Chapter 10

Warmth.  He was warm and comfortable.  Safe.  The arms enfolding him promised protection.  He sighed, smiling in contentment and nestled closer to the one that held him, using the strong arm as a pillow.  The other's breathing quickened as he awakened, and Peter felt the body shift a bit.

"Peter?" a deep voice murmured. 

Peter stiffened and he jerked fully awake, alarmed when he realized the one he was snuggled against was Captain Hook.  "Yes?" he whispered, afraid.

Hook smiled in relief.  Peter had been out for several hours, ever since the group-hug on deck.  "We've been worried," Hook told him softly.  "We were beginning to fear we'd lost you again."

Peter tried to roll away a bit, but he froze when Hook's arms tightened around him briefly.  "Where am I?"

"You're in my bed," Hook explained, hearing the tremor in the boy's voice.  "Wendy watched you all day, and we couldn't wake you.  She was afraid to let you sleep with the others, so I kept you here.  I didn't trust you to not sleepwalk again, and I didn't want to have to chain you back up.  I decided to put you in my bed, so that you'd wake me if you tried to get up."

"Oh," Peter murmured.  "I sleepwalk?"

"You have at times, but not every night.  The first night you did it, you nearly fell into the sea, so I kept you in chains to keep you from wandering off."

"You've been taking care of me," Peter mused, thinking back.  Everything was clear now, his thoughts were calm and he could understand.  "You and Smee, all along, making me feel better, taking care of me…"  He frowned a bit.  "Why are you hugging me?"

Hook chuckled, relieved.  Peter was here, completely here.  "I was content to let you have half the bed, but you kept rolling over.  Every time I moved to give you room, you rolled closer to me.  So I let you get close, because if I move over any more, I'm going to fall out of my bed.  You wouldn't lie still until I held you."

Peter rolled away again, and this time Hook let him go.  He stared at the man in the dim light.  "Now you have more room."

Hook moved away from the edge of the bed and lay on his back.  "It's still early, boy.  Go back to sleep and we'll talk in the morning."

Peter lay on his side, his back against the wall.  "Why?" he whispered softly.  "Why are you different?  Are you trying to trick me?"

"No tricks, Peter," Hook stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.  "I did something terrible, and I hurt you and your friends.  Whatever brought you back changed me somehow, and I'm not talking about my miraculous healing.  I decided that helping you and the other children was a fair price for the restoration of my hand."

Peter nodded, understanding enough to be satisfied for now.  "Good night, Captain," he said, closing his eyes.

"Good night, Pan," Hook answered, beginning to drift off again.

Long minutes passed and Peter opened his eyes to watch Hook.  He thought the man was asleep, but he wasn't sure.  I can't sleep, he thought, frustrated.  He was afraid, worried for himself and for his friends.  He'd never thought much about the future, content to let things come in their own time.  But now the future loomed before him and he felt the anxiety gnaw at him.  How long would Hook let them stay?  Would they have to grow up?  What if the pirate's hate came back and he tried to kill them again?  Where could they go, and what would happen to them?  Peter hugged himself, his fear making the void approach again.  He stifled a moan, trying to not start crying.  He hated crying, and he hated himself for doing so much of it lately.  But he hurt inside, and he couldn't find anything in his life to not cry about. 

"Peter? What's wrong?" Hook's sleepy voice called to him.

"I'm scared," Peter whispered, and with that admission the floodgates opened and he could no longer stop his tears.  He remembered that when he'd awakened he'd felt safe and warm.  Desperate to feel that security again, needing it more than he needed air, he moved to lie beside Hook.  He laid his head on the man's shoulder and buried his face in the man's nightshirt, his body shuddering with the force of his sobs.

Hook was surprised, but he moved to hold the boy, keeping him close while Peter cried himself out.  The storm was intense but brief, and soon the boy's breathing calmed and he turned to lay with his back pressed against Hook's side.

"Feel better?" the man asked.

"Yes," Peter sighed.  He adjusted a bit, snuggling close and wrapping his arms around the muscular arm draped over him.  "I don't understand; I just know that you won't hurt me, and that I'm safe here.  It's like I can hear Tink sometimes, and she's telling me to trust you.  Please, I want to be safe… everything hurts too much to face it alone.  You're my murderer, but you can save me.  Please don't let me go."

"I won't," Hook said softly as he moved to get more comfortable.  He drew the child closer and curled around him protectively, smiling when he felt the boy relax.  I don't understand why he feels like this, but it makes it easier.  "I'll protect you, Peter, and if there's anything you need, I'll give it to you.  I promise."

From the Journal of Captain James Hook

August, the day escapes me without a fairy to consult, but I am sure it is mid August.

I haven't written in this journal for so long I wonder why I even bother with it now.  But I've been busy, and I'm overjoyed to be able to say that my labors are showing fruit.  They're getting better.  The core three – Wendy, Nibs, and Slightly – are fine, if a bit more mature than they were before. 

