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).
Hulloooo! This here be quite a loooong chapter, so go pee or whatever you have to do first, and settle in. ;-) I hope everyone is still sticking with me….There is much more to come!
Again, I have no ownership of any of the characters or actors who portrayed them…but once I see them up on eBay, LOOKOUT!
Here's Chapter XXII …..please review:-)
XXII. RUNNINGWhen children are first born, they come into the world with the unwavering belief that their parents and all other grown-ups are an entirely different species, like dogs, cats, and lizards. Hence they make it their life's duty to distinguish themselves completely from those stern creatures, forever fretting of such ho-hum affairs as how much money they have, how much money they need, the size of the holes in the children's stockings, and which plates best match the table linens. Indeed, whatever may trouble a grown-up shall never trouble a child – they passionately see to that!
Until, that is, the fateful and ever-dreaded morning when a child awakes, gives a good stretch, gazes toward the window and thinks to him or herself: "My, but those drapes look ghastly with the wallpaper!"
Of course, such musings as this do not completely signify a full march into the kingdom of Adulthood, but it is surely an indication of the beginning of the end. Thus instigates the slow and painful process of understanding all which our poor parents have had to contend with over the years.
It's little doubtful that this 'awakening' of sorts is what contributed to young Wendy Darling's decision to renounce her adventures in Neverland and return home to the parents she'd very nearly forgotten.
And 'tis perhaps this same contemplation come back to haunt her which led to the strange request she posed to Hook this particular morning.
She had lain awake all through the night, replaying in her mind the revelations which Hook had imparted upon her earlier. She'd begrudgingly come to the conclusion that, for all the intensity she shared with the pirate captain, it had been little more to her than a game – just another capricious adventure to be gotten in the Neverland. Not once had the outcomes or consequences been measured. And now she could no longer pretend it wasn't anything more. She was going to be a mother for real. The game was over.
So, this was to be her Fate – to bear the child of James Hook. She never would have imagined such a thing for herself in a thousand lifetimes, but the Universe was tricky in this way. She could either accept it as it was or attempt an existence far more difficult. Where else could she possibly go with such a burden? Thus she silently repeated to herself the sentiments she had relayed to her lover a few days before – that perhaps there were far worse places than Neverland in which to be stuck for eternity in such a situation. At least, she hoped not.
Yes, these were all very grown-up thoughts. But was our Wendy grown-up enough yet to put them to the gauge? We shall just have to wait and watch.
The very moment Wendy's roving mind had finally yielded to sleep, in shuffled Smee to rouse the twosome for their morning tea. He wore a distinctly sour expression as of late, which his captain had not particularly taken much notice of, but it would not escape his attention this day.
Hook had been enjoying a tasty dream involving a voluptuous older woman with a delightful difficulty in keeping her skirts any lower than her knees, thus Smee's routine of tugging at his captain's bed-stockings was embraced with perturbence.
"What is it, Smee?" Hook grumbled, refusing to open his eyes.
"Well, Cap'n," Smee retorted cheekily, "'Tis mornin'."
"Yes?"
"And people get up in the morning."
Hook cracked open one lid. "Oh, is that so?"
Fancy Smee being so sassy, but Hook could well match him at every charge, thus he let it lay for the time being.
The Captain rose with a grimace in his constitution this morn as his bosun helped him into his harness and wardrobe.
"'Twas that blasted sunfish of yours last night," Hook griped. "Too underdone!"
"A fine thing tryin' t'fix sunfish properly when their ain't no sun," Smee muttered, tying off Hook's sash stoutly.
Hook watched him in mild disbelief as he turned and scooted toward the bedchamber door.
"This impudence won't do, Mr. Smee."
His hand on the knob, Smee paused a moment but did not look at his captain.
"Pardon me, sir. I reckon that fish put me in a poor humour as well." And he slipped out to fetch the tea tray.
Wendy was not gotten up until the last possible moment, as Hook always insisted, and the expectant couple took their tea together in relative quietness. A tinge of unease seemed to hang over them, no doubt a result from the previous evening's awkwardness. The silence was torturous to Wendy, who feared that Hook might harbor misgivings of their rocky affair after her unfortunate display of naivety. At last she was able to speak up and break the veil between them.
"Are you feeling alright, James?" she inquired, taking note of the flushed visage Hook had presented all morning.
"Ah," he tossed his hand dismissively, "Smee's damn sunfish."
On any other given day, Wendy would have tittered at that. But this was not to be another ordinary day for anyone in Neverland. Nor for the Neverland itself.
Aimlessly Wendy stirred the lemon peel in her teacup with her finger, avoiding the Captain's gaze. "James, I have something important I must discuss with you."
Oh dear, no good ever came of a conversation beginning with those words, Hook thought to himself with a sinking sensation. Nonetheless, he set his spoon onto the table and gave Wendy his attention.
"What it is, my love?"
Wendy spoke after a fortifying breath. "I came here to Neverland, this second time round, with the full intention of returning home."
Hook's heart plummeted.
"But as we can plainly see," she continued, "My circumstances have somewhat changed, haven't they?"
The lump in Hook's throat was cautiously swallowed down. "Yes…go on."
"And so I must stay here forever."
He saw no real hint of courtesy in her tone. "And this is terribly disagreeable to you."
"Oh no!" Wendy's eyes at last shot up from her tea. "That is not it at all! No, I've quite come to peace with my destiny…"
"You needn't lie to pacify me, Wendy," Hook seethed, now the one to evade her eyes. "I should have known better. This is no life for you nor our child. I'd understand if you wanted to leave."
"But I do not; that's what I am trying to explain!" She caught hold of his guarded glance and offered him a smile. "'Tis all right, James. I will happily remain with you."
But the stiffness in Hook's brow lingered. "What, then, dost thou need to discuss?"
"Well, as I said, I returned to Neverland with no intention of staying. But now I must. However, I brought with me no provisions."
"'Provisions?'" Hook sniffed. "Wendy, you are perfectly provided for here, are you not?"
"Yes, I am…" Wendy nodded. "To an extent. However, there's scarcely anything here which can provide for a baby."
Hook's sharp eyes immediately began to dance about the room, as if keen to find something which might prove her wrong.
Alas, she was quite right.
"But there are many necessities in my home which could be ever so helpful for when our little one arrives," Wendy pressed on, hoping Hook would be encouraged by her jovial manner. "Why, my mother still keeps Michael's old bassinette in my bedroom."
