Chapter 9
Peter stared at his campfire, ignoring the ache in his head. He didn't want to go to sleep, but he was too tired to stay awake much longer. I miss father, he thought miserably. Most of his anger was faded, inconsequential now. It was his fear that kept him from going home. Billy's words were still clear in his memory, filled with anger and hate, and it hurt when he remembered. If any other crewman had said that to him, he'd have laughed, then beat the shit out of the man. But Billy, his best friend, had said it. I wonder if they've sailed on without me. Loneliness filled him and he huddled under his cloak, sheltering from the light rain.
He'd traveled south to Allencourt and spent five nights in the Hawk's Nest Inn. Pickings among the citizens were thin, and he'd only scrounged enough money to secure a meal at the inn. The innkeeper had let him pay for a room and all his meals by playing his pipes and singing for the patrons. He'd more than tripled the man's business the first night. But there were problems.
His first night in the inn he'd had nightmares, but they'd been fairly manageable. He hadn't been surprised that he'd dreamt badly, he usually did if he was upset with his father. After his second night of nightmares, the innkeeper had asked him worriedly if he were sick. Then there had been the third, fourth and fifth nights of the patrons listening to him screaming in his sleep. Add to that his increasingly foul mood during the day and his drastic decrease in playing ability and the situation became intolerable for the innkeeper. Peter had no illusions the man would let him stay out of concern for his health; if he'd learned one thing on a pirate ship it was no-one did anything purely out of the goodness of their heart. He'd always thought it was different between his father and himself, but now he knew better.
So on the sixth morning, he'd not been terribly surprised when the innkeeper had brought him breakfast and asked him politely but firmly to take his flute elsewhere. It seems after the last three nights of hearing the boy screaming, his other patrons had moved on to other inns.
Just as well, Peter thought sourly. He'd seen Kevin on his way to another inn. The man had ducked into an alley, confirming that he was looking for Peter and had found him. Knowing Captain Hook had friends in Allencourt and noticing the local authorities watching him strangely, Peter had decided to rough it and leave town.
I should have gone north to start with. I didn't want to travel far, and I wasn't thinking about where I was. I'm just stupid. Father taught me better than this. Peter rubbed his temples irritably. A night on the road, five in town, and the last three camped a few miles north-east of the town – nine nights ashore and alone. He'd never been alone this long before. At the most he'd spent an entire night in the woods after an especially difficult voyage. And he'd never spent so many nights without his father. The three nights his father had been in prison had been enough to make it easy for him to kill to get Hook back. It had help his conscience that the bailiff had been a rather nasty, corrupt little man anyway.
His stomach growled so he tried to take another bite of fish. The smell once again turned his stomach, so he set it aside. The fish was fine, as were the apples, cheese, and jerky he had. He just couldn't eat, and hadn't eaten all day. I'll go into town tomorrow. Get some bread, try another inn. Maybe I'll just find Kevin and go home… if they're still there and they'll have me. He tried not to think about what he'd do if his father only wanted him back so he could punish him, and left him behind once he'd given him his lashes. No, he does love me… he might have hated me once, but he loves me now… he has to. Absently, Peter wiped his nose, disinterestedly noting the blood he wiped away. It had been doing that for over three days, it wasn't surprising anymore. He figured if he left at first light, he could be in the town shortly after noon. It was only a few miles, but with his headache, nausea and exhaustion he knew it would take three times as long to cover the distance. And that was only if he didn't wake up feeling worse. I don't think it can get worse, please God don't let it get worse!
He stared at the flames, trying to stay awake. Daddy, he thought in despair. He almost could hear his father, could almost see him pacing in their room. Anger, fear, and anxiety poured off the man… Peter jerked as he found himself falling over. He'd dozed off again.
I give up, he decided miserably. He laid down in his blankets and soon was fast asleep.
He woke a few hours later to absolute blackness, screaming and writhing in pain. "Daddy, please help me! Make it stop! The monster's got me!"
Hook paced his bedroom, agitated. The ship was docked at Allencourt, and had been here for two days, ever since Kevin had sent word that he'd seen Peter. They had yet to catch another sight of his son, but Kevin was adamant that he was sure it had been Peter. Hook believed the lad, despite his crew's doubts. He could feel it. Peter was close, he hadn't gone on to another town.
