Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Peter Pan, Captain Hook, or any of Mr. Barry's other wonderful characters. I write about them solely for my own amusement, and make no profit from it except that which I receive from knowing my writing has been enjoyed by others.

Chapter 7

A Newfound Resolve

The sun had not yet risen when Sophia stirred from her sleep. Even before she opened her eyes she sensed that something had changed. Her muscles felt as if they were tied in knots, and a nervous flutter had settled in her stomach. Things between her and James were not as they had been, and that knowledge was enough to wake her.

She pulled her knees up against her chest and hugged them tightly. Sensing her movement, Hawk Dancer chimed softly in his sleep from the pillow next to hers. She smiled at the sleeping pixie and pulled the square of fabric Hawk Dancer had been using as a blanket over his tiny form.

Half of her—her emotional, girlish half—wanted to be light-hearted and giddy about the whole affair. In fact, this irrational part of her insisted on recreating the previous evening's scene in her mind over and over again, causing Sophia to turn a deeper shade of red with every repetition.

Stop that! she told herself sternly. It was one kiss, for heaven's sake! And, while I will admit that James is a very handsome man, who… seems to affect me more severely than any man I've ever met… I must keep my wits about me. And be realistic. This last was an admonition she'd heard many times. She'd been told to remember her position—a penniless orphan imposing on the kindness of her mentors—and that the men who taught her were doing so as a kindness in their spare time. Not because she had potential, mind you. She heard the voice of one particularly harsh teacher very loudly in the early pre-dawn hours. You have no great potential, Sophia. I don't see why you continue to pester me. Be realistic. She rested her chin on her knees and willed him to go away. Instead, he continued, Hook doesn't love you. You think a man like him could love? He only kissed you on an impulse. Nothing more. Sophia squeezed her eyes shut and felt the tears trickle down her face. Of course there was nothing to it… how could there have been? Why would he want someone like me?

Her room suddenly felt very close around her. The walls pressed in from all sides, and she had to firmly remind herself that she was in a safe place. She reached for the robe that was draped over the back of her chair and threw it over her shoulders. She opened the door quietly as not to disturb the sleeping fairy, and slipped out onto the deck.

The air was cold and icy, but Sophia found it refreshing. She was nearly alone on the deck. The only others she could see were the single sailor high above her in the crow's nest and the watch at their posts. The clear, open sky spread high above her, and she drank in the freedom of being out of doors. In the east, the darkness was beginning to fade to a wan gray. She walked to the edge of the deck and looked out over the ocean to the rising sun. Peace gradually returned to her. She would face the day, and the changes it might bring, just as she had faced every other upheaval in her life.

Sophia heard the tread of heavy boots on wood, and turned to see James coming up behind her. He looked as if he had dressed in haste, and instead of one of his brightly colored coats, he wore a plain black shirt, unlaced, and a pair of grey breeches. Something else was different, as well, and Sophia had to study him for a moment before she realized what it was. For the first time since she had met him, he did not wear the hook that gave him his name. Instead, the cuff of his shirt hung limply over what was left of his lower arm.

"You rose early this morning," he said.

"So did you," Sophia replied.

"Thinking again, are you?" he asked.

"Yes."

He came to stand by her side, but made no move to touch her. He simply stared out at the sea, much as she had been doing. Without the hook, he seemed more real, more vulnerable.

"If I frightened you last night, I am sorry," he finally said.

"Did I seem frightened?" Sophia asked, not looking at him.

The Captain seemed to sense that a divide between them was now in place that had not existed before. "Well, yes. You did," he said. "I wondered if perhaps I had asked something of you that you were not prepared to give."

This was not the answer that she had expected. He wasn't dismissing what had happened as a trivial mistake. Instead, he seemed concerned that he might have hurt her. Sophia closed her eyes for a moment while she tried to adjust to this new set of facts. "Then why…" she hesitated for a moment, then continued, keeping her eyes staring straight ahead. "Why did you kiss me, then?"

It was James' turn to look uncomfortable. "When one captains a ship one is used to making quick decisions in many situations. I simply…" The frown on Sophia's face told him that his attempt at explaining his actions in an impersonal fashion was getting him nowhere. He changed tactics. "It… seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

Sophia glanced at him quickly with sharp, penetrating eyes. "Tell me, did you consider it to be the right thing to do at one specific time, or might it not also be the right thing to do on various other occasions?"

