AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is picking up where Kimberly Appelcline's "The
First Kiss" fanfic leaves off (you can find the fic on this very site),
somewhere halfway through the epilogue. Kimberly's story, in turn, is a
continuation of P.J. Hogan's movie Peter Pan, which is of course a version
of J.M. Barrie's novel Peter Pan, which is in itself a sequel (of sorts) to
Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens (also by Barrie - which can be read at
gutenberg.net). Confused yet? ;-)
FINALLY! Yes, after a loooong hiatus, here is Chapter XVIII! I took my time writing it, as it is a very crucial chapter and I did not want to just throw something together. It is also the longest one yet but for good reason!
(and P.S. – only one more chapter to go after this, which may take just as long, if not longer, than this one, so please be patient and bear with me!)
So after long last, here's Chapter XVIII.......Comments please! :-)
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XVIII. A NEW DAY
All was still and quiet in the little room behind the captain's quarters, save for the rhythmic thumping of Wendy's heart, which beat monotonously in Captain Hook's ear. It had not changed in tempo a whit for the entire duration of their residence within the bedchamber. She had not uttered a word nor moved a muscle unless under direct insistence from Hook himself. And she had not given him her Kiss.
As Hook at last slowly and sluggishly brought himself from upon her and into a seated stance before her, he gazed upon the soulless body and realized that she could not possibly give him her Kiss, for this thing lying beneath him, this hollow creature, was truly not The Wendy at all. It was only but a shell, hollowed out by his own greed and maliciousness.
But looking at her now, following what should have been his long-awaited redemption, he was quite disturbed at how little at all he felt. He was dismayed by how he could possibly be so dissatisfied. Neverland was under his complete power, his one mortal enemy was, to his knowledge, lying dead on Blind Man's Bluff, and he had at last taken the fair Wendy as his own. Yet as he sat there upon that gaudy bed inside that dim room, he never felt more empty or alone.
The debauched pirate watched the steady rising and lowering of Wendy's abdomen as she breathed. He let his hand settle listlessly upon her ribcage and with his hook he drew an invisible line from her solar plexus to her navel, all the time thinking how he might like to cut her open right there and snatch out her tediously beating heart with his bare hand. Perhaps then, he may feel some connection with her.
One man with everything he had ever dreamed ultimately under his iron claw, and he rather fancied weeping. 'Twas the tragedy of James Hook.
As was wont with the captain, he quickly remembered himself and sought to replace tears with solutions. Never having gotten anywhere by being soft and a slave to sentiments, he began poring over in his mind what he could possibly do to right these quandaries. He knew that in order for Wendy to give him the elusive Kiss, she would have to be of her own mind. He would have to reverse the potion. He needed a fairy's antidote.
But what then after she is restored to her former existence? Could he really expect her to bestow upon him that which Heaven itself so craved? As arrogant as Hook was, even he could not truly believe himself to be deserving of so divine a gift. But try something – anything – he must. He had come far too close to perfection to turn away and give up on it now.
With an indignant wipe of his eyes across the back of his hand, the defiant pirate captain attentively redressed Wendy in her rumpled white nightgown. He smoothed out her hair, so like a thick silken blanket, against the pillows, and placed her hands, folded, across her chest. She was so breathtaking, even for a shell, that it almost incensed Hook to bitterly recall how she had willingly given all this beauty to the likes of Peter Pan. How dreadful a waste!
And right then was Hook's sudden rise of ire met with an equally thunderous clatter from outside his bedchamber. His gaze snapped doorward and his irritation was instantly exacerbated. One of his insolent crewmen must be outside the door craning for a cheap peek. Well, he would get a taste of cold steel soon enough.
Now fully agitated, Hook forcefully tossed Wendy's knee from beside him and climbed from upon the bed. He quickly threw on his fancy white shirt from off the washstand and held his hook ominously at the ready. Cautiously he crept through the lattice doors and from behind the tapestry shielding it. There appeared to be not a soul within his quarters – at least not a human one. From the ornate windows within could he discern a most curious blushing glow emanating into his cabin.
Just then, he heard another brief raucous from outside the main door. Oh, the sneaky scoundrel was surely to get his now! Hook tiptoed to his desk and retrieved a revolver from a top drawer. He stepped lightly toward the door, and with the merest push against it with his claw, it opened to greet a most refreshing and optimistic little breeze.
The happy little gust made Hook cringe and almost bade him go back inside, but he would not let some wind keep him from making shark bait of an officious subordinate. Thus he stepped outside fully, and I daresay he nearly dropped his pistol right then at what he saw.
It was the earliest implications of morning, and though still rather dark, this brand of night was wholly different. It was not the inky blackness of a frozen tundra that Hook had long ago demanded of the island. No longer were the seas still and lifeless. No more were there gloomy clouds casting their bitter shadows upon the proud moon.
The island glowed with a soft violet hue; the ocean water churned and rolled happily with nary a hint of ice; and the clouds gladly gave way for the brilliant moon, all the time shimmering of a most dreadful color to Hook's cold blue eyes...
*Pink*, he muttered inside his head, for to say the word aloud would taste of such filth in his mouth.
Neverland was all of a sudden the bounding picture of beauty and lightheartedness that Hook had for so long kept under tight repression. He now stood agape before an entire world that was his nemesis – a world that did not accept him but only those of the purest hearts and faith. When just hours before he held the reigns upon every breath of air to circulate through Neverland, he suddenly found himself but an unwelcome outsider.
With hand and hook trembling, the captain skulked out from the shadows of his cabin door to take an unwanted yet necessary closer look at the waking nightmare before him. Having forgotten all about the intruder to his quarters, he fixed his eyes seaward, where he could just decipher the first indications of a dastardly sunrise on the horizon.
With Hook's attentions clearly occupied elsewhere other than his cabin door, he noticed not when a tiny dot of light darted from the rear of the ship behind him and inside his quarters. The swift sprite dashed about the room, looking for the other side of the porthole that it had gazed through earlier in the night. Small as she was, she was quickly able to come upon the hidden door behind the tapestry, and therein did she find Wendy, still lying entranced and staring blankly up toward the ceiling. The fairy flew in a circle just above Wendy's face, sprinkling a very special dose of dust upon her. And with a mighty gasp just as the fairy darted off, Wendy's eyes lit up and she sat straight forward, breathing heavily – all at once again renewed; her body, mind, and soul all having been restored just as they were before taking that dreadful elixir. No memories of what had occurred during her spell, and her body no longer having known the vile touch of the pirate captain Hook.
Outside, Hook had nary the time to process a thought on the matters before him when he was suddenly struck from behind – a most forceful blow upon his back which sent him careening toward the railing of the upper deck. He landed, facedown, but inches from the banister, but the impact left his pistol not quite so lucky, and it went spilling over the side in between the bars and onto the deck below.
Wendy, her eyes still adjusting to her most peculiar surroundings, heard this din, and with every intention of making her way from this desolate little room she suddenly found herself in, she raced for the lattice doors and toward the thumping sound she had discerned.
Hook quickly scrambled to his back to confront the beast who had hit him, but there was not a foe to be found. Perhaps it had come from the roof of his cabin, and so Hook grappled to his feet, eyes cast aftward, using the railing for leverage. But when his hand came down upon it, it did not meet with wood. Rather it felt soft and warm, almost as flesh. Hook turned his head around and saw he was indeed grasping a human foot. A smallish foot. Quite a familiar foot.
