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).
Okay, I'm reposting this chapter having added some additional dialogue and whatnot towards the end, as I (and some others) have realized that perhaps not quite enough was done the first time around to explain Wendy's rather alarming miseducation…..
Again, I have no ownership of any of the characters or actors who portrayed them…until they show up on eBay, that is…
Here's Chapter XXI …..please review! :-)
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XXI. NEW WORLDSHast thou ever noticed, when presented with a stunning piece of news or information, how a mere three seconds or so can seem like a millennium?
Thus was the case when the Jolly Roger's surgeon informed the Captain and his lover that they were expecting. All eyes swung in Hook's direction, including Wendy's, for whatever emotions this turn of events might have evoked for her were not nearly as dire as those festering within the petulant pirate. 'Twas his reaction and his alone that held authority at this moment.
Then, as if moving through warm molasses, Hook stepped toward Wendy, his face an ashen stone. His eyes, blue and broad, burned a hole into the middle of her forehead. She braced herself for the presumed inevitable. Oh, but the wait was excruciating!
Centuries later, it seemed, Hook stood face-to-face with his mistress, and she felt his hand grasp her arm whilst his claw hooked around the other and yanked her whole body to her feet.
This is it at last, Wendy's mind gasped. I am done for.
Petrified to move or look away, Wendy could only remain rigidly planted to the floor as the Captain suddenly threw his arms about her and squeezed her so tight she was sure she would shatter.
And into her ear, he gushed: "My Wendy – how marvelous!"
She detected a slight weep in his voice, and this struck her to the core more so than the reaction she had expected. Not knowing quite what else to do, she shot a glance toward the usually composed and indifferent doctor, but he appeared just as perplexed as she!
"James," Wendy managed, finally returning his embrace, though cautiously, "Do you mean it?"
Hook let her go only enough to look into her face. "Why, 'tis the most fantastic news!"
He was genuine; she could see it plainly in his irises. And now she could freely express of her own happiness.
After all, she was happy, as any young lady would be.
Wasn't she?
But then why was her smile so forced? Not even she had an answer, though she most certainly had a burning question:
"But," she began, trying not to dampen Hook's jollity, "Is it even possible to have children in Neverland?"
Hook stroked her cheek as if she were a newly unearthed pearl. "Anything at all is possible here, if only you wish it hard enough."
Wendy's mind immediately began to file through her various memory banks. Had she wished it? Indeed, she had just the previous evening wished that the gods would make it so that she could stay with the Captain forever – a wish she frequently repeated to herself when nestled at his side. And bearing his child would most certainly bind her to him permanently, wouldn't it? Still, this was not quite what she'd had in mind…
"Are you displeased?" Hook's voiced suddenly pervaded her stream of thought.
"Not at all!" she was quick (and wise) to reply. "It's only…well, I am rather surprised by your glee."
He laughed then kissed her forehead. "But do you not see how perfect it shall be?"
"Perfect?"
At last, he released her from his grip and began to pace about the room, as he was known to do in moments of delicious epiphany.
"A child of my very own…the son or daughter of James Hook! Why, it would HAVE to love me!" His vigor was like reckless darts, and Wendy was becoming a bit uneasy.
"And if a child could ever love me…" Hook rattled on, "Oh, Wendy, my darling! Don't you see how this could change everything?!"
He took Wendy by the shoulders once more, gentler this time.
"No child loves me." His eyes were intense. "That is what keeps me in this perpetual state of misery, as Peter Pan's personal plaything. As long as all children believe the lies he feeds to them about me…"
His voice trailed off, but it was no matter. Wendy was beginning to understand.
"Do you mean," she asked, "that having this child could…free you?"
Just then, Hook's visage wilted a bit. "I don't know that for certain. I continue to hold that only the boy's death could result in my ultimate liberation, but…"
Tenderly he let his hand creep to her newly occupied belly.
"If ever there were another chance for me, this shall be it. And 'tis thee who hast given me that chance, my beauty."
And if ever there were a more telling indicator of Wendy's love and devotion than just her hidden Kiss or the words spoken, Hook thought, he could conceive of nothing more precious.
The following day, a great celebration was held aboard the ship in honor of the happy occasion, and in particular of the mother-to-be. The pirates danced and sang, drank and feasted, and shot off the cannons. Of course, most of them cared not a whit for the girl, but no pirate could ever resist a good party.
