Title: Island
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. I do not own Hook.
Notes: Oh, this chapter was fun. Thank you again to the reviewers, especially Kimberly A and squeezynz. I fangirl them madly, because they write fantastic stories. But everyone else is fantastic fantastic, too.
Chapter Thirteen: Leverage
Hook stood, his eyes alive. One could see his fingers subtly tense around the crystal goblet.
He seemed to remember himself, and turned to Wendy, setting the glass down. He was debonair again, his gestures painting eloquence, his voice yards of velvet. Wendy thought perhaps she had imagined a change in him, for now, a moment later, he was a caricature, bowing to her deeply.
'I beg your pardon, my darling, but business is business.' The lure of Pan was irresistible, especially when the boy waltzed onto his ship unbidden. The Captain's oaths to ignore Pan dissipated like so much smoke. Hook exited precisely, drawing his blade.
Wendy heard the bar slide back into place, but continued to stare through the door, as if it would afford her a glimpse of the happenings beyond. She was very still, the glass of liquor forgotten in her hand.
The air was full of him. Hook could smell youth; through closed lips he could taste the crow and the mocking laughter that still saturated the space above him.
'Codfish,' said Hook's voice.
But the Captain had not spoken. He smiled, striding to the center of the deck, his hook idly running the length of his blade. The grind was distinctly sinister. It was a vintage sound, and Hook's eye flashed with delicious memory. He spoke with silken elocution. 'Your games are tiring, foolish boy.' Clearly, he thought otherwise.
'To whom do you speak, Codfish? I am James Hook!' Ah, familiarity. Pan remained unseen. Hook wondered what made the exchange so fresh, for it was almost exactly like all the others.
'Oh? Then what business have you with a codfish?' Leverage. He had leverage, he realized. Malleable or not, Wendy was still useful. Hook wore his devil's mouth.
'To take back my ship, naturally!'
'Your ship?' Hook seemed bemused, at best.
'Aye! My ship!' His stolen voice was moving, and Hook searched the heavens. But Pan as Hook was speaking again. 'Whose upkeep, I am sorry to observe, has been terribly neglected!' There came a great succession of snaps, as of ropes breaking, and then a great white wave of falling fabric. Peter Pan had cut a sail from its bindings. Hook had barely registered this development when his vision was blotted out completely, movement curtailed by yards of unyielding white.
Instantly, he was livid. It was awfully refreshing.
Peter Pan's crow was drowned by the roar from the great pirate Captain. He thrashed beneath the weight of the sail until his hook pierced its surface, carving an exit. He reassembled his dignity, and whirled to face the boy that now hovered behind him.
Even with a young man's face, Pan wore his old smirk well. Their eyes met for a moment of brimming silence.
Hook cried out and dealt the first blow. Pan met it gleefully, body airborne, perpendicular to Hook's. He let the pirate force him backwards until his feet touched the mast. Hook struck at the boy's crown of tangled hair, but Pan leapt off nimbly, turning a flip over the Captain's head. 'You're out of practice!'
'Out of practice!' scoffed Hook. The facts that the boy could be so tall and still move so well seemed an enormous injustice to the pirate. He thrust, and Pan parried, sword singing. 'I am merely indulging you, boy!'
'Many thanks, old man!' With both hands, Pan brought his sword crashing down onto Hook's, forcing the blade to the deck and the pirate into a crouch. Pan let his sword up, blithely using Hook's head as a stepping- stone into the air. Hook bellowed.
'Abominable boy!'
'Clumsy Codfish!' Pan's laugh became a crow. He hovered near the mast, gloating.
Hook advanced on him, not bothering to collect his pride. This was too perfect an opportunity. Before Pan had finished, Hook was upon him, forcing his sword arm down between hook and blade. With a jerk upward, Pan's sword was loosed from his hand, clattering to the deck. Hook kneed Pan in the stomach and brought a hand to his throat, forcing him to the mass with airless lungs.
Peter Pan was shocked. After countless years, this was still the first display of bad form.
Hook raised his steel hand to the sky, and his eyes were red. But his great cry died in his throat. A dagger cut through the air closest to his head, embedding into the mast just beside his hand. Hook spun about, ducking to collect his sword on the way.
Rufio stood on the deck.