Thus did Hook's eyes ascend toward what was attached to that foot, and that leg, and the narrow hips, and the small bare chest, until finally it rested upon the eyes. And the smug smile proceeding the raising of a shoddy sword to Hook's throat. But the pirate scarcely noticed the sword. What his eyes set upon now was even worse than all the rollicking waves or pink clouds he had just been admonishing.
'Twas when Wendy came hastily bounding from within the cabin, bursting through the main door. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Hook only meters away, on bended knee just before the railing. Upon hearing her approach, he turned and looked at her, a most disturbed expression twisting upon his already cynical face. But it was not due to Wendy's sudden liberation from his misguided spell. What he was kneeling before gave him great cause for concern indeed, thus Wendy allowed her own eyes to drift toward the source of his discomfort.
There, standing upon the top of the railing in a most defiant challenge to gravity, was a boy. But no ordinary boy. Indeed, a most wonderful boy. A boy who radiated such a glorious aura that one might mistake him for a very large fairy himself, had his absence of wings not given him away. This was a boy whose visage had for so many years graced the precious dreams of countless children, including Wendy's, longing ever so much to never grow up. In fact, this boy's face might be the very reason dreams were invented.
And no one knew this face better than Wendy. For it was the heartless face of Peter Pan.
"I've got you now, Hook!" crowed the boy in a voice that had not touched a single ear in nearly a score. And upon Wendy's intrusion onto the scene, he shot her a glance and gave her a respectful nod of the head. "Fear not, lady, for I shall save you!"
But Wendy could not reply. She could scarcely breathe. She silently prayed she was merely still under Hook's spell and was having a ghastly nightmare – the worst one of all. The one that had so plagued her in the first years of her marriage.
It simply could not *be*.
And what was ever so much worse was that this boy seemed to not know Wendy at all.
Hook, on the other hand, was not quite so moved. If his lengthy residence in Neverland had taught him nothing else, it was to expect the unexpected. Peter Pan had escaped death at his hand – or hook – times before, thus the captain was not wholly taken aback by this fresh curiosity before him. It was a great feeling of inconvenience that consumed Hook now. And all he could think to do was rid himself one last desperate time of this proud and insolent youth.
And so, with a terrible snarl aimed upon Peter Pan – standing so erect in nothing more than the workpants Wendy's husband had earlier been wearing rolled up to the knees and cinched hastily at the waist with some vines – Hook bellowed upon his ship:
"ALL HANDS!!!"
And in a flash, Hook's hideous band of shipmates came pouring from every side of the Jolly Roger, weapons at the ready, and surrounded Hook and the Boy. But the latter appeared quite indifferent. In fact, his smugness only seemed to intensify. And in response to Hook's call to arms, the Boy shouted out an order himself:
"NOW!"
And with that, the pirate ship was suddenly scaled and overrun with a most overwhelming number of Indians. They did not wait for any further orders from their leader but rather charged straight away toward their pirate targets. They infiltrated every level of the deck, including Hook's cabin whereupon Wendy was forced to retreat back therein.
Hook, as yet unarmed, took full advantage of the sudden distractions around them to coil his lone weapon – his iron claw – around Peter Pan's ankle and pull violently forward, attempting to trip up the boy. However, Pan was too light and merely spun into a startled back-flip in mid-air, but he was caught off guard just enough for Hook to be able to reach out and grab hold of the boy's trousers and toss him most violently into the outside cabin wall behind them. Peter crashed hard into the thick wood, his sword falling from his hand and clunking listlessly into the doorway of Hook's cabin.
With great haste did Peter grapple to regain himself and his sword before Hook could get to it first. But before either one of them could lay claim to it, Peter's hand swooped down upon where the sword had fallen to find it was no longer there. Instead, it was presently being held aloft by the lovely lady whom Peter had seen standing in the doorway just moments before.
There Wendy stood, sword brandished, hands trembling, and heart pounding. She did not look at Peter – she dared not to, for to look upon him might make the nightmare real. Thus she kept her eyes fixed in the opposite direction, at Hook, standing and waiting guardedly for what Wendy might do. She had so very little recourse to express or even process all the thoughts and emotions racing through her head at that moment. She knew she needed to react, but she knew not how or to whom.
But as her gaze settled more steadily upon Captain Hook, a subtle rage began to boil within her. So many terrible things were afoot, things she could not understand, and only did that evil pirate seem the root of it all. She must strike out. And the foreboding figure before her was as appropriate a target as any.
Taking both Peter Pan and Hook by surprise, Wendy took a fierce charge at the captain, swinging Peter's sword violently, missing Hook by mere inches but inducing him into a deep crouch upon the deck floor, just at the top of the stairs leading to the deck below.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Peter called out, quite offended that this intrusive lady was purloining his opponent.
Recovering from her clumsy follow-through, Wendy observed Hook's precarious positioning, and she quickly stepped forward to nudge Hook harshly upon his hip with her foot, sending the pirate tumbling down the short flight of stairs, stopping only whence colliding with the broad mizzenmast centered upon the main deck. Wendy briskly followed on foot, the sword's aim never wavering from Hook's throat.
Peter may very well have followed too had he not been promptly distracted by his loyal fairy, Tinker Bell, sprinting up from the decks below to tug on and jingle excitedly into Peter's ear.
"What?" Peter blurted as he listened, feeling most put out. "*Now*?"
Yes, Tinker Bell was quite insistent.
"Alright, if I must!"
Thus Peter swooped down from atop the upper deck and stealthily made his way around warring Indians and bloodthirsty pirates so that he may access the ship's grim hold below. Under Tinker Bell's guidance was he able to find that for which he was searching – a small cage chained to the wall containing an anxious little boy.
Peter, not quite knowing how a predicament such as this could have occurred without his knowledge, decided ultimately not to ask questions but to liberate the boy as Tinker Bell had requested.
"Fear not, I shall set you free," Peter avowed, diving down toward the notch on the far wall where the keys hung unguarded.
Anthony, feeling quite groggy and achy as if just awakening from a long, deep sleep, open and shut his eyes several times to try and make heads or tails of the curious older boy floating before his prison. He rather thought he should know this boy, but alas, he could not possibly.
"Who are you?" Anthony asked.
"I am Peter Pan!" the boy proclaimed with much pride, speedily unlocking and unlatching the cage door.
"Oh!" Anthony exclaimed cheerily, stepping outside, "Just like my father!"
But this Peter Pan suddenly froze and became quite threatening at these words.
"I am like *nobody's* 'father'," he sneered.
Anthony, never having been easily frightened before, now found himself suddenly quite intimidated by this older boy, and he knew not else what to do but nod his head rapidly in compliance with his firm statement.
But then, quite incredibly, as effortlessly as you and I might flip a light switch, so how did Peter Pan instantly slip back into his merry disposition!
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Um...Anthony," came the staggered reply.
Peter rose once again into the air and amiably gestured for Anthony to follow him back up the stairs leading from out of the hold.
"Well, Anthony, let's go kill us some pirates!"
Suddenly feeling quite exuberant, Anthony braced himself to follow and rocked on the balls of his feet so as to rise to meet this Peter Pan. But alas, he stayed absolutely put. Again he tried to lift himself, but it was for naught. And so he remained frozen upon the floor below the stairs.
Peter sensed the boy named Anthony was not following, and so he turned to see what might be keeping him. Upon seeing the awfully concerned expression on Anthony's face, Peter asked, "What's wrong?"
Incredulously, Anthony replied, "I cannot fly!"
Peter made quite the rhetorical face and said, "Of course you cannot fly. I haven't yet taught you how!"