All of a sudden, a thousand and one frantic visions raced through Hook's mind, of his beloved ship being transformed into a makeshift nursery, with cribs, toys, and diapers strewn all about, and Smee trying desperately to calm a squealing baby with a warm bottle. This image nearly made him laugh, but the moment was short-lived once his mind's eye caught glimpse of his rumpled bosun handing off the hysterical child to HIM…!
"James?" abruptly came Wendy's voice. "Are you listening?"
"Yes. You wish to return to your home and collect some personal affects."
"Will you permit me?"
As with the provisions, Hook searched in vain for a reason to object.
"Well," he deliberated, "How shall you get there?"
"I should think I would be able to procure a fairy guide," replied Wendy.
Fairies?
"Doth any still inhabit the Neverland, do you suppose?" Hook mused.
"I've wondered myself. There is only one way to know for sure," said Wendy hopefully.
Hook looked over Wendy's endearing face, and in it he no longer saw a dreadful wreck of a playpen which was once his stateroom but instead a beautiful mother peacefully rocking her sweet babe to sleep with a kiss and a lullaby. How could he refuse anything to so pretty a picture?
A smile crept across the Captain's lips. "Then it shall be so. When the Redskins become preoccupied in their afternoon rituals, I will escort thee to the fairy's den."
But then Wendy's face took on that troubled air anew. "Well…you see, I feel this is a task I must carry out on my own."
Hook's expression met hers quickly. "Don't be silly. You shan't venture into those menacing jungles by yourself, my dear. Especially not so long as my child resides in thy belly!"
"I am perfectly capable, James," Wendy insisted. "Mr. Smee may row me to shore, and I can find my way comfortably to the fairy den."
"Wendy, I forbid you to go alone!" Hook bellowed in such a way as had not been heard for quite some time.
Seething, Wendy thumped the edge of the tabletop with her palms and shot to her feet.
"You have no authority to forbid me a thing!" she cried.
Hook rose as well, nearly tipping over his chair. "I absolutely do! You are my…"
And then he stopped.
Just what was she anyway? What claim could he make over her?
"I am the father of that baby!" he blurted. "And as such, 'tis my duty to see to its safety!"
Wendy's eyes filled wide with anger. "You dare to presume that I would do anything to put our child in Harm's path!"
"You do not know what it out there anymore, Wendy!"
"Trees, James!" she snapped. "That's all that is out there."
"We can't be sure…"
"James," Wendy stated his name as if branding it in lead, "If you do not trust me enough to do this, then there will be no reason for me to return to you at all."
Her words struck at Hook's chest and heaved him proper back into his chair.
"So…" he wheezed, clutching his solar plexus as if the wind had been taken out of him, "This is it then. The day I long dreaded, when thou wouldst rescind thy affections and at last abandon me once and for all. Oh, 'tis the Fate of Hook."
"I will not respond to such dramatics," said Wendy stoically, squelching the urge to take him in her arms at once. "If, after all this time, you truly believe that, then I'm afraid we have nothing left to say to each other."
If she had thought these words would stir the Captain to a more agreeable temper, she was mistaken. He only sunk further into his chair, and Wendy could no longer keep herself from going to him. She knelt to his right, and having nothing else to grasp, she enfolded her fingers around his claw.
"James, I know of no other way to convince you of my loyalty." Her tone was quieted.
"Nor I you," replied Hook, sitting up and closing his good hand over hers.
"Why do we continue to be so suspicious toward one another?"
"You must forgive an old pirate his world-weary tendencies," Hook half-smiled, sadly. "I remain ever convinced that even my own brutes shall one day mutiny."
"Well," Wendy rested her cheek on the back of his hand, "In case you haven't noticed, I am not one of your brutes."
The impish curl of her lips as they brushed his skin were too much for Hook to defend against, and he let out an amused chortle. "Yes, indeed, I doth perceive a minor distinction."
I needn't trouble you further with any fluff which proceeded then. Suffice it to say, Hook relented in allowing Wendy to venture into the dark Neverland forest on her own, under the stipulation that Smee would see her safe passage. The Captain also provided his mistress with a lantern and a dagger, should she meet up with any trouble. And on the stiff and rather uneasy dinghy ride from the ship to shore, Smee offered Wendy the small alert whistle he carried in his breast pocket, if the dagger proved insufficient protection.
"Thank you, Mr. Smee," Wendy said with all honesty.
"The Cap'n would 'ave insisted," came his dry response.
But, my, how drastically did the resentful bosun's tune change when he returned to the ship and gleefully told his Captain of the good deed he had done.
"Very well, Smee," Hook nodded. He had been scuffling about his cabin when Smee came in, as if looking for something but not sure what.
"Ye lose somethin', Cap'n?" Smee asked genuinely.
"My mind, I daresay," Hook muttered. "Listen, Smee, I apologize for denigrating your culinary capabilities this morning. If I offended thee, I am sorry."
"Not a worry, Cap'n." He saw Hook rub his right arm irritably. "Somethin' else the matter, Cap'n?"
Hook, ever prideful, waved the bosun's concerns away. "Oh, I imagine this bloody injury of mine is just starting to take its toll. Fetch me a brandy, would you?
"Yes, sir." He moved away to do so. "Ye know, Cap'n, if I may say, 'tis bloomin' strange that ye would let Miss Wendy go off into the forest all alone. I would 'ave thought ye'd like to go with her, if for no other reason than on the chance ye might finally catch that Peter Pan. Don't ye agree, Cap'n?"
But when Smee turned back round, brandy in hand, Hook was no longer listening, having twisted into an ugly ball and collapsed to the floor.
Wendy stepped into the foreboding thicket and at once felt as if she were being smothered in a dense blanket of grief. She sensed no danger; just an undiluted sadness.
The lantern did little to aid her way, for the darkness was impenetrable. She could scarcely see a metre in front of her face. From all sides, wilted branches of once glorious trees drooped from their trunks and pointed accusing fingerlike twigs at Wendy as she inched by. Only the sound of her heartbeat could be heard along with a low hum of despair coursing through the maze of trees like a mist with every step she took. No, she did not feel threatened, but the jungle clearly held a distinct and palpable contempt for this intruder.
It did not take long for Wendy to realize that she was foolish to make this trek alone. A veritable army of lamps and guides would even have thrown up their arms and turned back after only a few paces. Perhaps she ought to have swallowed her pride and allowed the Captain to escort her. Too late now – the dismal air engulfing her made it impossible to swallow. And had she wished to turn around and make for the shore again, she would have found the path she had just tread consumed and claimed once more by the unforgiving brush. And then, as a cruel exclamation point on the matter, a stiff breeze found its way through the murky stillness and blew out Wendy's lantern.