The Captain dressed in his gaudiest finery, topped off with the most extravagant plumed hat anyone had ever seen outside of a Kentucky Derby. As for Wendy, she was presented with another new dress, this one altered from Hook's very own favorite dressing gown. My, but that Smee was a wizard with a needle and thread!
The ever-faithful bosun had laid out the dress neatly upon the bed which its wearer shared with his master, and when the young lady discovered it anon, she found pinned to the collar a crudely scribbled note:
"Pleez tri not to rooin this wun."
Why, whatever could that have meant? Wendy only shook her head a giggled at the poor old man's silliness.
The petty little message promptly tossed aside and forgotten, Wendy slipped into the new frock, the lush burgundy of the velvet bodice accentuating the rose in her cheeks and the golden fleur-de-lis embroideries complimenting the sparkle in her eyes. For a final touch, she wove a strand of pearls through her hair. She giggled at her reflection in the mirror – how long it had been since she'd gotten dressed up!
Once she was ready, she was led out to the main deck by Geoffrey, himself adorned in many a showy borrowed garment for the occasion. The little one had taken the news of Wendy's delicate condition with a degree of aplomb. He understood not what it meant exactly, and it is with good doubt that he much cared, though he did make the offhand statement that he had always been of the impression that only young ladies who were married could have babies.
The remark left Wendy and the bachelor pirate in quite an awkward position indeed, and once the little muckraker had been hastily escorted away, a brief discussion took place between the lovers. So brief, in fact, that it consisted of only one spoken exchange:
Wendy first suggested that perhaps it would be the proper thing to do. After all, Hook being a captain, he could perform the nuptials himself. But to this she was met with an icy stare and a half-mumbled reply of: "'Twould not make any difference."
The acid on his tongue being the final exclamation point on the matter, and it was never brought up again.
No, it would not have mattered. Not in Neverland. Who could there be to ever judge them?
Hence the happy fête took place with much reverie and absolutely no matrimonial ado. Wendy was at last able to show off the fruits of her lessons with the Captain in the tango as the couple twirled about the deck flawlessly to the march of nothing more than Hook's own melodious counting and the pirates' clapping.
The festivities drew on well into the night, until the last drunken brigand conked out wherever he fell and the Indian hymns had gone silent. Even the ever-frolicking Geoffrey had found a nice spot by the mizzenmast to curl up and doze.
Looking out over the still black sea, discernable only with the Moon's aid, Captain Hook stood with Wendy by his side for a long while, simply taking in the evening's essence. Observing the same rocky cliffs and briny shores which had served as his prison for so very long, Hook was suddenly struck with a wry notion.
"Would you like to see something?" he drawled cleverly into Wendy's ear.
"What sort of 'something'?" replied Wendy with a delicious suspicion.
"Come, I'll show you." He took her by the hand and led her aft and up towards the large helm.
The pitiable device was rather dilapidated and covered with cobwebs from lack of service, and when Hook gave it a nudge, it let out a terrible moan. At this, Hook snickered.
"Mr. Smee!" he then yelled out all of a sudden across the ship to his napping bosun. Smee jolted awake at once, and made the best of trying to appear as if he had never nodded off at all.
"Y-yes, Cap'n?" he stumbled.
"Raise the anchor," came Hook's casual command.
"Cap'n?" Smee blinked, to make sure he was quite awake.
"Hast thou seaweed in thy ears?"
Tottering to his feet and making his way to the anchor rig, Smee thrust a finger into his ear and wriggled it about.
"Aye, I just might…" he grumbled to himself.
For, you see, he had never heard such an order come from his Captain's lips since their incarceration on this island.
Nevertheless, Smee did as was requested of him, and akin to the wheel, the anchor proved most ornery about being wakened from his long hibernation and gave Smee quite a hassle. Meanwhile, Hook wandered about the stern, kicking at random napping pirates in the ribs so that they may hop to and man the sails. In no time, the Captain had his crew – or at least a portion of it – at the ready for this most peculiar undertaking.
"Bring me that horizon!" Hook bellowed, brandishing the tip of his cutlass towards the Sun's place of dormancy.