As completely befuddled by this statement as Anthony was, he was fairly loathe to ask any further questions of this strange and daunting young boy with his father's namesake. Thus he remained mum as he followed him up the stairs, whereupon they were hastily bombarded with a dozen or more battle- ready pirates...
On the main deck, amidst a whirl of chaos and bloodshed, a menacing stillness encircled the immediate area around the main mast. Captain Hook leaned sitting against it, the tip of Peter Pan's sword aimed squarely at his jugular. And on the other end of that sword, a wholly displeased Wendy stood tall over him.
She looked down upon him with narrow eyes, knowing that just one small lunge forward and the wicked pirate's doom would be sealed. Yet she could not quite talk herself into pulling this trigger. And incredibly, Hook made no move to defend himself, even with an iron claw attached to his arm. Instead, he met Wendy's gaze and fiercely searched for one last gleam of compassion from this honorable woman. But she was wise to keep her distance enough so as not to be further influenced by his icy blue eyes.
"Wendy," Hook attempted his plea, "Hast thou so soon forgotten how you quivered beneath my touch?"
But this incitation was quickly met with a cautioning press upon his throat with the tip of her sword.
"I never quivered," she retorted with venom. "I shuddered."
I daresay the depraved pirate had yet to encounter so wounding as these words. And akin to any injured beast, he could only respond in kind.
His lips curled into a livid snarl, thus quickly warning Wendy that a real fight may shortly ensue. Thus the very instant she saw Hook raise his claw to pitch aside her sword, she withdrew it herself first in favor of her clenched left fist, which she allowed to ferociously collide with Hook's cheek. The blow quite literally flung the captain aside, but Wendy knew she had only mere moments to shake off her bloody knuckles before Hook would come back up swinging himself.
But the adrenaline coursing through her veins was no match for the wounded and unarmed pirate now, and as he bolted back upright, she brought up her sword anew and with all her might swung it toward his head. Hook hit the deck, and her blade missed him literally by a hair – slicing off a goodly clump of his black curls as the sword wedged into the mast.
Hook struggled heartily to ascend upright, but before he could fully gain his footing, Wendy tore the sword from out of the mast and began to swing her it violently at him, bereft of any skill or strategy, so that Hook had nary a logical method with which to defend himself properly against this crazed onslaught. His only means of resistance was to continue to ward off sporadic blows with his hook and to stumble backwards, giving little notice to how cunningly he was being lured toward the open plank scupper on the starboard side of the ship...
A handful of Indians had come to the aid of Peter Pan and Anthony, frightfully outnumbered by their pirate foes in the hold. Little Anthony had not yet faced real combat until this time, and as heartily as he may have been anticipating such a day, he was rather dismayed to discover how curiously ill-adept he was at such exploits! Countless were the incidences when he found himself hopelessly on the brink of defeat when his new companion Peter Pan would have to swoop in with only seconds to spare in order to, yet again, rescue the boy from further peril. It was a most distressing state of affairs indeed.
Dangerously close to the portentous opening within the gunwall Hook was, and Wendy, seizing her chance, took one last fearsome swipe of her sword across the pirate's chest. Hook attempted yet another step backward, but his left ankle unhappily met with the left side of the scupper, and with a grotesque flail did he lurch backwards in between the edges of the opening where the nasty plank was presently absent. Thankfully for Hook was he able to catch the railing of the gunwall with his claw, clamping down upon it as his dug his heels onto the deck floor. But still his left side flung hazardously overboard, and a quick glimpse toward the waters below boasted a most terrifying sight for the pirate – swimming in a most ominous circle straight beneath were the mermaids, gazing up at the endangered captain with hungry eyes, awaiting his tumble into their deadly siren's grasp.
Imaging a torturous death at the mermaids' hands far more poetically gruesome than being swallowed whole by a crocodile, Hook gave a mighty throw of his dangling body back toward the scupper and pulled himself forward through the hole with his other hand now able to grasp the opposite railing. But he was not to gain much advantage, as before he could scarcely lug his backside back onto the safety of the deck's edge, Wendy had confronted upon him, crouching down before him between his knees, the entire blade of her sword directly under his chin.
She may very well have slit his throat right then, her fortified knuckles digging into his flesh being all that stood between her blade and his blood. But, alas, something stayed her hand.
Having likely forgotten herself during her temporary lapse into madness, Wendy dared to one more time stare into the cold eyes of Captain Hook. But she fancied something wholly different within these tiny blue seas. Something she could not recall having perceived before from the likes of this embittered pirate. As he stared back up at her, breathing in heavy and shaky breaths, his eyes swam in a dull blanket of true sadness...of true fear. 'Twas then whence Wendy realized that her free hand was affixed firmly upon his heart-space.
Hook was aware of this too, and fortifying his clutch onto the scupper with his claw, he removed his one good hand from the railing and pressed it against hers, his eyes never straying from her own. If any doubts had before existed as to whether or not a functioning heart really did reside within the evil captain's chest, Wendy had her fingers affected upon the truth of the matter now.
Thus did Wendy suddenly feel her own heart long to reach out to him, this pathetic, depraved man, with nothing but a shoddy sword between he and the fairer sex wielding it. How could she not feel pity? One could make quite the case out of the notion that Wendy's much honored warmth and compassion, although her very finest virtues, were just as equally her greatest hubris.
"Wendy," Hook beseeched one last time. "Must it end this way between us?"
Indeed, could she really commit such an act, to kill a man with her bare hands simply because she found herself in such a position to do so? Hook surely thought not. But what of Peter? And Anthony? What of Wendy herself even?
"I..." began Wendy's dubious reply, "I suppose it must."
Hook squeezed her hand anxiously. "Very well. Then if it is to be so, might I...entreat of you...one final request?"
In the name of Good Form, how was Wendy to refuse? It could easily have been another one of Hook's dastardly tricks, but the curse of his eyes negated such considerations from entering Wendy's mind.
And with a merciful nod, thus did she tread right into his design.
"Yes."
A wistful grin happened upon Hook's face. "One last kiss from the Fair Wendy?"
The hopeful yet utterly pitiable gleam in Hook's eyes would have been enough, but whence she saw them begin to grow moist and glassy, she knew it to be fair too cruel to decline him this one simple plea.
And so, letting her sword drift down and sit harmlessly upon Hook's knee, Wendy warily leaned forward, not letting her eyes wander off of his, until at last she allowed their lips to come together.
At last had the marvelous moment arrived whence Wendy herself would willingly place her Heavenly Kiss upon the captain. Soon shall he become a new man, atoned, absolved of his corruption and wantonness, free from the shackles of all the wicked deeds and thoughts and feelings that had consumed him for centuries. Oh, sweet liberty had finally come!
But alas, as Wendy pulled back gently from him, believing her duty to be aptly fulfilled, Hook remained, eyes closed, brow furrowed, as if concentrating very hard on feelings that were most regrettably destined not to come. No ringing bells, no turning pink, no great epiphanies, no soaring through the air in ecstasy...nothing but the same dreadful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
'Twas then that the wretched old pirate let his eyelids part, and the spell they had held upon Wendy was instantly quashed. No longer were these the eyes of a pitiful man yearning desperately for redemption. I daresay Wendy's Hidden Kiss imparted quite the contrary effect on Captain Hook as it had on her beloved Peter.
Indeed, Hook found himself not the picture of glory as he had foreseen – he was sadly so very more shrouded in loathing and disgust than ever he had been before.
