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]).
Goodness, I was so worried about that last chapter, and it appears I needn't have been! Thanks for all your kind reviews! I just hope you'll continue to have the same sentiments down the road...
NOTE: My next chapter may not be for a little while, as I need to really sit down and figure some stuff out and make sure it all fits together and whatnot. So, please be patient!
Again, I have no ownership of any of the characters or actors who portrayed them...It's too expensive. Quotes from the 2003 film Peter Pan are the property of Universal Studios and P.J. Hogan and probably a whole buncha other people that are not me...
Here's Chapter XV .....more comments s'il vous plaît! :-)
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XV. A PRICE
As we know, Captain Hook possessed a vast and impressive anthology of historical art from nearly every era up until his captivity in Neverland; A sundry array of creations within book after book, each more inspiring than the next. But amongst all these divine works, there lay missing one pretty little picture which he most assuredly would have wished to capture and keep for his prized collection. In acknowledgment of this, I shall paint this picture for you now...
'Tis of a man reclining to one side upon a plush bed. He is of a wholly dark countenance, but upon closer inspection, we discern beneath the severity of his visage what we can only assume is a long sought-after bliss as he sleeps soundly. Clutched within his arms and curled securely against his chest is a young girl – nay, a young WOMAN, I believe – peacefully dozing as well, her small hands balled up snugly beneath her chin. His outside arm drapes over her back, fingertips just barely grazing her fair skin. Neither one has on a stitch of clothing, save for a small opal about the maiden's neck, and their bodies entwine so intricately that 'tis rather difficult to speculate where one should begin and the other might end.
Of course, my meager brush strokes could do little justice for such a divine image, but I am quite confident that, should the Captain gaze upon it, he would be most pleased and immediately hang it up in his stateroom for showing off.
I think I shall simply entitle this picture what it simply depicts: "James Hook and Wendy Darling".
They had quite earned their repose that night, though they did not come to it straight off. Just before they settled into a slumber, the Captain had risen laboriously from the bed and crossed to the other side of the room to replace the depleted candle on his writing desk. From there, he strolled to the small washstand off to the side.
Wendy had observed him keenly, thus getting her first full-length glimpse of Captain Hook in his rawest. He was quite a splendid specimen. Wendy had, of course, nary much with which to compare him other than those magnificent marble statues at the V&A in London – and could not the rugged pirate command an exhibit all his own. Regardless of all her naïveté, Wendy was easily able to recognize and appreciate what a fine man he was, even with the absence of a right hand.
She watched as he retrieved a few items from the washstand and then turned back toward the bed. He had in his possession a small basin of water and a cloth. She could not imagine what these would be for – that is, until she shifted her torso a slight and noticed several red smears dotting the inside of her thighs and the bedsheets beneath her.
She instantly became frightened and embarrassed, but Hook coolly assured her that it was perfectly natural as he climbed back upon the mattress before her. But what of his elegant bedsheets? Surely, she had ruined them.
"Smee shall take care of it," Hook replied. 'Twould not be the first time either.
With a heartening grin for the still ambivalent girl, Hook parted her sore legs and ever so carefully began to wash her. This was not something he was entirely wont to do, but this time he felt it necessary and did not deem it a bother in the least. Wendy lay back with one arm wearily slung over her forehead and absorbed the soothing feel of the cool, damp cloth against the raw, stinging flesh betwixt her thighs. The Captain proceeded with such a gentle diligence that she could scarcely conceive that this was the same man who had not so long ago tried to feed her to a crocodile.
Both were able to stay any re-arousal from this process due to their both being so frightfully exhausted. Why, 'twas a wonder at all that the Captain managed to even stay upright as he cleansed Wendy, and not even the sight of her naked femininity before him in all its glory managed to fully pique his expended lusts anew.
At one point, Wendy had casually peeked out from under her arm toward her handsome benefactor, and she saw that she was able to take note of the other tattoo adorning Hook's right shoulder... 'WALTER'.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
"Hm?" Hook looked up at her and followed the point of her outstretched finger to his arm. He grinned winsomely. "I wish I knew myself. I've quite forgotten." He scrutinized the large block letters upon his skin. "I imagine he must have been quite an impressionable fellow though."
Wendy smiled. The Captain no doubt had a multitude of thrilling and adventurous tales overflowing from the tome of his existence.
When he had finished his task, Hook leaned in and placed a light kiss upon the rook of Wendy's knee before rising again.
Wendy curled back onto her side and looked up at Hook with an appreciative smile. "Thank you, James."
The Captain's insides reeled at the sound of his name from her lips, and he could not help but smile rather giddily back at her – a bizarre image to be sure! He restored the basin and cloth to their proper places and promptly returned to the bed, taking Wendy in his arms once more. He embraced her tightly, as if in the hopes that her flesh would completely meld with his for good. Wendy buried her face into his broad chest and drew in the intoxicating scent of his unmistakable masculinity, dotted vaguely with hints of expensive cigars and the ocean. She imagined hazily that she must be in quite an enviable position. This was one of her final thoughts as she slipped off into a sound slumber. The Captain as well eventually drifted off, the first true and unperturbed sleep he had enjoyed in an unreckonable amount of time. Oh and how they both deserved this tranquility, each letting the other's steady breathing sway them gently asleep. Thus is how they came to be whence we find them now.
Wendy was the first to stir, at about dawn. She roused rather suddenly by a troubled feeling in her solar plexus, strong enough to shake her from a deep, dreamless repose. Her eyes fluttered open and took a moment or two to focus on her surroundings and recall precisely where she was. She saw the rook of the Captain's brawny shoulder but a hair's breadth from her face, and her memory was duly jogged. She felt a happy little tingle rush briefly through her body in reaction to awakening safe in his arms. But she couldn't ignore the nagging inclination which had seized her from her slumber.
The room was dreadfully silent, the musky scent of a stale passion lingering in the air, and was swathed in darkness save for the creeping sunrise outside the window. It cast such a curious hue upon the bedchamber, and piqued Wendy's notice at once.
Cautiously, Wendy leaned back from the Captain's body, his skin still vaguely sticky with perspiration from their activities in the night, and she managed to prop herself upon one elbow and peer over his shoulder toward the window. She blinked the sleepiness from her eyes to see clearer beyond the glass panes into the waking Neverland outside. Indeed, did not the usually vibrant Sun seem a touch melancholy this morning. Wendy became concerned at this sight at once and decided she must take a closer inspection.
She languidly rose to a seated stance, leaning on her hand. She let the Captain's good arm descend the length of her torso and fall quietly away, watching his sleeping face with a keen wariness. My, but he did appear as if an entirely different being whence he slept. He almost looked, dare I say it, saintly. She bestowed a tiny grin upon his still figure.
Soon returning to the indistinct matters at hand, Wendy began to scour the room both for the final destination of her nightdress and also for a strategic escape route from the bed which would not disturb Hook. She spotted her clothing at the foot of the bed, so she decided to slither down hence. Carefully detangling her legs from Hook's, she skulked from the bed and rose to her feet.
Immediately, she felt the soreness still troubling her thighs. But furthermore, she became aware of a dull ache in her abdomen, which bade her move about the room somewhat slumped. Oddly, though the only other pair of eyes in that room was presently shut, Wendy kept her arms in and concealing her modesty as she retrieved her crumpled nightdress from off the floor. It lay precariously between Hook's discarded claw and arm brace, a testimonial display of all the most intimate secrets which had been exchanged and shed betwixt these two souls the previous evening.
