Disclaimer: All characters belong to Barrie, though the witches remain out own.
Author's Note: Welcome back! Sorry for the slight delay, it's coming up on finals and time is not on our side. In the meantime, read, enjoy and leave a comment in the little box.
Seven days came and went. The crew never dared to walk into the cabin again unless expressly invited. Noodler especially kept his distance from the captain but even more so from the women. He was convinced that they had laid some powerful spell upon their fearsome leader, stating that it was unnatural how besotted he had become. It was terrifying how he...smiled so often. Amongst the men he would try to garner others to his side, but really the only one who listened avidly and truly believed him was George Scourie. During the day the witches would practice their magic, much to the awe and fright of the pirates. Abigail had summoned a smattering of rain that soaked the deck in a tiny downpour that lasted a quarter of an hour. Rose drew forth a wind that caught poor Smee as he hung laundry across the foredeck, the shirt he held inflating like a sail. And to all this, the captain applauded. Well, applauded in his own unique, one handed, manner. Then in the evenings the sounds of music and….other things could be heard from behind the barred door of the cabin.
From the perspective of the three individuals involved, the distance of the crew was merely amusement. They laughed about it over tea in the afternoons. The ladies, growing tired of wearing their now ruined dresses, took it upon themselves to raid his wardrobe. He found the sight of them in his clothes to be something he greatly enjoyed. Mornings were spent in a lazy tangle of silk sheets and entwining limbs. With a blessed lack of Pan sightings, Hook was free to enjoy his sorceresses as much as his black heart desired. And enjoy he did. One could almost say he was happy. As happy as a villain like him was allowed to be, that is. And he found it quite odd how easily he settled in to having the women in his cabin and in his life.
It was an odd notion, having dinner together every night. It was almost domestic. James tried not to tarry on such notions overly long. But he could admit that it was refreshing to have company each evening, and it did not hurt that said company was lovely and spirited. But tonight he noticed something unusual. The women, despite their higher education and obvious good breeding, loved to spend hours in the kitchen. The poor cook was rather put out when they invaded his domain but over time so many recipies had been exchanged that the man looked on them as welcome helpers. So when he noticed that Rose was not filling her plate and refusing her usual dessert three nights in a row, he was more than a little concerned.
"Rose, darling, are you feeling ill?" She looked up at his question, a confused expression on her face.
"No, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"You haven't been eating these last few days." He pointed with his knife, which was really an attachment to his arm, towards her half empty dinner plate.
"Oh," she looked down at her meager helping of chicken and spiced apricots. "I just haven't been hungry."
"Tell the truth," Abigail scolded from across the table as she cut viciously into a pile of roasted vegetables. Hook looked to the women on either side of him, eyes narrowing. He did not like to be left unknowing in any conversation. They were privy to something that he was not and it left him feeling perturbed.
"What truth is this? I will not tolerate lies on my ship, especially concerning you two."
"I'm just watching my weight," Rose said, sounding rather exasperated. "It's not a big deal."
"You're what?"
"She's trying not to eat so much," Abigail explained rather plainly with a slight edge to her voice. "We love what Cookie makes for us but she thinks it's too rich for her to eat every day."
"It's not a big deal, I used to plan meals very carefully on the Mainland."
"What reason on any earth would give you cause to think that you needed to mind what you ate?" He asked his Rose, who turned to him with a surprised look. "And that goes for you as well," he pointed to Abigail. "Did some small minded plebian insult you? Or is the world so changed that beauty is a notion of ages past?" Both his women had the good sense to blush at that.
"Beauty is as coveted as it ever was," Rose said, looking strangely unsure all the sudden, it did not sit well with him. "But the ideal modern woman is a far cry from the Baroque era, that I can guarantee."
"Is that so? Then do tell, sweetling, what makes you so unfit for such a title that you would think to starve yourself?" Rose squirmed in her seat, her utensils forgotten at her plate. From the opposite side of the table, their lover sat back with a contemplative expression. There was a wealth of untold secrets here, he could sense it.
"Where we come from," the elder witch began, "there is an inundation of images of the female body. Advertisements, entertainment, you really cannot escape it. And what is considered beautiful is pushed on girls from a very young age. But it's an impossible standard for most of us to meet and after so many years of comparing yourself to such ideals, it weighs heavy on you."