She was hopelessly lost. The jungle had ensnared her like a carnivorous bromeliad and taken its feeble revenge. She wanted to cry out. But for what? To whom?
And just then, before she could be digested in the belly of dejection, like the song of an angel came a voice she'd grown to revere so, calling her name in the distance.
"Wendy?" the Captain's speech echoed faintly, almost disembodied.
"James…!" Wendy's shout was as pathetic and stifled as the atmosphere surrounding her.
"Wendy? Is that you?"
She could not pin down from what direction he was calling. "Yes, James, it's me!"
"Where are you? I can't see you…"
"I'm here!" She clutched onto the branches and shrubs entrapping her and began to shake them violently. "Can you find me?"
"Yes…Yes, keep doing that." He was closer now. "Yes, I can see you. I'm coming…"
Thus Wendy went still and waited. Her eyes tried desperately to adjust to the darkness, to see some inkling of Hook's lantern approaching. But she could see nothing. She could not even discern a rustle of leaves underfoot. 'Twas most frightful.
At last, mercifully, Wendy felt a gentle hand rest upon her shoulder. She sighed in relief and grasped it.
"Oh, James, thank Heavens…"
Then a most queer thing happened – a second hand came down on her other shoulder!
Wendy gasped and spun around. Miraculously, she could just make out the faint glow of a young boy's face staring straight into her own.
Surely, the forest was playing more spiteful tricks on her.
"Peter…!" she stammered in almost a whisper...just in case.
"Yes, 'tis I," came the melancholy response of a child. So it was true.
In a rather pitiable turn of events, Wendy had gone so long without seeing Peter or even thinking of him with anything other than the most hostile of regards that she immediately went into a defensive upon hearing his own voice.
"What do you think you're doing?" Wendy snapped, shaking his hands from her person.
"I knew you'd come back…eventually," Peter replied with the vainest of hope in his tone.
"I haven't come back," said Wendy. "I was merely looking for the fairy's den."
"You won't find it anymore." Peter's voice was low and grave.
"What? Why not?" And Wendy was growing ever more agitated at this mere boy's presence.
"There are all gone."
She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
Even in the blinding dark, she could see Peter's head hang down against his chest.
"Peter?"
"Tink is sick too," he nearly mumbled, attempting to hold his tattered pride in place.
"Tinkerbell? What….?" Wendy fought against the urge of sympathy. "Peter, what is going on? What has happened here?"
"Will you come with me?" Peter met her eyes again. "Please?"
"Come with you?" Wendy retreated a step. "Are you mad? After everything you said and done?"
"I know," Peter replied quickly, advancing to the spot she had just left vacant. "I…I'm sorry."
Were Wendy's ears still deceiving her?
"You're what?"
"I said I'm sorry," Peter repeated as if hating to do so.
Why, the little scoundrel. He might have been a careless child, but he knew precisely the words Wendy would need to hear to entreat her to follow him – words he had never dared to speak to another soul, save for Tinker Bell after she drank his poisoned medicine.
And besides, Wendy was decidedly curious to learn what had become of the Neverland since she last clapped eyes on the Boy.
"Alright, Peter Pan, I will come with you. But be warned – " She put a hand to her skirt pocket. "I have a dagger."
"You won't need it," was Peter's unmoved retort as he brushed ahead past her. "This way…"
Leading her limply by the wrist, he wove a skillful path through the winding labyrinth of the Neverland jungle with nary a need for illumination. The thicket seemed to open up and make way for him as if a last favor to its once-revered keeper.
Before long they came upon the base of his tree home. Peter helped Wendy into the basket lift at the bottom, and she was surprised to see him join her therein. He snatched the vine pulley from her hand and began to tug on it.
"But Peter," she enquired, "Why don't you just fly?"
His face was cold.
"I can't."
They were silent for the remainder of the journey.
A chill clung to the air inside Peter's tree home, despite the dimly lit candles dotted round the perimeter. This could not be mistaken for a happy place, and one would be hard-pressed to consider that it once very much had been.
Not escaping Wendy's attention was the emptiness. Not even her own or Peter's presence seemed enough to fulfill the void. She took note of the bucket once used to catch sunrays now lying dusty and unused in a corner. Overturned chairs, unmade beds, tools and toys scattered erratically created a deafening symphony of ennui so unbearable Wendy would have preferred staying in the jungle to this.
"Where have the boys gone?" Wendy finally asked, unsure if Peter was aware of little Ram Eye's defection.
"Don't know," Peter shrugged. His back was to her as he lit another larger candle. "They all went into the woods one day and did not come back."
The fresh glow illuminated Peter's face when he showed it to Wendy again, and she quickly put her hand to her mouth.
"Oh, Peter! What happened to you?"
The sight of a black-and-blue welt underneath Peter's eye rekindled the maternal warmth Wendy had, whether she tried to deny it or not, always held for the Boy.
Peter fingered the bruise as if having forgotten about it. His recollection soon restored, he wilted with shame.
"I was struck."
"By whom?" Wendy wanted to go to him but dared not.
"A little boy, fallen from his pram. I came to take him away, but he cried out and struck me. He looked upon me as if I was some sort of demon!"
Not wholly inaccurate, Wendy thought, but she held her tongue knowing how little Peter could comprehend his own shortcomings. Indeed, he looked positively mystified as he recounted the incident.
Strolling toward a small basket in the corner of the room, he spoke morosely: "The children have abandoned me."
Wendy's heart halted. "Why do you say that?"
"I look in on their nurseries now, to watch them play. But they wish not to play at 'Peter Pan' anymore. They say it is too boring. They'd rather play at 'Pirates'." Peter's expression took on the dimness of the room. "The strongest child crooks his finger like a hook and they all prance around him and cheer, even when he strikes them atop their heads and shouts at them. They make the baby play Peter Pan. Or, sometimes, their house cat."
Despite Wendy's own complicated feelings toward Peter, she found this startling to hear.
"And worse yet," he added, "Because those little lost boys refuse to let me guide them to Neverland, they remain dead and soon forgotten."
"Oh no!" Wendy almost shrieked. "The poor dears!"
"Thankfully though," Peter continued ironically, crouching beside the little basket and peering inside, "I don't have to see any of it anymore, as Tink can no longer take me to their windows."
"Is Tinker Bell in that little basket, Peter?"