Wendy pulled the nightdress over her head and fastened the buttons as she crept toward the door. She was wholly vigilant of not waking the Captain – in spite of all the kindnesses and gentility he had shown toward her, she remained well aware that he was still the most dangerous man history had ever known.
Wendy winced as she unlatched the cumbersome lock on the door and the hinge squeaked as she opened it. She kept her eyes on Hook the entire time, until his serene, naked figure had vanished completely from the other side of the door. Now, Wendy made her way more briskly – or at least as briskly as she could manage with a troubled tummy, sore legs, and a bum ankle – through the stateroom to the main door. This she opened with an ample amount of care as well and stepped outside.
She was met at once with a chilly breeze – such a strange thing to feel on a Neverland morning. But even more disturbing than the timing of it was its disposition. It was a stark, almost aloof, chill, one which she had only felt once before, on that very ship in fact...when she and the rest of the island had presumed Peter Pan to be dead.
Oh! Peter!
Neverland was completely intertwined with Peter Pan, and Wendy knew this. Why, the whole island would freeze over in his absence! But it was not frozen now, though it was clearly troubled. Certainly, Peter must be sick or in some sort of peril. Whatever be the case, Wendy felt strongly that she had to find out for certain at once. She could scarcely forgive herself if she were to disregard this and turn her back on the boy. Yes, he had seemingly turned his back on her, but two wrongs did not make a right, as her father always told her.
The deck of the ship was quiet and abandoned. The crew had not yet risen from their quarters below, as per the Captain's orders, thus Wendy was able to make her way freely to the stern and prepare a small dingy for shore. To her own surprise, she was quite adept in doing this, and before long, she had lowered herself into the waters below and began paddling toward the beach.
Once ashore, Wendy tied the dingy to the nearest palm and entered the waiting jungle. Her recollection of Peter's hideout was decidedly vague, but she did recall that it was quite near the Indian encampment. If only to find this, she could most assuredly find Peter. She need only to keep walking until it was so.
And walk she did, for an excruciating length of time, through the dark and lonely forest. Eventually, she found her gait become less deliberate and her intentions that morning diminish with the rays of sunlight which struggled to make themselves known through the thick canopy of Neverland trees. The further away she progressed from the pirate ship, the more ambivalent her thoughts grew. Her whole skin still tingled with Captain Hook's touch, and with each step it seemed more and more unsettling, almost as if someone else and not her had indulged in all those ribald acts with him the previous night. She couldn't have possibly – she was a good English girl, and he was a despicable pirate. And good English girls simply did not go to bed with any man other than their betrothed. Suddenly, Wendy felt rather cheap.
Wendy soon and thankfully came upon a small brook, and she scurried to its edge and began splashing water onto her face. Inevitably she found her reflection within the pool. Well, she certainly did not LOOK any different, aside from being a little ruffled. She peered deep into the water and tried to see what Hook had seen – was it truly this face he had gazed upon as he ravished her body? She brought a finger to her lips – had they really alighted upon his so hungrily? It all seemed too surreal, and any additional thoughts on the matter were quickly causing her stomach renewed distress.
Wendy indignantly flitted the water's surface with her fingertips, obliterating her visage. This was not for what she had come into the forest. Rising to her feet and brushing off her dress, she scornfully reminded herself that it was Peter whom was her objective at this time. She would have ample opportunity to deal with Hook later. That is, if she did decide to return to the ship at all.
The journey commenced in indeterminable banality until, at last, Wendy detected the scent of fire smoke. The Indian camp was near, and her pace picked up somewhat. Yes, things were beginning to look rather familiar to her now – these Magnolia bushes here, those tall grasses over there, and that knotty old tree just up ahead.
Wendy's tread slowed. That tree was ever so much more than just an indicative landmark – it was a monument of memories. This was the lair of the fairies, where Peter had taken her to observe one of their grand wedding ceremonies. A more magical moment there could not have been before or since. But alas, the hostile way in which the branches blew in that unusual morning breeze stifled all the charm of this reverie. As Wendy drew closer, she vividly saw a most unfortunate scene play out before her – of a boy running frightened from a little girl's comforting touch.
"Why do you spoil everything?" the boy chided her. "I taught you to fight and to fly; what more could there be?"
"There is so much more," was the girl's tearful reply.
"What?" the boy demanded, advancing on her in frustration. "What more is there?"
The girl wavered a moment. "I don't know. I think it becomes clearer when you grow up."
Clearer indeed, Wendy thought to herself as she watched the quarrelling children dissolve into a dispassionate wind. She was well enough aware now as to what "more" there could be than a simple dance among the fairies and a few coy stolen glances. Hook had made this sufficiently clear for her, and finally Wendy understood her own exasperation from that night. All those lurid and wonderful things which she had done with Hook she had subconsciously wished to share with Peter some day, when they grew older – IF they grew older – together. Neither of them could have understood this at the time, but the undercurrent must have been there, for it scared them both and sent Peter flying off into the night. 'Twas the first of several occasions that he would abandon her. And even then, who had it been that appeared out of the darkness to try and pick up the pieces for her, even if it was not entirely sincere at the time?
Wendy put a hand to the tree and was consoled to feel the bark still warmly pulsating with the tiny lives inside. She began to encircle the full, broad circumference of the lair, striving desperately to keep her thoughts and memories light-hearted. She believed she heard an erratic hum originating from the opposite side of the tree – perhaps a cluster of early-rising worker fairies emerging for the day. Oh, how lovely to see fairies again.
Wendy gaily crossed to the other end of the great tree, but there were no fairies to be found. To her great astonishment, she had instead come across the curled up figure of a sleeping boy, nestling betwixt the gnarled tree roots. It was Peter!
He had been the one making the noise, mumbling restlessly in his sleep. Wendy approached him stealthily and knelt down by his head. She would have liked to take him in her arms and comfort him as he wrestled with his nightmares, as she used to do in days past, but she was terribly afraid that he would straight away detect the essence of his mortal enemy still clinging to her skin. So instead she let her fingers gently play within his fair, tousled hair, watching his impish little face as it contorted in wistful torment.
"No..." she heard him mutter. "Don't......Wendy......get away! Get away......
She seized her hand away at once and glared at him. Why, even in his sleep how he rejected her! Suddenly, he began to thrash about most disturbingly, and Wendy lurched backward to avoid his slumbering wrath. Perhaps she should not have come out there at all. She started to her feet, and just then, Peter's torso shot upwards with a yelp and his eyes flew open.
Wendy, taken off guard, stumbled over a tree root and fell backwards onto her bottom upon the grass. Peter's attention darted toward her at once, and he blinked tightly. Was he still quite asleep?
"Wendy..." He spoke her name as if not altogether surprised at her presence.
Wendy grappled to a more upright and ladylike position. "I'm sorry, Peter. I hadn't meant to wake you."
"I wasn't asleep," Peter insisted, folding his arms. ""I was...merely checking my eyelids for holes is all!"
Wendy tried to keep her brow from furrowing disparagingly. "If you say so."
"So, it's true, you are still here." His voice was terribly grave.
"Yes," Wendy replied. "You say it as if you already knew."
"Not really. I was only told so, but I didn't know for sure myself."
"Who told you?"
"Tink," Peter said. "She told me so."
Of course she did, the little muckraker, Wendy thought to herself. "Oh, I see."
"What are you doing out here then?" Peter asked suspiciously.
Now that she had heard the question, Wendy knew not quite how to answer. "Well...I...I thought perhaps you had taken ill..."
"Ill? Me?" Peter scoffed smugly. "Never!"
"The sky looked rather bleak this morning, so I only presumed..."
Peter tossed a careless glance upward and shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."