Hook had pulled some strings and got the local sheriff and guards in his pocket, but still there hadn't been a whisper. Peter had been at the Hawk's Nest and Hook had spoken with the innkeeper. He wasn't surprised to hear that Peter was suffering with his nightmares. His sense of his son was growing again, but the link was only strong when Peter slept, and the pain and fear that flooded through that link scared him. He had been very irate to discover that the innkeeper had tossed his son out on the street. He's a boy, and he's obviously not well, and that obese swine threw him out! He was going to have the inn burned to the ground when he quit this town, but not until his son was in hand. He didn't want to give the sheriff an excuse to keep his bribe and notify the navy that pirates were in his port.
Dria came by twice a day, once at dawn and again midafternoon, to check in and compare notes. The rest of her day she spent in the forest, finding the few fey that inhabited the area and having them look for Peter. But it was a lot of ground to search and they were rather small. Billy Jukes had come out of his stupor five days ago, but he still wasn't himself and was unable to leave his bed. His concussion had been bad, but the boy shouldn't be this sick from it. Hook had paid for a doctor to come aboard and see to him, and all the man could say was that perhaps his brain was bruised. Dria suspected there was something else wrong with Billy, but since the boy wasn't dying she was too intent on her search for Peter to devote much attention to the gunner.
Mullins had questioned Jukes himself, but it had been pointless. Billy's last memory was of talking to Peter on the deck, just prior to being punched. It was a sign of how out of it he still was that he was only mildly upset at Peter's disappearance. He was listless about everything, but he was getting better.
Peter when I find you, I don't know if I'll beat you or hug you! I may do both, he thought in frustration. It was late, Hook should have been asleep a long while ago. Worry and anxiety kept him up. Peter was dreaming, or at least Hook hoped he was merely dreaming. He shuddered to think his son was suffering this much from physical distress. Sudden agony poured through him, the terror so strong that Hook fell to his knees. 'Daddy, please help me!' The cry cut through his mind. 'The monster's got me!'
"Oh, Peter," Hook gasped. Then he collapsed, fainting as his sense of his son disappeared completely.
When Dria found Hook that morning shortly before dawn, she was alarmed but not terribly surprised to see him passed out on the floor. After seeing the condition Peter was in, she'd suspected Hook would be in a bad way. She tried unsuccessfully to rouse the man, then gave up and went to find help. She found Smee and Mason in the galley, and fortunately they were alone. Few of the pirates liked seeing her, and she regretted she had made herself known to so many humans, but Mason hadn't been discreet when he'd carried her to Hook that day.
"We've found Peter!" she cried, startling the carpenter so badly that he choked on his coffee. "Peter's hurt, he's hurt really bad, and Captain Hook's passed out in his cabin. You have to wake him!"
"Cap'n!" Smee gasped, not knowing if he should be relieved that the boy had been found, or alarmed that both Hooks were ill. Mason grabbed the bosun by the arm and dragged him to the Captain's cabin at a run.
It was dangerous and difficult, involving a bucked of cold water, but they roused the Captain. Mason jumped back in alarm as Hook awoke, sputtering and snarling, slashing with his hook. "By Blackbeard's barnacles! What the Hell are you doing?" he roared, wiping the water off of his face.
"It's Peter!" Dria yelled, getting as close to him as she dared. Hook's face was livid, and she wasn't sure if he heard her. But as soon as he registered his son's name, he sobered and stared at her intently. "We've found him," she continued in a calmer voice. "He's ill, and he needs you, now. I don't know what's wrong with him, but I think he may be dying."
Hook gasped and cast about, trying to feel Peter. There was nothing there. "Where is he?" he snapped, anxiety and impatience filling him as he quickly began to pull on his boots.
"In the forest, north of the town. He's not going anywhere, I don't think he can walk… he wouldn't even speak to us." She flitted about, feeling helpless. "Please, hurry!"
Hook glanced up at Mason. "Make yerself useful, and go get us some horses. You, Smee and I are going to collect my son!"