"We're not thin," Abigail said crisply. "And we're pale. The glasses are sometimes an issue too. In short, we're not what society says we should be." He stared at them, letting their descriptions of the modern world sink into his brilliant mind.
"Surely you are not saying that either of you think yourselves to be...rotund?" He skirted around the word which nearly fell from his lips, not wanting to insult his ladies.
"You mean fat? I've been called that over the years," Rose admitted.
"And it's not unusual for us to have had bad days where we think it ourselves," Abigail shrugged.
"You cannot be serious." He looked from one to the other but neither made any sign of refuting him. "Has the world gone upside down? If you are," he felt repulsed just saying it, "ugly, then what does your society consider attractive?"
"Slender waists, slim hips, tanned skin" Abigail ticked each off on her fingers. "Protruding collar and hipbones and a gap between the thighs. Does that about cover it?" Rose nodded, pushing her plate away, suddenly looking rather sullen.
"With a preference for blond, if we're going for historical accuracy," she reached for her wine glass and made to take a long draught. He covered it with his hand, forcing her to set it back upon the golden tablecloth.
"I do not need your magical powers to see how pained you are from this," she hid her face behind her long hair as he spoke. "You never showed unhappiness with your appearance before, least of all in my presence. Why the sudden care now?"
"I just didn't want to overeat, that's all…" she peeked up at him. "And it's nothing new." Thank goodness she was not brought to tears, he was not sure he could have handled that with the finesse needed to soothe a sobbing woman. But there was pain in her eyes, an old pain with no small amount of self loathing. He could recognize it well, for he often saw that same dark cloud in himself.
"I have been telling her for ages that she's gorgeous," Abigail said. "And she does the same for me. Sometimes the bad self image just strikes out of nowhere."
"Rose," he called her softly, she turned slowly to face him fully. "There is nothing I would change about you even if I had all the magic to do so. For either of you. I have no interest in waifs, your bountiful curves haunted my dreams in ways no slender stick could ever hope for." He slid her plate back into place, filling it to the brim with a little of everything from their dinner spread. "Now I won't have you going hungry another night. Eat, my dear."
"Or we'll have to hold you down and feed you ourselves." Abigail grinned over the rim of her goblet.
"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Rose looked incredulously at her lovers as a fork was placed in her hand.
"Would you like it to be?" James grinned, rather like a shark.
"Because that could be arranged," their lady slowly licked her lips.
"If you want me to eat than let me eat," the auburn haired witch muttered, starting to cut into her meal. He watched as she finally ate, still ruminating over the world which had somehow convinced his mistresses that they were not the epitome of loveliness.
"Do you truly not know how exquisite you are?" Rose's cheeks turned red as her namesake at his words.
"You're biased," she tried to jest.
"That's what she always says to me," Abigail frowned. "I saw you looking in the mirror today, when you thought I wasn't watching. You were unhappy with what you saw, though I will never understand why." He turned his gaze on her, curious and slightly infuriated that such a fine creature would ever look upon herself with disdain.
"Explain," he commanded. Rose shot an accusative glare at her lover who only raised her brows in challenge. Then she sighed, shoulders slumping, taking a few slow bites as she appeared to consider her words.
"I have been trying to lose weight for some time. Not a lot," she added quickly at the cold looks that were being sent her way. "But I have always been conscious about my body, some days more than most…."
"And why would that be?" He asked, leaning forward.
"It's crazy!" she gripped her napkin until the fibers threatened to snap. "I feel confident often enough while I'm unattached," a humorless laugh fell from her lips. "But when someone actually notices me I look in the mirror and all I see is...some troll. And I wonder why anyone would take a second glance at me…" Rose trailed off, staring into her lap. "I don't know what's wrong with me….excuse me," she stood suddenly, the chair catching on the rug and she shoved it aside. She was trying to run away. He was up before she had made it three steps. His arms were like bands of iron, she would not be able to break free of his embrace even if she tried. Though she did not fight him, merely stood there, her back flush to his chest and the barest touch of her fingertips to his wrist.
"There is naught wrong with you, little one," he pressed his cheek to her soft hair, breathing in the scent of flowers that always clung to her. "And any that try to convince you otherwise may take their grievances up with me." Behind him, he could hear Abigail stirring, felt one of her arms wrap round his middle as the other held Rose to her. She laid her head in the crook of her neck, kissing the soft skin and causing their lady to shiver.