"No, I guess not." Wendy paused a moment. "So, why are YOU out here, Peter?"
He took a step backward, almost defensively. "Why shouldn't I be out here? Am I not allowed to go where I please?"
"I wouldn't ask, only it isn't like you to leave yourself so at risk as to fall asleep in the middle of the forest."
"I was not asleep," Peter reiterated. "And if you must know, I came out here to ask the fairies if it was true that you were still on the island, but they were not yet awake when I arrived."
Wendy figured his reason for being at that tree had something to do with her. "Oh. Do the mermaids still lie to you then?"
Peter's face became severe. "Yes, it appears they do."
"I'm sorry." She wasn't really, but she knew how loftily Peter regarded the mermaids.
The awkward pair stood in an icy silence for a few moments before Peter's impatience got the best of him.
"You are staying aboard the Jolly Roger then?"
Wendy cast her eyes away. "Yes."
"With Hook."
She nodded, hoping he did not notice her turn pink.
Peter took a bothered step forward. "Why?"
Her eyes met his quickly. "'Tis only until I get better...when my injuries are properly healed."
He gave her a slapdash once-over. "You look fine to me."
Wendy gazed down and rotated her bum ankle, taking note of the ease with which she did it, and she suddenly felt rather sad. "Yes. I imagine I shall be leaving soon."
"Good!"
She looked up at him, hurt. "'Good'? Is that all you have to say about it?"
"The sooner you get away from Hook the better!"
"Peter, I really don't think you understand..."
"What's there to understand? Hook is a fiend!"
"He's not!" Wendy heard herself blurt out.
Peter only stared at her, jaw agape. I say, had she actually left the Boy speechless?
Wendy exhaled wearily and sat upon the nearest true root. "Of course, I mean...I know he is a depraved pirate and that he is your sworn nemesis and all..."
"So why do you stay with him?" Peter asked, crouching down before her.
Wendy searched laboriously for the proper words. "It's a rather complex matter. He's a very sad man, Peter. Quite lonely. And, I guess that my being there makes him happy. If only a little."
"Why should you care if he is happy or not?"
"'Tis a fair enough question," Wendy sighed, resigning herself to the inevitable. "I suppose it's all part of the riddle of growing up. One comes to embrace such complicated notions...like sympathy...compassion...forgiveness."
Peter remained unmoved. "I have never heard those words."
"No, I imagine you have not," Wendy responded quietly. "Not in this place."
She flung such a frightfully disapproving look into the Neverland winds all about her, and Peter's stomach knotted. He had so often seen that look before, on the faces of all the grown-ups and disbelievers who would cast off their children's whimsies of his beautiful little island as nothing more than juvenile ramblings. It sickened him to see that look tarnish the lovely face of his Wendy now. And he wanted to cry.
"Did he give you that?" Peter asked quickly, pointing to the little opal about Wendy's neck.
She glanced down. "Yes, he did."
Peter played off nonchalance as he recalled his exchange of kisses with Wendy years before. "Did you give him something in return?"
Wendy's heart skipped a beat. "Erm...well, yes, I suppose I did."
"Was it just as pretty?"
Wendy grew quite uncomfortable. She should have just lied. "Well, he seemed to appreciate it greatly."
Peter let his head droop sadly. "Was it very important to you?"
This was about all she could take. "Peter, I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway, for it belongs to him now. All right?"
"What was it then?" Peter persisted.
"Alas," Wendy exhaled heavily, shaking her head. "That you must never know, Peter."
"Why not?"
She gazed at him sadly. "You are never meant to."
Peter opened his mouth to say something more, but his words were stayed forever upon the sound of Wendy's name suddenly being bellowed from within the brush.
They both knew at once to whom that voice belonged.
"Oh dear," Wendy breathed, her whole body overcome in anxiousness, and she shot straight to her feet.
Peter rose as well when she did. "Why can't you tell me, Wendy?"
"Peter, listen," she began hastily, "I simply cannot explain these things to you. Now, you must go!"
"But I want to know! Please!"
"I can't! Now hurry! Before he sees you!"
"I am not afraid of him," Peter glowered.
"Peter," Wendy grasped his arm tightly, as a mother scolding a child, and he blanched at once. "If he sees us together, it may very well not be YOU whom he enacts his wrath upon."
He went mum, knowing her words to be veritable.
"Wendy!" came another demanding holler from the jungle.
"Peter, please!" Wendy begged in a loud whisper.
"Fine!" Peter shot back.
And with that, Peter wrestled himself from her unpleasant grip and dashed straight upward into the trees, disappearing into the shadowy thicket. Quite the nerve of him to be so affronted by her rebuff, wouldn't you say? When Wendy saw and heard no more of him, she turned to face her pursuer.
What Wendy did not know, however, is that the insolent boy went nowhere. He flew high within the trees and perched there, watching intently and unassumingly.
"Wendy?" Hook yelled once more. He was considerably closer.
Wendy straightened herself and tried to calm her nerves. "I'm here!"
In no time at all, Wendy saw the bushes before her rustle and shake, and from them emerged the Captain. Upon seeing him again, Wendy at once grew sheepish and blushed.
He was dressed rather haphazardly, having just thrown on his trousers, shirtsleeves, boots, and, of course, his hook. He carried a lantern and his rapier at his side. He hadn't even combed his hair.
"Wendy, what the devil are you doing way out here?" he asked sternly.
She wrung her hands nervously. "I...I was just...taking in some air."
"From the opposite side of the island?"
She shrugged with innocence. The very sight of him made her skin tingle anew. "I suppose I walked farther than I had thought."
Hook eyed her dubiously. He wished not to distrust her.
"How did you know I was here?" Wendy asked, hoping to alleviate some of the attention from herself.
"My onshore watchmen told me they had seen you venture into this part of the forest," Hook replied quite easily.
She had no idea he had spies within the island. What else might they have seen and told him? "Oh."
"Is everything quite all right?"
"Perfectly!" she insisted with a forced smile.
The pirate's countenance grew rather dark, and he took a step toward her.
"Don't lie to me, Wendy," he warned. "Not you."
"I'm not lying," she stumbled hastily, wanting to flee. "Truly, I just needed to get away for a spell."
Hook erected his chest to keep it from slouching. "Get away...from me," he stated with a stoic gruff.
Wendy rued her words at once. "Oh! That's not what I meant at all!"
"I imagined it would come to this," he grumbled as if not having heard her contention. He turned gloomily toward the fairy tree and set his lantern down upon a perch in the bark.
"Come to what?"
"I expected, sooner or later, you'd come to have your doubts about...all that..."
"Oh, no," Wendy replied, a blush overtaking her. She fiddled with her opal bashfully. "Actually, I found it to be all rather lovely."
Hook tore himself from away from the tree and started at her brusquely, his eyes grabbing hold of Wendy tighter than his arms ever could. She wished to recoil but her feet were of stone.
"I don't take kindly to being placated, my dear."
Her heart beat wildly as the menacing Captain stood tall and dark before her. "I am doing no such thing, I swear it."
"No?"
"No. How can I convince you?"
He flickered an eyebrow. "I know of one way..."
He closed the gap between them until nary a sliver of daylight could get through, but he did naught more. Her skin burned bright pink as his insinuation dawned soundly upon her. He said nothing, but his entire aura entreated her – nay, DARED her to consent to the challenge swaggering in his eyes, and there was never any denying those eyes.
Wendy struggled to moderate her pounding heart as she brought her hands up to rest upon Hook's shoulders, and with a last faint grin, so offered her lips to his. He accepted them gamely and enfolded his arms tight about the petite waist of his young mistress.
