A.N. Thank you all who emailed and reveiwed, kicking me gently but repeatedly out of my stupor. Here is the next bit, and miracle of miracles, I'm already writing the next chapter. Thank you all for your patience, loyalty, and well wishes. You truly deserve better than me, but I shall try to win back your respect. This is a bit rusty and rough around the edges, as it is not beta'd nor overly checked by me, so forgive any spelling and grammatical errors you may or may not come across.

Enjoy!

Teaken paced the tree house. Well, more limped, actually, his tightly binded thigh aching where the pirate's musket ball had torn through it. But he didn't stop. Up stairs, down limbs, through the trunk, around the base, below its roots. Teaken covered any surface that would support him until the tree got fed up enough to twist itself in such a way that Teaken could not gain access, no matter how he swore and stamped or punched. Eventually, Teaken had no choice but to give up the losing battle and pace somewhere else. He stalked his way towards the cove, thinking the mermaids may at least take his mind off of the waiting.

As soon as he reached the cove, he was bombarded by the memory of Mary's attempt at bathing, and how it had ended with him saving her life, and then a very naked and irate Mary in his lap. Teaken grinned a bit at that memory, then immediately groaned, picking up a rock and throwing it angrily into the seawater. He'd managed to think of the exact subject that he'd promised himself he'd stay away from, far away from. Dangerous waters, those were, and he knew better. He knew his place, he knew his duty and he'd done it.

'Find her,' Peter had begged in one of his weaker moments of change. 'Find Wendy, she can save me, she always saves me'

Teaken had known full and well that the "Wendy" Peter spoke of was long gone, and far beyond anyone's reach. So, he'd done the only thing he could think of. He went for the next best thing. He'd found Mary. He'd brought her to Neverland. That was all that Peter had asked of him.

Teaken gazed down into the clear waters of the cove, seeing himself reflected back, distorted by the ripples he'd created with his rock tantrum. It was probably hopeless by now, he knew, but he had to get over it none-the-less. As Peter's second in command, his job had been to complete Peter's orders and he'd done that, but he'd gone one step too far, and then tripped and fell headlong over the line that Peter had never set, but Teaken knew was there. He cared about Mary. He cared about her too much. He cared enough to cringe with jealousy whenever he thought of what her ultimate duty would eventually be on this island, his home. He grit his teeth and threw another rock with all his might out into the fog that drifted just above the surface of the seawater.

Instead of the satisfying splash Teaken had expected, he heard a grunt of pain and some choice swear words. He tensed immediately and narrowed his eyes at the fog, trying to find what had made the rather vulgar comment.

"Bitch's birthday, Teaken! Just what the fuck was that for?!"

Teaken winced as he saw one of the twins glide out of the fog, his hand rubbing furiously at a lump that was fast forming above his right eye. "Damn, sorry about that. I didn't know you were-"Teaken stopped, suddenly taken aback at how odd it was to just see one twin at a time. "Where's-"

Howling laughter that was coming from directly above them interrupted him, and there was the other twin, Mary in hand, laughing as hard as anything at his brother who scowled and continued to rub his head.

"It's not funny, you complete git," the injured twin grumbled.

"You...flying....pelted!" The other twin howled again, and lost his grip on the unconscious girl in his arms.

"Mary! Dammit," Teaken swore and dove into action, catching Mary in his own arms right before she crashed into the cove's sandy shore. "Watch it, you moron! Jesus."

The twin continued to laugh as he lowered to the ground. "Sorry, Teak. S'alright though, I knew you'd catch 'er." The twin winked and walked over to his disgruntled brother to see the damage.

Teaken was horrified to find that he had blushed at that comment, and groaned, now understanding that the other boys had most likely caught onto his feelings for Mary before he had. He looked down at the girl in his arms, and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. She was pale, God so pale. And her handâ€.

"Son of a bitch," Teaken ground out, immediately picturing hundreds of interesting ways to torture Hook until he cried for his mother. The twins had stopped squabbling by now, and walked over to where Teaken was holding Mary.

"Right job 'ol Hooky did on her hand, eh?" One whistled in sympathy.

