Chapter 2
"Gee, Codfish," Peter laughed, but beneath the gaiety was a touch of concern, "you really aren't yourself today." Peter parried the steel hook and dove between the man's legs, flying up behind him to pull the hat down over Hook's eyes. He floated back several paces and waited for his opponent to collect himself.
Growling angrily, Hook extricated his head from his hat and turned. He fixed the hateful boy with his gaze and willed the energy from somewhere to finish this fight, one way or another. It had been three days since Morphea had given him his gift, and he'd been unable to get the required blood from Pan to make it work. Three more nights of hideous nightmares. Looking at the happy, laughing child, he knew that the Pan of his nightmares would never be the Pan of his waking life. He'd have to do something especially cruel to the boy to goad him into becoming that monster. But knowing that now helped him not when he was locked into his nightmare, battling an indomitable foe and believing that the dream was reality.
"Come here, boy, I don't have the stamina to chase you!" Hook growled to himself, but Peter heard him and actually floated a few steps closer.
"Captain Hook?" he was serious now as he noted that the circles under the man's eyes were darker today and his skin was a pasty yellow color. The sword trembled slightly in the man's grip, and he looked as if he were ready to faint. "Are you sick? If you're really truly sick, I'll leave you alone."
Hook frowned, seeing the concern. Why would he care? Maybe because I'm not entertaining him enough. He saw Smee approaching from behind the child, and Peter was, for once, too distracted to notice the old man's silent approach. You shouldn't have come alone today. You've no eyes in the back of your head right now.
"No, boy, I'm not sick. I'm tired, and I need sleep. I've too many nightmares for my sanity to stay much longer, and if I don't get what I need to rest, I'll be forced to do myself in." Hook wasn't exaggerating. He couldn't do this much longer. The more he dreamed, the worse they got. It was like every dream dug deeper into his mind, pulling out his guilty secrets and most hideous of fears. Upon waking this morning, he'd actually put his pistol in his mouth, and it had taken a lot of effort and cajoling on Smee's part to make him put it away and try again today.
"Nightmares?" Peter said with a frown. "You can't kill yourself over nightmares, Captain! If you kill yourself at all, you're doomed to be born again in Neverland as something you'd hate the most." Peter thought for a bit. "Chief Panther has some herbs that make you sleep without dreams. I'll get you some! That way you'll feel better and we can fight again. I don't want to beat you if you're not fit for the battle."
"You can get me something much better, Pan," Hook growled as Smee lifted the club. Smee knew not to kill him; all his men knew that strange order. They just didn't know why.
"What would that be?" Peter asked. The club came down on the back of his skull. He felt a bright pain explode in his head and his vision faded to black. He never even felt himself fall to the deck.
"You, Pan," Hook smiled as Smee checked the boy.
"'e's out, Cap'n. Gonna have a nasty lump an' a splittin' headache when 'e wakes up," Smee declared.
"Good," Hook nodded and picked the boy up. He beckoned to Smee and together they went down to the brig to tuck their prisoner in.
Peter woke with the worst headache he'd ever had in his life. He groaned and rolled over, trying to open his eyes to see where he was.
"Peter?" the voice that had awakened him called.
"Tink?" Peter whispered.
"Oh thank goodness!" the pixie sighed. "Hurry Curly!"
There was a sound of a key in a lock, and then the groan of metal as the cell door swung open. Peter finally managed to open his eyes and saw Tinker Bell and Curly staring at him intently.
"Are you alright, Peter? You've got a bandage on your head," Curly whispered.
"I'm fine," Peter answered and sat up. He was a bit dizzy, and his headache made him want to throw up, but he fought it away and concentrated on escaping.
"Can you fly?" Tink asked. When the boy nodded, they helped him to stand and led him out of the cell. The sunlight killed his head, but he let Curly take his arm and lead him away from the pirate ship, back home.
"Where'd the pirates go?" Peter mused when there was no hindrance to their escape and no parting shot from Long Tom.