Hook narrowed his eyes at the youth, and then whirled on Pan again. The boy, of course, was gone. Hook growled and turned back to Rufio, whose smile was much too subtle. He advanced on the boy, hardly noticing the Lost Boys that spilled onto the ship, nor the glimmer of Pan's fairy.
'A Lost Boy?' he mused. He had never seen this one before.
'Rufio,' said the boy.
'Rufio,' repeated Hook, drawing out the name. He smiled his villain's smile and held his sword at the ready.
Rufio nodded his head, and then struck. Hook blocked, and all the strokes after were violent ripples of clashing steel. The pirate recognized the blade with which the boy fought, despite its swiftness. He hid his surprise well, his voice nonchalant. 'You use Gregory's blade. He was a marvelous swordsman.'
'I was better.'
This one was almost as cocky as Pan. Hook chuckled, long and low. He arched a brow. 'But you cannot fly?' Rufio narrowed his eyes, but his retort was lost.
'No! He cannot!' It was Pan's yell; the boy was diving like a hawk toward them. They drew apart, and Pan faced Rufio, his blade up. 'What are you doing here?' he hissed.
Rufio's sword darted past Pan's head, blocking a blow from Hook aimed at Pan's shoulder. 'Saving your neck,' he said through clenched teeth. 'Though I can't say why I thought it might be appreciated.'
Pan did not seem to hear him. 'Hook's mine,' he said, his blade between his and Rufio's faces. Rufio's blockade was slipping, and Hook's eyes were mad. He barely had any time.
'What about Wendy?' he said, with pointed swiftness.
'Wendy,' breathed Pan. A dim light in his mind told him that the girl had hurt him, but it winked out in the heat of heroism. He deliberated for the briefest moment, and then said haltingly. 'Fine. Hold Hook off. Get the Boys back to the boats and get out.' He spoke as if the Captain was not just behind him, attempting to slice him in half. In the next breath he was gone.
'Brimstone and gall!' swore Hook. There was nothing left to look at but Rufio. He narrowed his eyes. 'You,' he spat.
'Me.'
The fury of Hook's next assault was terrifying, but Rufio's expression was hard. When their blades were caught, spraying sparks, Rufio shouted out, 'Tink! Tinker Bell!' The fairy was near; he could hear her miffed chiming. Her attitude on the journey over had been rather sulky. Rufio was too pressed to care. 'Get the boys to the boats. Now!' Hook was forcing him backward. Tinker Bell darted off.
Hook's eyes were brilliant. The upper hand was hanging before him. It had a distinct aroma; Hook thought, something akin to blood or a fine cigar in terms of esteem. Pan's interruption was fresh in his mind, and all at once the proper words were there on his tongue.
'You can't fly, Rufio,' he said, as if it were an epiphany.
'I can't fly.' Rufio bit out the words.
'Not even with fairy dust?'
'No.'
'But someone of your ego should not need it. All Pan needs are his happy thoughts.' There was the obligatory pause. Rufio's defense was failing, and Hook donned his pitying mask. 'Surely, you are not bereft of happy thoughts?'
'I do not need to fly!' shouted Rufio, striking blindly. Hook smiled. With practiced grace, he brought the pommel of his sword down on Rufio's wrist, and the boy's blade clattered to the deck. Hook forced him back the remaining distance to the railing. He found Rufio's eyes.
'Of course you don't.' With a great shout he struck a horizontal blow. Rufio threw himself backward to escape the brunt of it, and tumbled over the side of the ship.
There was a long silence, and no splash, only a distant thunk and the wet trundling of a jarred boat. Hook's brow wilted slightly, and he resisted the temptation to peer over the side. It was not a complete failure, after all. The tip of his blade was a damp, dark red. Rufio had not escaped his strike entirely.
He was just proclaiming this a gratifying victory when his hat was snatched cleanly off his head. Hook's eyes darted up.
Pan was grinning beneath a hat that fit him quite well now. His sword was sheathed, and in his arms was Wendy. Hook's expression fell. Pan nodded to him, then promptly flew off, followed again by Hook's curses.
Hook's voice quieted, and he surveyed the few moaning pirates the Lost Boys had felled, their blood staining the fallen sail. The blood on his blade was trivial. He turned away from the sight. With boiling insides and a furrowed brow, he bid his victory and his leverage a melancholy farewell.
His harpsichord would sing intemperate songs tonight.