And Wendy instantly became afraid. But she had not a chance at all to react before Hook's hand cruelly wrenched itself from hers and knocked Peter's sword from her fist. The upending of her wrist upon his knee nudged her slightly forward, far enough for Hook to swing his arm back and tightly around her neck. She began to struggle and push on him until he quite deliberately let himself lean backwards across the scupper, taking her with him as he hung precariously over the side of his ship. Wendy also soon saw the mermaids below, and she knew all too well that despite their great aid to her so many times in the past, they would not think twice about dragging even her down to a watery grave.
"I am so sorry, m'dear," Hook taunted, "but if one of us is to die, I would much rather it be you."
The captain was regrettably beyond reproach now, which made it wholly easier for Wendy to fight for her life and for her life only this time. But there was scarcely anywhere for her to go, and so she attempted to wriggle out from under Hook's arm, but to little avail.
A new raucous sprung from the other side of the ship when suddenly a mad rush emanated from the hold. Out from under pounced a great number of victorious Indians, some wielding freshly obtained scalps, some rather frazzled pirates, and also two bruised yet zealous little boys battling their way back onto the main deck of the ship. Peter Pan crowed loudly as he cleaved to the brisket another lowly buccaneer, and Anthony once again nodded his obligation to the older boy for bailing him from another lost battle. But by this time, Peter was well on his way to another conquest, leaving Anthony to find trouble elsewhere.
He needn't search long when he heard a most horrible yet familiar cry from the starboard side of the ship. His head was blown instantly in that direction, whereupon he saw the ghastly struggle between Wendy and Hook within the plank scupper. And without even thinking about it, he heard himself cry:
"Mummy!"
His new mission now wholly clear, Anthony raced toward the starboard gunwall as fast as his grounded little legs could take him. Could he still fly, he would have easily been able to evade the many obstacles that lay between he and his mother, but of course he could not any longer, and so he had to make his way to his target on foot, dodging cutlasses here, turning away daggers there, running through a meddlesome adversary or three, all so automatic as his determination to save his mother carried him fearlessly through this horrible sea of mayhem.
At last did he find himself within proper distance of Wendy and Hook, and with a resolute swipe of his dagger, he carved a monstrous gash down the outside of Hook's arm. At once did the pirate cry out in pain and throw his arm back. And before Wendy could go tumbling into the waters below, Anthony grabbed hold of her and hoisted her up onto the deck.
Wendy wasted not a moment of claiming the upper hand, and upon regaining her footing, she spun around to face the captain, now in imminent danger of slipping overboard. And for likely the very first time, she truly saw Captain Hook.
This was not a man to be pitied. He deserved no pity. He was beyond redemption – 'twas not ever meant for him. He was only to be reviled and disavowed; to be kept under tight lock-and-key in the most vacuous and shameful nightmares. To allow him to slither into your thoughts and emotions was to be tempted by the very Devil himself. Wendy could see this now. How very foolish and weak-willed she had been. But no longer.
And with one final liberating kick, she shoved the pirate over the scupper to render him completely suspended over the side of the ship by nothing more than his hook.
He thrashed about violently, trying to claw his way back to the railing with his free hand. Almost in reflex did his eyes drift downwards, and a shiver engulfed him as he saw a most macabre sight – the mermaids, now in a perfect diamond-shaped formation, all with their arms outstretched upwards to him, beckoning him into their deadly lair.
Hook quickly spun back around to make one final effort to hoist himself up, but he froze when he saw the two wholly disgusted faces staring back down on him – and the hands attached to these faces ominously gripping his claw.
With her fingers wrapped tightly around his hook, Wendy gazed one last time into the piercing blue eyes, only to see the true abhorrence within. Thus Hook knew instantly that he could no longer appeal to Wendy. His spell on her had been utterly broken. And he was doomed.
So it was with great peculiarity that Hook's reaction to his imminent fate was a rather inconvenienced rolling of his eyes, as if more annoyed than afraid. And upon perceiving his admission of defeat, Wendy, with the help of her son, pried Hook's claw from out of the ship's railing, and so very ceremoniously did they let it slip from their hands and over the side.
Only the merest of gasps emanated from Hook's mouth as he went sailing toward the water below. He was instantly caught by the mermaids before he even graced the surface, and converging upon him like a school of piranha, the eerie sirens lead the pirate down to Davy Jones's locker.
And just like that, all battles aboard the ship ceased. The pirates suddenly threw down their weapons and fled below decks whilst some others boarded the dinghy and rowed out to sea. The Indians gave out quite the din of war cries and began to dance in victorious celebration.
Wendy fell to her knees and flung her arms around Anthony, who, I am happy to report, quite gladly returned the gesture in kind. She embraced him tighter than she had ever dared to just a day before. And it was the sweetest paradise she had happened upon in quite some time. But her brief respite of contentment was quickly infringed upon by a most spirited young boy come to stand before them, casting disappointed glances over the ship's railing.
"Oh, you didn't wait for me!" Peter Pan whined, staring into the now-still waters below. But just as quickly, he straightened and shrugged. "Oh well, I shall get him next time."
Wendy blinked away subtle tears as she stared up at the boy. In her vehemence to overcome Hook, she had nearly forgotten this most curious and unsettling phenomenon.
Next time? There was to be a next time?
Gingerly, Wendy rose to her feet, her stomach twisting in knots as she found herself having to look *down* upon he who was once her beloved husband but now a mere fresh-faced young boy.
"Peter..." was all she could manage.
Upon hearing the name, Anthony right then had an epiphany. "Mummy! Where is Daddy?"
Wendy froze, but Peter spoke instead.
"Aw, you brought BOTH your parents here?" he scolded Anthony.
The younger boy looked away sheepishly, quite nervous. "Well, no...You see, they came here themselves to find me and take me home." His brow lowered as if he himself was fairly surprised by what he was about to say: "And...I think...I should like to go back after all."
He looked up at his mother as if she might hold the answer as to why he would suddenly want to leave Neverland. But she had no answers at all. However, her delight at hearing Anthony's alarming decision served as a very temporary tonic for her current plight.
"Is this all right with you, Mummy?" Anthony asked with wide, precious eyes.
She ran her fingers through his hair. "Yes, of course it is, my darling."
"Oh, come now!" Peter broke in. "Wouldn't you rather stay here and become a Lost Boy?"
Anthony backed up against his mother, should his response raise the ire of this lad.
"But," he began, "I am not lost anymore."
At first, Peter seemed confused by this statement, but a quick glance at the boy's lovely mother and he understood, and he sighed.
"Very well. Perhaps you can come back and visit sometime."
Wendy was very near fainting as Peter continued to speak in such permanent terms. Surely, this was just some illusion. Some very horrible, transitory illusion.
"So you are truly to stay here, Peter?" Wendy asked breathlessly.
Peter looked to her most bizarrely before leaping into the air joyfully. "I will always stay in Neverland, of course!"
And just like that, as suddenly as he appeared, Peter Pan was gone, having darted off from the ship and over the island beyond. Wendy ran to the railing to watch him disappear into the sky, so like how she had watched Anthony vanish from her view over Kensington Gardens years before.
"Peter, wait!" she called out desperately.
She felt Anthony tug at her dress. "Mummy, is he going to find Daddy? They have the same name, you know!"
Wendy looked down upon her son, in much wonder as to how he may be so unable to put the two together. But he seemed hopelessly oblivious to the fact that the boy whom just flew off *was* his Daddy.