"Beautiful, perfect creature that you are," his blue eyed mistress cooed. "How lucky we are to have you." Rose lost the tension that had overcome her, settling into their shared embrace easily and happily. Her hand on his wrist tightened its hold, her warm lips placing a kiss there.
"Never forget how we adore you, my sweet French belle, never."
"I'm bored."
Abigail was sprawled on the bed, head hanging off the edge of the footboard, dark curls brushing the carpet. "We've spent so much time in this gods-damned cabin and on this gods-damned ship that I can walk it blindfolded. I want to explore!"
Rose looked up from the book she was reading, "Explore?"
Abigail twisted to prop herself up onto her elbows, "We're not even a mile from the Island and we've never set foot on it. If it's as beautiful as the old wives' tales said it is, then I want to see."
"James told us about the dangers," Rose said warningly and Abigail scoffed.
"Little brats dangerous to the Hook they hate but to women? Hardly. The most danger we might be in would be from them begging us to sew them pockets," Abigail pushed herself off the bed, "Come on, Rose, don't you want to see the Island? See how beautiful it is and try to find all the magical creatures he told us about? Please?"
Rose looked indecisive and Abigail tossed her hair in anger, "If you want to stay here and read that book for the third time, then fine. But I'm going. Even if I have to swim!"
"I won't allow that," Rose exclaimed, tossing the book aside and getting to her feet, "No, if you're going, I'll go with you."
"Afraid I'll get lost without you?" Abigail's voice was scathing, "Remember, I'm the one who can actually read a map."
"I don't think anyone's actually charted this island, so yeah you might get lost," Rose shot back, reaching for the boots James had found for her. Abigail was already dressed from a late night scamper through the rigging and she waited impatiently for Rose to swing her coat around her shoulders. Abigail cinched the black sash around the waist of her blue coat and flashed a grin.
"How do you propose we get off the ship without him seeing?" Rose asked.
"I don't really care." Abigail said, "We could enlist the help of one of the crew. What about that surgeon? Dr. Blake? He's not like Smee, who would go running to the captain to tattle. We can take him."
Rose considered this as she slipped the brass buttons on her coat through the buttonholes. "I suppose…."
"Make up your mind quickly," Abigail said, slipping out the door, "I'll be leaving with or without you." And she closed the door silently behind her.
The surgeon agreed to the request - out of fear of the witch's powers, a sense of nobility to protect the ladies, or fear of the captain's wrath should the women go off alone and harm befall them, who can say? Rose scampered after Abigail as the long boat was lowered, the latter smirking knowingly as they boarded. The captain was nowhere in sight but the other longboat was missing. Each of the witches took notice but did not have time to contemplate the fact. They reached the island quickly, rowing with the tide rather than against it. The sun was shining, the clouds puffy like marshmallows, the sea perfect aqua blue. Under the surface of the waves swam silver fish that leaped into the air, their wide fins spread like wings. When the prow of the little boat hit the shore Abigail hopped out instantly, uncaring how the water was still half way up her leg when she leaped out and began slogging through the white capped waves. She was admiring the tree line as Dr. Blake pulled the longboat in and tied it to a nearby palm.
"Beyond the edge of this cove is the outlet of Kidd's Creek," the surgeon explained. "Which flows from the volcano at the center of the island. For reference, this is Pirate's Cove."
"How original," Abigail said snarkily.
"Is the volcano active?" Rose asked, eyeing the tall peak in the distance.
"It smokes from time to time but in all my years sailing the Never Sea, it has yet to actually erupt." That was a soothing statement, at least they wouldn't be out-running lava any time soon.
"Where shall we be exploring?" The older woman queried as she looked over a peculiar flowering shrub.
"We'll follow the creek into the jungle, there's a path along the water's edge. Do not leave the path," he said sternly, leading them into the dense trees. "I can't be having you go getting lost, I like my throat as it is - unslashed with my artery intact."
"Well, we like you with your pulse too, Dr. Blake," Abigail grinned as they followed him and the path began to take shape amongst the roots and dead leaves. The sound of rushing water had been faint for the first ten minutes or so as they walked but now was growing ever louder. Kidd's Creek was a decently wide river, despite its name.
"It's actually rather deep toward the middle," their guide explained. "There are crossings along the way but they are few and far between. And after a storm the current is something swift, you don't want to be caught up in it, you'll be washed out to sea in no time at all."
"Which area of the island is the Jolly Roger anchored on?" Abigail asked.