High up amongst the shrouded trees, a pair of green eyes were set ablaze.
Wendy had more than attested to her earnest, but a little extra persuasion surely couldn't hurt, Hook thought. He sighed ravenously whilst Wendy wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him yet closer. As he deepened their embrace, thrashing his greedy tongue against hers, he felt her knee and foot begin to hike up the side of his leg. In turn, his impish hand slowly crept up over her stomach and affixed securely to her breast, giving it a luscious squeeze. He could feel her stimulated little protrusion clearly through her nightdress against his palm. 'Twould not have been beneath him to take the girl right then and there in the middle of the jungle if he so wished to, and she would be far too rapt by him to contest it.
By now, their furtive observer had seen enough. Suddenly, from out of the thicket of trees above came zipping by a small flash, which hurtled toward the fairy's den and speared the hallowed trunk just inches from Hook's and Wendy's head.
The amorous couple ceased all immodesties at once – Wendy gasping at the intrusion and Hook spinning round with his claw at the ready toward the faint rustling of leaves overhead.
"Who's there?!" he bellowed angrily. "Come out and show yourself, coward! Who art thou?!"
"Peter..." came Wendy's hushed voice from behind him.
"Peter?" Hook growled, turning back toward her. "Where?!"
Wendy reached up and plucked the Boy's knife from the tree and held the brutal instrument in her delicate hands. Her heartbeat went promptly from racing to a cold standstill.
"Oh no..."
She threw the dagger to the ground. "I must go to him..."
"What?" The Captain hurried to her side. "Go to Peter? Don't be absurd!"
"I have to try and explain," Wendy muttered, wandering toward the thicket.
"He warrants no explanation!" Hook hissed, following her, but she paid no heed to him and started off into the forest. He caught her elbow coarsely. "Wendy, no!"
He yanked her to face him, and she gasped.
"He must understand!" she exclaimed, an acute resolution simmering within her.
Hook gripped her tighter. "I forbid it!"
"Forbid it!" Wendy blurted. "Who be you to 'forbid' anything of me?"
He felt his ire mount at once. "If you go to him, Wendy, I swear I'll – "
"You'll what?" Wendy cut him off briskly. "Kill me? Well, if you're planning to do so, I wish you would get it over with now, because, frankly, I can stand the suspense no longer, Captain."
The way in which she spat his title was like a punch to his chest, even more so than her insinuation that he was plotting her imminent demise. The mere thought of it – and the fact that she would think it of him – bade him loosen his grip upon her at once. He stared long into her eyes and saw nothing but an unshakable firmness. For once, she had him cornered with no escape.
"I will give you until sundown, my dear," he stated coolly. "You may have your little chat with Pan, but you will be back on my ship by sundown."
"I will come back to you, I promise," Wendy avowed dourly. Time would only tell if she was to break this promise.
Hook hovered over her darkly. "I have no desire to harm you, let alone kill you, Wendy. But if you force me to return to this jungle to find you, I cannot be held responsible for what my hook might have to say on the matter. Understood?"
She was quite determined not to let him believe that he frightened her. "Yes."
And without a word further, she tore away from his relentless eyes and scurried off into the trees, leaving the Captain quite alone.
She had very little far to go before she heard, just ahead of her, a soft groaning like a beast in distress, and with a few more strides, she came suddenly upon Peter. He was doubled over upon the ground on his hands and knees as if injured. Sobs wracked his entire little body.
Without thinking, Wendy spouted rhetorically: "Peter, what's wrong?"
"How could you?!" Peter wailed.
"Oh, please, let me try to explain – "
He turned over wretchedly, his face twisted with angst. "How could you do that?! Why, Wendy?!"
"It's not what you think!"
"You gave him my thimble!" Peter cried, staggering to his feet. "You said it belonged only to me, always!"
"And so it does!" Wendy pleaded. "Peter, I did NOT give Hook your thimble!"
"LIAR!" His voice cracked horribly. "I saw it!"
"The circumstance was entirely different!"
"Different how?"
Wendy wrung her hands desperately. "Oh dear, I find it so impossible to find the right words to explain it to you..."
"Just tell me!" Peter screeched, stamping his feet. "Tell me why you thimbled Hook! Explain to me how it's different from when you thimbled me!"
Tears began spilling from Wendy's eyes. "Oh, Peter...I honestly don't want you to know."
He advanced on her with a furious impatience. "Why not?"
"Because...you're so careless and innocent, and I want you to stay so forever."
"Oh, ROT!" Peter spewed hatefully.
Wendy was becoming quite fed up with his impertinence. "You know, Peter, none of this is really any business of yours in the first place!"
He sprang afore suddenly, and she thought he might strike her. "When something of mine is taken from me, am I not permitted to question it?"
But Wendy only shook her head and began to retreat. "You could never understand..."
"Make me understand! I want to know!" He started towards her threateningly. "Explain to me why I have this terrible pain in my belly! Tell me why I feel so sickened when I see you with him! And why on earth did he touch you HERE – "
Suddenly, his small hand lurched forward and clamped down upon Wendy's right breast. Almost instantaneously, it seemed all the Heavens above cried out with the Boy's grief, and this, even more than Peter's brash gesture, caused Wendy to gasp. Her eyes shot skyward, but Peter's remained affixed to her face.
When at last Wendy's attention fell earthbound once more, she swiftly smacked the Boy's hand away.
"Peter, you mustn't!"
"Why?" he asked intently.
"Well," Wendy struggled, prudishly closing herself off with her arms, "for one thing, you did not ask my permission!"
Peter's tone grew shrewd. "Why do I need your permission?"
Regrettably scandalized, Wendy retorted: "'Tis a privilege to handle a lady in such a fashion!"
Peter coolly straightened, and an acerbic smirk crept across his lips. "A 'privilege' you should extend to Hook, but not me."
That was that; he had caught her on the spot, and she was powerless to respond. When he saw she had no answer, his chin fell to his chest and he sighed heavily.
"I never should have brought you here."
She could not quite find her voice until she too averted her eyes from him. "Well...I did insist that you bring me..."
"No," Peter cut in. "I mean, the first time."
Wendy felt her chest cave in.
"I should never have taken you away with me. I should have just reclaimed my shadow and left. You've caused nothing but trouble since I met you."
"You don't mean that."
No, he did not mean it, not really. And yet it he believed it as truth. He shook his head gloomily and began to wander away from her, but after a few steps he stopped.
"You know," he began, his back to her. "Tink told me that...she saw you take your dress off in front of Hook...that you let him look at you like that."
Now 'twas Wendy's turn to be sickened. That was not the candle flickering which she thought she saw in Hook's bedchamber after all...
Peter turned halfway to her, the very picture of desolation. "I told her to stop making up stories and to be gone from me at once. But it's true, isn't it?"
That miserable little pixie. Wendy could only stand there amid her own shame and hang her head.
At this silent confirmation, Peter felt his rage reawaken, and he knew if he stayed there a moment longer, he may very well do something horrible to her. With a burdensome effort, Peter abruptly leapt into the air and hovered among the branches.
"Go back to the ship, Wendy," he sneered, hissing her name like a blasphemy as his hand entangled within his vines. "Your captain is waiting for you."
In one swift movement, he flicked his arm toward Wendy, cuffing her in the shoulder with something small and hard, and dashed off into the darkness.
Wendy watched him disappear through tear-soaked eyes. She must have remained in that spot, staring unbelievably into the trees, for the duration of the morning. When she finally bent down to retrieve the object which Peter had hurled at her, she did so almost mechanically.
She was too numb to react as she gazed down at the tiny silver thimble in the palm of her hand.