Thus could she only place a reassuring yet trembling hand upon her son's head, remaining mum as she herself attempted to make sense of what was happening around her.
And then, staring off at the sunrise, within the rolling jungles of Neverland, she thought she heard the familiar echo of a little boy crowing.
FINALLY! Yes, after a loooong hiatus, here is Chapter XVIII! I took my time writing it, as it is a very crucial chapter and I did not want to just throw something together. It is also the longest one yet but for good reason!
(and P.S. – only one more chapter to go after this, which may take just as long, if not longer, than this one, so please be patient and bear with me!)
So after long last, here's Chapter XVIII.......Comments please! :-)
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XVIII. A NEW DAY
All was still and quiet in the little room behind the captain's quarters, save for the rhythmic thumping of Wendy's heart, which beat monotonously in Captain Hook's ear. It had not changed in tempo a whit for the entire duration of their residence within the bedchamber. She had not uttered a word nor moved a muscle unless under direct insistence from Hook himself. And she had not given him her Kiss.
As Hook at last slowly and sluggishly brought himself from upon her and into a seated stance before her, he gazed upon the soulless body and realized that she could not possibly give him her Kiss, for this thing lying beneath him, this hollow creature, was truly not The Wendy at all. It was only but a shell, hollowed out by his own greed and maliciousness.
But looking at her now, following what should have been his long-awaited redemption, he was quite disturbed at how little at all he felt. He was dismayed by how he could possibly be so dissatisfied. Neverland was under his complete power, his one mortal enemy was, to his knowledge, lying dead on Blind Man's Bluff, and he had at last taken the fair Wendy as his own. Yet as he sat there upon that gaudy bed inside that dim room, he never felt more empty or alone.
The debauched pirate watched the steady rising and lowering of Wendy's abdomen as she breathed. He let his hand settle listlessly upon her ribcage and with his hook he drew an invisible line from her solar plexus to her navel, all the time thinking how he might like to cut her open right there and snatch out her tediously beating heart with his bare hand. Perhaps then, he may feel some connection with her.
One man with everything he had ever dreamed ultimately under his iron claw, and he rather fancied weeping. 'Twas the tragedy of James Hook.
As was wont with the captain, he quickly remembered himself and sought to replace tears with solutions. Never having gotten anywhere by being soft and a slave to sentiments, he began poring over in his mind what he could possibly do to right these quandaries. He knew that in order for Wendy to give him the elusive Kiss, she would have to be of her own mind. He would have to reverse the potion. He needed a fairy's antidote.
But what then after she is restored to her former existence? Could he really expect her to bestow upon him that which Heaven itself so craved? As arrogant as Hook was, even he could not truly believe himself to be deserving of so divine a gift. But try something – anything – he must. He had come far too close to perfection to turn away and give up on it now.
With an indignant wipe of his eyes across the back of his hand, the defiant pirate captain attentively redressed Wendy in her rumpled white nightgown. He smoothed out her hair, so like a thick silken blanket, against the pillows, and placed her hands, folded, across her chest. She was so breathtaking, even for a shell, that it almost incensed Hook to bitterly recall how she had willingly given all this beauty to the likes of Peter Pan. How dreadful a waste!
And right then was Hook's sudden rise of ire met with an equally thunderous clatter from outside his bedchamber. His gaze snapped doorward and his irritation was instantly exacerbated. One of his insolent crewmen must be outside the door craning for a cheap peek. Well, he would get a taste of cold steel soon enough.
Now fully agitated, Hook forcefully tossed Wendy's knee from beside him and climbed from upon the bed. He quickly threw on his fancy white shirt from off the washstand and held his hook ominously at the ready. Cautiously he crept through the lattice doors and from behind the tapestry shielding it. There appeared to be not a soul within his quarters – at least not a human one. From the ornate windows within could he discern a most curious blushing glow emanating into his cabin.
Just then, he heard another brief raucous from outside the main door. Oh, the sneaky scoundrel was surely to get his now! Hook tiptoed to his desk and retrieved a revolver from a top drawer. He stepped lightly toward the door, and with the merest push against it with his claw, it opened to greet a most refreshing and optimistic little breeze.
The happy little gust made Hook cringe and almost bade him go back inside, but he would not let some wind keep him from making shark bait of an officious subordinate. Thus he stepped outside fully, and I daresay he nearly dropped his pistol right then at what he saw.
It was the earliest implications of morning, and though still rather dark, this brand of night was wholly different. It was not the inky blackness of a frozen tundra that Hook had long ago demanded of the island. No longer were the seas still and lifeless. No more were there gloomy clouds casting their bitter shadows upon the proud moon.
The island glowed with a soft violet hue; the ocean water churned and rolled happily with nary a hint of ice; and the clouds gladly gave way for the brilliant moon, all the time shimmering of a most dreadful color to Hook's cold blue eyes...
*Pink*, he muttered inside his head, for to say the word aloud would taste of such filth in his mouth.
Neverland was all of a sudden the bounding picture of beauty and lightheartedness that Hook had for so long kept under tight repression. He now stood agape before an entire world that was his nemesis – a world that did not accept him but only those of the purest hearts and faith. When just hours before he held the reigns upon every breath of air to circulate through Neverland, he suddenly found himself but an unwelcome outsider.
With hand and hook trembling, the captain skulked out from the shadows of his cabin door to take an unwanted yet necessary closer look at the waking nightmare before him. Having forgotten all about the intruder to his quarters, he fixed his eyes seaward, where he could just decipher the first indications of a dastardly sunrise on the horizon.
With Hook's attentions clearly occupied elsewhere other than his cabin door, he noticed not when a tiny dot of light darted from the rear of the ship behind him and inside his quarters. The swift sprite dashed about the room, looking for the other side of the porthole that it had gazed through earlier in the night. Small as she was, she was quickly able to come upon the hidden door behind the tapestry, and therein did she find Wendy, still lying entranced and staring blankly up toward the ceiling. The fairy flew in a circle just above Wendy's face, sprinkling a very special dose of dust upon her. And with a mighty gasp just as the fairy darted off, Wendy's eyes lit up and she sat straight forward, breathing heavily – all at once again renewed; her body, mind, and soul all having been restored just as they were before taking that dreadful elixir. No memories of what had occurred during her spell, and her body no longer having known the vile touch of the pirate captain Hook.
Outside, Hook had nary the time to process a thought on the matters before him when he was suddenly struck from behind – a most forceful blow upon his back which sent him careening toward the railing of the upper deck. He landed, facedown, but inches from the banister, but the impact left his pistol not quite so lucky, and it went spilling over the side in between the bars and onto the deck below.
Wendy, her eyes still adjusting to her most peculiar surroundings, heard this din, and with every intention of making her way from this desolate little room she suddenly found herself in, she raced for the lattice doors and toward the thumping sound she had discerned.
Hook quickly scrambled to his back to confront the beast who had hit him, but there was not a foe to be found. Perhaps it had come from the roof of his cabin, and so Hook grappled to his feet, eyes cast aftward, using the railing for leverage. But when his hand came down upon it, it did not meet with wood. Rather it felt soft and warm, almost as flesh. Hook turned his head around and saw he was indeed grasping a human foot. A smallish foot. Quite a familiar foot.
Thus did Hook's eyes ascend toward what was attached to that foot, and that leg, and the narrow hips, and the small bare chest, until finally it rested upon the eyes. And the smug smile proceeding the raising of a shoddy sword to Hook's throat. But the pirate scarcely noticed the sword. What his eyes set upon now was even worse than all the rollicking waves or pink clouds he had just been admonishing.
