Disclaimer: Peter Pan and Company don't belong to me... Unfortunately.

He turned to acknowledge her with a nod before leaving to return to the deck.

Wendy amused herself for an hour or so by what she could only call snooping. There wasn't anything that she hadn't expected to find in a pirate captain's cabin. Paperwork from supplies they'd commandeered, rum, weapons, and what looked to be a journal. Hook also had a large library consisting of ship working and more surprisingly; classic literature. Prose and fiction consorted together upon the bookshelves. He must have gone to school when he was a boy.

As a storyteller, she'd always liked to know everything about her subjects. When she was younger she would speak to everyone around her, constantly asking questions. Her father had a friend in shipbuilding who found her persistent curiosity quite entertaining. Samuel Higgins was his name and he' taught her everything he knew about ships and the sea--including pirates.

Now Wendy had her favorite antagonist at her disposal. She wanted-- no-- needed to know what made him Captain Hook; his life; his story. Even as she told stories about him, she still knew so little. He was a ruthless, clever pirate with a quicker-than-lightning temper. He dined like a gentleman and obviously had an education. That meant he must have been middle class or higher. She didn't think he was from the upper class, however. What could possibly bring someone with wealth to turn to piracy?

All of the knowledge she was gaining brought only more questions. Too many questions for her liking. What was he before Neverland? When had he turned pirate? How did he come to Neverland? What had happened between him and Peter for the boy to cut off the man's hand?

The door opened and Wendy knew it must be Hook. Who else would enter without knocking? She looked up from where she was sitting at his desk, glad she'd only been studying the map of Neverland laid out there. He paid her no mind, only going to the shelf and pulling out a book.

"Are you finished for today?" she asked as he settled himself down in an armchair.

"For now," he replied, propping his feet on the footrest.

Wendy could tell he was still weak by the exhaustion on his face and in the way his body relaxed completely the moment he sat down. She was glad that he hadn't pushed himself any further. "I don't think you should do anymore. At least for today."

He looked at her over the top of his book, but said nothing.

She explained further, "You just broke out of your fever and I don't want you to relapse back into it. I've heard of that happening when someone doesn't get enough rest afterward."

"Your concern is inspiring, my beauty." He turned the page of his book with his hook. So he is wearing it, she observed.

"Why do you insist upon wearing that when you know it causes you harm?"

Knowing that he would be getting any reading done until he satisfied her curiosity, he put his book down with a sigh.

"It is new leather. It must be softened up and the only way to do that is to wear it. Wound or no wound."

"Why did you need a new one?" Wendy asked, gesturing toward his chest in general. "Did it break?"

He looked at her for a long moment. The expression on his face made her feel stupid for asking. "I'm sorr-" she began.

"It was a disagreement with one of the Natives."

"Oh."

There were so many questions, but she dared not let any loose. "You never answered my question, Miss Darling."

Wendy stared at him, wondering if he'd hit his head while he was out that day. "Why are you here?" he clarified.

"Oh. Well, I don't know. I just... woke up here." Even to Wendy's ears it sounded like a lie.

Hook 'hm'ed and went back to his book.

"When are you leaving?" he asked without looking up.

Wendy didn't readily know the answer to that one. She'd helped the Captain out of his fever. What more was needed of her in Neverland? There wasn't anything she could think of. "Can I leave?"

He put the book down again. "What do you mean?"

"I... well, it just occurred to me. Is it possible for me to leave? I mean, you cannot, or I'm sure you'd have done so long before now."

He thought for a moment. "You should still be young enough-"

How would he possibly know? "Do you even know what my age is, Captain?"

A pause. "No."

"I'm eighteen years of age. Quite the adult back in London."

"...Yes, quite. Then I'm afraid you'll have no choice but to attempt leaving. If it fails... well, I'm sure your precious Peter would love to see you again."

"You really do not want me here." Somehow that realization hurt. Wendy pushed the irrational feeling away. She should want to leave!

"Your very presence annoys me, my beauty," Hook said as he began reading again.

Wendy was stunned into silence. Her mere presence couldn't aggravate someone that completely... Could it? Could she be that horrid? She had attempted to kill him, but she'd been only a girl then. She had grown up since then. "I'm sorry..." Dark hair hung in her face as she fled the cabin, not turning back to see forget-me-not eyes follow her every step.

On deck Wendy let the breeze sooth her. It flung her hair from her face to whip out behind her; playing with her skirt and making it cling to her legs in front and fly out, like a sail, in the back.

"Are ye all right, Miss Wendy?" Mr. Smee came to stand next to her; leaning against the wooden rails and looking out to sea.

"Y-yes, I'm fine, Mr. Smee."

"The Cap'n's said some harsh words, I imagine."

She took a step back, amazed. The old man grinned. Turning to look at her now, he said, "Don' mind what the cap'n says. Mos' times he don' really mean it. He's lonesome, missy. He wants comp'ny, but he's so un-used to it that he ended up pushin' people away, 'stead of keepin' 'em close."

"You must have been with him for a very long tie to know him so well," she ventured.

"Oh, since afore he could shave. He was such a curious lad. Always wantin' ta know somethin' 'bout everythin'. Still the same if ye asks me. Just doesn't ask so many questions. Reads a lot, though."

Wendy knew an opportunity for information when she saw it Finally! Some answers! "Did he always have such a horrible temper?"

"Aye, missy. Eyes didn' turn red so much when he was a lad, though. Strange things, his eyes. S'why some o' the men fear him. Say he's a witch's son."

"Why do you think they do that? I've never seen-or heard, for that matter, of anything like it."

"Me? I thinks it's anger. Bottled up inside, with no-wheres else ta go. I thinks it gets harder an' harder ta keep inside an' it won't belong afore someone gets hurt." Wendy didn't think it would be wise to mention all the pirates who had died simply because they had said something that annoyed him.

What Mr. Smee said made sense to Wendy, though. It was getting so hard for Captain Hook to keep his negative emotions--anger, hatred, jealousy--in check that it had already made him ill. If it continued, Hook might give in to his anger completely or become sick again. If he did become ill, Wendy wasn't s sure she'd be able to help him as she had before.

"Thank you, Mr. Smee. You've given me a lot to think about."

"Yer welcome, missy. I've got ta be getting back ta the galley, now. Come down, if ye be needin' me."

They each went separate ways. Wendy didn't even bother knocking on the Captain's door. She entered with every intention of putting on a show of nothing having happened, but stopped in her tracks when she saw him curled up in his armchair, the book on the floor and a peaceful expression on his sleeping face. Had it been John or Micheal, Wendy wouldn't have hesitated in covering them with a blanket. With Hook, however, she didn't want to wake him and she was still sore about his earlier comments.

Instead, she pulled out a red leather book with gilded pages from the shelf and made herself comfortable at the desk to read. She was a quarter of the way through the book when the ship violently lurched to the side and sent Wendy toppling backwards, taking the chair with her. Her head hit the hard wooden floorboards, but only enough to stun her and leave a pounding headache in its wake.

A groan from the other side of the desk told her that Hook had also been thrown to the floor as well. "Are you okay?" she called, sitting up.

"Are you still here?" he sounded annoyed, but Wendy decided that she wouldn't be delightful either had she been woken so rudely. She pushed herself up and righted the chair. Thankfully, not much else had topped over as she and Hook had and disturbed her handiwork. One major cleaning was enough for her. Hook was up and looking through one of the port holes.

"Pan's left..."