Chapter 12

"Begorrah, Cap'n," Smee snapped in frustration, "it just won't work!  Th' shot grazed 'im, but it bit too deep.  Piece o' 'is skull's gone and th' bleedin' won't stop."  The old man gazed at the pale, bloody child and sighed.  "T'ain't nothin' more we can do fer th' lad, cept make 'im more comfortable-like."

Starkey groaned and held John tighter, unwilling to give up.  This was his apprentice and he'd grown fond of the boy.  "I'm sorry, Captain.  I thought he was getting better.  He was speaking more to me and he was opening up to you with his stories…"  He pressed the red cloth harder to the boy's wound and shook his head.  "I should have seen this coming."

Hook shook his head sadly.  "Aye, I thought the same as you, gentleman Starkey.  He was recovering, they all were recovering."  I hope none of the other children try this… how do I tell young Wendy?  And Peter witnessed it… At the thought of the fragile boy, Hook turned sharply and saw Peter sitting nearby.  The boy was staring at him, a strange look on his face, his eyes glittering.  "Master Pan, I ordered you to go to the brig," he growled.

"You can't save him, can you," Peter asked calmly.

Feeling a bit of relief at the boy's rational question, Hook replied, "No.  There's too much damage.  I'm sorry."

"I can save him," Peter said, standing.  "I will save him."

"How?" Starkey asked sharply, afraid to hope. 

"The same way I saved myself and healed Hook."  Peter walked to stand beside John and watched his friend for a moment.  Then he turned to Hook, determined in his course, no matter the cost.  "You'll take care of them?  Of me?"

"Peter, what are you going to do?" Hook asked.

Peter sat and took John's hand in his own.  "When you cut me, I felt myself dying.  I was so scared and I panicked."  He stared at Hook, and the man was stunned by the intensity of that gaze.  "I don't understand exactly how I did it, but I know what I did.  This is my fault and I'm going to fix it.  I'm going to fix them all."  He shook his head when Hook tried to interrupt.  "I don't have time to explain it to you.  John is dying!  I'll show him the truth, everything I know, and he'll tell you what I've done."  Peter felt the pain flare in his heart and his eyes welled up with tears.  I hurt my friends, I used them.  It doesn't matter that I had no choice, I still hurt them.

"Peter?" Hook called, worried.  He didn't want John to die, but if Peter was going to do something dangerous, he'd rather let John die than Peter.  John had made his choice, no matter how wrong it was.  But Peter's making a choice too… is he rational enough to be allowed to make it?

"Promise you'll take care of them," Peter demanded.  "I don't know what will happen to me, so promise me you'll take care of them."

"Don't do anything rash," Hook cautioned.  "I'll take care of all of you, I promise, but your friends need you."

Peter smiled a bit.  "Thank you," he whispered.  He closed his eyes, gripping John's hand tightly as he reached for the spark within himself… the spark that had been nearly extinguished not so long ago.  Touching the magic lightly, he followed its thread outside himself, finding the deep, yet far away well-spring of power.  He shuddered as he began to draw the power into himself along that link, making the spark flare up into a flame.  It burned him, quickly becoming an inferno too large for anything mortal to hope to contain, and he knew that it was hurting him.  He hadn't healed enough from the last time, and his soul couldn't tolerate this much so soon.  It doesn't matter, he told himself, concentrating harder.  He felt his control begin to slip as he drew more than he could hope to contain, and he knew he had to expend it now or die.

Frantically, he cast about, finding the minds of his friends, feeling the ragged holes inside them… the holes he'd ripped into them.  Once mind flickered, the one he felt the strongest contact with and he recognized it as John.  "I'm sorry," he whispered to them all as he pushed.  Pain consumed him, burning and tearing, blinding him.  He poured everything inside him, first to the flickering life that was all that remained of John, then to the nine other damaged spirits he saw.  Wendy, Nibs, Slightly, Billy, Twins, Curly, Tootles, Michael.  He'd hurt them all, but he'd make it right now.  It was almost more than he could bear, but he focused, continuing despite the pain.  Last time it had hurt worse, it had been uncontrolled and desperate and it had shattered his mind and devastated the other children.  This time he would protect them all, and he would keep control though it cost him his soul. 

