Disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan, Wendy, Captain Hook, or anyone at all from J. M. Barrie's imagination. Disney's also got some rights in there somewhere.

He reared back, hitting the table, the pistol trained on her once more. A thrill of fear raced in her blood. "Captain? James? Put the gun down, please. I wasn't going to take it. I want to help. Will you let me?"

The red dissipated as he blinked at her in confusion. It returned almost instantly, though he lowered his weapon. Wendy could clearly see that he didn't trust her completely. She backed away from him, giving him enough room to stand on his own. The pirate captain's suspicious gaze locked on hers, never blinking as he unsteadily brought himself to a standing position.

"That's it. Now follow me to the bed. It must be quite a bit more comfortable than the bare floor." Hook walked forward a few paces, swaying slightly. Wendy made sure to stay in reach in case he fell. She got him to the bed safely and let him lay himself down. "Is there any fresh water around?" she asked.

Blue warred with red; fever with lucidity. He waved her towards the exit of the cabin. "Smee..." His voice was rough, as if he'd just been sleeping for eternity.

"Is he on board?" She got no answer. Hook was staring up at the ceiling. His eye lids were already beginning to droop, but he fought sleep. On deck, several of the crew were laying about idly. Wendy had to blink a few times to adjust her eyes from the dim captain's quarters to the sunny Neverland day. Peter must be enjoying himself, she thought as she examined the island. She didn't allow herself to dwell on thoughts of Peter. The Captain needed her now, not her Lost Boys and certainly not Peter, who'd taken care of himself quite well since he'd come to Neverland years and years before.

Mr. Smee was no where to be seen. One pirate looked up from his cards as she approached the group while they slouched lazily against the ship, drinking some sort of alcohol, no doubt. "Wat's a lady doin' 'ere?" he asked. The rest of the pirates looked up.

"Ask 'er, lazy bones."

"'Ey lady, wat ye doin' wandrin' 'bout the ship?"

She could smell Hook's crew from paces away. Her nose protested her continued stay in their proximity, but she had to ask: "Where might I find Mr. Smee?"

A burly pirate squinted up at her, before spitting into a pot by his side. "Smee?" he thought for a moment, "He'd be down in th' galley."

Curiosity got the better of her. She just had to know, "What happened to Captain Hook? I thought the crocodile had got him."

"Ye've gots lotsa questions, don'cha lass?" asked the first pirate; the one playing cards. "The croc spat 'im up. Choked tryin' ta eat the cap'n whole. 'E's been in a bad temper since. Shoots at anyone 'oo's stupid 'nough ta go near 'im."

As shocked as she was at the information, it didn't surprise her. She'd barely left the cabin alive.

"Thank you," she told the men. They only nodded and grumbling, returned to their recreation. She climbed down the ladder to the galley. A shock of white hair caught the side of her vision and knew she had the right man. From what she could see, he was peeling an apple with a small knife and eating the small slices.

"Mr. Smee?"

He turned, dropping the apple and the knife at his surprise upon seeing her. "Who're you?"

"Hello yourself, Mr. Smee. You're looking well. It's been a long time since my last visit. You remember me, of course. I can't imagine you've had too many storytellers on board."

"Miss Wendy!" A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. At least someone around here remembered her. "How did you come to be in Neverland? Pan hasn't left for ages! Or was it yesterday..." He trailed off looking as if he were trying to recall something important.

"I don't quite know that myself, Mr. Smee, but I need some clean water and some cloth. Captain Hook is quite ill. He's got a fever and may be close to being delirious. He's got to break out of it soon, or I fear he may die."

Alarmed, he said,"Die? No, no, no! He can't! And ill! 'E hasn't let me in his quarters since the croc spat 'im up." He paused, "How come yer not dead?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know how I got here or why he didn't shoot me. He nearly did, but I managed to get him to his bed. I think that he'll let me help him." Her head cocked slightly to the side as she considered it, "At least, I hope so."

He nodded, "Aye. If 'e didn't kill ye then, I doubt 'e'll kill ye. I shan't risk it, if ye don't mind."

Smiling, she said, "That's all right, Mr. Smee. If I could just have those items? I don't want to leave him on his own for long. It already looks as if he took a terrible offense to his quarters. It's quite a dreadful mess."

A wry smile crossed the first mate's face. "Aye, I'm not surprised. S'happened a few times before. Keeps 'im from takin' his anger out on the crew, anyhow."The Irishman bustled about, gathering her requested items. He handed them to her and helped her to carry up the ladder to the deck.

"I hope you can get him well again, missy."

She waved before turning back towards Hook's cabin, the cloth in her hand waving like the Jolly Roger above her. A few pirates jumped into action as she crossed the deck. Apparently, they thought something important was going to happen and it was safer to have their work done before Hook could see them slacking.

There was no noise in the cabin when Wendy returned. She breathed a sigh of relief and brought the water and cloth with her to the bed. Heavy eyelids lifted slowly to see who was near, but besides that he made no move. Sifting through the debris, she found a clean-looking goblet and filled it with some of the water. "Are you thirsty?"

Wendy took the closing of his eyes as a "no." She laid her free hand on his forehead once more, noting no change. He was either too tired or too sick to make any protest. Running her cloth through the water, after finding a clutter free spot to place the goblet, she wondered whether Hook knew it was Wendy Darling at his aid. If he didn't, would he kill her once he found out? After all, she had helped to send him to the crocodile.

The wash cloth set upon Hooks face, the clashing of cool water and fevered skin clearly startled him awake, if he had indeed been sleeping. He was so quick to sit up that Wendy had to step back lest she be injured. She smiled gently at him, "Lay down, it's just a bit of water."

Glaring silently, he did as he was told. She glanced away from his face and for the first time in years she saw his gleaming hook as it came to rest on his stomach. For a moment, she stared at it in fascination. Secretly, she admired him for it. Not the violent deaths that came of it, but the way the man continued on after losing such an important limb. She wasn't sure she could do it if she were in his place.

For a while, all was quiet. Wendy gently bathed his skin as he watched her. A tune she'd once heard and could only vaguely remember hearing popped into her head and she hummed along as she worked. When she looked up from re-wetting her cloth, she realized that he was no longer watching her. His eyes were closed and his breathing even.

Good, she thought, It's much easier to do this without those disturbing red eyes glaring up at me.

Hesitantly, she reached for the pistol that lay loosely grasped in his hand. Slowly, she picked it up and placed it on the desk across the room. Wendy bathed his skin once more before turning to the ruined cabin in general. "Best if I start now, I think."