Mason nodded and raced down the gangplank, knowing where the nearest horse trader was. Now wasn't the time to get caught stealing horses. By the time he got back, Hook was on the dock, pacing and plainly agitated. Even Smee was fidgeting, and the crowd on the dock steered a wide berth around the two men as they walked by. In mere moments the three men were mounted and galloping out of town, Dria giving directions from Hook's pocket.
Hook rushed to the boy as soon as he stepped into the clearing and saw him. Dria had warned him while they'd waited for Mason to return with the horses, but he wasn't prepared for what he saw. Peter sat under a tree, leaning back against the trunk. His hands lay limply in his lap, clutching his sword loosely. His eyes were open and vacant, and blood flowed from his nose to drip onto his stained shirt. He made no sound or movement at the men's appearance.
He's not dead, he can't be dead, Hook thought in panic as he sat before his son. He felt at Peter's neck, reassured by the warmth and the pulse he found. "He's feverish," he told Mason. "Peter?" he called, turning the boy's head to face him. Nothing flickered there. "Peter, I'm here. It's your father."
A slow blink. "Daddy?" came the slurred, low moan from the boy's lips.
"Peter," Hook gasped in relief. "Son, what's wrong?"
"Hurts…" another blink, "can't see you…" Peter moaned, and his fingers twitched a bit on the hilt of his sword. "Monster… has me… hurts."
Hook gathered his son to him, giving the youth's sword to Mason. "You had nightmares without me. I wasn't here to chase the monsters away," Hook told him, lightly stroking the boy's head. "But I'm here now, Peter."
"Monster," Peter mumbled, lying numbly in the man's arms. He couldn't see, he could barely feel and hear, and he felt like he was swimming in a sea of molasses. It hurt to think, to try to resist the blackness that had engulfed him. "Sorry," he moaned, "want… go home…"
"You're coming home," Hook reassured him. "Sleep, Peter. I have you now, and I'm not letting you go. I'll kill any monsters that come for you."
Peter closed his eyes, though it didn't make any difference to him. "Love you," he whispered in relief and allowed himself to sink into the oblivion, knowing the monsters could never hold him while he was in his father's arms.
Carefully, Hook lifted the boy up and went back to where Smee waited with the horses. With Mason's help he was soon mounted, clutching Peter to him. They rode slowly, careful not to jostle him as they carried the wayward boy home.
When they got back to the ship, Mullins had Billy sitting on the deck to get some fresh air. The gunner watched as the Captain carried his friend aboard, his face blank. Then he turned away without a word. Mullins frowned at the boy's lack of reaction and turned to Hook.
"He alright? He looks pretty bad"
Hook paused on his way to the cabin. "I don't know," he said simply, "but he's blind. I pray that all he needs is rest without his nightmares. I'll send Dria to look at Billy when I get my son settled in."
"Captain?" her voice came from his pocket. "I don't know anything about healing humans."
Mullins heard her and chuckled. "Well, that may be true, but I learnt a few things in Neverland… like the medicinal uses of pixie dust. Dunno if Billy-boy's got the right kinda ailment, but we gotta try somethin'." He nodded to his captain and the man carried Peter on to his cabin. Mullins looked at Billy. "Hungry lad?"
"No, Robert," the boy said dully.
"Well," the man said pleasantly, his voice tinged with worry, "you gotta eat anyway. Wait here and I'll bring ya somethin'. The fresh air is good fer ya." He got a slight nod from Billy and went to the kitchen.
While Billy seemed listless and calm on the outside, within his mind he was screaming and fighting. He wanted to grab Mullins, to tell him about the thing inside him. His fear for Peter surged through him at seeing his friend again, and the lifeless way he lay in Hook's arms scared him. He had to see Peter, he needed to wake him up, to apologize, to tell his best friend that he did love him, that it hadn't been him speaking that day. But the foul thing in his mind just laughed at him.
Let me go! Billy wailed at it for the thousandth time since he'd awakened to the new voice in his mind. That Hag has hurt him enough, why are you adding to it?
*You know why, the voice purred, I've shown you why. If you stop fighting me, I'll let you have control of your body again. I only have a few more things to change inside you and I'll be done for now.
Billy snarled, though his face remained blank. I'll die before I let you hurt Peter again.
The thing laughed again. *Your death will merely make it easier for me. I have no soul, and when yours departs, I will merely have more room inside this boring little head of yours. You know, your life was much more interesting on your first ship. Would you like to relive that for awhile? It'll pass the time.
