Apologies to any of my Klaroline fans who are not cool with me starting another fic. An OC fic no less… but I'm sorry this has really been nagging at me to be posted. All KC fics are still in the works and soon on the update list.

So! This is for all the Captain Hook fans out there. As far as story goes, it's a mix of the novel and the 2003 movie. Hook, is of course the fabulous Jason Isaacs portrayal. Neverland's details are a mix of the 2003 film, Hook, and my own thoughts. Enjoy and please review and follow!

Chapter 1

As far as Margot knew, it had always just been her and her mom. A self-described wild child of the '80s who'd given birth to Margot at 15, this often meant her mother felt more like a sister than a proper parent. Especially, now that Margot was turning 26 and, at 41, her mother Tiffany was still acting like a girl in her early 30s.

Margot was turning 26 today, actually, and it also just happened to be Halloween. In her earliest childhood years, Margot had adored the day and not just because it was her birthday. Tiff, an often emotionally absent and frequently depressed woman, gained a whole new persona on Halloween — perfectly adoring and enchanting and beautiful.

She had told Margot before that Halloween was the only nights where real magic came out… Magic powerful enough to even turn adults into children again for one blissful evening. And like that strange journey through time of leaving or childhood fancies to rest to awaken new desires, it was a little bit frightening but very exciting all the same.

And because it wasn't just Halloween — it was their Halloween, Margot's Halloween — hey didn't celebrate exactly as everyone else did in the small suburb of Philadelphia. They had their own rituals. For one, they always dressed up together as fairies.

Oh her mother had been the most wonderful seamstress, crafting glittering dresses for them that looked like they'd been sewn out of thousands of real, delicate flower petals. Their wings were the stuff of neighborhood legend; every one of Margot's friends' mothers begged her year after year to the secret of her crafting. They were paper thin, ethereal things that Margot pretended truly were naturally part of her back.

And after a night of trick or treating and frolicking with the other strangely dressed children in town, Tiffany and Margot would stay up all night, much later than everyone else, to watch the sun rise. It was only as the sun began to peek over the horizon that her mother would finally let Margot crawl into her lap and begin to lure her to sleep with stories of a place where fairies and pirates alike were real. Finally, she'd drift off when her mother began to sing a lullaby about flying among the stars. For a split second, hazy with sleep, Margot always felt for a split second that they actually were.

And then one year it abruptly stopped. Her 11th birthday, or what Margot would come to know as the strangest year of her life, also happened to fall right around the time she got her first period. Her mother Tiffany, quite simply, had not known how to handle the incident. Frankly, she had treated it as nothing short of a disappointment.

All the things that mothers are supposed to know, the wisdom they're supposed to gently pass on, Tiffany seemed to know nothing of. Margot was left to parcel it all out with advice from her friends.

That was the first Halloween that her mother had not gone out with her. She'd refused to make a fairy costume that year, suddenly complaining that she had no time and dragging Margot to the grocery store to pick up something cheap instead. Margot, a little thrilled to have a choice in her costume for the first time, if nothing else, decided to be a lady pirate. Tiffany's typical beautiful face had twisted into an uncomfortable pinch of distaste at that but she'd silently acquiesced and made the purchase.

It was also within her 11th year, that Margot began to see boys quite differently for the first time though, as of yet, they still wanted very little to do with her.

Innocently enough, one day Margot had queried of her mother, "Mama, how do I get a boy to like me?"

Tiffany had gotten that pinched look on her face again before saying "You're far too young to be worrying about boys darling, whatever do you want with one? They're utter little brutes, dirty and violent and rude… You stay away from boys, Margot, they're all trouble."

Even at that young age Margot remembered finding her mother's response distinctly odd. In the coming years, too, she'd find it even odder that a beautiful and perfectly available young woman such as her mother would remain completely single and uninterested in dating. It was like Tiffany had radar for men approaching her, and a single withering glare would send them scampering backwards, tails tucked between their legs.

Nothing was stranger, though, than when Margot tried to ask about her father… Or any of their family really. No other question made Tiff more despondent, sinking her into week-long deep depressions.