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. I do not own Hook.
Notes: Oh, this chapter was fun. Thank you again to the reviewers, especially Kimberly A and squeezynz. I fangirl them madly, because they write fantastic stories. But everyone else is fantastic fantastic, too.
Chapter Thirteen: Leverage
Hook stood, his eyes alive. One could see his fingers subtly tense around the crystal goblet.
He seemed to remember himself, and turned to Wendy, setting the glass down. He was debonair again, his gestures painting eloquence, his voice yards of velvet. Wendy thought perhaps she had imagined a change in him, for now, a moment later, he was a caricature, bowing to her deeply.
'I beg your pardon, my darling, but business is business.' The lure of Pan was irresistible, especially when the boy waltzed onto his ship unbidden. The Captain's oaths to ignore Pan dissipated like so much smoke. Hook exited precisely, drawing his blade.
Wendy heard the bar slide back into place, but continued to stare through the door, as if it would afford her a glimpse of the happenings beyond. She was very still, the glass of liquor forgotten in her hand.
The air was full of him. Hook could smell youth; through closed lips he could taste the crow and the mocking laughter that still saturated the space above him.
'Codfish,' said Hook's voice.
But the Captain had not spoken. He smiled, striding to the center of the deck, his hook idly running the length of his blade. The grind was distinctly sinister. It was a vintage sound, and Hook's eye flashed with delicious memory. He spoke with silken elocution. 'Your games are tiring, foolish boy.' Clearly, he thought otherwise.
'To whom do you speak, Codfish? I am James Hook!' Ah, familiarity. Pan remained unseen. Hook wondered what made the exchange so fresh, for it was almost exactly like all the others.
'Oh? Then what business have you with a codfish?' Leverage. He had leverage, he realized. Malleable or not, Wendy was still useful. Hook wore his devil's mouth.
'To take back my ship, naturally!'
'Your ship?' Hook seemed bemused, at best.
'Aye! My ship!' His stolen voice was moving, and Hook searched the heavens. But Pan as Hook was speaking again. 'Whose upkeep, I am sorry to observe, has been terribly neglected!' There came a great succession of snaps, as of ropes breaking, and then a great white wave of falling fabric. Peter Pan had cut a sail from its bindings. Hook had barely registered this development when his vision was blotted out completely, movement curtailed by yards of unyielding white.
Instantly, he was livid. It was awfully refreshing.
Peter Pan's crow was drowned by the roar from the great pirate Captain. He thrashed beneath the weight of the sail until his hook pierced its surface, carving an exit. He reassembled his dignity, and whirled to face the boy that now hovered behind him.
Even with a young man's face, Pan wore his old smirk well. Their eyes met for a moment of brimming silence.
Hook cried out and dealt the first blow. Pan met it gleefully, body airborne, perpendicular to Hook's. He let the pirate force him backwards until his feet touched the mast. Hook struck at the boy's crown of tangled hair, but Pan leapt off nimbly, turning a flip over the Captain's head. 'You're out of practice!'
'Out of practice!' scoffed Hook. The facts that the boy could be so tall and still move so well seemed an enormous injustice to the pirate. He thrust, and Pan parried, sword singing. 'I am merely indulging you, boy!'
'Many thanks, old man!' With both hands, Pan brought his sword crashing down onto Hook's, forcing the blade to the deck and the pirate into a crouch. Pan let his sword up, blithely using Hook's head as a stepping- stone into the air. Hook bellowed.
'Abominable boy!'
'Clumsy Codfish!' Pan's laugh became a crow. He hovered near the mast, gloating.
Hook advanced on him, not bothering to collect his pride. This was too perfect an opportunity. Before Pan had finished, Hook was upon him, forcing his sword arm down between hook and blade. With a jerk upward, Pan's sword was loosed from his hand, clattering to the deck. Hook kneed Pan in the stomach and brought a hand to his throat, forcing him to the mass with airless lungs.
Peter Pan was shocked. After countless years, this was still the first display of bad form.
Hook raised his steel hand to the sky, and his eyes were red. But his great cry died in his throat. A dagger cut through the air closest to his head, embedding into the mast just beside his hand. Hook spun about, ducking to collect his sword on the way.
Rufio stood on the deck.
