motivations. "I don't deserve him," he repeated.
"Few parents deserve their children," Kaylee said with a chuckle. "All we can do is try our best to be worthy of them, by loving them and teaching them to be worthy in their own time." Kaylee sighed and wiped the tears that welled in her eyes. "I forgive you, James. I forgive you and I hope that our son forgives you, too. I'm sure that he will, but if he comes to me one day with his doubts, I will speak on your behalf. As much as I loved seeing him as a little boy, I always intended for him to grow up one day, to have children of his own. I just always thought it would be when he was ready to grow up."
She stood and gestured for Hook to do the same. When he did and looked around, they were back on the ship. "But because of the manner in which you acquired Peter, there is a lot of doubt in our minds that Peter will ever get the chance to grow up. And if he does manage it without going mad, he won't outlive you by a day."
Hook frowned, dread clawing through him at the affirmation of his fears. "What do you mean?"
"There is the matter of Pan. Take me to him," she ordered.
"I don't know where he is," Hook protested, uneasy. She won't forgive me anymore when she finds Pan.
"He's someplace dark. It's a place Peter Pan associated with fear and grief, a place he'd never wish to return to. This ship," she gestured around her, "is the representation he's showing to me of his mind. You would see it as something else."
"A cloud," Hook muttered, "Peter always seemed a cloud to me, until that last time when I saw two boys."
Kaylee nodded. "Clouds are fairly accurate. But this ship is for me to understand, it's less personal that what he's allowed you to see. Every part of this ship symbolizes an aspect of his mind. Of every place on this ship, what would symbolize the absolute prison you have locked Pan away inside? The brig?"
Hook thought a moment, then shook his head. He remembered the talk he'd had with Pan. Dark, cold, lonely… "No, he's in the Box."
"The Box?" she asked in confusion, then frowned as she remembered the information in Dria's message. "The hole you hid Peter in, to keep the fairies from finding him."
Hook nodded and walked to the hatch. "Ladies first," he said politely, helping Kaylee step onto the ladder. Together they went down to the deepest bowels of the ship.
They stood together by the trapdoor. The noise was muffled, but they could hear the boy within as he cried, pleading to be let out. They could hear the sound of scratching and knew he was trying to claw through the wood. Kaylee sank to her knees and began crying at the pitiful sounds, her hands pressed to the wood.
"Shh, baby," she called, "Mommy's here. It's okay. I promise I'll let you out soon." The cries continued. Kaylee looked up at Hook, anguish in her face. "He can't hear me."
Hook knelt beside her, torn with indecision. The sounds of panic and despair pulled at him and he felt sick with guilt. He'd exiled the boy to this existence and he felt an urge to open the door and let him out. But fear stilled him. What would happen to Peter?
Guessing his thoughts, Kaylee decided for him. "We cannot free him yet. The spell binds him too tightly right now. There is only once a year that he could be freed…"
"The anniversary of when I imprisoned him," Hook finished.
Kaylee nodded. "Even then it may not be weak enough. Pan cannot escape on his own, not even when he was stronger could he do this. You must free him."
Hook drew back, balking at this slip of a girl telling him what to do. "Why should I free him? Pan embodies everything I hated in Peter Pan!"
Kaylee glared at the man, feeling him try to harden his heart against Pan. "There is every reason to free him. I'll show you the one that should move you to help him, above all the other reasons. If it doesn't, then you truly do not deserve to have Peter."
The scene faded and Hook found himself in a small dark room. There were holes in the ceiling, walls, and floor, enough to allow the feeble light to stream inside. The cries were louder, yet muffled in the cold, dead air of the room. A shape moved beside one wall, hovering around the largest of the holes, which was barely large enough to let a few of the child's fingers through. Chains were affixed to his wrists and ankles.