And then it was gone, the spark consumed and his connection to the power broken.  He fell into darkness, numb, but he still managed a faint smile when he saw the others now glowed bright and whole, ten spirits strong.  And then he was gone.

Mullins and Billy sat outside the brig, sitting quietly with the other children.  Everyone had heard the gunshot, had heard Peter's scream.  And no one missed that two children were missing from the brig.  Wendy sat in the middle of the room, holding Michael to her tightly while whispering comforting words to the boy.  Nibs sat beside her, one hand clasped in hers.  None of the other children spoke – they were too haunted by their own fears and dark imaginations to put voice to their thoughts. 

"Did you see what happened?" Billy whispered to Mullins, staring through the bars at his friend.  Slightly was comforting Tootles, but occasionally glanced up at him, looking for reassurance. 

"No, but Smee came to the kitchen for some stuff, said that John shot himself," Mullins whispered back, making sure that none of the children heard him.

"What!" Billy squeaked.  He calmed in an instant when he saw all of the other children looking at him curiously.  "Oh, shit," he whispered back, covering his mouth with his hand.  "This is gonna kill Wendy."

Mullins merely nodded.  "That's why we gotta keep them locked in here for now.  If the boy dies, we need to make sure they don't do nothin' rash.  They just started getting back to normal, and this happens."

Suddenly, Billy gasped.  His eyes went wide as he grasped Mullins's arm for support, his entire body rigid.  "PETER!" he screamed, the sound echoed by the other children in the brig. 

"Billy?" Mullins called in alarm.  The boy went limp, falling into the man's arms as he passed into unconsciousness.  "Billy!" Mullins called louder, looking around for help.  As his eyes passed over the bars of the brig, his breath caught in his throat.  All of the children lay silent in the room, their eyes closed as if asleep.  What the Hell?  It's no coincidence that they all fainted at the same time… "MASON!  COOKSON!" he yelled as he bent over the dark boy, frantically checking for any sign of injury or sickness.  He called for Pan… did that boy do this?

Hook caught Peter as the child's body went limp and toppled over.  "Peter?" he called, lightly slapping the boy in an effort to revive him.  The boy's skin was ashen and cold, and the man felt a bolt of fear strike into his heart.  Frantically he felt for a pulse, and gave a sob of relief when he detected the faint heartbeat.

"Cap'n, what jus' happened?" Smee whispered in awe.  They had all seen the bright flare of light that had surrounded Peter and flowed into John.  They'd heard Peter scream, heard the children below echoing the cry.  Then it had abruptly disappeared.

"I don't know," Hook muttered, lifting the boy and carrying him to the bed.

Starkey blinked, trying to clear his vision of the afterimage of the glow that had surrounded the boy in his arms. Gingerly he pulled the cloth from John's head to replace it, but he paused when he beheld the boy's wound.  "Captain!" he yelled as he began prodding John's scalp, searching for the hole.  Hook knelt beside him as he parted the boy's hair to reveal an oval scar where the bullet had gouged him.  "He's healed!" Starkey gasped.  His probing fingers verified that there was bone beneath the skin.

Hook took stock of the child, then glanced up at Peter.  "The little bastard did it," he muttered in wonder.  Relief for John and worry for Peter sent conflicts through him.  But at what cost to himself did he gain this miracle?

"Lad's still too pale," Smee observed.  He pressed one of John's fingernails, noting how the bed didn't immediately turn pink again when he released it.  "Ought'a live, but he's sufferin' from bloodlack."

"Clean him up, Mr. Starkey, and put him in my bed with Peter," Hook ordered.  "Smee, go find out what happened to the other children."  While he waited, Hook poured stiff drinks for himself and Starkey.  As Starkey laid the boy beside his friend, Hook stared at their wan faces.  So pale, so fragile, both of them in nearly deathlike sleep.  Why these two, the two children I've grown the fondest of?  Why must everything I come to care for be destroyed?  Great Goddess Artemis, protector of children, please watch over my boys.