She steadfastly refused to even speak her father's name. All Margot knew was that he'd been 15 when she was born too and, by all accounts, had no idea she even existed.

"You're father never would have understood my having a child, he was just a child himself!" was about the most Margot could get out of her. When she pressed what made Tiffany herself so much more mature at the same age, her mother would just scoff and flounce off in annoyance. Because, Margot learned over the years, Tiff seemed to be perpetually stuck in the disposition of a teenager herself.

So they'd grown quite estranged over the years. For awhile Magot had sought solace in seeking out secret boyfriends. Later it became apparent that someone in her house had to be the adult — Tiff had a difficult time holding down a job — so Margot had helped to keep them afloat in her last few years in high school before college.

She'd always been smart though and a voracious reader. None of her peers or teachers were particularly surprised when she got a full scholarship to Carnegie Mellon for a degree in literature.

Her mother, unsurprisingly, had never really seen the value in school or prestige so degrees and displayed little excitement over the event. They parted on cold terms and Margot had cried for a week straight when she first arrived in Pittsburgh for college.

And after that, she'd never quite forgiven her. Since then, Margot had always felt suddenly and painfully weighted by a bitter heart.

So, it wasn't terribly surprising when Tiffany found her daughter ignoring her calls on her 26th birthday and Halloween. Honestly, she didn't even know if her daughter celebrated anymore. They barely spoke, especially now that Margot was in grad school in England, Oxford specifically. Tiffany couldn't even fathom bringing herself to visit, England had far too many memories.

"You've got Margot, leave a message," a recording rang out on a second attempt at reaching her daughter.

"Hullo sweetheart," Tiffany started, biting on her lip nervously. It had been four months since they last spoke and even then it had been a five minute cursory check-in. "I just wanted to see what your plans were for your big day… I hope you're going out and having some fun?" What would she be dressed as? Tiff could remember those tiny wings like it was yesterday… "Anyway, I've been thinking about you a lot this week, my darling. Call your Mum back. Happy birthday, love you."

Tiff ended the message with a distinct sinking feeling in her something. Her old intuition from her days with Peter was acting up… The same feeling only she and other fairies could get when danger was near. Things were so benign is this Earthworld apart from the Never Neverland that she rarely felt the sensation anymore. She didn't like feeling this way tonight, so harsh and palpable, twisting in her gut like Hook's poison…

Tiff debated calling Margot one more time but didn't want to annoy her daughter by hassling her. With a sigh, she put down her phone and got ready for a shift at her new waitress job.

"Maggie?" Sarah asked, using the pet name Margot only allowed for her. "Would you just pick up your goddamn phone, for God's sake?" her cockney accent was tinged with annoyance "Oh for fuck's sake, who are you avoiding like the plague?" she asked when Margot's phone finally stopped ringing.

"My mom, of course," Margot responded flatly, her Mid-Atlantic American a stark contrast to her British friend's. She marked the message her mother had left as read and resolving to listen to it tomorrow… Or the next day.

"Oh, thought it might be that Brad fellow," Sarah remarked, blessedly letting the subject of her mother fall, knowing Margot's feelings all too well.

"Him? No, he didn't turn out to be the clingy type, luckily," Margot said with a cheeky grin, "he was one of those selfish types that prefers to drunkenly skip any foreplay."

Sarah's nose scrunched upwards in disgust while she finished pulling up a sinfully short little white dress that was going to be a unicorn costume. Margot looked down onto the bed where a shoddy little pair of very cheap pixie wings rested. They were bright purple and glittery and an absolute sham version of the wings her mother used to craft each year. To be honest she wasn't even sure why she had chosen this pixie costume — pixie, not fairy, she couldn't help but insist mentally and defiantly. She'd been thinking about her mother an uncomfortable amount this week… Something had just felt, off. Guilt twisted subtly in her belly when she ignored the call.

"Come on, let's pre-game before Rex comes to pick me up," Sarah said, referring to her polo playing fiancé who would be whisking her best friend away to a private yacht party later… To which she, the American without a father, was not invited. Sarah thrust a large glass filled to its brim with whiskey into Margot's hand.