"I don't know and I don't care," Tink replied. "The only important thing is to get you away from there and safe at home."
"My head hurts," Peter sighed.
"I'll send someone to the Indians for some medicine, Peter," Curly offered.
"Thanks," Peter mumbled, concentrating on staying aloft. They continued their trip in silence, each wondering about the ease of their escape, but thankful for it none the less.
"The lad's away," Smee informed his captain quietly. "We hid when we saw th' Lost Boy approachin', an' no one got in th' way."
"Very good, Smee," Hook replied as he carefully cut the blood spot from the handkerchief. He'd been a bit disappointed that he didn't have to cut the boy to get his blood, the blow to his head having gashed his scalp. But he hadn't cared enough to do any more damage to Peter, and so had taken the few drops he needed from that source. Now he had to put the blood within the locket, and he was taking care to cut as large a piece as possible to fit in it.
"Beggin' yer pardon, Cap'n, but why did we let 'em go?" the bosun asked sheepishly.
"You know I have bad dreams, Smee. I'm hoping that after I proved to myself that I can defeat him, I will sleep better. I'm too tired to enjoy killing him right now, and he's going to escape anyway. It's less painful to just let them have him back, so I can deal with him when I'm well." Hook was reluctant to tell anyone about the amulet. Pan would likely steal it from him if he heard his men discussing it.
"An' why'd ya need 'is blood?"
That's what I'd like to know, but I care more about stopping the nightmares that understanding the fundamentals of fairy magic. "It's a souvenir, Smee, to remind me that we got him." He looked up at the old man, feeling oddly indulgent. It's because I'm too tired to play the evil Captain right now, he reassured himself. "Thank you for catching him for me. I wasn't up to doing it myself. As long as my crew is behind me, I'll defeat that brat for good one day."
Smee brightened and blushed a bit. "Anythin' fer me Cap'n!" he said as he bustled about the cabin.
"Don't worry with that, Smee, I'm taking a nap," Hook admonished. When he saw the man frown, he held up his hand. "Stay if you wish, to reassure yourself I won't do something rash when I awaken. But I have a feeling the nightmares are done for good now. I'm tired."
"Ay, Cap'n," the bosun nodded and helped the man undress for bed. It didn't take the man long to fall asleep.
"I see you've completed the charm," Morphea's voice called to him in the grey void.
"Ay, I have," Hook answered, looking around for a sign of her. "Now what do I do?"
"He must have a period of sleep himself before you can dream of him," the woman answered.
"Why?" Hook asked, frowning. "Why does anything he do impact my dreams? And why did I need his blood?"
"You wish the dreams to be realistic?" Morphea asked. "The charm does not know Peter Pan. But it will seek out the one whose blood is contained within it. It will taste him when he sleeps, gauging his mind and his personality. Afterwards when you sleep, it will create for you a dream Peter Pan, one that will act and react exactly as the real one would."
"Is there anything else I must know?" Hook asked. "Any rules or taboos? Any side effects or unspoken agreements? It seems I am getting a precious gift."
"I told you, I will draw strength from your dreams, and it will cost you nothing. Do anything you wish to the boy, there are no taboos. The dream may be as long or as short as you wish, it will last the same amount of time in your reality. But you must end the dream yourself, by bringing it to it's conclusion. If you seek to vent your anger on Peter Pan and fantasize of killing him, then the only way you can awaken is to kill him. You may dream as often as you like, whenever you like."
"And what of right now, madam? Pan likely won't sleep again until tonight. Must I endure more nightmares until then?"
"No," came the woman's voice. "I told you, to know you dream is to control your dreams. Now that the charm is complete, you will always know when you dream. You may fashion a dream to your liking, or you may sleep without dreams for now. Whatever you wish."
Hook thought for a little while. "No dreams, not right now. My mind and my body are too tired. I want oblivion…" he never completed the thought. He spun away into darkness, and knew no more until he awoke a few hours later. He felt better then, and was nearly cheerful as he went about his duties, eager for the first time in weeks for the night to come.