'Twas when Wendy came hastily bounding from within the cabin, bursting through the main door. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Hook only meters away, on bended knee just before the railing. Upon hearing her approach, he turned and looked at her, a most disturbed expression twisting upon his already cynical face. But it was not due to Wendy's sudden liberation from his misguided spell. What he was kneeling before gave him great cause for concern indeed, thus Wendy allowed her own eyes to drift toward the source of his discomfort.
There, standing upon the top of the railing in a most defiant challenge to gravity, was a boy. But no ordinary boy. Indeed, a most wonderful boy. A boy who radiated such a glorious aura that one might mistake him for a very large fairy himself, had his absence of wings not given him away. This was a boy whose visage had for so many years graced the precious dreams of countless children, including Wendy's, longing ever so much to never grow up. In fact, this boy's face might be the very reason dreams were invented.
And no one knew this face better than Wendy. For it was the heartless face of Peter Pan.
"I've got you now, Hook!" crowed the boy in a voice that had not touched a single ear in nearly a score. And upon Wendy's intrusion onto the scene, he shot her a glance and gave her a respectful nod of the head. "Fear not, lady, for I shall save you!"
But Wendy could not reply. She could scarcely breathe. She silently prayed she was merely still under Hook's spell and was having a ghastly nightmare – the worst one of all. The one that had so plagued her in the first years of her marriage.
It simply could not *be*.
And what was ever so much worse was that this boy seemed to not know Wendy at all.
Hook, on the other hand, was not quite so moved. If his lengthy residence in Neverland had taught him nothing else, it was to expect the unexpected. Peter Pan had escaped death at his hand – or hook – times before, thus the captain was not wholly taken aback by this fresh curiosity before him. It was a great feeling of inconvenience that consumed Hook now. And all he could think to do was rid himself one last desperate time of this proud and insolent youth.
And so, with a terrible snarl aimed upon Peter Pan – standing so erect in nothing more than the workpants Wendy's husband had earlier been wearing rolled up to the knees and cinched hastily at the waist with some vines – Hook bellowed upon his ship:
"ALL HANDS!!!"
And in a flash, Hook's hideous band of shipmates came pouring from every side of the Jolly Roger, weapons at the ready, and surrounded Hook and the Boy. But the latter appeared quite indifferent. In fact, his smugness only seemed to intensify. And in response to Hook's call to arms, the Boy shouted out an order himself:
"NOW!"
And with that, the pirate ship was suddenly scaled and overrun with a most overwhelming number of Indians. They did not wait for any further orders from their leader but rather charged straight away toward their pirate targets. They infiltrated every level of the deck, including Hook's cabin whereupon Wendy was forced to retreat back therein.
Hook, as yet unarmed, took full advantage of the sudden distractions around them to coil his lone weapon – his iron claw – around Peter Pan's ankle and pull violently forward, attempting to trip up the boy. However, Pan was too light and merely spun into a startled back-flip in mid-air, but he was caught off guard just enough for Hook to be able to reach out and grab hold of the boy's trousers and toss him most violently into the outside cabin wall behind them. Peter crashed hard into the thick wood, his sword falling from his hand and clunking listlessly into the doorway of Hook's cabin.
With great haste did Peter grapple to regain himself and his sword before Hook could get to it first. But before either one of them could lay claim to it, Peter's hand swooped down upon where the sword had fallen to find it was no longer there. Instead, it was presently being held aloft by the lovely lady whom Peter had seen standing in the doorway just moments before.
There Wendy stood, sword brandished, hands trembling, and heart pounding. She did not look at Peter – she dared not to, for to look upon him might make the nightmare real. Thus she kept her eyes fixed in the opposite direction, at Hook, standing and waiting guardedly for what Wendy might do. She had so very little recourse to express or even process all the thoughts and emotions racing through her head at that moment. She knew she needed to react, but she knew not how or to whom.
But as her gaze settled more steadily upon Captain Hook, a subtle rage began to boil within her. So many terrible things were afoot, things she could not understand, and only did that evil pirate seem the root of it all. She must strike out. And the foreboding figure before her was as appropriate a target as any.
Taking both Peter Pan and Hook by surprise, Wendy took a fierce charge at the captain, swinging Peter's sword violently, missing Hook by mere inches but inducing him into a deep crouch upon the deck floor, just at the top of the stairs leading to the deck below.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Peter called out, quite offended that this intrusive lady was purloining his opponent.
Recovering from her clumsy follow-through, Wendy observed Hook's precarious positioning, and she quickly stepped forward to nudge Hook harshly upon his hip with her foot, sending the pirate tumbling down the short flight of stairs, stopping only whence colliding with the broad mizzenmast centered upon the main deck. Wendy briskly followed on foot, the sword's aim never wavering from Hook's throat.
Peter may very well have followed too had he not been promptly distracted by his loyal fairy, Tinker Bell, sprinting up from the decks below to tug on and jingle excitedly into Peter's ear.
"What?" Peter blurted as he listened, feeling most put out. "*Now*?"
Yes, Tinker Bell was quite insistent.
"Alright, if I must!"
Thus Peter swooped down from atop the upper deck and stealthily made his way around warring Indians and bloodthirsty pirates so that he may access the ship's grim hold below. Under Tinker Bell's guidance was he able to find that for which he was searching – a small cage chained to the wall containing an anxious little boy.
Peter, not quite knowing how a predicament such as this could have occurred without his knowledge, decided ultimately not to ask questions but to liberate the boy as Tinker Bell had requested.
"Fear not, I shall set you free," Peter avowed, diving down toward the notch on the far wall where the keys hung unguarded.
Anthony, feeling quite groggy and achy as if just awakening from a long, deep sleep, open and shut his eyes several times to try and make heads or tails of the curious older boy floating before his prison. He rather thought he should know this boy, but alas, he could not possibly.
"Who are you?" Anthony asked.
"I am Peter Pan!" the boy proclaimed with much pride, speedily unlocking and unlatching the cage door.
"Oh!" Anthony exclaimed cheerily, stepping outside, "Just like my father!"
But this Peter Pan suddenly froze and became quite threatening at these words.
"I am like *nobody's* 'father'," he sneered.
Anthony, never having been easily frightened before, now found himself suddenly quite intimidated by this older boy, and he knew not else what to do but nod his head rapidly in compliance with his firm statement.
But then, quite incredibly, as effortlessly as you and I might flip a light switch, so how did Peter Pan instantly slip back into his merry disposition!
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Um...Anthony," came the staggered reply.
Peter rose once again into the air and amiably gestured for Anthony to follow him back up the stairs leading from out of the hold.
"Well, Anthony, let's go kill us some pirates!"
Suddenly feeling quite exuberant, Anthony braced himself to follow and rocked on the balls of his feet so as to rise to meet this Peter Pan. But alas, he stayed absolutely put. Again he tried to lift himself, but it was for naught. And so he remained frozen upon the floor below the stairs.
Peter sensed the boy named Anthony was not following, and so he turned to see what might be keeping him. Upon seeing the awfully concerned expression on Anthony's face, Peter asked, "What's wrong?"
Incredulously, Anthony replied, "I cannot fly!"
Peter made quite the rhetorical face and said, "Of course you cannot fly. I haven't yet taught you how!"
As completely befuddled by this statement as Anthony was, he was fairly loathe to ask any further questions of this strange and daunting young boy with his father's namesake. Thus he remained mum as he followed him up the stairs, whereupon they were hastily bombarded with a dozen or more battle- ready pirates...