"Bottoms up," Margot said before clinking their glasses together.

After Sarah had left for her most fancy and exclusive upper crust of England party, Margot's plan had been to hit up one the on-campus grad parties and keep drinking.

But the only part of that plan that had panned out was that she kept drinking. She'd ended up feeling very melancholy and incredibly sorry for herself. She'd gotten all dressed up to go out, pairing the purple wings with a little silver satin slip of lingerie from Victoria's Secret, hemmed in a dark crushed velvet trim.

Paired with the glittery wings, some sequined pumps, and a smattering silver eyeshadow and eyeliner, Margot couldn't help but feel deliciously decadent to be so dressed up and decidedly maudlin on her birthday. The expensive whiskey that Sarah had provided was helping to encourage her behavior. Her mother had always been indulgently depressed, Margot thought, that was probably where this side of herself came from.

So pathetically, enough, Margot nodded off in her own bed before it was even 10 o'clock. She had restless dreams of being lost in a woods, somewhere incredibly human. She searched for her mother…

Some unknowable amount of time later, Margot was awakened by something flicking and stinging her forehead insistently. Sleepy, she slapped at the offending feeling. In response, a tiny hand grabbed her finger and suddenly was biting her.

"Jesus!" she cried out, her eyes snapping open as she gripped her injured finger.

But her pain was soon forgotten as she slipped into shock at seeing a tiny winged woman flying right in front of her face. The creature was buzzing most peculiarly but slowly the noise began to morph into a gentle and melodic language… One that Margot could understand perfectly.

"Margot? Is that really you?" the creature asked, "Of course it's you, you look just like your mother! And Peter too of course!"

"Peter?" Margot murmured in a daze, her eyes unwilling to believe what she was seeing.

"Peter, your father of course! Where's your mum, where's Tink? She needs to know, we've got to get back to Neverland right now, there's a war…"

"Oh my god, am I tripping? I'm pretty sure I just drank…" Margot murmured to herself.

"Okay, you're drunk, I can see that," the flying woman said, "Actually, you reek of liquor worse than a pirate but don't worry, I'll help you fly."

"Fly?! What? No!"

"Of course your mum taught you to fly, right?"

"My mom is a chronically unemployed sometimes-waitress outside of Philly, who the hell are you, you talking bug?" Margot shouted, her words slurring.

"My name is Starshimmer, and I'm your aunt!" the bug replied. "And for the record, just like your mum and yourself, I'm not a bug but a fairy."

Something about that declaration hit some deeply hidden part of Margot's intuition and memories with a sickening lurch. Feeling suddenly overcome with nausea at this hallucination, she leaned over the side of the bed to void on the floor and promptly pass out.

"Oh dear, best not to let her get too close to the pirates then," Starshimmer decided of her niece. She didn't know where her little sister Tink was, then, because she'd never heard of a city in this realm called Outside-Philadelphia. And what did it mean to be chronically unemployed?

Ah well, if Tinkerbell was needed back in Neverland to end this ridiculous new war between Pan and Hook, surely her daughter would be the very thing to lure her back after all this time. Plus, Starshimmer thought it high time her niece should see where her true home was.

Swaddling the grown woman carefully in her bedding, Starshimmer dusted her in fairy dust and gently flew her out of her dorm room and into the English stars, aiming for one in particular.

If there was one thing Peter Pan was, it was forgetful. Just as he 'd forgotten Wend, John, and Michael Darling after they returned to London, in time he forgot Tinkerbell when she'd disappeared from their home. There were weeks where he even forgot to play his war games with Hook.

But, very occasionally, sometimes he would remember things. The scent of his mother's perfume or a flash of Wendy swordfighting. And, one day, after waking up from a favorite memory / day dream of Tick Tock the crocodile eating Captain Hook's hand, Peter thought he might like to relive that memory with his best friend Tink.

Thus, he was quite distressed to visit her little fairy house to find that she was not there. He and the Lost Boys spent three long days searching for her before they reached the only possible conclusion — Hook and his dirty pirates must have killed her.