"The far southern end. To the east is Mermaid's Lagoon," both women perked up and he chuckled. "They're not the pretty creatures from children's fairy tales, mistresses. Those devil fish will sweetly drown you if you get too close. Though as witches, mayhap you be immune to their charms."
"Do they sing?" The younger had an excited gleam in her pale eyes.
"Oh that they do, especially on the nights where the moon is full." Between them, the sorceresses shared a silent conversation, their eyes agreeing that this lagoon was in need of a visit in the near future. "Now to the far north sits the Black Castle. No one knows who built it but by the time we arrived it was already a flooded ruin. There are several caches of supplies there, as well as Marooner's Rock."
"A pirate's execution place," Rose answered Abigail's raised brow. "When one is sentenced to die he is chained to a rock at low tide and slowly drowns as the water comes back higher and higher." Their trek continued through the jungle. It was odd but the humidity that one usually associates with such a tropical place was not so overwhelming. Rather, it was a pleasant day, even with the sun bearing down, but at least the canopy provided a wealth of shade.
"And to the west lies the the Indian camp, far off in a glade that abuts the sea and jungle. If one goes towards the center of the island and hang east, that's where the hot springs are, close to the source of the river. And somewhere around that place is the pixie's home." The witches took either side of the doctor now.
"What are these pixies like?"
"Are they aligned with Pan like in the stories?" The doctor held up a fallen branch so that they might pass through the path easily, using his walking stick to hold the partly broken bramble aloft. Birds sang around them, the sound of scurrying animals surrounded them. Never had the witches ever been in such a pristine example of nature, not even in the parks back home.
"Pixies are tiny things, some mistake them for fireflies at night what with their glow. They leave a trail of dust as they flit past, that's the stuff that makes one fly. And as far as we know only one winged beastie is loyal to Pan. The rest seem to tolerate him, maybe they see him as a cousin or some such thing. But they ain't his army or anything like that."
"Could we see them?" The witches asked in unison. Before Dr. Blake could answer a slew of unexpected events all converged at once. Rose's attention was stolen by a flickering ball of light that darted from the tree tops to hover about her head. Abigail's gaze was turned to the fauna along the path, rustling and moving with speed as a blur of black and white shot out towards her. The pirate watched as the auburn haired witch caught the twinkling speck with a blow her breath, the wind catching the fairy in a slow spinning little whirlwind. Meanwhile a nasty badger revealed itself only to hurry away as Abigail hissed at the creature, holding its prey, a small cat, close to her chest.
"A fairy!"
"A kitten!"
The women exclaimed to each other excitedly. Then upon hearing what the other had found, quickly switched their discoveries. Rose cuddled the little feline close while Abigail freed the pixie from its aerial entrapment.
"Poor little thing is so scared it's shaking," the elder woman cooed and pet the kitten's soft fur. "There, there, you're safe."
A jangle of angry bells sounded from Abigail's cupped hands. The fairy, a blur of dust and a fiery red aura, was trapped between the woman's fingers.
"Noisy little thing," Rose commented as she continued to soothe the fluffy bundle in her arms.
"He's yelling at us," her lover said.
"Well that's fairly obvious."
"No, I mean," she seemed to be listening intently as the tiny being went on its verbal rampage. "I mean that he's actually saying something, and I can understand his words." Both the doctor and the witch looked at her in confusion. "I don't know how, but I can," she paused. "He has quite the imagination for insults."
"You always had a connection with the Fae but never something like this," Rose came to stand beside her. "More of Neverland's magic having an effect on us?"
"Seems the closest explanation," she nodded. "But we were apparently too close to something. Trespassing, he keeps saying. Are we close to the fairy home?"
"Not really," Dr. Blake looked at the pixie with a wary eye. "Probably best to let that one go 'bout his business. We don't want his brethren falling down on us like a cloud of locusts." Before Abigail could set the little sprite free however, another bright ball of light came careening into the clearing. "Blast it all."
The witch holding the captive fairy was distracted but a moment by the new intruder, her grip loosening just enough for him to wiggle free. They were quick, darting back and forth so fast that only a trail of light and golden dust gave their location away. More jingles were heard, a fierce conversation was going on.
"What are they saying," Rose asked her girlfriend.
"She's been looking for him all day," Abigail said, her pale eyes moving back and forth as the fairies flew about their heads. "They've been planning something? And he's gone and ruined it by getting caught."
