This story takes place only a few years after Wendy's first visit to
Neverland with Peter Pan, so it is considered a follow-up to the 2003 P.J.
Hogan film Peter Pan (with some references to the original Barrie novel
[1911] and his own Peter Pan prequel, Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens
[1904]).
Again, I have no ownership of any of the characters or actors who portrayed them...I hear it's illegal to own humans nowadays...
WOW. I must take a moment here and acknowledge some of the reviews I have gotten in the past week. I must say, I am completely humbled! And here I was thinking my other fic ("A New Day") was the superior work! LOL! This story was really only meant as a personal exercise – and experimental character study more or less. But I am ecstatic to see so many enjoying it! It truly makes the effort so much more worthwhile. So THANK YOU! Of course, this does put some tremendous pressure upon me to continue being interesting and original – I hope I shan't disappoint any of you down the line!
Anyways, here's Chapter X .....More reviews pleeeeeaaase!!! :-)
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X. FAITH AND TRUST
Peter Pan was growing restless, as was his wont.
Since his return from the crocodile's belly, Captain Hook had kept a remarkably low profile, due largely to the utter humiliation at his defeat. Thus if Peter desired a good old-fashioned spar with his nemesis, he would have to seek it out himself. But so very weary had the Boy become in being the initiator that the respites between their battles widened exponentially.
Of course, this was all very convenient for Hook, and I shan't need to explain to you why. But the hardened old pirate knew better than to get too comfortable, for Peter's whims changed with tides, and he set about making certain that Pan should not discover Wendy's tenancy aboard his ship before Hook had chance to carry out his Grand Scheme.
A forty-gun brig requires a sizeable crew to run her, and a forty-gun brig that has not seen the seas for centuries bears a sizably expendable crew at a captain's disposal. Out onto the island did Hook send thirty or more of his men to monitor Peter Pan's every move from the outskirts. It was their strict duty to watch and anticipate the boy's intentions whence he emerged from beyond his secret lair, as yet undetected, and should he or his small army of ruffians appear to be craving an assault upon the Jolly Roger, Hook's men would create a delicious diversion to distract Peter's attention away from the ship.
This proved to be not wholly difficult due to Peter's carelessness and frightfully short attention span. He could be easily led astray if he were to stumble across a shiny cufflink in the jungle or if he saw the fairies scatter from their den upon a dead Neverbird having been tossed into it. And it never once dawned on him the expanding lull betwixt his face-offs with Captain Hook, for as we have seen, he had no concept of time at all. Just as he had lost track of time amid visits to Wendy, he was happily oblivious to this occurrence. In fact, he had rather forgotten all about Wendy as well by now.
(In case you are wondering, yes, Tinker Bell may very well have been aware of all of this. But it would scarcely behoove her to alert Peter to its progression, wouldn't it?)
Life carried on more or less as usual aboard the ship. The crew rarely encountered the mysterious young lady recuperating in the captain's quarters. Only the Captain, the boatswain, and the surgeon saw to her directly, though the other pirates were oft handed tasks that related specifically to her, such as the washing and meals and the like. They complained little, as they were simply glad to have something else to do.
Though the same could not completely be said for our faithful Mr. Smee, I'm afraid. He presently found himself at the whims of two masters. As well as tending to Wendy, he still retained his many boundless duties to the Captain. You can imagine that this would bear heavily upon the poor old chap, but he dared not protest. He was well-learned in the art of Pride Stifling, and so it was with a loyal stiff upper lip that he now carried two meal trays to the Captain's quarters instead of one. The platter with the handpicked English Rose atop it was for Wendy.
At the very first yawn and stretch of every Daybreak, Smee stole in and out of the cabin quiet as a mouse, and a few short hours later, Wendy woke to find her breakfast fondly waiting for her on the little table next to bed. This was only a small consolation for not waking instead in Peter's charming little treehouse in the jungle, or even her own bed at home in London. But the pretty rose did manage to coax a smile or two.
Wendy spent most of her waking periods in the bedchamber. Her wounded ankle was proceeding quite languidly in its effort to heal, and though Wendy might have possessed the patience of a saint, her own physical afflictions were causing her great ire. But none so great as the anxiety she felt in watching the seconds tick cruelly by with nary a glimpse of Peter.