Of course, Captain James Hook had noticed Miss Bell's absence… At least two decades prior, possibly more. One could never truly track time in Neverland. As such, Hook considered it extremely bad form to be accused of a crime he did not commit twenty-five odd years after it was even committed.

Thus a war more gruesome than had ever ensued in Neverland before commenced and Starshimmer, who knew the truth of her sister's disappearance left to put an end to things.

In the meantime, Hook's crew had their eyes on the skies, ordered to shoot down anything they saw. The Captain himself had been rowed inland to search for pan, but the crew remaining on board the Jolly Roger were unfortunately very much engaged when Starshimmer first appeared with Margot over the morning horizon.

"Ye see that boys?" one of the rogues said, looking into a telescope, "Don't matter what it is, load the cannon!"

"Load the cannon!" several other voices rang out.

The blast that rang out, hurt Starshimmer's ears. She tried to evade the obvious trajectory of the oncoming missile but Margot was currently much bigger than she and was thus quite unwieldy. The cannon ripped straight through Margot's sheets, just barely missing both the dead-weight girl and the tiny fairy hand desperately trying to hold her. The rip of fabric resonated almost as loudly as the shot to a panicked Starshimmer and Margot went spiraling downwards.

Like one of those dreams where you could feel yourself falling out of bed — right before your dream would switch to something far more disastrous and have you falling off a cliff — Margot could distantly feel the sensation of a most alarming weightlessness in her sleep. She was too far gone into her dreams, though, to wake up and realize that she was actually falling, quickly and many hundreds of feet towards the ocean waiting below.

Above her, Starshimmer danced back and forth erratically, trying to sprinkle more pixie dust on Margot. But despite the added dust, Margot did not begin floating upwards. It appeared that, in her sleep, the woman had no happy thoughts.

As a last ditch attempt to rescue Margot, Starshimmer flew down towards the falling girl as quickly as possible. Fairies were stronger than they looked, and if she could just catch her…

But the velocity Margot had ultimately fallen into was too fast for the tiny fairy to catch up. The sleep addled woman crashed unceremoniously into the sea, sinking further and further down quickly.

The bracing cold of the water awakened Margot in under a second. Her eyes flashed open in shock and, without thinking, she gasped only to let in a huge lungful of water. Almost immediately her vision began to spot as her lungs ached and her hands clawed at nothing, trying to force herself back to air.

Suddenly, a hand grasped at the back of her slip dress and Margot felt herself being pulled upwards and then almost violently heaved into a small wooden boat. The same hand pounded harshly on her back, threatening to crack some ribs. It was instantly effective, though, and water poured out through her mouth and nose. She let out a wretched gag before she was finally able to inhale a long and shaky breath. She felt like she wanted to vomit.

"There you go, girly! If that fall didn't kill you, the water won't. Though you're lucky we got to you before the mermaids did," a rich voice was speaking behind her.

"Careful of her wings, Cap'n!" another voice rang out as the hand descended to whack her on the back again.

Margot coughed, only able to get out "They're not real… c-costume."

"Of course they're not real, Smee!" the first voice said, "When in God's name have you seen a human-sized fairy?"

The briefest memory of a tiny bug-person flashed through Margot's hungover mind before her vision was swirling and spotting anew. Within a matter of moments she'd promptly blacked out again.

Margot awoke, possibly hours later, to one of the most pitiful hangovers she'd ever had in her life. Granted, the pounding headache and nausea was also in part thanks to her enormous fall and near drowning but, honestly, Margot was currently unwilling to admit those things had actually happened.

But some things were undeniable. She was resting upon silk sheets with velvet blankets draped over her for one. Secondly, the bed in which she was lying was massive. She was most certainly not sleeping in the paltry little cotton clad bed from her grad school housing. Had she gone home with someone?