Goodness, I was so worried about that last chapter, and it appears I needn't have been! Thanks for all your kind reviews! I just hope you'll continue to have the same sentiments down the road...
NOTE: My next chapter may not be for a little while, as I need to really sit down and figure some stuff out and make sure it all fits together and whatnot. So, please be patient!
Again, I have no ownership of any of the characters or actors who portrayed them...It's too expensive. Quotes from the 2003 film Peter Pan are the property of Universal Studios and P.J. Hogan and probably a whole buncha other people that are not me...
Here's Chapter XV .....more comments s'il vous plaît! :-)
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XV. A PRICE
As we know, Captain Hook possessed a vast and impressive anthology of historical art from nearly every era up until his captivity in Neverland; A sundry array of creations within book after book, each more inspiring than the next. But amongst all these divine works, there lay missing one pretty little picture which he most assuredly would have wished to capture and keep for his prized collection. In acknowledgment of this, I shall paint this picture for you now...
'Tis of a man reclining to one side upon a plush bed. He is of a wholly dark countenance, but upon closer inspection, we discern beneath the severity of his visage what we can only assume is a long sought-after bliss as he sleeps soundly. Clutched within his arms and curled securely against his chest is a young girl – nay, a young WOMAN, I believe – peacefully dozing as well, her small hands balled up snugly beneath her chin. His outside arm drapes over her back, fingertips just barely grazing her fair skin. Neither one has on a stitch of clothing, save for a small opal about the maiden's neck, and their bodies entwine so intricately that 'tis rather difficult to speculate where one should begin and the other might end.
Of course, my meager brush strokes could do little justice for such a divine image, but I am quite confident that, should the Captain gaze upon it, he would be most pleased and immediately hang it up in his stateroom for showing off.
I think I shall simply entitle this picture what it simply depicts: "James Hook and Wendy Darling".
They had quite earned their repose that night, though they did not come to it straight off. Just before they settled into a slumber, the Captain had risen laboriously from the bed and crossed to the other side of the room to replace the depleted candle on his writing desk. From there, he strolled to the small washstand off to the side.
Wendy had observed him keenly, thus getting her first full-length glimpse of Captain Hook in his rawest. He was quite a splendid specimen. Wendy had, of course, nary much with which to compare him other than those magnificent marble statues at the V&A in London – and could not the rugged pirate command an exhibit all his own. Regardless of all her naïveté, Wendy was easily able to recognize and appreciate what a fine man he was, even with the absence of a right hand.
She watched as he retrieved a few items from the washstand and then turned back toward the bed. He had in his possession a small basin of water and a cloth. She could not imagine what these would be for – that is, until she shifted her torso a slight and noticed several red smears dotting the inside of her thighs and the bedsheets beneath her.
She instantly became frightened and embarrassed, but Hook coolly assured her that it was perfectly natural as he climbed back upon the mattress before her. But what of his elegant bedsheets? Surely, she had ruined them.
"Smee shall take care of it," Hook replied. 'Twould not be the first time either.
With a heartening grin for the still ambivalent girl, Hook parted her sore legs and ever so carefully began to wash her. This was not something he was entirely wont to do, but this time he felt it necessary and did not deem it a bother in the least. Wendy lay back with one arm wearily slung over her forehead and absorbed the soothing feel of the cool, damp cloth against the raw, stinging flesh betwixt her thighs. The Captain proceeded with such a gentle diligence that she could scarcely conceive that this was the same man who had not so long ago tried to feed her to a crocodile.
Both were able to stay any re-arousal from this process due to their both being so frightfully exhausted. Why, 'twas a wonder at all that the Captain managed to even stay upright as he cleansed Wendy, and not even the sight of her naked femininity before him in all its glory managed to fully pique his expended lusts anew.
At one point, Wendy had casually peeked out from under her arm toward her handsome benefactor, and she saw that she was able to take note of the other tattoo adorning Hook's right shoulder... 'WALTER'.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
"Hm?" Hook looked up at her and followed the point of her outstretched finger to his arm. He grinned winsomely. "I wish I knew myself. I've quite forgotten." He scrutinized the large block letters upon his skin. "I imagine he must have been quite an impressionable fellow though."
Wendy smiled. The Captain no doubt had a multitude of thrilling and adventurous tales overflowing from the tome of his existence.
When he had finished his task, Hook leaned in and placed a light kiss upon the rook of Wendy's knee before rising again.
Wendy curled back onto her side and looked up at Hook with an appreciative smile. "Thank you, James."
The Captain's insides reeled at the sound of his name from her lips, and he could not help but smile rather giddily back at her – a bizarre image to be sure! He restored the basin and cloth to their proper places and promptly returned to the bed, taking Wendy in his arms once more. He embraced her tightly, as if in the hopes that her flesh would completely meld with his for good. Wendy buried her face into his broad chest and drew in the intoxicating scent of his unmistakable masculinity, dotted vaguely with hints of expensive cigars and the ocean. She imagined hazily that she must be in quite an enviable position. This was one of her final thoughts as she slipped off into a sound slumber. The Captain as well eventually drifted off, the first true and unperturbed sleep he had enjoyed in an unreckonable amount of time. Oh and how they both deserved this tranquility, each letting the other's steady breathing sway them gently asleep. Thus is how they came to be whence we find them now.
Wendy was the first to stir, at about dawn. She roused rather suddenly by a troubled feeling in her solar plexus, strong enough to shake her from a deep, dreamless repose. Her eyes fluttered open and took a moment or two to focus on her surroundings and recall precisely where she was. She saw the rook of the Captain's brawny shoulder but a hair's breadth from her face, and her memory was duly jogged. She felt a happy little tingle rush briefly through her body in reaction to awakening safe in his arms. But she couldn't ignore the nagging inclination which had seized her from her slumber.
The room was dreadfully silent, the musky scent of a stale passion lingering in the air, and was swathed in darkness save for the creeping sunrise outside the window. It cast such a curious hue upon the bedchamber, and piqued Wendy's notice at once.
Cautiously, Wendy leaned back from the Captain's body, his skin still vaguely sticky with perspiration from their activities in the night, and she managed to prop herself upon one elbow and peer over his shoulder toward the window. She blinked the sleepiness from her eyes to see clearer beyond the glass panes into the waking Neverland outside. Indeed, did not the usually vibrant Sun seem a touch melancholy this morning. Wendy became concerned at this sight at once and decided she must take a closer inspection.
She languidly rose to a seated stance, leaning on her hand. She let the Captain's good arm descend the length of her torso and fall quietly away, watching his sleeping face with a keen wariness. My, but he did appear as if an entirely different being whence he slept. He almost looked, dare I say it, saintly. She bestowed a tiny grin upon his still figure.
Soon returning to the indistinct matters at hand, Wendy began to scour the room both for the final destination of her nightdress and also for a strategic escape route from the bed which would not disturb Hook. She spotted her clothing at the foot of the bed, so she decided to slither down hence. Carefully detangling her legs from Hook's, she skulked from the bed and rose to her feet.
Immediately, she felt the soreness still troubling her thighs. But furthermore, she became aware of a dull ache in her abdomen, which bade her move about the room somewhat slumped. Oddly, though the only other pair of eyes in that room was presently shut, Wendy kept her arms in and concealing her modesty as she retrieved her crumpled nightdress from off the floor. It lay precariously between Hook's discarded claw and arm brace, a testimonial display of all the most intimate secrets which had been exchanged and shed betwixt these two souls the previous evening.