On the main deck, amidst a whirl of chaos and bloodshed, a menacing stillness encircled the immediate area around the main mast. Captain Hook leaned sitting against it, the tip of Peter Pan's sword aimed squarely at his jugular. And on the other end of that sword, a wholly displeased Wendy stood tall over him.
She looked down upon him with narrow eyes, knowing that just one small lunge forward and the wicked pirate's doom would be sealed. Yet she could not quite talk herself into pulling this trigger. And incredibly, Hook made no move to defend himself, even with an iron claw attached to his arm. Instead, he met Wendy's gaze and fiercely searched for one last gleam of compassion from this honorable woman. But she was wise to keep her distance enough so as not to be further influenced by his icy blue eyes.
"Wendy," Hook attempted his plea, "Hast thou so soon forgotten how you quivered beneath my touch?"
But this incitation was quickly met with a cautioning press upon his throat with the tip of her sword.
"I never quivered," she retorted with venom. "I shuddered."
I daresay the depraved pirate had yet to encounter so wounding as these words. And akin to any injured beast, he could only respond in kind.
His lips curled into a livid snarl, thus quickly warning Wendy that a real fight may shortly ensue. Thus the very instant she saw Hook raise his claw to pitch aside her sword, she withdrew it herself first in favor of her clenched left fist, which she allowed to ferociously collide with Hook's cheek. The blow quite literally flung the captain aside, but Wendy knew she had only mere moments to shake off her bloody knuckles before Hook would come back up swinging himself.
But the adrenaline coursing through her veins was no match for the wounded and unarmed pirate now, and as he bolted back upright, she brought up her sword anew and with all her might swung it toward his head. Hook hit the deck, and her blade missed him literally by a hair – slicing off a goodly clump of his black curls as the sword wedged into the mast.
Hook struggled heartily to ascend upright, but before he could fully gain his footing, Wendy tore the sword from out of the mast and began to swing her it violently at him, bereft of any skill or strategy, so that Hook had nary a logical method with which to defend himself properly against this crazed onslaught. His only means of resistance was to continue to ward off sporadic blows with his hook and to stumble backwards, giving little notice to how cunningly he was being lured toward the open plank scupper on the starboard side of the ship...
A handful of Indians had come to the aid of Peter Pan and Anthony, frightfully outnumbered by their pirate foes in the hold. Little Anthony had not yet faced real combat until this time, and as heartily as he may have been anticipating such a day, he was rather dismayed to discover how curiously ill-adept he was at such exploits! Countless were the incidences when he found himself hopelessly on the brink of defeat when his new companion Peter Pan would have to swoop in with only seconds to spare in order to, yet again, rescue the boy from further peril. It was a most distressing state of affairs indeed.
Dangerously close to the portentous opening within the gunwall Hook was, and Wendy, seizing her chance, took one last fearsome swipe of her sword across the pirate's chest. Hook attempted yet another step backward, but his left ankle unhappily met with the left side of the scupper, and with a grotesque flail did he lurch backwards in between the edges of the opening where the nasty plank was presently absent. Thankfully for Hook was he able to catch the railing of the gunwall with his claw, clamping down upon it as his dug his heels onto the deck floor. But still his left side flung hazardously overboard, and a quick glimpse toward the waters below boasted a most terrifying sight for the pirate – swimming in a most ominous circle straight beneath were the mermaids, gazing up at the endangered captain with hungry eyes, awaiting his tumble into their deadly siren's grasp.
Imaging a torturous death at the mermaids' hands far more poetically gruesome than being swallowed whole by a crocodile, Hook gave a mighty throw of his dangling body back toward the scupper and pulled himself forward through the hole with his other hand now able to grasp the opposite railing. But he was not to gain much advantage, as before he could scarcely lug his backside back onto the safety of the deck's edge, Wendy had confronted upon him, crouching down before him between his knees, the entire blade of her sword directly under his chin.
She may very well have slit his throat right then, her fortified knuckles digging into his flesh being all that stood between her blade and his blood. But, alas, something stayed her hand.
Having likely forgotten herself during her temporary lapse into madness, Wendy dared to one more time stare into the cold eyes of Captain Hook. But she fancied something wholly different within these tiny blue seas. Something she could not recall having perceived before from the likes of this embittered pirate. As he stared back up at her, breathing in heavy and shaky breaths, his eyes swam in a dull blanket of true sadness...of true fear. 'Twas then whence Wendy realized that her free hand was affixed firmly upon his heart-space.
Hook was aware of this too, and fortifying his clutch onto the scupper with his claw, he removed his one good hand from the railing and pressed it against hers, his eyes never straying from her own. If any doubts had before existed as to whether or not a functioning heart really did reside within the evil captain's chest, Wendy had her fingers affected upon the truth of the matter now.
Thus did Wendy suddenly feel her own heart long to reach out to him, this pathetic, depraved man, with nothing but a shoddy sword between he and the fairer sex wielding it. How could she not feel pity? One could make quite the case out of the notion that Wendy's much honored warmth and compassion, although her very finest virtues, were just as equally her greatest hubris.
"Wendy," Hook beseeched one last time. "Must it end this way between us?"
Indeed, could she really commit such an act, to kill a man with her bare hands simply because she found herself in such a position to do so? Hook surely thought not. But what of Peter? And Anthony? What of Wendy herself even?
"I..." began Wendy's dubious reply, "I suppose it must."
Hook squeezed her hand anxiously. "Very well. Then if it is to be so, might I...entreat of you...one final request?"
In the name of Good Form, how was Wendy to refuse? It could easily have been another one of Hook's dastardly tricks, but the curse of his eyes negated such considerations from entering Wendy's mind.
And with a merciful nod, thus did she tread right into his design.
"Yes."
A wistful grin happened upon Hook's face. "One last kiss from the Fair Wendy?"
The hopeful yet utterly pitiable gleam in Hook's eyes would have been enough, but whence she saw them begin to grow moist and glassy, she knew it to be fair too cruel to decline him this one simple plea.
And so, letting her sword drift down and sit harmlessly upon Hook's knee, Wendy warily leaned forward, not letting her eyes wander off of his, until at last she allowed their lips to come together.
At last had the marvelous moment arrived whence Wendy herself would willingly place her Heavenly Kiss upon the captain. Soon shall he become a new man, atoned, absolved of his corruption and wantonness, free from the shackles of all the wicked deeds and thoughts and feelings that had consumed him for centuries. Oh, sweet liberty had finally come!
But alas, as Wendy pulled back gently from him, believing her duty to be aptly fulfilled, Hook remained, eyes closed, brow furrowed, as if concentrating very hard on feelings that were most regrettably destined not to come. No ringing bells, no turning pink, no great epiphanies, no soaring through the air in ecstasy...nothing but the same dreadful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
'Twas then that the wretched old pirate let his eyelids part, and the spell they had held upon Wendy was instantly quashed. No longer were these the eyes of a pitiful man yearning desperately for redemption. I daresay Wendy's Hidden Kiss imparted quite the contrary effect on Captain Hook as it had on her beloved Peter.
Indeed, Hook found himself not the picture of glory as he had foreseen – he was sadly so very more shrouded in loathing and disgust than ever he had been before.