No, Billy whimpered quietly. Not again, please no.
*Then we should reach a truce. Quit fighting me, and I'll only kill Pan as a last resort. You don't mind if I kill Captain Hook, do you? The taint chuckled at Billy's growl. I bet you didn't know you cared that much, did you? You really should give up, this struggle is wasting time. I have no interest in maintaining control of you, I just want access when I need it. Its access I can take anyway, you're powerless to stop me, but it damages you less when you let me. Our mistress was fond of you, and I'm only to harm you if you leave me no choice.
Billy fought the slimy tentacles that reached for him, knocking them away with cries of disgust. He wouldn't be taken, this thing would have to kill him first. And the first opportunity he got, he was going to kill himself in such a way that his corpse would be useless to Shimi's leech.
Ahh, look, here's you 'father' with breakfast. Shall I show you just how powerless you are? If we attack him, they'll blame it on your injury. You may lose another loved one, though. How many friends would be left to you on this ship if I were to, say, kill Robert Mullins?
NO! Billy screamed in panic, feeling the small amount of control over his hands leave him. His horror grew when he saw his hand grasp the hilt of a nearby knife, and saw Mullins squat down before him in easy striking range. Don't! I'll let you, just stop! Please, don't kill him.
*That's my little doggie, the thing cackled. Come here, pup, and let us be done.
Weeping softly in his mind but unable to call for help, Billy quit blocking the things that reached for him. Nausea filled him as the first of the tendrils began probing his soul, caressing him and leaving a foul slime everywhere they touched. Then the taint surged forward, enveloping him, and Billy screamed as the tendrils pierced him, forcing their way inside, violating every aspect of his mind.
The parasite laughed as it raped Billy's soul, destroying the last of the boy's defenses and leaving him exposed to its every whim. Then it was done. *Now then, that wasn't so bad. You really should have let me do this sooner, it would have hurt you less.
Billy floated in the void of his mind, curled up tightly. He sobbed as the last of the fires faded and the pain receded. The thing was buried further in his mind, a part of him now where before it had merely been an invader. It made him sick, it still hurt, and he knew he could do nothing to stop it. I hate you, he wailed in despair. Something stroked him in a parody of a comforting pet, and he quailed at its touch.
Poor puppy, the taint cooed, you've had a rough day. Go to sleep and it won't feel so bad when you wake up. You might even like having me here. And when the problem with Pan is resolved, I'll go away again. Now rest.
Billy didn't even have time to say no before consciousness left him. He fell into the void and became blissfully unaware of the foulness for awhile.
"Billy!" Mullins shouted when the boy's eyes rolled up and he went limp. The man barely had enough time to catch him as he fell from the crate he was sitting upon. "Billy?" Mullins called, patting the boy's cheeks lightly, trying to revive him. "Please, Billy, don't do this to me." He scooped the boy up and carried him to his bed, anxiety gnawing at his gut. If you die on me, son, I'll never forgive Peter Hook.
Inside their cabin, Hook and Smee quickly undressed Peter and checked him over for hurts. The boy was filthy, it looked like he'd been rolling around in the mud, but his only injury was his bloodied nose. Smee gave Peter a quick sponge bath, but Hook had to hold the boy the entire time. Whenever he tried to set Peter down, the youth began crying out in his sleep, thrashing in the throes of his nightmare. Hook didn't mind so much, though. After worrying about his son for so long, he was loath to let the boy go.
Once Peter was relatively clean, Hook settled into an overstuffed chair, cradling the youth to him as he did when Peter was younger. "Smee," Hook said quietly, stroking the boy's face. "Bring me food and drink, and fetch me the book from off of my desk. I don't know how long till he wakes, but I'm not leaving him alone until he does."
Smee nodded as he carried the book to his Captain. "I'll be here with ya till 'e does, Cap'n. Sir," he wrung his hands worriedly, "what'll we do if 'e don't get 'is sight back?"
Hook glowered at the man, "Don't even think about such things." His heart quailed, though, at the thought that his son may be blinded for life. "But he's my son, and no matter what happens, I'll be here for him. But I'll never forgive myself if he doesn't recover from this."