Wendy pulled the nightdress over her head and fastened the buttons as she crept toward the door. She was wholly vigilant of not waking the Captain – in spite of all the kindnesses and gentility he had shown toward her, she remained well aware that he was still the most dangerous man history had ever known.
Wendy winced as she unlatched the cumbersome lock on the door and the hinge squeaked as she opened it. She kept her eyes on Hook the entire time, until his serene, naked figure had vanished completely from the other side of the door. Now, Wendy made her way more briskly – or at least as briskly as she could manage with a troubled tummy, sore legs, and a bum ankle – through the stateroom to the main door. This she opened with an ample amount of care as well and stepped outside.
She was met at once with a chilly breeze – such a strange thing to feel on a Neverland morning. But even more disturbing than the timing of it was its disposition. It was a stark, almost aloof, chill, one which she had only felt once before, on that very ship in fact...when she and the rest of the island had presumed Peter Pan to be dead.
Oh! Peter!
Neverland was completely intertwined with Peter Pan, and Wendy knew this. Why, the whole island would freeze over in his absence! But it was not frozen now, though it was clearly troubled. Certainly, Peter must be sick or in some sort of peril. Whatever be the case, Wendy felt strongly that she had to find out for certain at once. She could scarcely forgive herself if she were to disregard this and turn her back on the boy. Yes, he had seemingly turned his back on her, but two wrongs did not make a right, as her father always told her.
The deck of the ship was quiet and abandoned. The crew had not yet risen from their quarters below, as per the Captain's orders, thus Wendy was able to make her way freely to the stern and prepare a small dingy for shore. To her own surprise, she was quite adept in doing this, and before long, she had lowered herself into the waters below and began paddling toward the beach.
Once ashore, Wendy tied the dingy to the nearest palm and entered the waiting jungle. Her recollection of Peter's hideout was decidedly vague, but she did recall that it was quite near the Indian encampment. If only to find this, she could most assuredly find Peter. She need only to keep walking until it was so.
And walk she did, for an excruciating length of time, through the dark and lonely forest. Eventually, she found her gait become less deliberate and her intentions that morning diminish with the rays of sunlight which struggled to make themselves known through the thick canopy of Neverland trees. The further away she progressed from the pirate ship, the more ambivalent her thoughts grew. Her whole skin still tingled with Captain Hook's touch, and with each step it seemed more and more unsettling, almost as if someone else and not her had indulged in all those ribald acts with him the previous night. She couldn't have possibly – she was a good English girl, and he was a despicable pirate. And good English girls simply did not go to bed with any man other than their betrothed. Suddenly, Wendy felt rather cheap.
Wendy soon and thankfully came upon a small brook, and she scurried to its edge and began splashing water onto her face. Inevitably she found her reflection within the pool. Well, she certainly did not LOOK any different, aside from being a little ruffled. She peered deep into the water and tried to see what Hook had seen – was it truly this face he had gazed upon as he ravished her body? She brought a finger to her lips – had they really alighted upon his so hungrily? It all seemed too surreal, and any additional thoughts on the matter were quickly causing her stomach renewed distress.
Wendy indignantly flitted the water's surface with her fingertips, obliterating her visage. This was not for what she had come into the forest. Rising to her feet and brushing off her dress, she scornfully reminded herself that it was Peter whom was her objective at this time. She would have ample opportunity to deal with Hook later. That is, if she did decide to return to the ship at all.
The journey commenced in indeterminable banality until, at last, Wendy detected the scent of fire smoke. The Indian camp was near, and her pace picked up somewhat. Yes, things were beginning to look rather familiar to her now – these Magnolia bushes here, those tall grasses over there, and that knotty old tree just up ahead.
Wendy's tread slowed. That tree was ever so much more than just an indicative landmark – it was a monument of memories. This was the lair of the fairies, where Peter had taken her to observe one of their grand wedding ceremonies. A more magical moment there could not have been before or since. But alas, the hostile way in which the branches blew in that unusual morning breeze stifled all the charm of this reverie. As Wendy drew closer, she vividly saw a most unfortunate scene play out before her – of a boy running frightened from a little girl's comforting touch.
"Why do you spoil everything?" the boy chided her. "I taught you to fight and to fly; what more could there be?"
"There is so much more," was the girl's tearful reply.
"What?" the boy demanded, advancing on her in frustration. "What more is there?"
The girl wavered a moment. "I don't know. I think it becomes clearer when you grow up."
Clearer indeed, Wendy thought to herself as she watched the quarrelling children dissolve into a dispassionate wind. She was well enough aware now as to what "more" there could be than a simple dance among the fairies and a few coy stolen glances. Hook had made this sufficiently clear for her, and finally Wendy understood her own exasperation from that night. All those lurid and wonderful things which she had done with Hook she had subconsciously wished to share with Peter some day, when they grew older – IF they grew older – together. Neither of them could have understood this at the time, but the undercurrent must have been there, for it scared them both and sent Peter flying off into the night. 'Twas the first of several occasions that he would abandon her. And even then, who had it been that appeared out of the darkness to try and pick up the pieces for her, even if it was not entirely sincere at the time?
Wendy put a hand to the tree and was consoled to feel the bark still warmly pulsating with the tiny lives inside. She began to encircle the full, broad circumference of the lair, striving desperately to keep her thoughts and memories light-hearted. She believed she heard an erratic hum originating from the opposite side of the tree – perhaps a cluster of early-rising worker fairies emerging for the day. Oh, how lovely to see fairies again.
Wendy gaily crossed to the other end of the great tree, but there were no fairies to be found. To her great astonishment, she had instead come across the curled up figure of a sleeping boy, nestling betwixt the gnarled tree roots. It was Peter!
He had been the one making the noise, mumbling restlessly in his sleep. Wendy approached him stealthily and knelt down by his head. She would have liked to take him in her arms and comfort him as he wrestled with his nightmares, as she used to do in days past, but she was terribly afraid that he would straight away detect the essence of his mortal enemy still clinging to her skin. So instead she let her fingers gently play within his fair, tousled hair, watching his impish little face as it contorted in wistful torment.
"No..." she heard him mutter. "Don't......Wendy......get away! Get away......
She seized her hand away at once and glared at him. Why, even in his sleep how he rejected her! Suddenly, he began to thrash about most disturbingly, and Wendy lurched backward to avoid his slumbering wrath. Perhaps she should not have come out there at all. She started to her feet, and just then, Peter's torso shot upwards with a yelp and his eyes flew open.
Wendy, taken off guard, stumbled over a tree root and fell backwards onto her bottom upon the grass. Peter's attention darted toward her at once, and he blinked tightly. Was he still quite asleep?
"Wendy..." He spoke her name as if not altogether surprised at her presence.
Wendy grappled to a more upright and ladylike position. "I'm sorry, Peter. I hadn't meant to wake you."
"I wasn't asleep," Peter insisted, folding his arms. ""I was...merely checking my eyelids for holes is all!"
Wendy tried to keep her brow from furrowing disparagingly. "If you say so."
"So, it's true, you are still here." His voice was terribly grave.
"Yes," Wendy replied. "You say it as if you already knew."
"Not really. I was only told so, but I didn't know for sure myself."
"Who told you?"
"Tink," Peter said. "She told me so."
Of course she did, the little muckraker, Wendy thought to herself. "Oh, I see."
"What are you doing out here then?" Peter asked suspiciously.
Now that she had heard the question, Wendy knew not quite how to answer. "Well...I...I thought perhaps you had taken ill..."
"Ill? Me?" Peter scoffed smugly. "Never!"
"The sky looked rather bleak this morning, so I only presumed..."
Peter tossed a careless glance upward and shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."