He nodded weakly.
She took a step forward but paused. "May I see?"
"If you want," he shrugged.
Kneeling beside him, she was dismayed to see the unhappy little body lying at the bottom, like a crumpled corsage one presses into a memory book, her light so faint it could not be discerned without one looking straight inside.
"She's not been this way long," Peter said. "But I don't know how much she has left. So, 'tis good that I should happen to find you when I did."
Wendy sat back her heels. She'd seen her fill. "Peter, do you think there is something I could do to help her?"
"I know there is," Peter said sharply. "You are the only one who can help her."
Clearly he was just being dramatic. "What could I possibly do?" Wendy raised a doubtful eyebrow.
"All of it is you, Wendy," was Peter's cryptic response.
"What?"
"All of this," Peter outstretched his arms. "The Sun's hibernation, the fairies disappearing, the boys running away….even this – " He pointed at his shiner. "'Tis all your doing."
Though his tone was not very accusatory, Wendy felt quite affronted. She stood abruptly.
"You stop this nonsense, Peter Pan! I have done nothing to no one!"
Peter was about to respond when he suddenly shot his head toward the basket where Tinker Bell lay. He cocked his ear toward it a moment, then nodded and sighed.
"What was that?" Wendy demanded. "Did she say something?"
"She might be fading, but she still has plenty to say." Peter allowed a small grin as he said this, and he dipped his hand into the basket and took his ill companion into his palm.
He stood and brought her to his cot. "She said that you have done much, but you've done it all wrong."
Settling Tinker Bell into the comforting folds of the fur blanket on his bed, she coiled her little body around his finger in gratitude, and Peter smiled weakly.
"Peter, please stop speaking in riddles and vague assertions," pleaded Wendy. "Just tell me what is happening and what it all has to do with me. Quickly now, or I shall leave!"
Never one to adhere to someone else's orders, even at his lowest, Peter made no great haste in delivering what Wendy had demanded. He finished seeing to his fairy, rose slowly to his feet, and wandered toward the deerskin opening of his hideout.
"When I was living in Kensington Gardens, before I came to Neverland," he began distantly, "A little girl named Maimie got lost in the park one day, and the fairies found her well after closing time. They would have done some nasty things to her too if she hadn't gone and found a perfect match for the gloomy Duke of Christmas Daisies. After this, she was invited back at any time she wished. She was a strange girl, but I suppose that is what I liked about her. She did not seem fit for the dullness that lay beyond the front gates. We had that in common."
Grinning reflectively, Peter took a seat by the door. Wendy, standing across the room, sat as well.
"She would visit me quite often and bring me gifts. We had a smashing good time! I wanted her to stay with me always. So, one day, while strolling through the flowerbeds, I told her we should be married at once."
Wendy's eyebrows shot to her hairline at this. She would not admit it, but I can tell you that she was just the slightest bit envious.
He continued: "She said that she wasn't altogether sure – we were both very young and really had no idea what exactly 'marriage' was…Only that it seemed to work out nicely for the Duke of Christmas Daises! If you love someone, you should marry that person, shouldn't you?"
Now his eyes met Wendy's, and he could not have missed the way in which his speaking of Love made her lips tighten.
Her lids squeezed shut in kind at his next declaration:
"And I believe I really did love Maimie."
Wendy wanted to leave and hear no more. How many times and by how many means could Peter reject her?
But as was her own deficiency, she did not move from her spot on the floor. She would be glad for it in just a moment.
"Alas," Peter sighed, instantly easing some of Wendy's distress, "She did not return. I never saw her again. Just as my mother had, Maimie barred me out. That was when I decided to leave."
"You came to Neverland to escape your broken heart," said Wendy quietly.
Peter shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the sentimentality. "I met Tink, and she showed me the way here. Neverland did not greet me a very desirable place to run away to at first. It was much like it is now…" He pulled back the deerskin flap at his left and squinted into the blackness.
A brief quiet overtook them before Peter spoke again. "But I suppose Hook told you about that already."
"Yes," said Wendy cagily. "He told me everything."
Peter nodded and said no more.
"Won't you deny it?" Wendy asked with curt.
Letting the flap fall back into place, Peter only said, "It doesn't matter."
"Doesn't matter!" she blurted hotly. "You ruined a man's life, Peter! Do you even realize it?"
"Let me finish!" Peter clubbed the floor with his fists. So, the same proud, impetuous Pan had not strayed very far after all.
Wendy folded her arms violently. "Well, get on with it then!"
But the Boy had been provoked, and his tantrum needed to be ebbed before he could go on. In great annoyance, Peter shot up and stood in place, shifting his weight from foot to foot restlessly, a riot about to thunder. Then suddenly he marched in long, determined strides to Wendy's other side and sat with a thump, so that now both she and Tinker Bell were in his sightline.
He remained there for a drawn moment, breathing heavily out his nose as he regathered his calm. Wendy stayed mum and waited.
And with one final snort and a blink, the tempest had dissipated.
"After I was here a while," Peter resumed after a beat, "I flew back to England to find Maimie. My idea was to find her asleep in her bed and carry her off with me to Neverland where she could be with me forever. But I didn't know where she lived, so I enquired to the finches in Kensington Gardens who had seen Maimie to her mother's arms when she was a baby."
Hogwash, thought Wendy, the evermore-wise woman she now was. Of course, she was having a devil of a time believing any of this at all – that careless, forgetful Peter could recall so much and in such detail.
"They took me to her window, and there she lay just as I had imagined. Well, perhaps a bit bigger than last time I had seen her, but not too much. She was still smaller than I." Peter grinned with pride.
"I could not go in right away, for Maimie's mother was tucking her in and telling her a story of a baby swan whose own mother and siblings had abandoned him because he did not look like them. Do you know the one, Wendy?"
She nodded. "'The Ugly Duckling.'"
"Yes, that's it!" At last, Peter showed off his little pearls. "When her mother had gone, I saw my chance, and I crept in and stole her away. She remembered me and said she was so glad to see me. She did not tell me why she never came back for me in Kensington Gardens, and I never asked. It didn't matter. All was forgotten once we arrived in Neverland. Oh, we had such glorious adventures. We made merry with the Indians, danced with the fairies, and defeated the pirates!"
It sounded grand indeed. And somewhat familiar.
"I can't remember how long she stayed." Peter gave a rueful sigh. "It did not seem very long before she insisted on going home. I thought Neverland was her home. No, Neverland is 'impractical', she said. Hmph. But she promised to come away with me again, but only in the wintertime. I agreed, but…"
He shifted uncomfortably. "…I did not know when wintertime was. That is, I could not have known when winter would be about in London. And I only first realized this when it was already far too late."