"Let me out," Pan wailed, scrabbling at the hole. Hook could see the gouges in the wall, and saw with horror that the boy's fingers were torn and bloody, and a few fingernails were missing. "I'm sorry! I won't fight anymore! I promise I'll be good. I'll never speak to Peter." The child sobbed… and he was a child. He was still the ten-year-old Pan, clad in the brown clothes and cape he'd worn in Neverland. "I'll make myself love you, I'll learn! I'll be good, so you'll want me like you want Peter. Let me out!"
Hook closed his eyes, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. "Katherine," he turned, but she was gone. He looked around frantically, but he was alone with Pan.
"I'm sorry, I'msorryI'msorry," the boy repeated fervently, as if the words were a magical chant. He sank to the floor, curling up into a small ball.
Hook tentatively reached for the boy and felt a shock when his hand closed on Pan's shoulder. Pan shrieked and jerked, suddenly aware of his presence.
"No more! No more memories, stay away!" he sobbed. "You're not real!"
"I don't know how, Pan, but I'm here," Hook said softly. "I'm so sorry I did this to you. I didn't know you would be awake in here. I didn't really believe you were real and had feelings."
Pan backed against the wall, panicked. "Codfish! Don't – don't hurt me. Please let me out." He held out his hands beseechingly, oblivious to the torn skin. "I'll be good! I'll show you! You can love me too." He faltered and sagged limply against the wall. "But you can't love me. No one wants me. That's why they let you take me away. That's why you threw me away and kept Peter. Peter's good, he gave up and let you have him. I'm bad, I wanted to go home to my friends and to my mommy. Mommy died and left me. Daddy didn't want to be my daddy. Even the fairies will kill me if they knew what I am." He began sobbing. "Kill me, please? Let me out, kill me. I don't wanna stay here anymore!"
Hook took the unresisting child in his arms and held him tightly. He saw so much of Peter in this boy that he couldn't look at Pan without thinking of his son. He is a part of my son, and he's hurting. "If I can, I promise I will free you. Please don't cry anymore, Pan."
Pan sat rigid in the man's arms, the sensation overwhelming him. It had been so long since he'd felt anything but cold and pain. "You hate me," he said flatly.
"I did," Hook answered. "I thought that I still did, but seeing you again, seeing you like this… I can't hate you." He gently stroked the boy's hair and continued to speak. "You're my son. You are a part of Peter, and I was wrong to try to cut you out of him. You're just a child, a child I have wronged for too long. I hated too much to let myself see you as a child – how could I not have? I was stupid! I knew Peter Pan's mind had split into you and Peter… how could I think one was real and the other wasn't? I'm so sorry."
Pan closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of being held. It calmed him, gave him focus and restored some of his rationality. "I hate you so much, Captain," he said after awhile.
Hook sighed but didn't relinquish his hold. "I know, and I deserve it. I just hope one day you'll forgive me." He held the boy so they could see one another, wincing a bit at the anger glittering in the child's eyes. "I love Peter, and for him I'd do anything. I'm afraid to release you, because I'm afraid you'll hurt him."
"I'd never hurt Peter. He's why I let us stay so long."
"You made him cut his wrists when the cannon blew up on Billy."
"No," Pan shook his head. "Peter wanted to die and so did I, to get away from you. We weren't so split then, he didn't know I was there. He cut himself, and I didn't help him or tell him to. I just didn't stop him. When we saw Billy was alive, I made him forget what he'd done."
Hook nodded and pulled the boy close to him again. "I want you to keep trying to get out. Whenever you manage to come forward while Peter sleeps, I won't fight you anymore. Keep fighting," he lifted the boy's hands gently, staring at the torn flesh, studded with splinters, "but don't panic or lose hope. Once a year the spell weakens a lot…"
Pan frowned, trying to think, to understand. "There's no time here. Every day is forever. But sometimes the holes get big and I can get most of myself out. The magic wrapped around here catches me, keeps me from going far. But I can come forward and see…" he gave a strangled cry. "You keep me tied up when I wake. The last few times that I got out, I couldn't wake up. It was the same as being in here, almost worse… it was my turn and I couldn't… it wasn't fair."