"You should have seen Pan. I haven't seen him that angry in a long time." The other added.

"Where is Peter?" Teaken asked, eyes automatically looking skyward.

"He stayed behind,"

"Wouldn't tell us what he was planning,"

"Just to get out. He locked himself in the pirate's galley."

"Haven't any idea of what's going through his barmy head."

Teaken sputtered. "You left Pan alone on the ship?"

"He ordered us to."

"Said to take Mary and go back to the tree house."

"So we did."

"And then you come along and pelt me with a stone!"

The other twin exploded into snickers again.

"Bloody shut up!"

"That's enough!" Teaken yelled. He looked down at Mary, fighting a battle within himself. He wanted to stay with her, to be there when she awoke

Teaken growled in disgust and shook himself. Where was this mushy crap coming from? He was the second in command, and had a responsibility to his commander, Peter. He gently placed Mary back into the hands of the twins, and told them to take her back to the tree house like Peter had ordered.

"You're going back for Pan, then?" a twin asked, holding Mary close to his chest.

"Yes."

"Good luck, Pan is not in a good mood, and you disobeying an order won't help that any"

Teaken grinned and pulled a small pill from the pouch at his side and placed it in his mouth, letting it dissolve onto his tongue. "He told you to leave, not me. Take care of her, alright?" The pixie dust took effect quickly, and he was up in the air and disappearing into the fog before the twins could respond that they would.

.................

"You called, C-Cap'n?" Smee stuttered as he creaked open the heavy mahogany door to the Captain's Quaters of the Jolly Roger. He peeked his pale and sweaty face into the room, ready to pull it back at a the slightest movement or glint of steel.

"Yes, Mr. Smee. Do come in, and shut the door behind you."

The Captain's relaxed tone made Smee heave a sigh of relief, and paste a smile on his face as he did as the Captain had ordered, and entered the luxurious room. The heavy door shut with a loud click that may have echoed in the room had the walls not been draped in fine red and black velvets and the floors covered in expensive embroidered carpets. He shuffled nearer to where the Captain lounged in front of a large ornate desk that was strewn with maps, compasses, cigars used and new, jewels, golden goblets, and bottles of the finest ports and rums in the world.

The Captain himself wore a long black dressing robe made of the softest silk and lined with dark maroon velvet as he sat with his ankles crossed and propped up on a chest half filled with spanish dabloons. His dark curls were tied neatly back with a black ribbon, and he blew a cloud of sweet cigar smoke into the air as Smee came to a halt in front of him.

"What can I do for you this fine eve, Cap'n?"

"I think it's time," Hook drawled, putting his cigar down on his desk and causing Smee to quickly round it and place it in a secur ash tray before it caught fire to all the maps on the desk, "To have a bit of a word with our guest, don't you think?"

"Yes, Cap'n, of course Cap'n," Smee nodded urgently as he brushed the excess ash from the cigar nonchalantly to the floor. "Although, I do believe she hasn't been conscious for a while now-"

"Bored out of her little heroic mind, no doubt. How rude of us, Smee. We're not being at all hospitable, and I don't want tainted rumores of Captain James Hook's manners floating about." Hook smirked and sat up. "Ready my coat and belt, Smee, it's time we paid Miss Mary a visit. She's had long enough to reflect on things, I'd wager. Is the crew rallied?"

"Yes, Cap'n, all on deck and awaiting your orders." Smee carefully lifted the Captain's feet from the treasure chest and removed his slippers, replacing them with the stiff, patent leather, buckled boots that the Captain favored. He then bustled over to the other end of the room and quickly brushed wrinkles and any debris from the Captain's fine coat, and scurried bac across the room in time to slip it over the Catain's arms and shoulders while Hook stood and reached for the ribbon in his hair. He fussed with his long curls in the mirror while Smee struggled not to be elbowed in the face as he buckled Hook's sword belt around the Captain's middle. Nearly successful, he stood back and rubbed his abused nose as the Captain smiled at his reflection.