His men, believing they must be fumbling through some drunken dream, only shrugged at their Captain's order and set about their respective tasks. Thus the old girl lurched forward from her eternal confinement of the Pirate's Cove and took grasp of an obliging little breeze.
More curious and excited all at once Wendy could not have been. She beseeched of Hook several times to tell her what this was all about, but he merely smiled and flicked his eyebrow, saying nothing whatever as he coolly took charge at the ship's wheel.
The Jolly Roger moved briskly ahead, away from the Neverland, keeping the bowsprit aimed at the starry edge of the sea in front of it. With its every tack, Wendy was able to briefly observe the blackened island from each side of the ship, slowly disappearing beneath the even blacker waters behind them, until ultimately it was nothing more than a spec in the distance.
Wendy's mind began to race. Where could he possibly be taking them?
No child loves me. That is what keeps me in this perpetual state of misery.
This is what Hook had said to her earlier that day. Could it truly be…?
No sooner had this thought entered her recollection than did she spot something dark and decidedly familiar ascending from the horizon dead ahead. It appeared as if it were a whole other island!
Oh, but wait…As the snowy mountain peaks and wilted green jungles came closer into view, Wendy slowly began to consider exactly what lay before them…
'Twas the Neverland all over again!
"I say," she exclaimed when the recognition was complete. "We've made a circle!"
"No matter from which direction we set sail, it always comes back round to this," said Hook stoically.
It was then that Wendy fully understood the nature of Hook's captivity. Deep down, she had always assumed, even up until that very moment, that his grievances lay only in his head – that he could really leave at any time he wished, but something profoundly internal held him back. Now she knew how he was absolutely, positively, honest-to-goodness trapped in Neverland. Such a revelation rather made her want to weep for him.
But alas, she did not wish to ruin such a lovely day with tears, and she put on her bravest face for her captain.
"Well," she sighed, "I suppose there are worse places to be stuck for eternity."
"Mm," agreed Hook flatly. "I've heard of an Italian chap who once wrote of nine such places…"
Wendy caught a good-natured glint in his eye at these words, and she smiled with him.
Within moments, the Jolly Roger was anchored once more in Pirate's Cove, and the grumbling crewmen reclaimed their napping spots.
Hook and Wendy, also feeling the siren's song of slumber begin to serenade them, settled together by the starboard railing. But this night was just too perfect and marvelous to close their eyes upon. Wendy especially was of a sudden fear that she might wake up in the morning back in her bed in dreary Bloomsbury. And so she embraced her lover tighter.
'Tis a queer thing, is it not, viewing the world through the foggy lens of half-sleep and half-wake. For instance, beneath Wendy's drooping eyelids, she may spot across the Mermaid's Lagoon a swirling Mandala, with a lotus blossom at its center opening up and reaching for her to enter its lovely four-gated palace. And just as these eight coiling fingers are about to touch her cheeks, she opens her eyes full and realizes she has been all this time gazing at the Moon.
A slightly different story unfolded for Captain Hook, however. His own curse-ridden eyes observed more stark and complicated happenings – of his tired old ship becoming one of relentless activity, engaged in bloody and forgotten battles from long ago; his lazy crewmen now distinguished soldiers up on their feet, cheering on another hard-fought victory; and the mizzenmast sprouting hundreds of branches and leaves – the most magnificent tree you'd even seen – and all else around it dissolving into a perfect English meadow on a perfect English afternoon. And from behind this tree emerges the figure of a young maiden, her hair in tight golden curls, running to embrace him at his return from these long campaigns on land as well as the sea.
Now he could see her face. It is Wendy! Or, perhaps not. The image was rather hazy still. But she was a captivating creature all the same. Gently she leads him by the hand – nay, by BOTH hands! – toward this shady tree, the trunk on which he had once before carved their initials. Oh, if he could only make them out!
He sighed and supposed there would be time enough for that later. He wished only now to look upon his beguiling companion…this strange Wendy-but-not-Wendy. He had great need to kiss her – to claim her before her visage fizzled away once more into oblivion. A hand extended to cup her chin, and she inclined her face to his invitingly.
And then just like that:
"Oh dear!"
This was Wendy's voice, wrenching Hook from his fantasy and back aboard his idle, gray ship. His hand was to her cheek, but her face turned away, toward the main deck.