A half-smile began to form itself on James' face, and before Sophia knew what had happened, his arms were around her and his blue eyes were inches from her own. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, and she felt his hair brush against her face.

"In fact, I think it might be the right thing to do at this time, wouldn't you agree?" he murmured.

Sophia barely had time to say the word 'yes' before she found herself being kissed again.

After a few moments, she remembered she was out in the open and pulled back, blushing furiously.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just that… I'm not used to such displays of affection in public."

"Public? Oh, you mean them?" James chuckled and pointed at the two men on watch who were facing in the opposite direction. "They know better than to interfere with their captain's affairs. But, if it makes you uncomfortable…"

Sophia smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she said. She tilted her head to one side and ran her fingers through his hair. The light of the rising sun sparkled off his dark curls, and she seemed entranced by it. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment, "I've just… wanted to do that for quite some time, I think."

"Don't be sorry," he said, and twisted a tendril of hair that had escaped from her braid between his fingers. Sophia bit her bottom lip and colored again. Though he knew her inexperience should amuse him as much as it did, James had to laugh. He put his arms around her and drew her close to him. Sophia, though a little surprised, let out a muffled giggle and threw her arms around him, clasping her hands tightly behind his back.

"And here I'd thought I'd scared you," James said with amusement.

"I was worried you wouldn't want me," Sophia admitted. "I suppose we're both fools when it comes to love."

"I, my dear, am merely out of practice," James said archly. Sophia raised an eyebrow at him and managed to keep a straight face for all of five seconds before she began to laugh.

-----

The days that followed were very much like the days that had gone before. Sophia worked in her study, explored the island, played with Hawk Dancer, and spent long hours in the company of Captain Hook. As she grew used to the idea that he cared for her, Sophia's awkwardness began to fade. Finding his eyes resting on her face no longer made her blush, and being close to him produced a pleasant feeling of warmth and security rather than causing her heart to nearly beat out of her chest.

The pirates on the Jolly Roger reacted to their captain's new-found attachment to the odd girl who had come on board with varying degrees of approval. Some leered at the two of them every time they appeared together, but James put a stop to that by threatening to shoot the next man he caught with that expression on his face. Had Sophia not been there to restrain him, it might have been more than a threat. Some pirates whispered that the witch-lady was a calming influence on their temperamental captain.

Though a Lost Boy or two might be occasionally spotted on the island, or flying about the ship well out of range of the guns, Peter Pan and his gang of boys had apparently found some other amusement, at least temporarily. From the whoops and shouts that a group of scouts had heard coming from the direction of the tent village, Hook surmised that Peter had decided to bother the Indians for a while.

One night after dinner, Sophia sat on the floor of James' cabin across a chessboard from Hawk Dancer. James, who was at his desk studying a large map that was spread out in front of him, half-followed her efforts to teach the pixie to play chess.

"No, no, Hawk," Sophia said, taking one of the pieces from the fairy. "The bishop moves sideways, like this, remember?" She demonstrated, then handed the piece back to Hawk. He had to hold onto the piece, which was as big around as one of his legs, with both arms.

"I don't think you're going to have much luck with that. The pixie's little mind isn't cut out for something like chess," James said.

"He's learning," Sophia told him. "Slowly, like a child, but he is learning. It's… fascinating, really."

Before she could give him a lecture on her theories of fairy intelligence, James went back to studying his map. Hawk, who had apparently lost interest in the game, flew over to inspect the Captain's work. He landed on the desk and ignored James' attempts to shoo him away. As he walked across the map, he stepped on a newly drawn set of lines, smudging them and leaving tiny footprints behind him.

"Get off, you! Look what you've done!" James said. He swatted at Hawk. The fairy didn't react fast enough, and was propelled off the desk and across the room. Hawk caught himself in midair and flew over to Sophia, chiming indignantly. She put the last chess piece back into the box that held them and held her hands together so he could land in her palms.