The monotony of Wendy's days were occasionally broken up by Smee, who would slip in every now and then and collect a personal affect of Hook's that he may be requiring. Hook himself popped in frequently to check upon his lovely means, as well as the Doc to examine her injuries. It was all very quaint and uneventful.
"You really must come out from here sometime," Hook insisted benignly one morning whilst Wendy stood staring hopefully out the bedchamber window.
Indeed, cabin fever was beginning to settle in, thus when Hook gently convinced Wendy to take some fresh air, she did not argue.
'Twas on the scarce occasions that the elusive Wendy emerged from the cabin and sat unobtrusively upon the upper deck of the ship in one of Hook's chairs that the crew ever caught a glimpse of her. And it was during one of these rare appearances that Wendy was afforded some vague substantiation of Hook's credibility.
Whilst Wendy was resting quietly in the cabin, the ship's crew had been working steadily attempting to replenish the provisions that had been plundered from their hold by Peter Pan and his Lost Boys. They had discovered and carved out yet another secret supply hold nearer to the ship so that it could be monitored more readily from the crow's nest. The crew labored tirelessly in obtaining goods with which to fill this new hold, none of these tactics being wholly honorable either. They looted every commune that they were able to infiltrate – they thieved from the fairies, the mermaids, and even the Indians – in order to restock their booty.
Wendy sat in her chair and watched from above as the men gathered round and organized their hoard under Hook's implicit instructions atop the deck of the ship. She was utterly fascinated to witness the dashing pirate in action, barking out orders and managing every detail just so. A fleeting moment had once existed whence Wendy would have gladly joined this gang of rogues, but she was wiser now.
In the course of her rapt observances, Wendy's eye was caught by a particular young buccaneer near the mizzenmast. He was plainly several years Hook's junior, and perhaps this accounted for his unmitigated brazenness in tossing Wendy several suggestive and bawdy glances. Not entirely unattractive he was, hence Wendy did not take great offense, but she did feel herself blush rather uncomfortably. None of this was lost on the keen Captain, and Wendy sat enthralled as she watched Hook casually stride toward the audacious lad, entangle his claw within his collar and effortlessly drag him across the ship and into the hold below. I daresay Wendy never saw that young man again.
Hook rather thought he had made it explicitly clear to his dogs that if they so much as tilted an unseemly brow in his young guest's general direction, they would promptly be given a touch of the cat or worse. It was of the utmost vitality that Wendy perceive his ship as being her lone safe haven in Neverland. Hook was confident that he had as yet provided ample evidence of this. He doted on Wendy willingly and often – not too much as to make himself perfectly obvious, but just enough to elicit that warm and favorable look in Wendy's eyes for which he so craved. Though it was not altogether of his cynical nature to care for another human being, somehow he found it satisfying to do these things for Wendy. It must have been that appreciative look in her eyes.
Sadly, though, still remained those lonely nights when the Captain, half- drunk with both rum and self-loathing, would creep into the bedchamber and watch miserably as Wendy slept as if not a single consideration for this callous world. Oh, how beautifully oblivious to it all she appeared. And with her caring eyes now shut tight, Hook could only gaze upon Wendy's loveliness with unfiltered disgust. For, you see, someone as Hook who harbors such darkness in his heart, beautiful things are not to be cherished but begrudged...and destroyed. And as Hook stood inebriated before his occupied bed, he painfully fought back the urge to take his iron claw and tear the girl to shreds – to make her as ugly on the outside as he felt on the inside. Perhaps then he would no longer feel so bloody unworthy in her presence.
And yet, by some means, always would the sun rise the following morning, and Hook would find himself innocuously within his stateroom – his claw safe in a drawer and his breakfast waiting on the table. And when next he saw Wendy, his objectives were inspired anew.
Wendy could plainly detect the impact she could have on the Captain from just the tiniest approving smile. Naturally, she used this vigorously to her advantage, for remember that she was using the Captain as well. Although she did indeed derive a touch of honest pleasure from seemingly being able to warm Hook's cold heart so readily. It was terribly flattering that this feared and depraved man could be tamed, if only for an instant, by the merest of gestures from Wendy. Even if it were all an act (and don't believe for a moment that she hadn't any suspicions), it was still terribly flattering.