"Too late for what?" Wendy gently urged him when he took a pause.
"When I came back for her, it only seemed a few weeks. I flew to her window, but what I found inside was not the little girl whom I'd once asked to marry me. She had gone and grown up. All the way this time. And another little girl was in her bed. 'Twas her daughter, Mary."
Wendy felt a profound sadness then. Mary, of course, was her own poor mother's name.
"So, I took Mary to Neverland with me instead!" Peter proclaimed with a forced defiance. "And we had just as ripping a time as with Maimie!"
Wendy was not quite so convinced he had, or if he had only put on this mask in order to relieve the sadness from little Maimie's betrayal. He had an expertise of believing his own pretenses. And she could see his veneer begin to crumble as he pressed on.
"I was entirely confident that, this time, I would not be abandoned. Mary would surely stay with me. She adored taking care of me and the Lost Boys, and we gave her everything we could manage. But it was not good enough."
He was fighting hard not to cry, and losing. And Wendy was beginning to wonder if he was not genuine after all.
"She left you too," Wendy stepped in. Peter was thankful she had, to save him from having to speak the vile words himself, and he nodded brokenly.
"She missed her mother," his voice trembled. "I couldn't fault her for it."
Wendy was quite unable to reconcile what she was witnessing there in the shadows of that barren treehouse – the sight of a Pan filled with remorse and professed grief. Still she could not shake the notion that she was being made a party to a grand hoax.
"But…" Peter wiped his eyes hurriedly; maybe Wendy wouldn't notice. "As with Maimie, Mary consented to visit occasionally, if I should call on her. I ought to have learned my lesson the first time, to not wait so long again."
It astounded Wendy how he repeatedly bore responsibility for these misfortunes. The Peter Pan she had known would rather fall onto his own dagger than suffer such a thing.
"Did she grow up as well, Peter?" Wendy asked, becoming more swept up by his woeful tale.
"Indeed, she grew into a fine lady," Peter affirmed with some lament. "I would visit her window often just to gaze at her loveliness. Until the day she brought home a daughter of her own. Then I was happy again. I would soon have another to bring to Neverland with me."
"And did you bring her, Peter?" Wendy was so hopeful for him.
"Oh, yes." At last, Peter seemed to beam. "She was the most delightful of them all. I sometimes wonder now if I had not met Maimie simply so I could someday meet her granddaughter."
Wendy pursed her lips, happy with his being so pleased with this girl but not quite noble enough to evade Envy's green eye.
"As expected, she did not stay with me either," said Peter, bowing his head. "But she did give me a gift to remember her by…"
With these words, Peter lifted his palm and opened it, and resting steadfast and shiny in its center was a little silver thimble.
Wendy's eyes grew to the size of saucers.
"Peter…is it…?"
"Your Kiss," he confirmed.
"Then…I am…and Mary is…"
So, she'd had just cause to feel so troubled at the sound of the name 'Mary'. Quickly she began to put all the pieces together in her mind, and she found they fit seamlessly. Her grandmother had been born Jemima Mannering, and yes, on occasion, others would refer to her as 'Maimie'! She recalled it all now. The house in which she grew up, Number 14 in Bloomsbury, had been in the family since the Industrial Revolution. Peter could very well have been visiting the same nursery window for generations!
"Oh my gracious," Wendy swooned. "Mother never said anything…"
"She does not remember." Peter fiddled with the thimble aimlessly. "They never remember once they grow up."
Then his eyes grew stern and severe as they fastened onto hers. "'Tis all good and well if they should forget in the comfort of their own beds. But to come here to the Neverland and forget…"
He had her interest fully once more. Now, at last, he was arriving at his intention.
"I am able to be Peter Pan and to carry on my purpose so long as I still remain nestled lovingly in the hearts of those whom I have touched in your world," Peter said in a low, almost sage-like voice. "I entrusted them with it long ago. They bear my spirit within them and let it not ever change, so that I may be able to rescue lost boys and always return to the nursery windows of those children who still dream of me."
Once more feeling she must be on the defense, Wendy reflexively leaned away from him. "What do you mean, Peter?"
"You changed the story!" He suddenly cried out, bursting to his knees. Wendy nearly fell backwards. "Haven't you figured it yet? You came here and cursed me! You ran off with Hook, let him turn you against me, and now Neverland is being taken back by him!"
"It was never yours in the first place!" Wendy countered.
"It was ALL of ours!" Peter was on his feet now, his face crimson. "I took Neverland from his greedy clutches so that I could give it back to EVERYONE! But you RUINED it! You brought here all your silly grown-up inclinations, and you've made everything…too REAL!"
She had nothing left to say. His passion overpowered her, and she could not argue. And her silence allowed a respite for which Peter could detangle this second outburst.
"The children need me, Wendy," Peter said in a soft but quaking voice. "Would you really rather they dream of a Neverland shrouded in blackness and misery? Would you rather have them find an idol in that dastardly pirate than in me?"
"Peter…" Wendy managed unsteadily, "Please, but I can't understand how I am responsible for all which you claim."
He dropped to one knee directly before her, striving to control his impatience.
"You are the Storyteller! Just as your mother and grandmother were before you. But my fate is sealed through them because they have forgotten. But I brought you here – foolishly I know – on the cusp of your own waning memory. That perilous chapter between still knowing my name and face but ever capable of blighting it if the opportunity presented itself."
In a corner behind Wendy, Tinker Bell gave a weak though contemptuous cough.
"I know, I know, Tink…you did warn me," Peter scowled. "But I wished for you to return with me so terribly that I was willing to take the risk. Who is Pan, after all, if not the Boy who sneers in the face of Risk?"
This fresh degree of self-awareness was quite compelling to Wendy – almost to the peak of unbelievablity. He stayed quiet and sat again upon the floor, allowing Wendy her struggle, as ever, with conflicting emotions.
"How can I possibly be to blame for all this?" she thought aloud. "I am only one girl."
Her forehead dropped into her hand. Peter obliged her these few moments of reflection before he felt compelled to speak:
"Wendy…"
She lifted her face, her eyes so moist she almost did not see that his were as well.
"My legs hurt," he said cryptically. "I……I think I'm growing."
For the first time in her life, Wendy understood the tragedy in this concept, and she nearly lost herself to weeping.