Hook narrowed his eyes at the youth, and then whirled on Pan again. The boy, of course, was gone. Hook growled and turned back to Rufio, whose smile was much too subtle. He advanced on the boy, hardly noticing the Lost Boys that spilled onto the ship, nor the glimmer of Pan's fairy.
'A Lost Boy?' he mused. He had never seen this one before.
'Rufio,' said the boy.
'Rufio,' repeated Hook, drawing out the name. He smiled his villain's smile and held his sword at the ready.
Rufio nodded his head, and then struck. Hook blocked, and all the strokes after were violent ripples of clashing steel. The pirate recognized the blade with which the boy fought, despite its swiftness. He hid his surprise well, his voice nonchalant. 'You use Gregory's blade. He was a marvelous swordsman.'
'I was better.'
This one was almost as cocky as Pan. Hook chuckled, long and low. He arched a brow. 'But you cannot fly?' Rufio narrowed his eyes, but his retort was lost.
'No! He cannot!' It was Pan's yell; the boy was diving like a hawk toward them. They drew apart, and Pan faced Rufio, his blade up. 'What are you doing here?' he hissed.
Rufio's sword darted past Pan's head, blocking a blow from Hook aimed at Pan's shoulder. 'Saving your neck,' he said through clenched teeth. 'Though I can't say why I thought it might be appreciated.'
Pan did not seem to hear him. 'Hook's mine,' he said, his blade between his and Rufio's faces. Rufio's blockade was slipping, and Hook's eyes were mad. He barely had any time.
'What about Wendy?' he said, with pointed swiftness.
'Wendy,' breathed Pan. A dim light in his mind told him that the girl had hurt him, but it winked out in the heat of heroism. He deliberated for the briefest moment, and then said haltingly. 'Fine. Hold Hook off. Get the Boys back to the boats and get out.' He spoke as if the Captain was not just behind him, attempting to slice him in half. In the next breath he was gone.
'Brimstone and gall!' swore Hook. There was nothing left to look at but Rufio. He narrowed his eyes. 'You,' he spat.
'Me.'
The fury of Hook's next assault was terrifying, but Rufio's expression was hard. When their blades were caught, spraying sparks, Rufio shouted out, 'Tink! Tinker Bell!' The fairy was near; he could hear her miffed chiming. Her attitude on the journey over had been rather sulky. Rufio was too pressed to care. 'Get the boys to the boats. Now!' Hook was forcing him backward. Tinker Bell darted off.
Hook's eyes were brilliant. The upper hand was hanging before him. It had a distinct aroma; Hook thought, something akin to blood or a fine cigar in terms of esteem. Pan's interruption was fresh in his mind, and all at once the proper words were there on his tongue.
'You can't fly, Rufio,' he said, as if it were an epiphany.
'I can't fly.' Rufio bit out the words.
'Not even with fairy dust?'
'No.'
'But someone of your ego should not need it. All Pan needs are his happy thoughts.' There was the obligatory pause. Rufio's defense was failing, and Hook donned his pitying mask. 'Surely, you are not bereft of happy thoughts?'
'I do not need to fly!' shouted Rufio, striking blindly. Hook smiled. With practiced grace, he brought the pommel of his sword down on Rufio's wrist, and the boy's blade clattered to the deck. Hook forced him back the remaining distance to the railing. He found Rufio's eyes.
'Of course you don't.' With a great shout he struck a horizontal blow. Rufio threw himself backward to escape the brunt of it, and tumbled over the side of the ship.
There was a long silence, and no splash, only a distant thunk and the wet trundling of a jarred boat. Hook's brow wilted slightly, and he resisted the temptation to peer over the side. It was not a complete failure, after all. The tip of his blade was a damp, dark red. Rufio had not escaped his strike entirely.
He was just proclaiming this a gratifying victory when his hat was snatched cleanly off his head. Hook's eyes darted up.
Pan was grinning beneath a hat that fit him quite well now. His sword was sheathed, and in his arms was Wendy. Hook's expression fell. Pan nodded to him, then promptly flew off, followed again by Hook's curses.
Hook's voice quieted, and he surveyed the few moaning pirates the Lost Boys had felled, their blood staining the fallen sail. The blood on his blade was trivial. He turned away from the sight. With boiling insides and a furrowed brow, he bid his victory and his leverage a melancholy farewell.
His harpsichord would sing intemperate songs tonight.