"Where's Geoffrey?" she gasped. Her attention had been thwarted from the Captain's incoming kiss to the blatantly vacant spot by the mizzenmast where Geoffrey once lay.
Hook felt a bit dizzy and confused, and a lot disappointed. Wendy's maternal instincts, it appeared, growing ever more acute by the minute, dragged her from her lover's arms down to the deck where the night's lookout, surprisingly alert, informed her that the boy had snuck off to the Captain's cabin. In enviable pacing, Wendy found herself there as well.
She was amused to find Geoffrey not on the fainting couch but curled up in Hook's bed, entreating Wendy to see him asleep with a story. An intriguing request, for sure, as Wendy could not remember the last time she told a story of any kind. But she indulged the little fellow and spun a tale, off the top of her head, about a rogue prince who had been cast from his family's fortune and sailed off into the sunset to seek his own wealth and acclaim. It came quite natural to her, as if it were a story she had told before.
Hook would never have openly begrudged Wendy and Geoffrey these moments together, for he considered that it might be advantageous for the mother-to-be. But Wendy could scarce keep from noticing for too long how increasingly sulky he was becoming as of late. She could deny it no longer when returning one colorless afternoon from picking night blossoms with Geoffrey onshore.
Upon reboarding the ship, the capricious boy had run off to some other pursuit below decks whilst Wendy returned to the cabin. Therein she found Captain Hook slumped ever so disdainfully against his chair, as if his whole body were wilting beneath the weight of his cloudy brow. He sat – well, slouched – before a fully dressed table.
"Oh," Wendy chirped, "is it supper time already?"
"Yes," Hook hissed, "At least an hour ago."
She seemed perfectly oblivious to Hook's scorn as she replaced the expired flowers on the mantle with the newly plucked ones. "Really? I hadn't realized."
"Evidently not."
"Well, I hope you didn't wait for me."
Hook threw up his arms despairingly. "Of course I waited for you!"
Wendy approached the table and sighed at the sight of wrinkled Neverbird and congealed gravy.
"Well, 'tis no good now. I really wish you had eaten."
Hook only folded his arms in a huff.
"A fixable enough problem," said Wendy, picking up some platters. "I shall just go below decks and warm it."
"Oh, don't sully thy precious fingers on my account," Hook pouted. "I'm sure jolly little Geoffrey will require some further coddling. Who am I, after all, but only the Captain!"
The platters reclaimed the table with a clank. "You can really be an insufferable martyr sometimes, James!" Wendy cried.
Truth be told, this outburst startled Hook – his dainty Wendy was not often given to tantrums – but he'd sooner have his toenails yanked off than admit that she spoke plainly. And so he only pursed his lips and stared sharply at the wall next to him without a reply.
Think not too unkindly of Wendy here – she could appreciate his worries well enough, and she rued her scornful words at once. With a matronly grace, she let her countenance soften to a reassuring smile and moved toward Hook's chair.
"Darling, you needn't be so jealous."
"Needn't I?" Hook grumbled, avoiding her gaze.
"No", she replied. "You're the only man in my life."
She gave his beard a playful tug, but he turned his face away, loathing how she placated him as if he were a child. Even if he knew he was behaving sufficiently like one.
Indeed, were he a child, Wendy could well persuade a good humor with a tickle or a treat or some other juvenile nonsense. But here was a grown man who required somewhat different techniques. And the Captain himself had versed her well on the tricks of reclaiming his favor.
Speaking no more, she crawled cat-like onto his lap, none dissuaded by his going rigid, and tip-toed her fingers down his chest to his breeches. Still he sulked and stared past her, even when her intentions became clear. He strived not to notice as she unfastened his buttons and dipped her hand into his trousers, taking a firm grip of the resting beast hidden inside. He kept his face cold and unmoving despite the blood in his veins beginning to burn at her touch. But all his efforts were quite for naught; Wendy wouldn't be deterred from breaking him down.
She had him firm in both hands now, relentlessly coaxing all his inescapable passions that he was never very adept at concealing for long. But he resisted yet, shutting his eyes to it and attempting to call off Wendy's onslaught by hollering out her name, which, through the thick filter of desire escaped from his lips instead as an agonized moan.
This only encouraged her further, and she tortured him with her hands with growing vigor, giggling cleverly, until he could scarce do anything now but yield. Grasping his own hand and his claw around her arms, he tilted back his head and let the cries of pleasure pour freely from him. How quickly his pride could be forgotten when his most primeval inclinations were stroked.