"Yes indeed, Mr. Smee," Hook growled dangerously, "She'll change her attitude about saving that wretched boy and this forsaken Island as soon as she understands that my Hook disagrees."

"Oh, I think your Hook has already disagreed with her Cap'n," Smee laughed, polishing Hook's scabbard. "Her wound must be paining her something fierce now that its given her the fever."

"Given her the what?" Hook asked, turning and causing Smee to stumble back.

"The...the fever, Cap'n. That's why she's been unconscious this whole time. That hole you put in her hand certainly did the trick!" Smee laughed proudly. "Went green on her, it's probably crawling up her arm by now-"

"What?!" Hook roared. "You fool! We need her alive!"

"But...but you said-" Smee quaked at the Captain's sudden outburst.

"Out of the way, you blithering idiot!" Hook shoved Smee into the desk as he busrt out of his quarters, causing the still lit cigar to tumble into the back of Smee's trousers.

"Ow...ow, ow hot HOT!" Smee did somewhat of a jig trying to dislodge the burning cigar from his pants as Hook stormed down to the cellar to see Mary's condition for himself.

.................

The drunken guard had opened his alcohol blurred eyes, seen one shadow in the cell in front of him, decided all was well, and promptly passed out again.

Peter sat on the floor, his arms draped around his knees. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of an unconscious Mary out of his head. It had almost...hurt him, to look at her. It was strange, these new feelings inside of him, he was used to anger, but not this. He could only blame them on the phenomenon that was happening to him and his boys. He understood what was going on, and it made him all the more bitter towards the worlders.

And they wonder why I ran away, why I try to convince thier young to run away. Look what they do! Peter scowled, glancing up out of the barred port hole in the cell that the moonlight was streaming through. They think we are the savages, yet they are killing a whole world, and can't even take the time to notice.

Sadness clouded around Peter and suffocated him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, he couldn't seem to get enough air. His eyes stung, and when he squeezed them shut, tears leaked out and down his face, cooling his reddened cheeks. Confused, Peter raised his dirty hand and trailed it down the tear's path, leaving a thumb-wide smudge on his face. He sighed and wiped his hand carelessly across the cell floor. The wood beneath his tear dampened fingers immediately crumbled and eroded away, leaving a small indentation about a half an inch deep that Peter didn't notice.

"Even here," he whispered, his eyes wet and vacant. "Even in my own world, I can't escape them." Once again he raised his eyes to the port hole. "Why didn't you tell them, Wendy?" he choked, his voice beaking around her name. "I showed you. I brought you and showed you so you could tell them, so they would believe. Didn't you tell them?"

For so long, for nearly forever, Peter had had no concept of time. But suddenly, like a wave that catches you unawares and sweeps your feet from beneath you, he realized how long it had been since he'd last seen Wendy, and he remembered.

The blackness in the jungles of Neverland suddenly roared to life, reaching out and staining things in it's path. Animals and faeries streaked out of the way, desperate to avoid it...

He remembered how...big she was, when he'd returned for her for Spring cleaning.

Flowers shriveled, bushes dropped their long leaves and drooped to the ground, dead.

But, he reminded himself, pushing his fists into his eyes and breathing slowly, she gave you a new one. Jane, Peter remembered. Jane came then, and another after her...

Peter shook his head in horrible realization. "They all lied. All of them left. Grown up..."

Trees in the jungle collapsed, taking other trees and plants with them. They were rotted through the moment they struck the forest floor...

Peter clenched his eyes shut, willing the offending image out of his mind. So what if they'd all left? What did he care? He was Peter Pan, after all, and didn't need anyone else, because he was the best, he was the leader.

But, then again, how can one be a leader when there are none to lead?

The sadness swept over Peter again, and was this time joined by a heavy, unbearable feeling of lonliness that draped around him like wet wool. Despair began to close in, and Peter wailed with the overwhelming feeling of it. His wail echoed through the island, it's waves hiting birds in flight, and knocking them to the ground, dead. It bounced off of cliff walls, and the cliffs crumbled. It sliced through acres of forest, leveling hundreds of trees. It awakened a girl who sat straight up in her bed, and gave a startled answering cry.