"From now on I'll help you. When the day comes that it weakens, I will do everything I can to pull you out for good."
Pan frowned, suspicious. "Why? Aren't you afraid I'll make Peter hate you?"
"Peter deserves to have you back," Hook replied, though the thought filled him with dread. "If he can't forgive me once he knows everything, then I haven't been a good enough father to him. I can't live without him, and I'll give up my life to help him."
Pan looked at Hook strangely, head cocked to one side. "You're different now. I still hate you, but I'll try not to. Maybe instead of me making Peter hate you, he'll make me love you." He looked down at his fingers. "I'd rather love than hate. Hate hurts too much. I've lost everything because we hated each other."
"I'll see you free, and I'll see you and Peter rejoined into Peter Pan if it's still possible. The fey know you're alive, they're the reason I'm able to be in here with you. Just wait a bit longer, and you and I will work everything out face to face, in the real world."
Pan nodded and relaxed against Hook's chest. "I'm so tired. I don't like to sleep, the memories come then. No dreams, just memories."
Hook gently rubbed the boy's cheek, remembering when he used to hold Peter cradled like this. God, I miss him being this young. I wanted him to grow up, and now that he nearly has I miss the child he was. "Go to sleep; rest and save your strength. You'll need it for when the spell relaxes. If you can, try to remember any happy times you had with me, times when both you and Peter didn't hate me so much. Think of your mother, and your friends. Perhaps you'll see them soon."
Pan closed his eyes and thought, and the memories didn't hurt as much anymore. Maybe I will see them again. Codfish is different, maybe he'll help me. "Please don't betray me, Captain," he whispered as he drifted off to sleep. "I can't hold on much longer."
Hook studied the sleeping child's face, noting his haggard look. The pain etched in his features, the exhaustion and weakness. He was pale and thin. He looked like he was wasting away.
"He's dying," Kaylee's voice came from nowhere. "He won't last much beyond this next anniversary. You've given him hope, and he'll live to see it now. If he finds himself still here after that, he will go insane. When he does, Peter will follow. Sometime after that, Pan will fade away and die. Peter most likely will not survive without him. There is a slim chance that you could bind him to your even more tightly, prolong his life and maybe even rescue him from the madness. But your own life expectancy will diminish, you'll tire to death in maintaining him. And when you die, the spell will not be broken as you've believed all these years. It is a binding of souls. When one of you dies, the other will be dragged along with it to the afterlife. Even with the best case scenario, Peter won't live to see thirty-five… you've had a hard life, Captain. I doubt you'll see a ripe old age."
"You don't have to continue," Hook growled, "I've decided to free him. Damn you, woman, for playing my conscience against me. Damn me, for ignoring it and causing this problem to begin with! If I'd have left him alone on that island for a little while, like he'd asked, he'd still be Peter Pan. Maybe he eventually would have loved me and become my son." Hook laid Pan on the floor and covered him with his cloak, some small protection from the cold air. "It was such a small thing he wanted… just some time alone. I was afraid he'd escape or get hurt, so I denied him. I'm still afraid that Pan will hurt Peter, but I have to trust my son now, like I didn't trust him before. I'll free Pan, I'll help him any way I can. And I'll help Peter when he remembers. And if he proves me right by not forgiving me, I'll let him go."
Hook found himself sitting on the deck once more, and Kaylee sat before him. "Thank you for letting me do this the easy way, Captain," she said softly.
"What was the hard way?" he asked in disbelief. How can freeing Pan and enduring my son's hate be the easy way?
"To drag your ship to Neverland. To break the spell by force and bonding Peter with Neverland again, allowing you to die in the process. This way allows you to make up for what you've done, by helping us to set it right. This way Peter can still have a father."
"What of Nibs?" Hook wondered. Pan had told him long ago that the only reason they didn't remove the earring was for Nibs. They feared that replacing him in the weave of Neverland's magic would kill him.