And Wendy instantly became afraid. But she had not a chance at all to react before Hook's hand cruelly wrenched itself from hers and knocked Peter's sword from her fist. The upending of her wrist upon his knee nudged her slightly forward, far enough for Hook to swing his arm back and tightly around her neck. She began to struggle and push on him until he quite deliberately let himself lean backwards across the scupper, taking her with him as he hung precariously over the side of his ship. Wendy also soon saw the mermaids below, and she knew all too well that despite their great aid to her so many times in the past, they would not think twice about dragging even her down to a watery grave.
"I am so sorry, m'dear," Hook taunted, "but if one of us is to die, I would much rather it be you."
The captain was regrettably beyond reproach now, which made it wholly easier for Wendy to fight for her life and for her life only this time. But there was scarcely anywhere for her to go, and so she attempted to wriggle out from under Hook's arm, but to little avail.
A new raucous sprung from the other side of the ship when suddenly a mad rush emanated from the hold. Out from under pounced a great number of victorious Indians, some wielding freshly obtained scalps, some rather frazzled pirates, and also two bruised yet zealous little boys battling their way back onto the main deck of the ship. Peter Pan crowed loudly as he cleaved to the brisket another lowly buccaneer, and Anthony once again nodded his obligation to the older boy for bailing him from another lost battle. But by this time, Peter was well on his way to another conquest, leaving Anthony to find trouble elsewhere.
He needn't search long when he heard a most horrible yet familiar cry from the starboard side of the ship. His head was blown instantly in that direction, whereupon he saw the ghastly struggle between Wendy and Hook within the plank scupper. And without even thinking about it, he heard himself cry:
"Mummy!"
His new mission now wholly clear, Anthony raced toward the starboard gunwall as fast as his grounded little legs could take him. Could he still fly, he would have easily been able to evade the many obstacles that lay between he and his mother, but of course he could not any longer, and so he had to make his way to his target on foot, dodging cutlasses here, turning away daggers there, running through a meddlesome adversary or three, all so automatic as his determination to save his mother carried him fearlessly through this horrible sea of mayhem.
At last did he find himself within proper distance of Wendy and Hook, and with a resolute swipe of his dagger, he carved a monstrous gash down the outside of Hook's arm. At once did the pirate cry out in pain and throw his arm back. And before Wendy could go tumbling into the waters below, Anthony grabbed hold of her and hoisted her up onto the deck.
Wendy wasted not a moment of claiming the upper hand, and upon regaining her footing, she spun around to face the captain, now in imminent danger of slipping overboard. And for likely the very first time, she truly saw Captain Hook.
This was not a man to be pitied. He deserved no pity. He was beyond redemption – 'twas not ever meant for him. He was only to be reviled and disavowed; to be kept under tight lock-and-key in the most vacuous and shameful nightmares. To allow him to slither into your thoughts and emotions was to be tempted by the very Devil himself. Wendy could see this now. How very foolish and weak-willed she had been. But no longer.
And with one final liberating kick, she shoved the pirate over the scupper to render him completely suspended over the side of the ship by nothing more than his hook.
He thrashed about violently, trying to claw his way back to the railing with his free hand. Almost in reflex did his eyes drift downwards, and a shiver engulfed him as he saw a most macabre sight – the mermaids, now in a perfect diamond-shaped formation, all with their arms outstretched upwards to him, beckoning him into their deadly lair.
Hook quickly spun back around to make one final effort to hoist himself up, but he froze when he saw the two wholly disgusted faces staring back down on him – and the hands attached to these faces ominously gripping his claw.
With her fingers wrapped tightly around his hook, Wendy gazed one last time into the piercing blue eyes, only to see the true abhorrence within. Thus Hook knew instantly that he could no longer appeal to Wendy. His spell on her had been utterly broken. And he was doomed.
So it was with great peculiarity that Hook's reaction to his imminent fate was a rather inconvenienced rolling of his eyes, as if more annoyed than afraid. And upon perceiving his admission of defeat, Wendy, with the help of her son, pried Hook's claw from out of the ship's railing, and so very ceremoniously did they let it slip from their hands and over the side.
Only the merest of gasps emanated from Hook's mouth as he went sailing toward the water below. He was instantly caught by the mermaids before he even graced the surface, and converging upon him like a school of piranha, the eerie sirens lead the pirate down to Davy Jones's locker.
And just like that, all battles aboard the ship ceased. The pirates suddenly threw down their weapons and fled below decks whilst some others boarded the dinghy and rowed out to sea. The Indians gave out quite the din of war cries and began to dance in victorious celebration.
Wendy fell to her knees and flung her arms around Anthony, who, I am happy to report, quite gladly returned the gesture in kind. She embraced him tighter than she had ever dared to just a day before. And it was the sweetest paradise she had happened upon in quite some time. But her brief respite of contentment was quickly infringed upon by a most spirited young boy come to stand before them, casting disappointed glances over the ship's railing.
"Oh, you didn't wait for me!" Peter Pan whined, staring into the now-still waters below. But just as quickly, he straightened and shrugged. "Oh well, I shall get him next time."
Wendy blinked away subtle tears as she stared up at the boy. In her vehemence to overcome Hook, she had nearly forgotten this most curious and unsettling phenomenon.
Next time? There was to be a next time?
Gingerly, Wendy rose to her feet, her stomach twisting in knots as she found herself having to look *down* upon he who was once her beloved husband but now a mere fresh-faced young boy.
"Peter..." was all she could manage.
Upon hearing the name, Anthony right then had an epiphany. "Mummy! Where is Daddy?"
Wendy froze, but Peter spoke instead.
"Aw, you brought BOTH your parents here?" he scolded Anthony.
The younger boy looked away sheepishly, quite nervous. "Well, no...You see, they came here themselves to find me and take me home." His brow lowered as if he himself was fairly surprised by what he was about to say: "And...I think...I should like to go back after all."
He looked up at his mother as if she might hold the answer as to why he would suddenly want to leave Neverland. But she had no answers at all. However, her delight at hearing Anthony's alarming decision served as a very temporary tonic for her current plight.
"Is this all right with you, Mummy?" Anthony asked with wide, precious eyes.
She ran her fingers through his hair. "Yes, of course it is, my darling."
"Oh, come now!" Peter broke in. "Wouldn't you rather stay here and become a Lost Boy?"
Anthony backed up against his mother, should his response raise the ire of this lad.
"But," he began, "I am not lost anymore."
At first, Peter seemed confused by this statement, but a quick glance at the boy's lovely mother and he understood, and he sighed.
"Very well. Perhaps you can come back and visit sometime."
Wendy was very near fainting as Peter continued to speak in such permanent terms. Surely, this was just some illusion. Some very horrible, transitory illusion.
"So you are truly to stay here, Peter?" Wendy asked breathlessly.
Peter looked to her most bizarrely before leaping into the air joyfully. "I will always stay in Neverland, of course!"
And just like that, as suddenly as he appeared, Peter Pan was gone, having darted off from the ship and over the island beyond. Wendy ran to the railing to watch him disappear into the sky, so like how she had watched Anthony vanish from her view over Kensington Gardens years before.
"Peter, wait!" she called out desperately.
She felt Anthony tug at her dress. "Mummy, is he going to find Daddy? They have the same name, you know!"
Wendy looked down upon her son, in much wonder as to how he may be so unable to put the two together. But he seemed hopelessly oblivious to the fact that the boy whom just flew off *was* his Daddy.
Thus could she only place a reassuring yet trembling hand upon her son's head, remaining mum as she herself attempted to make sense of what was happening around her.
And then, staring off at the sunrise, within the rolling jungles of Neverland, she thought she heard the familiar echo of a little boy crowing.