"No, I guess not." Wendy paused a moment. "So, why are YOU out here, Peter?"
He took a step backward, almost defensively. "Why shouldn't I be out here? Am I not allowed to go where I please?"
"I wouldn't ask, only it isn't like you to leave yourself so at risk as to fall asleep in the middle of the forest."
"I was not asleep," Peter reiterated. "And if you must know, I came out here to ask the fairies if it was true that you were still on the island, but they were not yet awake when I arrived."
Wendy figured his reason for being at that tree had something to do with her. "Oh. Do the mermaids still lie to you then?"
Peter's face became severe. "Yes, it appears they do."
"I'm sorry." She wasn't really, but she knew how loftily Peter regarded the mermaids.
The awkward pair stood in an icy silence for a few moments before Peter's impatience got the best of him.
"You are staying aboard the Jolly Roger then?"
Wendy cast her eyes away. "Yes."
"With Hook."
She nodded, hoping he did not notice her turn pink.
Peter took a bothered step forward. "Why?"
Her eyes met his quickly. "'Tis only until I get better...when my injuries are properly healed."
He gave her a slapdash once-over. "You look fine to me."
Wendy gazed down and rotated her bum ankle, taking note of the ease with which she did it, and she suddenly felt rather sad. "Yes. I imagine I shall be leaving soon."
"Good!"
She looked up at him, hurt. "'Good'? Is that all you have to say about it?"
"The sooner you get away from Hook the better!"
"Peter, I really don't think you understand..."
"What's there to understand? Hook is a fiend!"
"He's not!" Wendy heard herself blurt out.
Peter only stared at her, jaw agape. I say, had she actually left the Boy speechless?
Wendy exhaled wearily and sat upon the nearest true root. "Of course, I mean...I know he is a depraved pirate and that he is your sworn nemesis and all..."
"So why do you stay with him?" Peter asked, crouching down before her.
Wendy searched laboriously for the proper words. "It's a rather complex matter. He's a very sad man, Peter. Quite lonely. And, I guess that my being there makes him happy. If only a little."
"Why should you care if he is happy or not?"
"'Tis a fair enough question," Wendy sighed, resigning herself to the inevitable. "I suppose it's all part of the riddle of growing up. One comes to embrace such complicated notions...like sympathy...compassion...forgiveness."
Peter remained unmoved. "I have never heard those words."
"No, I imagine you have not," Wendy responded quietly. "Not in this place."
She flung such a frightfully disapproving look into the Neverland winds all about her, and Peter's stomach knotted. He had so often seen that look before, on the faces of all the grown-ups and disbelievers who would cast off their children's whimsies of his beautiful little island as nothing more than juvenile ramblings. It sickened him to see that look tarnish the lovely face of his Wendy now. And he wanted to cry.
"Did he give you that?" Peter asked quickly, pointing to the little opal about Wendy's neck.
She glanced down. "Yes, he did."
Peter played off nonchalance as he recalled his exchange of kisses with Wendy years before. "Did you give him something in return?"
Wendy's heart skipped a beat. "Erm...well, yes, I suppose I did."
"Was it just as pretty?"
Wendy grew quite uncomfortable. She should have just lied. "Well, he seemed to appreciate it greatly."
Peter let his head droop sadly. "Was it very important to you?"
This was about all she could take. "Peter, I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway, for it belongs to him now. All right?"
"What was it then?" Peter persisted.
"Alas," Wendy exhaled heavily, shaking her head. "That you must never know, Peter."
"Why not?"
She gazed at him sadly. "You are never meant to."
Peter opened his mouth to say something more, but his words were stayed forever upon the sound of Wendy's name suddenly being bellowed from within the brush.
They both knew at once to whom that voice belonged.
"Oh dear," Wendy breathed, her whole body overcome in anxiousness, and she shot straight to her feet.
Peter rose as well when she did. "Why can't you tell me, Wendy?"
"Peter, listen," she began hastily, "I simply cannot explain these things to you. Now, you must go!"
"But I want to know! Please!"
"I can't! Now hurry! Before he sees you!"
"I am not afraid of him," Peter glowered.
"Peter," Wendy grasped his arm tightly, as a mother scolding a child, and he blanched at once. "If he sees us together, it may very well not be YOU whom he enacts his wrath upon."
He went mum, knowing her words to be veritable.
"Wendy!" came another demanding holler from the jungle.
"Peter, please!" Wendy begged in a loud whisper.
"Fine!" Peter shot back.
And with that, Peter wrestled himself from her unpleasant grip and dashed straight upward into the trees, disappearing into the shadowy thicket. Quite the nerve of him to be so affronted by her rebuff, wouldn't you say? When Wendy saw and heard no more of him, she turned to face her pursuer.
What Wendy did not know, however, is that the insolent boy went nowhere. He flew high within the trees and perched there, watching intently and unassumingly.
"Wendy?" Hook yelled once more. He was considerably closer.
Wendy straightened herself and tried to calm her nerves. "I'm here!"
In no time at all, Wendy saw the bushes before her rustle and shake, and from them emerged the Captain. Upon seeing him again, Wendy at once grew sheepish and blushed.
He was dressed rather haphazardly, having just thrown on his trousers, shirtsleeves, boots, and, of course, his hook. He carried a lantern and his rapier at his side. He hadn't even combed his hair.
"Wendy, what the devil are you doing way out here?" he asked sternly.
She wrung her hands nervously. "I...I was just...taking in some air."
"From the opposite side of the island?"
She shrugged with innocence. The very sight of him made her skin tingle anew. "I suppose I walked farther than I had thought."
Hook eyed her dubiously. He wished not to distrust her.
"How did you know I was here?" Wendy asked, hoping to alleviate some of the attention from herself.
"My onshore watchmen told me they had seen you venture into this part of the forest," Hook replied quite easily.
She had no idea he had spies within the island. What else might they have seen and told him? "Oh."
"Is everything quite all right?"
"Perfectly!" she insisted with a forced smile.
The pirate's countenance grew rather dark, and he took a step toward her.
"Don't lie to me, Wendy," he warned. "Not you."
"I'm not lying," she stumbled hastily, wanting to flee. "Truly, I just needed to get away for a spell."
Hook erected his chest to keep it from slouching. "Get away...from me," he stated with a stoic gruff.
Wendy rued her words at once. "Oh! That's not what I meant at all!"
"I imagined it would come to this," he grumbled as if not having heard her contention. He turned gloomily toward the fairy tree and set his lantern down upon a perch in the bark.
"Come to what?"
"I expected, sooner or later, you'd come to have your doubts about...all that..."
"Oh, no," Wendy replied, a blush overtaking her. She fiddled with her opal bashfully. "Actually, I found it to be all rather lovely."
Hook tore himself from away from the tree and started at her brusquely, his eyes grabbing hold of Wendy tighter than his arms ever could. She wished to recoil but her feet were of stone.
"I don't take kindly to being placated, my dear."
Her heart beat wildly as the menacing Captain stood tall and dark before her. "I am doing no such thing, I swear it."
"No?"
"No. How can I convince you?"
He flickered an eyebrow. "I know of one way..."
He closed the gap between them until nary a sliver of daylight could get through, but he did naught more. Her skin burned bright pink as his insinuation dawned soundly upon her. He said nothing, but his entire aura entreated her – nay, DARED her to consent to the challenge swaggering in his eyes, and there was never any denying those eyes.
Wendy struggled to moderate her pounding heart as she brought her hands up to rest upon Hook's shoulders, and with a last faint grin, so offered her lips to his. He accepted them gamely and enfolded his arms tight about the petite waist of his young mistress.