His willingness now obtained, he could allow the fury building inside himself to boil over at its own proclivity, rumbling like a monsoon toward any escape it could find. Every molecule in his body, it seemed, charged toward the delicate fingers which were the cause of all this tumult, until at last, with a great roar, they freed themselves in a violent surge – all over Wendy's hands and dress.
It was mercifully quiet for a few moments hence as Hook listlessly stared at the back of his eyelids and caught his breath. But he could sense an unrest, even still, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Wendy staring back at him, her face fixed in horror, and her soiled hands held out and quivering.
"I…I'm sorry!" she squeaked. "I didn't mean to!"
Tears sprang from her eyes uncontrollably, casting Hook dumbstruck.
"Wendy…what…?" he struggled, trying to shake off the last flickers of spent passion so that he may understand.
He reached for her, but she leaped from his lap like a spooked gazelle and made haste toward the bedchamber.
"I didn't know…I'm sorry! I didn't…" She burst into sobs and scurried into the adjoining room, kicking the door shut behind her.
The confused pirate could not begin to imagine the cause of this foolishness. But then it suddenly occurred to him that, no indeed, after all the intimate moments they had shared, she had never before witnessed this rather messy manifestation of his masculine desires.
And with this revelation came anew Hook's hard-squelched guilt of Wendy's delicate innocence. Had he grossly underestimated her naivety after all?
Quickly rearranging himself, Hook went to the bedchamber and carefully opened the door, revealing within Wendy standing before the washstand scrubbing furiously at her hands and dress.
"Wendy," Hook spoke gently.
With a small gasp, Wendy shot her reddened face in his direction.
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"Sorry for what?" asked Hook. "Do you think you harmed me in some way?"
She returned to her scrubbing, shaking her head. "I don't know what I did."
Hook chose his next words diligently. "Wendy…how do you suppose that child got into your belly?"
She paused a moment and looked at him again, a bit taken aback by the question. "Because I wished it. Just as you said."
The Captain was aware of his dropped jaw, and he prudently tucked it back under. "Is that what you truly believe?"
Irritated, Wendy threw the washcloth into the water basin. "'Tis what you said!"
"But it's not quite what I meant," Hook replied, putting his hand to the side of his face in utter astonishment.
"How else would it have gotten there?" Wendy cried, fresh tears trickling down her cheeks. "And what has all that got to do with this?" She gestured to the wet stain on the lap of her dress.
Hook stared at that little spot as well and sighed. He could easily have been cross with her for being so childish and ignorant, but the truth was that he never felt quite so old and depraved. It was painfully clear that he had taken as his lover a mere girl who did not even understand the procedures of creating children! And most wicked of all – he remained devoted to her as ever before.
"Wendy, please sit down," he instructed quietly.
If she had been afraid before, she was convinced she had reason to be now. Surely this would be it – the moment she long dreaded when she had somehow gone too far, and he would be rid of her at last. With a shaking hand, she brought forth the chair behind the writing desk and settled into it. Hook dropped to one knee at her side and forced himself to look at her face.
"You see, Wendy," he struggled, "There is ever so much more than wishing which brings about a baby. I'm not quite sure how to explain it myself, but…"
He had her interest now. The benevolence in his voice eased her tension somewhat, and she gave ear eagerly but warily.
His eyes darting all about everywhere except for hers, he continued:
"When you and I are…together…in the bed…when I…put myself inside you…" His own cheeks flushed a little, and he felt like a fool, but he went on. "At the end, when together we experience that wonderful bursting sensation…you know of what I speak?"
Wendy nodded. She was blushing too. My, what little ingénues our couple had become when words replaced deeds!
"When that occurs," Hook resumed, "I…release something…a substance…this –" He extended a finger to Wendy's stain. "– into your belly."
Her eyes went wide again, prompting Hook to stop a moment. She clutched at her mucked dress. "This? But…why? What's it for?"
She still was not grasping it. Hook's jaw tightened at knowing he would have to keep explaining.
"It's a seed, Wendy," he replied. "And you have seeds too…or a thing of the sort anyway…in your belly. And when mine mix with yours, usually they merely wave hello to each other and carry on their separate ways. But sometimes, when the conditions are just right, they decide to get together and…well, make a child!"