"Calm down, Little One," Sophia said. "He didn't mean to hurt you, and you're not damaged too badly if you can put such energy into being angry." He chimed again, and Sophia laughed. "I'm not going to repeat that, but I will, of course, let you out." She opened the door to the cabin and tossed him out into the night. When the fairy was gone, she turned to James. "He was just curious, you know," she said.

She walked over to him and looked at the map he was pondering so seriously. The island of Neverland, in minute detail, was spread out across James' desk. Neat, black horizontal and vertical lines had been drawn across it, dividing the island into squares. Some of the squares had been filled in with fine red diagonal lines, but many of them remained clear. Various places had clusters of numbers written next to them, and several spots were marked with red X's.

"What is this that you're studying so hard?" she asked. She already had a good idea, and she wasn't sure she liked what the map represented.

"A record of my failure to find Pan's hideout," Hook told her. Bitterness seethed in his voice, and at that moment, he looked harried and tired. "The red squares are places I've had searched thoroughly. His hideout must be here." He ran his hand over the unmarked spaces on the map. "But most of this is dense jungle, and any time we get too deep into it, we are attacked by the Lost Boys, or we lose our way, or we run into some sort of trouble. He could be anywhere in those infernal woods!"

Sophia knelt beside him and pressed her hand to the side of his face. "This weighs heavily on your mind, I know. But, studying this map for hours on end accomplishes nothing, and you're upsetting yourself by dwelling on it."

He shook his head. "I must find that boy," James said. "Once I find him, I will have my revenge, and I will finally be free."

"He has no power over you that you do not grant him," Sophia said. James was not convinced. "Please, come away from there," she asked him. "It frightens me to see you in such a dark mood." She walked over to the harpsichord and picked one of the pieces of music up from the stack on the floor. Holding it out to him, she said, "Play for me, James. Please."

He took the music from her hand and pushed away from his desk. Sophia smiled and curled up in the middle of his bed to listen. Hook ran through a few scales up and down the keyboard with his good hand before beginning. It wasn't a particularly difficult piece, and as he played he asked her, "Do you play at all?"

"A little," Sophia answered. "I'm not very good."

James laughed. "I could write something for us. 'Serenade for Three Hands and Hook,' perhaps."

"You'd have to be very patient with me if we were to try that," she told him.

He played two songs for her, then three, and still Sophia asked for another. Near the end of the fourth, James saw that she had the look of concentration that had long since become familiar to him. She was trying to piece together some puzzle that had presented itself to her.

"What mystery are you trying to solve?" he asked.

"All of your music… it's very… antique. I was hoping I could use my rather limited knowledge to pinpoint exactly what era it came from. What era you came from."

James reached the end of the song and finished with a flourish. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm curious about how long you've been here," she said. "Do you remember anything of your life before you came to Neverland?"

"Nothing," James said quietly. "And yet…"

"And yet?" Sophia prompted.

"There are things that I must have known before I came here. How to sail a ship, that game you were playing with the pixie… I didn't learn those things here. There are books I know I've read, memories that are at the edge of my mind… but nothing clear. You may know more about me than I do."

"What I know isn't much," Sophia said. "Your clothes appear to be about two and a half centuries out of date, as does everything else on this ship. If I had to guess, I'd say that you came to Neverland sometime in the mid seventeenth century… 1650 or so. Does that number mean anything to you?"

"No." James shook his head, sorry he couldn't tell her more. "Two centuries, you say? What year was it when you came here?"

"When I left London, it was 1901," she said.

He chuckled. "I don't feel that old."

"The same magic that keeps the Lost Boys from aging must work on you as well," she said. "That is, if I'm right…"

"Don't worry yourself too much about it," James told her. "I've managed without those memories well enough."

Sophia's eyes lit up with inspiration, and she asked, "What is the first thing you remember?"

James placed another piece of music on the harpsichord and played a couple of trills. "The first time I laid eyes on Peter Pan," he said. She gasped a little in surprise, and said nothing. James began to play again, a melancholy, minor song. He had not recalled that particular memory in quite some time, and thinking on it was not pleasant. He remembered feeling lost. As if ignoring it had made it all the more clear, he could still see the devilish grin on Pan's face, feel the confusion, anger, and, yes, the fear of being faced with this strange, flying adversary. He played the final three chords of the song, savoring the sound as they echoed and died.