"Being bonded to Neverland is hurting him more than you know. He didn't ask for it, it was forced on him. Peter was born with elven blood, so it was a natural thing for him. I was pregnant with him when I was bonded to Neverland, and a mother shares the same blood as her unborn child. It didn't hurt me at first because of that, and by the time that protection had worn off, I was adjusted to the burden. Nibs suffers whenever someone uses strong magic in Neverland, he's never been able to accept the strangeness and won't allow it to flow through him correctly. Being broken from Neverland will not hurt him any more than being connected to it is."
Hook sighed and looked away. "I wasn't warned of that."
"You'd have done it anyway," Kaylee chided.
Hook nodded, "Ay, I would have." He looked at her again. "Now what?"
"It's going to be difficult, but this is what you must do to prepare Peter for Pan. There is a chance that in freeing Pan we break the memory spell. Suddenly having the split personality back will be bad enough. Suddenly remembering what you've done to him could push him too far. You must tell him the truth. Let him read your logs, they won't jog his memory… the memory spell is too strong for that right now. It won't be such a shock later when he finally remembers."
"I tossed them overboard," Hook growled.
Kaylee laughed, to his surprise. "They were saved by a very frustrated pixie." She gave him a hard look. "I'm going to tell you of her, but there are conditions. If you or any or your men harm her, I will send a legion of mermaids to sink your ship and bring Peter and you here so I can break you apart myself. Do not let Peter see her for awhile, you've biased him with your twisted truths about so-called spirits." When Hook nodded, she continued. "Her name is Dria. Some fairies heard Peter playing his pipes in the woods not long ago. They'd have left him alone, they didn't recognize him, but he played fey music which intrigued them and made them suspect. They sent for Dria, who knew Peter Pan in Neverland. She recognized him despite the spells, and followed him to your ship. She's been living aboard since then, gathering information and unraveling the puzzle. She will help you prepare Peter, and she will guide you back to Neverland. He must come here if we can ever hope to restore Peter Pan."
Suddenly the ship disappeared, replaced by a dark forest. There were bodies lying about, dead children. From somewhere close by came a roar and a woman's scream.
"By the mists," Kaylee gasped in shock.
"I think he's having a nightmare," Hook explained, a bit alarmed by the change in the woman's face. Her self-assurance was gone and she stared at the bodies strangely. She recognizes them, he realized, and his suspicions were verified in the next instant.
"Lydia, Poe-poe… Joshua," she whispered the names of the dead children nearest her. Then she closed her eyes tightly. "No. I killed the beast and freed their souls. They are at peace now."
"Perhaps we should leave Peter's mind," Hook suggested.
Kaylee nodded. "I've told you everything you need to know for now. Dria knows the rest, and she can contact me if you need anything else. Go in peace Captain. For our son's sake - and yes, I mean to share him - for our son's sake don't betray us. You must undo the damage you've done."
Hook didn't get to reply. The images faded and he found himself wide awake, staring at the ceiling. He heard a moan and looked to Peter, who was tossing in his sleep. He sat up quickly and went to the boy to calm him.
The fairies know, he thought as he held the youth. One of them is on my ship. They want me to restore Pan and let Peter remember who he was… What if she told the truth: Peter will go mad and die if Pan isn't restored? I can't risk that. I won't let him suffer that fate! I said I'd give up anything for him, and I will. I'll give him up if it will save him. I can't gamble that she would lie about something like that.
He looked down at Peter, watching the frowns and hearing his gasps as he fought through the dream. He stroked the boy's cheek, contemplating the past six years. "There's an old saying: If you love something, let it go. If it comes back it's yours. I'm going to put that to the test, Peter, I'll let you go. And if Peter Pan comes back to me, I'll be the happiest, luckiest bastard in the world."
But even as he promised this, the dark, selfish part of his soul snarled in rage. Peter was his! He won him, and he did not wish to part with his prize. I wonder if I can still love him if the spell were broken…