Since my talk with Jukes and Slightly, there have been no more open displays of affection that I or anyone else are aware of.  Robert Mullins and Billy Jukes had a talk of their own, and I must say I believe the two of them are closer now than ever before.  Billy told Mullins about Slightly, and he has apparently been more understanding than the boy hoped.  He smiles a lot now, as does Slightly, and the two are still inseparable. 

Wendy and Nibs are also close, but I have no concerns about their relationship.  They have been under much stress, having to devote so much of themselves to helping the others that they have been slow to come to grips with their own fears.  But they help one another, and I try to give them time to themselves whenever possible.  It's gotten easier now that the other children are doing better, and those two don't cling to one another as much at night.  But they still tend to sleep arm and arm with Peter, for which I am grateful.  Anything that holds that boy to reality is a godsend.

Curly has regained full use of his vocabulary, and he is no longer afraid to speak… loudly.  His temper often flares up and he quails at the sight of blood.  He's developed a nasty habit of swearing, and I've taken to punishing him for it to break that habit.  I am relieved to find that he still has his sense of wit and laughter, he just has to get through his anger. 

Tootles no longer needs to cling to Wendy or a Lost Boy, and he doesn't mind being left alone with any of my men.  He is a patient child, and I let him do those duties that require a steady hand.  I can also depend on him to help out wherever needed without being asked.  But he has terrible nightmares, and on many nights someone has had to sit up with him to keep him calm.

John speaks also, but it's rare and quiet when he does.  He's keenly observant, and his mind is capable of great problem solving and logic.  I'm inclined to listen to him when he voices a thought, because he won't say anything unless it's worth saying.  He'll make a superb writer one day, and he doesn't mind sitting alone with me when I critique one of his works.  Of the children, Wendy, Nibs, John, and Peter are the only ones that can stand to be alone with me for any length of time.  John is also deeply depressed, to the point that Wendy has spoken to me of her concern for her brother.  Writing is his outlet, and I encourage him as much as I can.  He is one of my favorites among the children.

Twins, thank God, finally remember English.  They'll use their special language with each other, but they communicate freely with everyone else on board.  Those two fascinate me.  They're obviously not really brothers, yet they know one another as only identical twins could.  Better, perhaps.  When one tripped two days ago and sprained his ankle, the other began limping before he even knew what had happened.  I rotate them between Mason and Jukes, the better to utilize their scientific minds and to keep them focused. 

Michael is still very much a needy baby, but it's not from the trauma.  Indeed, he's forgotten most of that day.  He's too young to have been separated from his real mother, and no matter how much Wendy pretends, she is not an adequate substitute.  It upset me greatly when I learned from John that the Darlings had run away from their parents.  I assumed all the children were orphans or cast-offs.  If I ever find England again, I'll search out their true parents.

Peter is so much better that it's miraculous.  He still occasionally loses touch, but never to the mindlessness that had consumed him before.  He mostly stays at night with the other children in the brig, but I still insist that he tether himself with a string around his ankle when he goes to bed.  The other end of the string is around Nibs's ankle, and Peter has only awakened him twice with his sleepwalking. 

The brig… I don't have a brig anymore, not really.  It's so festooned with the paintings I let them make, with hammocks and pillows and pallets tossed about, that it seems very much the children's room it has become.  It's never locked anyway.  I have tried to move them to the crew quarters, but they all ended up back in the brig that night, except Slightly, who considers himself a crewman now.  He and Jukes still sleep close together, but they've kept to my order to sleep separately.

But back to Peter.  He's very much changed.  He's still the basic boy he always was, but his confidence is gone.  He is quiet and sad, no hint of cockiness left in him.  Sometimes he sees Tinker Bell and speaks to her.  I would say it's a sign that he's not quite sane, but I've heard her voice too.  He only sees her when he's at the edge of lucidity, when something called a 'void' looms near him.  This void is the pit of numbness his mind retreats to when reality becomes too much, and he has only to say that word for me or whoever is closest to him to keep him occupied.  As long as he can maintain focus on something, keep his mind active, he can push back the oblivion. 

He resents me, and I don't blame him.  He doesn't hate me; I don't think he has the emotional energy for that.  He seems tired all the time, regardless of how much he's slept, and sometimes he falls asleep no matter what he's doing, as if he cannot stop himself.  For the most part, he takes his solace from Nibs and Wendy, and the three are inseparable at times.  Oddly, he turns to me for security, even though he remembers with perfect clarity when I killed him.  There have been a few nights when his nightmares were so bad he decided to sleep with me, and I've learned from listening to him that I'm not the villain of his dreams.  Smee dotes on him, and he's got that man wrapped around his finger, though he doesn't know or exploit it. 

It pains me to see him this way.  He assists Smee or myself, head down and completely compliant.  I miss the cocky, willful, clever, mischievous little hellion he used to be.  I killed that child, and Peter is but his shadow.  I'd cut my hand off again if it would bring him back.