Wendy kept a brave front before her benefactors at all times. But the days soon grew longer, and thus did the likelihood of her rescue by Peter Pan. It became harder and harder for Wendy to uphold the charade. Once the Moon had risen and all had retired for the night, each one of her pretenses dissolved into the weariest of sobs. Every miserable slumber was preceded by weeping. She buried her face in the pillows to mute her cries, but one particular evening, she must have not buried it deep enough.
In between sobs, Wendy heard a light rapping on her door, followed by the telltale sliver of candlelight unfold against the opposite wall. She stifled immediately.
"Wendy," She heard the familiarly haunted voice. "Is all not well?"
Wendy quickly wiped her eyes clear and turned toward him with a feeble smile. "No, no, all is quite well."
"Dear girl, I can see plainly from whence I stand that it is not," he asserted firmly. "May I enter?"
Wendy sat up in the bed, resigned to his inclination. "'Tis your ship, Captain."
Hook stepped inside confidently, leaving the door ajar, and approached Wendy with an almost parental air. He gestured imploring toward the edge of the bed. Wendy nodded, and Hook sat down upon it, his extravagant dressing gown clashing starkly with the bedsheets.
"I don't pretend to be ignorant of that which is the root your suffering, Wendy," he stated, his tone soft yet resolute. "I myself am quite well- acquainted with this particular cause."
Wendy hung her head and let her smile fade. Indeed it was no longer of any use to hide her torment. The Captain would see right through her at once.
"I must seem so foolish," she muttered.
"Nonsense," Hook avowed. "'Tis Pan who is the fool – to be so callously neglectful of the very girl who once saved his life."
He hadn't meant to vilify the boy so openly, at least not to Wendy. He swiftly recovered.
"But you mustn't judge him too harshly, my dear," he added with benevolence. "He can't help who – or what – he is. New fancies come along and he quickly forgets old ones. But I am certain that if he were to lay eyes upon you once more, he would be just as delighted as if for the very first time!"
"You really think so?" She had little hope any longer.
"Positively! Before long, he shall come round the ship once more, looking for a battle, as always, and in its place he will find you. And what a most agreeable barter it shall be!"
For the first time that evening, Wendy smiled for real. And hence deeming his duty properly fulfilled, Hook rose from the bed and proceeded to graciously tuck her back in – quite a bizarre sight, to be sure, for the old pirate captain to be tucking someone into bed!
"And the surgeon tells me you are healing splendidly." Hook said it with the pride of a father whose child had made all aces. "In no time at all, I will be able to assist you into the forest for your jolly reunion with Pan. Wouldst thou like that?"
Hook dangled Peter before Wendy's face like a delicious candy, and what was Wendy but really still just a mere girl. And she nodded eagerly.
Hook gave her knee a paternal tap and then stood tall above her, grinning satisfactorily. "Now, settle in and relax, my hearty." He leaned forward a tad as something sprang to his mind. "Did you know I have been teaching Smee the harpsichord?"
Wendy shook her head but was amused to hear more.
"I am doing this so that I may enjoy a good melody myself. Who would have thought the old goat to have a single musical bone in his body, but as it turns out, I daresay he has at least three!"
Wendy laughed a little.
"If you like, I can have him play a little something for you, to help serenade you off into a more pleasant sleep than the one you would have had if I had not stepped in."
"That would be lovely, thank you." Wendy was becoming ever astounded by the Captain's kindnesses toward her.
"Wonderful," said Hook. "Then I shall bid you a bon nuit and take my leave."
He half-bowed to her as he retreated to the door. Once he had slipped out, like a haunting breeze, Wendy lay alone once more with her thoughts. She was finding it ever so difficult to keep on doubting the Captain. Now, more than ever, she wanted to believe him. She wanted so very much for the generous attention which he lavished upon her to be real. How peculiar to look to Captain Hook as a source of comfort; a pillar of strength. But it was all she had. Hope was fast waning.
Before Wendy's mind could recess to the gloomy thoughts having plagued her prior to Hook's visit, a rather choppy and amateurish interpretation of Rameau burst forth from the harpsichord outside. Poor devoted Smee must be at it, and the good intentions of his efforts brought the smile back to Wendy's face. And at long last was she able to drift off to sleep in thus more preferable fashion.