"Something happy, please," Sophia said in a small voice.

"Of course," James said, and leafed through his music for a while before starting a light-hearted minuet.

"If you knew a way to keep this going with your magic, we could dance," he said.

The worry on Sophia's face lessened a little. "I'll have to look into that," she said. She was quiet for a long while afterwards, and James had almost forgotten she was there when she spoke again.

"Are you happy here?" Sophia asked from the comfortable nest of pillows she had created for herself.

"Much more so since you came along," he said, looking up briefly from the song he was playing. Sophia sighed and picked at the tassels that hung from the tapestry over his bed.

"That's very sweet, but it doesn't answer my question."

Hook hit a sour note on the harpsichord and winced. He stopped playing. Looking over at Sophia, he saw the serious set of her features for the first time.

"Of course I'm not happy here. Who would be? Destined to fight that boy forever, with no hope of anything ever changing?" He stood and began to pace. His long strides crossing the relatively small cabin reminded her of a caged wild animal. Sophia's expression became even more concerned. She most definitely did not like what Neverland was doing to her Captain.

James continued to pace.

"And don't be thinking I've never tried to leave. I have. Dozens of times. We've never even gotten out of sight of the island. Each time we've sailed away from Neverland, we end up becalmed, or going around in circles until we end up here. Right. Back. Where we started." With those last words, he slammed his hook into the surface of the nearby dining table, burying it deep into the wood. Sophia started at the loud noise and sudden display of temper. However, she knew that he was angry at the situation, not at her, and she saw more pain than anger in his outburst. So, without any hesitation, she rose from the bed, walked over to him, and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her head between his shoulder blades.

"It's all right, Love," she whispered. "I never meant to imply that you hadn't tried."

Though he was still tense with rage, he calmed a little at her touch. He removed his hook from the wood as carefully as he could, and turned in her arms so that he was facing her.

"I know," he said, and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"I'm not frightened of you," she said, holding on to him even more tightly, "I'm frightened for you. Neverland is hurting you, James."

"Yes… less with you here, though," he said. He touched the side of her face with his hand, and kissed her. Gently, at first, but it soon turned into the kind of kiss that drove all vestiges of coherent thought from Sophia's head. Soon, she found herself sitting on the bed once again, with James' hands hopelessly tangled in her hair, and hers in his.

A shout from above decks caused him to break away, taking a few strands of Sophia's hair with him. He was at the window peering outside for any sign of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys in two seconds flat. No more shouts came from above, though, and he realized it must have been a false alarm.

"And that," Sophia said, looking slightly peeved as she rubbed the sore spot on her head, "is the other reason I want to get you away from here."

"Sorry about that," James said ruefully, running the fine strands of hair through his fingers. "I'm sure it'll grow back." She didn't so much as smile at his jest. He sighed and sat back down next to her, taking her hand in his. "Now, tell me about this other reason of yours."

"I'm tired of sharing you with that boy," she said.

"Sharing me?" His mouth twisted into an amused half-smile as he shook his head. "Please believe me when I tell you that the feelings I hold for him are as different from those I hold for you as night is from day."

Sophia did not look comforted. "No," she murmured. "You say that, and I know you hate him, but you cherish that hatred. You love your hatred for Peter Pan as much as you do me. If not more." The dark jealousy that marked her face looked out of place on one who was usually so bright. Once again, Hook saw traces of a very powerful woman hiding beneath Sophia's flighty, girlish trappings.

"You know that's… that's not true," he said weakly, even as he realized any argument he gave would be futile. She was right.

"I know that your obsession with him is old, and powerful, but know this. You are mine, James. And I'm sick of having to share your attention with something so unworthy of it. And so, with your permission, Captain, I'm going to find a way for us to get out of this freakish place that won't let me have you completely." She rose from the bed and walked towards the door, pulling the curtains that showed the outside world closed as she went by.

"Good night, James," she said, daring him to try and order her to stop. He didn't. He'd learned that ordering Sophia to do anything at all was worse than useless. Besides, as long as she didn't hurt herself, this new plan of hers had definite possibilities…

All he said was, "Be careful."