High up amongst the shrouded trees, a pair of green eyes were set ablaze.
Wendy had more than attested to her earnest, but a little extra persuasion surely couldn't hurt, Hook thought. He sighed ravenously whilst Wendy wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him yet closer. As he deepened their embrace, thrashing his greedy tongue against hers, he felt her knee and foot begin to hike up the side of his leg. In turn, his impish hand slowly crept up over her stomach and affixed securely to her breast, giving it a luscious squeeze. He could feel her stimulated little protrusion clearly through her nightdress against his palm. 'Twould not have been beneath him to take the girl right then and there in the middle of the jungle if he so wished to, and she would be far too rapt by him to contest it.
By now, their furtive observer had seen enough. Suddenly, from out of the thicket of trees above came zipping by a small flash, which hurtled toward the fairy's den and speared the hallowed trunk just inches from Hook's and Wendy's head.
The amorous couple ceased all immodesties at once – Wendy gasping at the intrusion and Hook spinning round with his claw at the ready toward the faint rustling of leaves overhead.
"Who's there?!" he bellowed angrily. "Come out and show yourself, coward! Who art thou?!"
"Peter..." came Wendy's hushed voice from behind him.
"Peter?" Hook growled, turning back toward her. "Where?!"
Wendy reached up and plucked the Boy's knife from the tree and held the brutal instrument in her delicate hands. Her heartbeat went promptly from racing to a cold standstill.
"Oh no..."
She threw the dagger to the ground. "I must go to him..."
"What?" The Captain hurried to her side. "Go to Peter? Don't be absurd!"
"I have to try and explain," Wendy muttered, wandering toward the thicket.
"He warrants no explanation!" Hook hissed, following her, but she paid no heed to him and started off into the forest. He caught her elbow coarsely. "Wendy, no!"
He yanked her to face him, and she gasped.
"He must understand!" she exclaimed, an acute resolution simmering within her.
Hook gripped her tighter. "I forbid it!"
"Forbid it!" Wendy blurted. "Who be you to 'forbid' anything of me?"
He felt his ire mount at once. "If you go to him, Wendy, I swear I'll – "
"You'll what?" Wendy cut him off briskly. "Kill me? Well, if you're planning to do so, I wish you would get it over with now, because, frankly, I can stand the suspense no longer, Captain."
The way in which she spat his title was like a punch to his chest, even more so than her insinuation that he was plotting her imminent demise. The mere thought of it – and the fact that she would think it of him – bade him loosen his grip upon her at once. He stared long into her eyes and saw nothing but an unshakable firmness. For once, she had him cornered with no escape.
"I will give you until sundown, my dear," he stated coolly. "You may have your little chat with Pan, but you will be back on my ship by sundown."
"I will come back to you, I promise," Wendy avowed dourly. Time would only tell if she was to break this promise.
Hook hovered over her darkly. "I have no desire to harm you, let alone kill you, Wendy. But if you force me to return to this jungle to find you, I cannot be held responsible for what my hook might have to say on the matter. Understood?"
She was quite determined not to let him believe that he frightened her. "Yes."
And without a word further, she tore away from his relentless eyes and scurried off into the trees, leaving the Captain quite alone.
She had very little far to go before she heard, just ahead of her, a soft groaning like a beast in distress, and with a few more strides, she came suddenly upon Peter. He was doubled over upon the ground on his hands and knees as if injured. Sobs wracked his entire little body.
Without thinking, Wendy spouted rhetorically: "Peter, what's wrong?"
"How could you?!" Peter wailed.
"Oh, please, let me try to explain – "
He turned over wretchedly, his face twisted with angst. "How could you do that?! Why, Wendy?!"
"It's not what you think!"
"You gave him my thimble!" Peter cried, staggering to his feet. "You said it belonged only to me, always!"
"And so it does!" Wendy pleaded. "Peter, I did NOT give Hook your thimble!"
"LIAR!" His voice cracked horribly. "I saw it!"
"The circumstance was entirely different!"
"Different how?"
Wendy wrung her hands desperately. "Oh dear, I find it so impossible to find the right words to explain it to you..."
"Just tell me!" Peter screeched, stamping his feet. "Tell me why you thimbled Hook! Explain to me how it's different from when you thimbled me!"
Tears began spilling from Wendy's eyes. "Oh, Peter...I honestly don't want you to know."
He advanced on her with a furious impatience. "Why not?"
"Because...you're so careless and innocent, and I want you to stay so forever."
"Oh, ROT!" Peter spewed hatefully.
Wendy was becoming quite fed up with his impertinence. "You know, Peter, none of this is really any business of yours in the first place!"
He sprang afore suddenly, and she thought he might strike her. "When something of mine is taken from me, am I not permitted to question it?"
But Wendy only shook her head and began to retreat. "You could never understand..."
"Make me understand! I want to know!" He started towards her threateningly. "Explain to me why I have this terrible pain in my belly! Tell me why I feel so sickened when I see you with him! And why on earth did he touch you HERE – "
Suddenly, his small hand lurched forward and clamped down upon Wendy's right breast. Almost instantaneously, it seemed all the Heavens above cried out with the Boy's grief, and this, even more than Peter's brash gesture, caused Wendy to gasp. Her eyes shot skyward, but Peter's remained affixed to her face.
When at last Wendy's attention fell earthbound once more, she swiftly smacked the Boy's hand away.
"Peter, you mustn't!"
"Why?" he asked intently.
"Well," Wendy struggled, prudishly closing herself off with her arms, "for one thing, you did not ask my permission!"
Peter's tone grew shrewd. "Why do I need your permission?"
Regrettably scandalized, Wendy retorted: "'Tis a privilege to handle a lady in such a fashion!"
Peter coolly straightened, and an acerbic smirk crept across his lips. "A 'privilege' you should extend to Hook, but not me."
That was that; he had caught her on the spot, and she was powerless to respond. When he saw she had no answer, his chin fell to his chest and he sighed heavily.
"I never should have brought you here."
She could not quite find her voice until she too averted her eyes from him. "Well...I did insist that you bring me..."
"No," Peter cut in. "I mean, the first time."
Wendy felt her chest cave in.
"I should never have taken you away with me. I should have just reclaimed my shadow and left. You've caused nothing but trouble since I met you."
"You don't mean that."
No, he did not mean it, not really. And yet it he believed it as truth. He shook his head gloomily and began to wander away from her, but after a few steps he stopped.
"You know," he began, his back to her. "Tink told me that...she saw you take your dress off in front of Hook...that you let him look at you like that."
Now 'twas Wendy's turn to be sickened. That was not the candle flickering which she thought she saw in Hook's bedchamber after all...
Peter turned halfway to her, the very picture of desolation. "I told her to stop making up stories and to be gone from me at once. But it's true, isn't it?"
That miserable little pixie. Wendy could only stand there amid her own shame and hang her head.
At this silent confirmation, Peter felt his rage reawaken, and he knew if he stayed there a moment longer, he may very well do something horrible to her. With a burdensome effort, Peter abruptly leapt into the air and hovered among the branches.
"Go back to the ship, Wendy," he sneered, hissing her name like a blasphemy as his hand entangled within his vines. "Your captain is waiting for you."
In one swift movement, he flicked his arm toward Wendy, cuffing her in the shoulder with something small and hard, and dashed off into the darkness.
Wendy watched him disappear through tear-soaked eyes. She must have remained in that spot, staring unbelievably into the trees, for the duration of the morning. When she finally bent down to retrieve the object which Peter had hurled at her, she did so almost mechanically.
She was too numb to react as she gazed down at the tiny silver thimble in the palm of her hand.