Again, I have no ownership of any of the characters or actors who portrayed them...I hear it's illegal to own humans nowadays...
WOW. I must take a moment here and acknowledge some of the reviews I have gotten in the past week. I must say, I am completely humbled! And here I was thinking my other fic ("A New Day") was the superior work! LOL! This story was really only meant as a personal exercise – and experimental character study more or less. But I am ecstatic to see so many enjoying it! It truly makes the effort so much more worthwhile. So THANK YOU! Of course, this does put some tremendous pressure upon me to continue being interesting and original – I hope I shan't disappoint any of you down the line!
Anyways, here's Chapter X .....More reviews pleeeeeaaase!!! :-)
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X. FAITH AND TRUST
Peter Pan was growing restless, as was his wont.
Since his return from the crocodile's belly, Captain Hook had kept a remarkably low profile, due largely to the utter humiliation at his defeat. Thus if Peter desired a good old-fashioned spar with his nemesis, he would have to seek it out himself. But so very weary had the Boy become in being the initiator that the respites between their battles widened exponentially.
Of course, this was all very convenient for Hook, and I shan't need to explain to you why. But the hardened old pirate knew better than to get too comfortable, for Peter's whims changed with tides, and he set about making certain that Pan should not discover Wendy's tenancy aboard his ship before Hook had chance to carry out his Grand Scheme.
A forty-gun brig requires a sizeable crew to run her, and a forty-gun brig that has not seen the seas for centuries bears a sizably expendable crew at a captain's disposal. Out onto the island did Hook send thirty or more of his men to monitor Peter Pan's every move from the outskirts. It was their strict duty to watch and anticipate the boy's intentions whence he emerged from beyond his secret lair, as yet undetected, and should he or his small army of ruffians appear to be craving an assault upon the Jolly Roger, Hook's men would create a delicious diversion to distract Peter's attention away from the ship.
This proved to be not wholly difficult due to Peter's carelessness and frightfully short attention span. He could be easily led astray if he were to stumble across a shiny cufflink in the jungle or if he saw the fairies scatter from their den upon a dead Neverbird having been tossed into it. And it never once dawned on him the expanding lull betwixt his face-offs with Captain Hook, for as we have seen, he had no concept of time at all. Just as he had lost track of time amid visits to Wendy, he was happily oblivious to this occurrence. In fact, he had rather forgotten all about Wendy as well by now.
(In case you are wondering, yes, Tinker Bell may very well have been aware of all of this. But it would scarcely behoove her to alert Peter to its progression, wouldn't it?)
Life carried on more or less as usual aboard the ship. The crew rarely encountered the mysterious young lady recuperating in the captain's quarters. Only the Captain, the boatswain, and the surgeon saw to her directly, though the other pirates were oft handed tasks that related specifically to her, such as the washing and meals and the like. They complained little, as they were simply glad to have something else to do.
Though the same could not completely be said for our faithful Mr. Smee, I'm afraid. He presently found himself at the whims of two masters. As well as tending to Wendy, he still retained his many boundless duties to the Captain. You can imagine that this would bear heavily upon the poor old chap, but he dared not protest. He was well-learned in the art of Pride Stifling, and so it was with a loyal stiff upper lip that he now carried two meal trays to the Captain's quarters instead of one. The platter with the handpicked English Rose atop it was for Wendy.
At the very first yawn and stretch of every Daybreak, Smee stole in and out of the cabin quiet as a mouse, and a few short hours later, Wendy woke to find her breakfast fondly waiting for her on the little table next to bed. This was only a small consolation for not waking instead in Peter's charming little treehouse in the jungle, or even her own bed at home in London. But the pretty rose did manage to coax a smile or two.
Wendy spent most of her waking periods in the bedchamber. Her wounded ankle was proceeding quite languidly in its effort to heal, and though Wendy might have possessed the patience of a saint, her own physical afflictions were causing her great ire. But none so great as the anxiety she felt in watching the seconds tick cruelly by with nary a glimpse of Peter.