At Wendy's wondering expression, Hook remembered himself and waved his hand. "Or something to that extent. 'Tis all very complicated and scientific…much more so than my pathetic fumbling has attempted to illustrate it. But that is the general idea I suppose."
As this information began to sink in, Wendy exhaled deeply and pressed her newly washed palms miserably to her face.
"Oh," she groaned, "You must think me so stupid."
Hook removed one of her hands and took it in his.
"No, I don't think you're stupid. I only find it a terrible shame that I should be the one to have to explain this to you."
Wendy let her other hand fall to her lap. "How could I have not ever noticed?"
"Did you never?"
"Perhaps I did," she replied under a sharply creased brow. "I must have just always assumed that it came from me!"
And at Hook's odd glare, she added: "Well, I know I bleed occasionally, so…"
"Yes, Wendy," Hook cut in eagerly, "You do bleed. Hast no one ever told you what its purpose is?"
"No," Wendy confessed, ashamed. Then her shoulders slumped in exasperation. "Has that to do with creating children as well?"
Hook drooped a bit too, wearily rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He was never particularly keen on this subject. "In a rather indirect way…I know that it is the first mark of a young lady's journey to womanhood. But 'tis more of a 'Spring Cleaning' which your insides go through to keep things tidy in case any special guests should arrive."
He couldn't help but grin at his own feeble musings. "At least, that is how I have always understood it. I am most certainly the wrong person to extol on the matter!"
But Wendy was quite humorless at the present. She stared at the floor and shook her head sadly. "My mother never told me."
This statement, more than any other spoken this day, possibly disturbed Hook the most.
"Do you remember your mother, Wendy?"
"So strange, but I do remember her. Though I do not think of her." Indeed, Wendy appeared wholly unmoved by the memory.
Nevertheless, Hook thought it best not to press that issue. "Then, darling, if she did not tell you about all this, how did she account for the bleeding?"
"She simply didn't," Wendy sighed again. "I remember the first time I bled, I was so frightened. And completely mortified too. I almost didn't tell my mother. But when I finally found the courage to do so, she began to cry. But through her tears, she was smiling. I asked her 'What's wrong with me?' She kissed my forehead and told me nothing was wrong and that she would explain everything to me when I was married. Or rather, just before I was married. But until then, she said, I was not to be afraid of it. It was a gift from the Heavens to be cherished – a blessing from every New Moon. And I never questioned her. I went about my life just as before, but with this mysterious little affliction…all the while thinking it was some secret divine offering, like the wounds of the Christ."
Hook watched her radiance, which he adored most about her, fade rapidly as the light of a dying fairy. He took her hand once more and pressed it to his heart space soothingly.
"All happenings in nature, Wendy, are divine. You were not wrong to believe it."
She was not so sure. Despite her lover's efforts, her eyes fell downcast. How it all sounded so cold and mechanical, when her whole life she had imagined children being the harvest of something much more miraculous. She had always assumed that she, like Peter Pan and all other children, hatched from an egg as a bird in the Kensington Gardens and was whisked away by the thrushes and finches into her waiting parents' arms. But birds nor gods had anything to do with it, and neither did simple wishing. No, it was all due to a silly, sticky liquid into which her lover injected her, as if a tonic or inoculation. All the magic seemed gone. And her mother had allowed the charade.
"Wendy," she heard her name murmured. She raised her head and met the Captain's intense blue eyes. "If you had known all this before, would you…That is to say, would it have swayed your decision to give yourself to me?"
That strange and beautiful night seemed so long ago Wendy could hardly conjure up an honest reply. Rather, she could not quite remember the girl she had been before the dashing pirate took her into his bed. Would she have consented if she had been aware of all that she was now? She sincerely did not know how to answer.
But Hook still sought one. "Wendy?"
She hadn't been conscious of her hesitation, but to Hook, it must have seemed a terrible omen. Thus she aptly made up for the time lost and chose to put her lover's mind – and perhaps hers a well – at ease.
"No, of course not," she said with a kind smile, a wiser woman.
Relieved, Hook laced his arms around her and rested his head upon her knees.
"'Twas all meant to be, my love," he said softly. "Please trust that. In this world and all others, there are no accidents."