Feeling no certain amount of victory in his persuasion of Wendy, Peter stood to his feet, taking one of her hands in his to join him as he wandered toward the entrance of his home. He pulled back the deerskin door and bade her stare out into the dark void with him.
"Look at it, Wendy," he drawled into her ear, as he had years ago when she stood, unsure, upon her nursery windowsill. "Is this what you want? Do you truly wish for THIS to be the Neverland your own children will experience one day?"
She touched her belly. Did he know?
"It is all in your hands now," Peter said. "It always was. Even back when Tinker Bell was dying of Hook's poison, 'twas you who heard my call for her life and spread the message for all to hear and save her. 'Twas your thimble which brought me back to life so that the pirates could be defeated once more, as it should be. And still only you can bring Neverland back to whence it belongs. I can do no more."
And no more could Wendy bear to gaze into the maddening obscurity of the jungle outside. She turned abruptly and brushed past Peter. It was a moment before she found her voice again, to ask a question most crucial:
"Peter…" she swallowed hard, "Does Ja – I mean, does Captain Hook know all this? Does he know that I hold this mysterious key to Neverland's fate?"
In the shadows of the room, Wendy did not notice Peter's eyes dart quickly over her shoulder, toward the reposed Tinker Bell, who caught his eye and nodded her little head.
"Yes," replied Peter resolutely.
Wendy's shoulders heaved a great sigh. Could it be true, that the Captain had only been using her this whole time to reclaim the island as his own? Could he be so callous? We cannot blame her for refusing to believe such a thing.
"But, he said…" The tears would not be denied any longer. "He told me that he loved me…"
Peter clenched his fists at this but remained collected. "He is the Master of Lies, Wendy. He would not be the infamous Captain Hook otherwise."
Oh, she should have known. What a blithering fool! Wendy found the nearest wall and flailed herself against it, sobbing openly, shedding tears for the cruelty of the human spirit and, most of all, for her spoilt innocence.
Peter so despised when Wendy would cry, and he made a dash toward his cot, seating himself next to Tinker Bell and facing the wall, his hands clamped over his ears.
He succeeded in sparing himself the sound of Wendy's sobs, thus he did not notice when they slowly began to ebb. However, his protected ears caught her voice when she spoke:
"What am I to do?" she asked quietly, defeated.
Peter removed his hands and turned halfway. "Hook has positioned himself to be an honorable figure. You no longer fear him but instead look at him through compassionate eyes, and thus so do the children."
Tinker Bell managed a few squeaks and jingles, which Peter translated for Wendy.
"She says he must be made evil again."
"But," Wendy sniffled, "If he is no longer evil, why does he deceive me?"
More delicate peeps from the fairy.
"Evil does not completely die," Peter interpreted. "It has long been in his blood to gain that which he wants through whatever dishonest means, even at the expense of those he claims to care for."
Wendy paid greater heed to Tinker Bell's words, for she knew fairies to be the wisest of all Neverland's creatures. It nonetheless made her terribly depressed.
"You must reawaken the devil in him," proclaimed Tinker Bell through Peter.
"How?" Wendy hated herself for asking.
"His poison," the fairy said. "The one which nearly ended me. 'Tis distilled from his very own wretchedness. If he drinks it, he will not die. It would rouse the sleeping monster in his soul."
Wendy was well aware of Hook's macabre little hobby, and she had long insisted, to no avail, that he toss his cabinet of potions and tonics overboard. But he would not hear of it, claiming they brought him a certain comfort.
"Which one is it?"
"It can hardly be mistaken. The poison itself glows an angry red, and he keeps it in a vile with a nasty little skull as its dispenser."
She knew the one. She detested it most.
"Give him the poison any way you can," Peter spoke for himself, coming off of the cot. "It should work quickly, so be on your guard. Keep that dagger of yours close at hand."
He retrieved Wendy's lantern and brought it to a candle to spark its flame.
"Once you have succeeded, find a safe spot to hide and wait for me." He held out the lantern for her, but she did not yet take it.
"How will you know?"
"I'll know," said Peter. "When the deed is done, I will find you and show you the way home."
Wendy let one free hand rest upon her belly.
"Oh, but what about – " She broke herself off, prudently. And without wasting a beat, Tinker Bell spoke up.
"She says not to worry," Peter informed her. "After Neverland is restored, she and the other fairies will take care of it." His brow creased. "Take care of what?"
"Nevermind," both Wendy and Tinker Bell jointly replied.
Hence Wendy took the lantern from Peter and went to the door. But before she could leave, she felt Peter's hand on her shoulder. His eyes were so sad, and she wondered if they had not always been so.
"I don't ask this only for myself," he said. "You know that, right?"
The little siren he still was, Wendy was as ever carried off by his charm. And though she may have harbored doubts, she told him Yes anyway.
The trek back to the pirate ship which Wendy had made into her home for an indeterminable length of time was not a hasty one. She dragged the entire world upon her back with every step of her feet and stroke of the oars on the dinghy. The image of sweet little faces falling to sleep at night and waking the next morning with blackened hearts after nightmarish voyages through a cynical Neverland sunk heavy into Wendy's mind. No indeed, she did not want their universe as dismal as this island. She did not want a world of dead babies, wandering alone and aimlessly in some empty unknown. And she certainly did not want, in spite of it all, to see Peter in pain. She would do what he asked of her.
'Twas all well and good to contemplate such things as she sat with herself in that tiny boat, still much a distance from the reckoning she had yet to confront. If she could get to the poison quickly and down Hook's throat, all would be settled and she would be back home in no time without a burden in the world. To leave all the mess behind – Peter, the Captain, their baby, and all those deprived children – to wash her hands of every bit of it as if it had never happened. Then she would not have to choose. She would not have to bear the responsibility of deciding who was right or wrong or how the planets were supposed to spin. She would see everything back to its normal machinations. And she could sweep it all from her mind just like dust on the kitchen floor.
On the Jolly Roger's deck, Wendy still took no hurried steps. Though he may be a despicable liar, she wished not to see Hook in pain either. She would take care to make herself scarce immediately upon his poisoning. She approached the cabin door in a forced haze – a put-upon apathy so that she could do what she had to and not feel a thing.
When she entered Hook's quarters, she found Smee in the stateroom, rummaging through the Captain's books and papers. He nearly jumped at the sight of the girl.
"Oh! Back already, Miss?" She could see his face was rather rosy.
"I…erm…ran into a bit of a snag," she murmured. "Where is James?"