The monotony of Wendy's days were occasionally broken up by Smee, who would slip in every now and then and collect a personal affect of Hook's that he may be requiring. Hook himself popped in frequently to check upon his lovely means, as well as the Doc to examine her injuries. It was all very quaint and uneventful.
"You really must come out from here sometime," Hook insisted benignly one morning whilst Wendy stood staring hopefully out the bedchamber window.
Indeed, cabin fever was beginning to settle in, thus when Hook gently convinced Wendy to take some fresh air, she did not argue.
'Twas on the scarce occasions that the elusive Wendy emerged from the cabin and sat unobtrusively upon the upper deck of the ship in one of Hook's chairs that the crew ever caught a glimpse of her. And it was during one of these rare appearances that Wendy was afforded some vague substantiation of Hook's credibility.
Whilst Wendy was resting quietly in the cabin, the ship's crew had been working steadily attempting to replenish the provisions that had been plundered from their hold by Peter Pan and his Lost Boys. They had discovered and carved out yet another secret supply hold nearer to the ship so that it could be monitored more readily from the crow's nest. The crew labored tirelessly in obtaining goods with which to fill this new hold, none of these tactics being wholly honorable either. They looted every commune that they were able to infiltrate – they thieved from the fairies, the mermaids, and even the Indians – in order to restock their booty.
Wendy sat in her chair and watched from above as the men gathered round and organized their hoard under Hook's implicit instructions atop the deck of the ship. She was utterly fascinated to witness the dashing pirate in action, barking out orders and managing every detail just so. A fleeting moment had once existed whence Wendy would have gladly joined this gang of rogues, but she was wiser now.
In the course of her rapt observances, Wendy's eye was caught by a particular young buccaneer near the mizzenmast. He was plainly several years Hook's junior, and perhaps this accounted for his unmitigated brazenness in tossing Wendy several suggestive and bawdy glances. Not entirely unattractive he was, hence Wendy did not take great offense, but she did feel herself blush rather uncomfortably. None of this was lost on the keen Captain, and Wendy sat enthralled as she watched Hook casually stride toward the audacious lad, entangle his claw within his collar and effortlessly drag him across the ship and into the hold below. I daresay Wendy never saw that young man again.
Hook rather thought he had made it explicitly clear to his dogs that if they so much as tilted an unseemly brow in his young guest's general direction, they would promptly be given a touch of the cat or worse. It was of the utmost vitality that Wendy perceive his ship as being her lone safe haven in Neverland. Hook was confident that he had as yet provided ample evidence of this. He doted on Wendy willingly and often – not too much as to make himself perfectly obvious, but just enough to elicit that warm and favorable look in Wendy's eyes for which he so craved. Though it was not altogether of his cynical nature to care for another human being, somehow he found it satisfying to do these things for Wendy. It must have been that appreciative look in her eyes.
Sadly, though, still remained those lonely nights when the Captain, half- drunk with both rum and self-loathing, would creep into the bedchamber and watch miserably as Wendy slept as if not a single consideration for this callous world. Oh, how beautifully oblivious to it all she appeared. And with her caring eyes now shut tight, Hook could only gaze upon Wendy's loveliness with unfiltered disgust. For, you see, someone as Hook who harbors such darkness in his heart, beautiful things are not to be cherished but begrudged...and destroyed. And as Hook stood inebriated before his occupied bed, he painfully fought back the urge to take his iron claw and tear the girl to shreds – to make her as ugly on the outside as he felt on the inside. Perhaps then he would no longer feel so bloody unworthy in her presence.
And yet, by some means, always would the sun rise the following morning, and Hook would find himself innocuously within his stateroom – his claw safe in a drawer and his breakfast waiting on the table. And when next he saw Wendy, his objectives were inspired anew.
Wendy could plainly detect the impact she could have on the Captain from just the tiniest approving smile. Naturally, she used this vigorously to her advantage, for remember that she was using the Captain as well. Although she did indeed derive a touch of honest pleasure from seemingly being able to warm Hook's cold heart so readily. It was terribly flattering that this feared and depraved man could be tamed, if only for an instant, by the merest of gestures from Wendy. Even if it were all an act (and don't believe for a moment that she hadn't any suspicions), it was still terribly flattering.