With a groan, Margot finally cracked open a bleary eye. Her senses were assaulted. Indeed, she was resting atop a huge four poster bed adorned with silk sheets and velvet covers. But, more importantly, she now found herself inside a room entirely crafted from rich, dark, shiny wood. There were but a few windows in the room but they were all made from the finest stained glass she'd ever seen. In one corner sat a few massive and expensive looking wardrobes. Next to them, two sumptuous leather armchairs, several packed bookcases, and a large globe. Turning to her other side, Margot spotted a long mahogany desk covered in every inch in maps and magnifying glasses and an assortment of other odds and ends.

And behind it sat a man. A man with long dark hair, the most intimidatingly blue gaze she'd ever seen… and a hook for a hand.

"Ah, you're finally awake," he said and his voice poured like honey.

"Where am I?" Margot asked immediately.

He tutted at her, "I've only just magnanimously saved you. First things first. I believe I am owed a name?"

"Margot Belle," she replied, "Where am I?"

"Margot…" the name rolled off his tongue smoothly, like he was trying it on in his mouth. Finally he stood but made no move to step from behind his desk. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Belle. I am Captain James Hook and you are currently resting in my personal cabin aboard my vessel, The Jolly Roger."

She barely registered his name. It sounded vaguely familiar but in no immediate way she could call to mind in her frantic state. "I'm on a ship?"

"Aye, my ship."

"How the hell did I get here? I was in Oxford, last I checked. And totally not invited to a private Yacht party..."

"I don't know. When I found you, you had fallen from the sky," the Captain told her, "Lucky for you, we just happened to be returning to the ship from the island. You were wearing wings…"

Right, her costume. Though someone had clearly removed the fake fairy wings, Margot could have cared less. More scandalous was the fact that she was in this strange man's bed wearing scant but a silk slip of lingerie from Victoria's Secret.

All at once relief hit her fast and hard. Of course, it was just Halloween. Leave it to her to get a little slutty on Halloween, it always was her most inebriated night of the year. And going home with some dude in a sexy pirate costume good enough to have been a favorite at comic con was pretty much a win in her mind.

"Oh James," she said, almost familiarly, "I'm really sorry but I must have had too much to drink last night. I don't remember a fucking thing, dude. I mean, you know how Halloween gets. I'm pretty sure I had like two bottles of cab sav and a ton of whiskey to myself. Did we…?"

The man cocked his head to the side in complete and utter confusion.

"Madame, I'm afraid I barely understood a single word of what you've just said," he replied. Finally he was crossing from behind the desk to stand in front of it, just a few feet from her now as he leaned onto it. "Did we what?"

"You know," Margot said, her brows creasing. "Did we fuck?"

His eyes widened, only slightly and just for a second, before he burst out laughing at her.

"My God, you're some dockside whore!" he exclaimed, still laughing heartily and looking at her almost sort-of adoringly.

Margot's brows creased further, "Alright, buddy, no need to get misogynistic on me. It takes two to tango and all that. I don't see what you have to complain about. If you were looking for some… some… I dunno, some Virgin Mary lay then you were never gonna get any so…"

He stopped laughing to look at her quizzically again, like he knew all the words she was saying but was attempting to put them in a more proper order.

"No, we did not," he said finally, "As you so delicately put it… fuck. I am not in the habit of attempting to bed unconscious women."

"Well… that's quite gracious of you," Margot stammered out, feeling genuinely grateful she hadn't succumbed to something she couldn't remember but also feeling like the man before her was not-so-subtly judging her. "In any case, if you could just tell me where I am? I should be getting back to school."

"I've already told you were you are and I'm afraid you're no where close to Oxford my dear girl…" his voice was caressing but the shiver of shock that traversed her skin at the implication of his words made her sick.

"No, seriously, I just need to catch a cab or something, it doesn't matter if it's far…" Christ, where had she ended up last night? She had really blacked out.

Stumbling out of his bed, Margot made her way to the door, thinking only of getting out, unaware that she was missing shoes and purse and generally anything of any use.

"My dear, I wouldn't open that door quite yet if I were you, you've clearly had a shock-" the honey voice dripped, but Margot was deaf to his words.

She wrenched open the door to his cabin and her jaw dropped open when she saw what lay before her.

So whatcha think? My characterization of Tinkerbell will make more sense in the coming story.