"Well…I…uhh…he's…" Wendy supposed she had caught Smee in something dishonest.
But before she could pose a question, the bedchamber door swung open with flair, and Hook's head immediately filled the space. Like Smee, he was flushed.
"Wendy!" he exclaimed. And he said nothing further. He did not ask why she had returned so soon but only charged toward her rapidly.
Was he onto her scheme? Of course, she was foolish to think he would not know, and now he would destroy her before she had chance to do so to him.
She braced herself and stood bold as he came at her and then abruptly took her face in his hands.
Her mouth and eyes gaped open.
His HANDS!
Staring into his anxious eyes, she managed to finger her way up to his right elbow, then further down his forearm, and moreso toward her own face, and…
Yes! It was there! A hand grasping her cheek!
Wendy snatched the wondrous appendage away and held it before her, studying it like a cat with a ball of yarn. It was as real as her own – all five fingers accounted for. She compared it to his left – yes, they were both the same. She caressed the palm and bent his digits back and forth, to which he winced slightly.
"Careful, darling, 'tis brand new."
"But….James….How?" were the only words she could find.
"I don't rightly know," said Hook, his own fascination with the new limb quite evident. "I'd fallen to the floor, having had a nasty spell, and when I awoke upon my bed…"
Neither he had the adequate terms to express it.
'Tis quite like 'e says, Miss," Smee chimed in. "'E tumbled to a heap, holding 'is bad arm, so I takes him to his bed and removed 'is 'arness….And when next I come in to see to 'im, bilge me anchor if he wasn't CLAPPIN'!"
"And until you crooked my knuckles just now," Hook continued to Wendy, "I had no doubt that I was only dreaming!"
"A bloomin' miracle!" Smee cheered.
No other action came to Wendy's mind than to embrace Hook fiercely. And when she did, she felt his arms could round her as if for the first time.
"Oh, my Wendy," the Captain wept into her hair. "To hold you like this…I wished for it so passionately."
"I wished it too," Wendy replied. "This is all I ever wished for you."
"But…" began Hook, pulling away just enough to look at his beloved. "'Tis not even the most wonderful news…"
"Oh, James…..whatever more could there be?"
"The only other thing I wanted back more than my hand…"
She blinked and waited.
"Wendy…I know who I am."
Her hands flew to his face. "Darling! You mean…your name? You remember?"
"Every interminable second, my love!" He gave a lusty laugh which was laced with tears. "It's all there, fresh as a spring rain!"
"Well?" Wendy pressed. "What is it? What is your true name?"
"Tut-tut," Hook waved a finger on his new hand. "All in due time. First, I think we ought to have a drink and toast this momentous occasion, yes?"
Suddenly, Wendy's face fell.
A 'drink'.
Ah, yes, now she was reminded. She had returned to the ship to carry out a very specific task, hadn't she?
"Wendy?" Hook intercepted her thoughts. "Dost thou agree to a merry toast?"
Almost mechanically, she nodded.
"Excellent! Smee, fetch my special port wine!"
"James," she spoke quickly. "Where is Geoffrey?"
"I believe 'e's down in the galley, Miss, along with the port" Smee answered.
"Don't you think he ought to join us?" She could barely keep down the knot in her throat.
"Quite so, darling, very good! Smee, do fetch our dear Geoffrey after you've found the wine so that he may join us."
"Yes, Cap'n."
The bosun made his way out the cabin, and as soon as she heard the door latch, Wendy sprung to action.
"James, you've had such a tiring morning…Why don't you have a rest in the bedchamber, and I'll prepare you a warm brandy while we wait for Geoffrey?"
"Oh, to the contrary, my dear, I've never felt so alive!" He took in a great breath, his chest expanding proudly. "Why, I could dance a thousand minuets and still have enough left in me to swim the English Channel twice!"
"I don't doubt it." She very discreetly began to back him toward his bedchamber door. "But we don't yet know what all this about. It may only be temporary."
"My, I hadn't thought of that. You could be right!"
"Spending undue energy might be harmful."
"Quite so, quite so…."
"Let us give it a chance to sink in awhile before we go diving into the English Channel, shall we?"
"Thou art a sensible woman, Wendy!"
By this time, she had him standing at the foot of his bed.
"Now," she cooed, "You wait here a moment, and I shall bring you that brandy."
He took her hand in both of his and pressed his lips to it. "My dearest…I can only hope thou shalt still look upon me with such tender eyes after I have told thee my true name."
Wendy raised an eyebrow. "Were you…a terribly unpleasant man?"
Sighing, "I am not proud of a great many deeds I have done, Wendy, no. But if you can devote yourself to me as the man you thought you knew, then I daresay you could do the same for the man I was."
She kept a wary eye on him as she slowly retrieved her hand from his grasp.
"I'll just get that brandy now…"
She closed the bedchamber door behind her and sprinted to the other side of the cabin to lock the main door.
Think of the children, she repeated to herself as she rummaged through Hook's potion cabinet. Think of how more dangerous Hook could become armed with not only two hands but a recaptured identity. Why, he could be anybody – Blackbeard himself! She could not allow herself to be duped by this turn of events. It could very well be a trick…One which only the 'Master of Lies' could concoct.
Aha, there it was – the dreadful poison distilled from the red of his eye. She poured two drops of the liquid into a goblet and concealed it with a hearty ration of brandy.
She stood a long moment with that cup. Literally she held the fate of the world as she knew it in her palm. And she made one last wish – that somehow, some way, the Captain could change her mind.
The bedchamber door opened with a scornful creak, as if the very lumber of the ship knew her motives. She found Hook sitting at the edge of the bed, gaily making shadow puppets with his right hand in the light of a bedside candle. He smiled and laughed easily when she caught him. It was too infectious for her to not do so herself, but her own laugh was heavily lined in sorrow.
She knelt before him, discreetly kicking out the hip where her dagger rested in her pocket, and handed him the goblet with trembling hands. He took it but did not let his eyes leave hers.
"I do love you madly, Wendy," he stated with utmost resoluteness, stroking her cheek. "And as I sit here, recalling all the blunders and heartaches of my past, I grow ever confident that I would gladly make all the same mistakes and suffer just as many devastations a thousand times over if I knew that it would always bring me home to you."
For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Wendy was at a loss for words. Her only reply was in her tears.
"I have been given so many chances to right my wrongs," he continued, his eyes welling too, "But never have I felt so profound a cause to become a better man, once and for all, than I do at this very moment."