Wendy kept a brave front before her benefactors at all times. But the days soon grew longer, and thus did the likelihood of her rescue by Peter Pan. It became harder and harder for Wendy to uphold the charade. Once the Moon had risen and all had retired for the night, each one of her pretenses dissolved into the weariest of sobs. Every miserable slumber was preceded by weeping. She buried her face in the pillows to mute her cries, but one particular evening, she must have not buried it deep enough.
In between sobs, Wendy heard a light rapping on her door, followed by the telltale sliver of candlelight unfold against the opposite wall. She stifled immediately.
"Wendy," She heard the familiarly haunted voice. "Is all not well?"
Wendy quickly wiped her eyes clear and turned toward him with a feeble smile. "No, no, all is quite well."
"Dear girl, I can see plainly from whence I stand that it is not," he asserted firmly. "May I enter?"
Wendy sat up in the bed, resigned to his inclination. "'Tis your ship, Captain."
Hook stepped inside confidently, leaving the door ajar, and approached Wendy with an almost parental air. He gestured imploring toward the edge of the bed. Wendy nodded, and Hook sat down upon it, his extravagant dressing gown clashing starkly with the bedsheets.
"I don't pretend to be ignorant of that which is the root your suffering, Wendy," he stated, his tone soft yet resolute. "I myself am quite well- acquainted with this particular cause."
Wendy hung her head and let her smile fade. Indeed it was no longer of any use to hide her torment. The Captain would see right through her at once.
"I must seem so foolish," she muttered.
"Nonsense," Hook avowed. "'Tis Pan who is the fool – to be so callously neglectful of the very girl who once saved his life."
He hadn't meant to vilify the boy so openly, at least not to Wendy. He swiftly recovered.
"But you mustn't judge him too harshly, my dear," he added with benevolence. "He can't help who – or what – he is. New fancies come along and he quickly forgets old ones. But I am certain that if he were to lay eyes upon you once more, he would be just as delighted as if for the very first time!"
"You really think so?" She had little hope any longer.
"Positively! Before long, he shall come round the ship once more, looking for a battle, as always, and in its place he will find you. And what a most agreeable barter it shall be!"
For the first time that evening, Wendy smiled for real. And hence deeming his duty properly fulfilled, Hook rose from the bed and proceeded to graciously tuck her back in – quite a bizarre sight, to be sure, for the old pirate captain to be tucking someone into bed!
"And the surgeon tells me you are healing splendidly." Hook said it with the pride of a father whose child had made all aces. "In no time at all, I will be able to assist you into the forest for your jolly reunion with Pan. Wouldst thou like that?"
Hook dangled Peter before Wendy's face like a delicious candy, and what was Wendy but really still just a mere girl. And she nodded eagerly.
Hook gave her knee a paternal tap and then stood tall above her, grinning satisfactorily. "Now, settle in and relax, my hearty." He leaned forward a tad as something sprang to his mind. "Did you know I have been teaching Smee the harpsichord?"
Wendy shook her head but was amused to hear more.
"I am doing this so that I may enjoy a good melody myself. Who would have thought the old goat to have a single musical bone in his body, but as it turns out, I daresay he has at least three!"
Wendy laughed a little.
"If you like, I can have him play a little something for you, to help serenade you off into a more pleasant sleep than the one you would have had if I had not stepped in."
"That would be lovely, thank you." Wendy was becoming ever astounded by the Captain's kindnesses toward her.
"Wonderful," said Hook. "Then I shall bid you a bon nuit and take my leave."
He half-bowed to her as he retreated to the door. Once he had slipped out, like a haunting breeze, Wendy lay alone once more with her thoughts. She was finding it ever so difficult to keep on doubting the Captain. Now, more than ever, she wanted to believe him. She wanted so very much for the generous attention which he lavished upon her to be real. How peculiar to look to Captain Hook as a source of comfort; a pillar of strength. But it was all she had. Hope was fast waning.
Before Wendy's mind could recess to the gloomy thoughts having plagued her prior to Hook's visit, a rather choppy and amateurish interpretation of Rameau burst forth from the harpsichord outside. Poor devoted Smee must be at it, and the good intentions of his efforts brought the smile back to Wendy's face. And at long last was she able to drift off to sleep in thus more preferable fashion.