Disclaim: I officially disclaim this unofficial story.
There was something wrong with him. Something new. Something different. He couldn't imagine what it could be and it was driving him mad. Days had gone by since he'd told the storyteller to stay with him. He told himself that he was drunk at the time. He didn't know what he was saying. He couldn't possibly be fond enough of her to want her on his ship. If she left, however...
It brought an unpleasant feeling to his gut.
They had not spoken of the incident, instead falling back into the old routine of when she'd unexpectedly arrived. It was comfortable. He was content. He shouldn't be.
He'd noticed that the darkness in him, the murderous rage, had receded. It was still there. He could feel it clawing at his mind like a wild creature from hell, but it was no longer lingering just beyond the surface. It felt like freedom. He had control over himself once more. He breathed a sigh of relief. He refused to think of what may have been the cause. If he dwelt on it, he was afraid that his mind would return to chaos. He could not live like that. He refused to.
So he tended to his crew. He ate with Ms. Darling in his cabin. She would tell him stories in return for his company. She would climb into his bed to sleep. Later into the night, he would join her. It was odd to him that they shared a bed. He ignored the congratulatory looks his crew gave him when they saw her in his company. They thought he'd taken her as his lover. How wrong they were. He hasn't touched her. Not in that way. It would feel too much like he was sullying her. He couldn't do that. He had no right.
The storyteller would touch him, though. Small, intoxicating, caresses. She would place her hand on his. She would brush away the ebony curls that fell into his face. She would run her fingers across his soul, until he squirmed inside with exquisite delight. He would flinch and she would think him paranoid and unable to trust her. Thanks be to God that she couldn't possibly understand the real reason. She wouldn't believe it otherwise.
Hook looked up from his place at the rail. It was she who ruled his thoughts standing only paces away bathed in the crimson glow of the setting sun. She took his breath away. "Captain," she greeted.
He nodded in acknowledgment, not trusting himself to speak lest he say something he would regret.
"Mr. Smee told me that you enjoy the sunset."
It was neutral. Always neutral. He could deny it or not. He didn't deny it. "It reminds me of home."
She looked positively curious, leaning towards him as if he were whispering. "Home?"
"In England. I remember my mother used to sit in the garden and watch as the sun set." It was the only thing he clearly remembered from childhood. A woman who he instinctively knew to be his mother sitting amidst roses, rosemary, and rue. Her face would be drawn up, like a flower's, to the sun. Her eyes were closed and there was an aura of complete serenity around her.
"Did you watch it with her?"
He shook his head. "I don't remember. I don't think so."
"You must have loved her very much to still remember her."
He looked out across the sea to the rippling reflection of the sun's radiance. "I must have."
Her hand rested on his, innocent and beautiful. They stood in silence until the stars emerged and the sun had long disappeared over the horizon. She then took his hand and led him to bed, where she quickly fell into slumber. He lay there with his thoughts and the knowledge that she promised to stay with him.
The next day started as any other. There was no warning to precede the flaming rain of arrows that fell from the sky in deadly arcs. The crew stood, staring as their home caught fire, for a few moments, unable to believe their eyes. Nothing like this had ever happened in all their centuries in Neverland.
"Fire!"
The cry, coming from a pirate quicker than the rest set the others scurrying. They ran, grabbing buckets and hauling water, to put out the danger. None of them jumped ship--each knew that if they survived the swim to shore they would never be welcomed back aboard. Hook disappeared briefly before returning on deck, sword in hand and shouting orders. He'd told the storyteller to stay put, hoping that she would obey and stay safe. There was another volley of flaming arrows. This wave being much larger than the preceding one. Hook scanned the island and found nothing out of the ordinary. He looked to the water. Not far from his ship was a navy of canoes packed with Natives.
"Half of you take care of the fires! Man the cannons! Arm thyselves!" It was just as he finished giving out his orders that he heard the childish laugh of his mortal enemy. He looked up to see Pan and his Lost Boys fly overhead, dropping flaming foliage onto the deck. They landed behind him and scattered to find opponents among the busy pirates.
Hook gritted his teeth. The fires were getting worse. If the crew couldn't put most of them out soon he would have to send someone for the storyteller and abandon ship. He pushed the thought away and ran for Pan, snarling. The boy jumped into the air laughing and mocking him. He could not hear what the boy said. The darkness crept in and Hook welcomed it. The boy would die for setting fire to his ship. For putting he and his crew in danger. For putting Wendy in danger.
He waited, on guard, for the boy's descent. His mind screamed at him. "Kill the boy. Rip out his heart. Spill his blood. Kill. Kill. Kill!" Around him there were other screams from adults and children alike. Natives climbed the railing of the Jolly Roger, knives in teeth--deadly. Man and boy choked and coughed on the billowing, black smoke.
Pan charged. He swooped down and without stopping landed running straight toward him. Hook side-stepped and brought his elbow down on the boy's back, just below his neck. The child staggered, but kept his feet under him. "What's the matter, Hook? Too old to put up a real fight?"
The pirate captain growled, but did not take the bait. "Wait. Wait. Wait. He will come to me. The stupid child will come. He will come. He will die."
The boy did come, attempting to strike as he ran forward. Hook parried the blow and reached out to slice him with his hook. Pan leaped back, barely managing to get out of range. Hook gave him no time to recover--went at him with both cutlass and hook. Surprised, the boy took to the air. Stunned at the man's bad form, he fell when he hit his head hard on a mast.
"Finally," his mind whispered. "Finally. Kill him."
He brought his sword up for the final blow, but something caught his eye before he could deliver it.
Wendy Darling.
The storyteller ran between a grappling pirate and Lost Boy, attempting to protect the child. All thought of Pan vanished when he saw the other child, not older than twelve years of age, thrust his dagger into her side. Her eyes went wide, suddenly staring into his, as she fell against the railing. She clutched herself as the blood spilled over her fingers. The boy pushed her backwards and suddenly she was falling, ever so slowly. Hook watched, transfixed as the pirate attempted to grab her. There was a splash, barely audible. The pirate yelled and ran the boy through.
Hook ran for the railing and jump over it, diving ungracefully into the water after her. Nothing. He came up for air. Descended again. He grabbed the skirt of her dress. Arm around her waist. Resurfaced. He swam, careful to keep her head above the water. She was breathing--harsh gasps against his skin.
He pulled her ashore. His hand was frantic as he looked at her wound. She would live if he could get the bleeding to stop. She'd lost a lot as it was. Her arm came up, weakly, and her hand fell upon his face. He looked up, his crimson gaze meeting her dulling emerald. His movements stopped. Time froze. There was only this girl, his angel, and himself.
She slowly shook her head, telling him without words that it was useless to continue. She would die. He shook his head, violently. No! You can't die! You promised! You promised not to leave me!
His angel smiled sadly, caressing his cheek slowly with her thumb. "I will always love you, Captain Hook."
Her arm slid down and he caught it, grasping it tightly. Her eyes slipped closed and she sighed. She was gone. He slowly pulled her body towards him, embracing her as tightly as he could. Willing time to reverse and her soul to return. "No" his breath was but a whisper over the surf, "I love you, Wendy Darling, can't you see? Don't leave me."
The fighting on the water continued unabated. There was no one to notice Captain Hook's anguish as he held his angel. Or that his eyes leaked blood.