Wendy stared deep into his brilliant blue eyes, and she could see nothing in them but Hope and Truth. All she had ever wanted in her young life was to matter to someone, to be held in such a special eminence that he would be fully prepared to change everything just for her.
Peter had never given her that privilege – had not even tried. Even as he sat alone in the darkness of his hideout, he expected HER to change instead of adapting to his new reality.
And quite bluntly, Wendy was so very weary of being held responsible for everyone else's problems. She was sick to death of feeling the guilt. How could she deny this man, to whom she had given every part of herself and who would gladly do the same for her if only she asked? Would not the guilt of sending him back to ruin be twice as unbearable?
All these thoughts raged through her mind as Hook brought the goblet up to his lips, his eyes continuing to tell her all she needed to know.
James Hook was no monster.
Peter Pan was the true 'Master of Lies'.
Wendy watched her own hand as it suddenly flew through the air and knocked the goblet to the floor, its soiled contents seeping into the carpet and oblivion.
And before Hook could react, Wendy had her arms tight about his neck, tears streaming.
"Oh James," she cried. "Come away with me!"
"'Away'?" Hook asked, confused. "Away whence, my love?"
"Home!" Wendy exclaimed. "Come back with me to London!"
Hook wrenched her grip from his person and stared at her face.
"Are you mad?"
"No, I have never been more clear. Let us leave this wretched place! Come with me to England where we can start all over, just you, me, and our baby."
"England…" The word tasted peculiar in Hook's mouth after all these years. And then, he recalled: "Wendy, did you succeed in finding the fairies?"
"Yes," she lied. "But they refused to help me on account of my allegiance to you. But they did say that there was a way out. If only we can find it, James!"
She could see the wheels in his head begin to spin. "I say…It has been so long…perhaps too long…Oh Wendy, I do not know if I can return…"
"It's will be all right!" she pleaded. "It will be perfectly all right, because we will be together! No matter what you've done, 'tis all far in the past, and you will make peace with it. We can surmount anything so long as we have each other, yes?"
The very idea of a homecoming to his native land, which had barred him out centuries before, was an enticing one to Hook's rebellious spirit. He had long wondered, even after his identity had been lost, how his legacy would have fared over the years.
"I wonder…" Hook stroked his beard with a cunning grin. But he soon shook himself out of his whimsy. "But can I get back, Wendy? Though I may have my hand and my name, is that enough to grant me leave of this island?"
"I don't know," she frowned. "But I don't care. We'll find a way. We have to. I cannot bear another minute in this place!"
"'Scuse me," suddenly came a voice from the bedchamber door.
Hook and Wendy (but especially Wendy) were surprised to see little Geoffrey standing in the doorway.
"How did you get in?" Wendy blurted.
"A funny thing," Geoffrey said, "but the dar was locked. Thank goodness Mr. Smee had a kee!"
Somehow, this exchange flew right over top of Hook's head. "Geoffrey, is there something we can do for you?"
"Oh, yes…fargive me…" He skulked sheepishly into the room. "But I couldn't halp overhearin' ye speaking about leevin'."
The off-guard couple shifted awkwardly.
"An' if ye really are seeryus, I think I kin halp ye."
They stood to their feet. "You could?"
Geoffrey reached into his pocket and fished out a small cloth pouch tied off with a vine.
"What is it?" asked Wendy.
"This be a wishin' stone, Miss Wendy," Geoffrey said. "The faeries give one to etch lost boy that Payter brings to Nehverlend…just in case we shood eever get the cravin' to go beck home. Payter don't know about 'em. Ye kin 'ave mine if ye want it."
Wendy went to him. "Oh, you dear boy…!"
She hugged him, then she took the pouch from his hand. "How does it work?"
"'Tis a cinch," he insisted. "Ye jus' hold it in yer 'and, shut yer eyes tight, like this, and wish reeeaaaally hard! An' win ye open yer eyes, ye will be beck 'ome agin."
"But will it work for me?" Hook enquired.
Geoffrey shrugged. "I reckon if ye held tight 'nuff to Miss Wendy while she was wishin', it would work far the both of ye."
Hook and Wendy both exchanged hope-filled smiles. Could it be true?
"So…are ye leavin' then?" Geoffrey asked cautiously.
"I'm afraid we must," Wendy said, standing upright. She offered Hook a questioning glance.
"Did you fancy accompanying us, Geoffrey?" asked Hook.
"Oh no, Cap'n," Geoffrey assured him. "I'd much prefar to stee here…if that's all right, of carse."
"Absolutely," Hook grinned broadly. He crossed to a rack near the door and retrieved one of his many plumed hats and plopped it down upon the boy's head. "As a matter of fact, I would be most honored, good sir, if thou wouldst watch over my ship in my absence."
Geoffrey peered out from under the large brim. "Oh! Aye-aye, Cap'n! Indeed!"
"Port's ready," then came Smee's announcement from the stateroom.
The trio trotted out of the bedchamber toward a waiting tray with three narrow glasses. Wendy and Geoffrey reached for their own, but Hook stopped them.
"Mr. Smee, I see only three glasses here," he said.
The bosun, never very adept with numbers, quickly began to look over the amount of glasses on the tray in comparison with the first three fingers on his hand.
"Of course we will need four," said Hook, "unless you do not care to join us."
Smee nearly lost his footing at this. He had never been invited to partake in the Captain's socials, and he had in truth never cared to.
Nonetheless, he extended his 'thank yous' and poured a tiny gulps-worth of the wine for himself.
With glasses raised, the Captain paid tribute to new beginnings.
"And to old friends," he added, tipping his glass to Smee. Once more, Smee did not know quite what to do.
"Thou hast served me well." Hook put his recovered hand on the bosun's shoulder. "In days when all others, including my own crew, would have gladly seen my head on a pike, I never doubted that you would always be steadfast in my favor."
Smee had experienced much in his long life, and if he had learned anything at all, it was that if a man makes such drastic ovations such as those Hook made now, it meant one of two things: He was going to die, or he was taking a permanent leave. Smee could only imagine the latter of the choices was the case with his captain, but he held far too much esteem for him to ask.
After the small celebration in the stateroom found its end, Smee escorted Geoffrey outside, neither one speaking to the other about what may come to pass when the door was shut behind them.
Hook poured another glass of port for himself, Wendy feeling already quite giddy from the first, as they lay together in the bed. Nestled close, the wishing stone clasp tight in Wendy's hand, they made one last toast. And when the liquid was drunk, they held each other then closer, eyes shut, and dreamed eagerly of welcoming a new life….