"Well we don't really know what's happening," she stroked the kitten's head.
"Someone was supposed to be here already."
"Who?"
A loud, piercing crow answered that question for them.
"Oh no."
The surgeon ducked for cover, knowing full well that the presence of the Boy would only bring pain. But the women huddled together, not knowing where the Boy was or what to do. Rose cradled the kitten to her chest and the little ball of fur squirmed. Abigail listened to the tinkling of the pixies as they called out to the Boy.
Pan tumbled from the leaves with a bubbling laugh, landing on one of the broader branches with all the grace of the young boy that he was, and peered down at the clearing.
"Hullo, Tink," he grinned. The female pixie jangled something rude at the male pixie and sped off to light upon Pan's shoulder, her usual throne. Pan's eyes squinted down at the women standing at the clearing and frowned, "Say, aren't those the two ladies we saw on the Codfish's ship?"
Tink tinkled a response and Rose looked quickly to Abigail who gave a tiny nod.
"What do you think they're doing way out here?" He asked his fairy as though the women couldn't hear him, "D'you suppose they're running away from the old man? They must not like having dirty, stinky, smelly pirates for children. Maybe they could be our mothers, what do you think, Tink?"
Tinker Bell, still sore over the last lady who had come to the Island to be their mother, was not overly fond of this idea and said so with much vulgarity.
"Aw, Tink," Pan said playfully, "Someone has to fix our broken pockets! And they probably know such stories, too."
Tink scowled.
The cat meowed loudly. Rose shushed him at once, but the sound caught Pan's attention and he floated down slowly to hover before the women, his hands on his hips.
"What'cha got there, lady?" The Boy asked with all his boyish charm.
"Nothing," Rose answered, curling protectively around the kitten.
"How'd you get to Neverland?" He asked, brow furrowing, "I didn't bring you here. And you can't fly without my fairy dust."
Tink had several things to say about that.
"We...um," Abigail struggled to find the words.
Just at that moment, a gaggle of pirates burst into the clearing, led by the man in scarlet who charged the Boy with a strangled roar, "PAN!"
"Oh no."
The women were forgotten immediately as the Man and the Boy fell to their customary battle with vigorous enthusiasm. While Hook had yet to notice them, the crew spotted them almost at once. Several were confused by the sight of them, others looked upon them with suspicion. Dr. Blake crossed himself. Steel sang as swords clashed. All eyes were on the duel taking place over the glen.
"Too slow, old man!" Pan laughed as he flipped into the air, kicking off Hook's feathered hat as he went.
"Petulant youth, I will rip out your tongue and nail it to my wall!" The captain spun, a cyclone of blades that ripped the leaves from the boy's earthy tunic.
"I can see why the ladies ran away! You're ugly and foul mouthed!" Tinker Bell tittered, the crew made noises of shock and the witches groaned. Back and forth they fought, Hook furiously so as he tried to push his opponent back. He was caught of guard as the elfin boy waved excitedly to someone behind him. The fight changed direction as Peter flew under Hook's legs to a high branch of a sturdy oak, hands on his hips and an insufferable look of cocky pride on his face. Nearly spinning off balance, the captain finally saw the women. He gaped for a moment and then was pulled away by the mocking laugh high above them.
"Don't worry, pretty ladies, I'll be back to rescue you! Come on, Tink!" Pan and his fairy companions flew off into the distance, calling names and giggling the whole way.
"Coward! Come back here and fight me, boy!" But he was already far off, a dot on the horizon. "Damnation!" He took his aggravation out on a nearby shrub, hacking it to a miserable stumb of broken sticks and scattered leaves. Rose and Abigail watched from a safe distance, unsure of what to do or say. As it happened, they needn't do anything.
"You two!" The Hook was pointed to them. "What in Lucifer's name are you doing here?"
"Taking a walk?" Abigail suggested.
"And who brought you to shore?" He was stalking towards them now, barely pausing to retrieve his fallen hat.
"We came on our own," Rose said. She could hear Dr. Blake gasp but ignored him. "There was a map on your desk, we looked it over and took the longboat. We had to get out for a bit."
"So you set out alone, to an island you had never seen in your lives, one rife with dangers I had already warned you about?" He stood just before then now, breathing heavily, fist clenching and unclenching in his fury.
"Nothing happened," the younger witch tried to placate him. "And we are very capable of defending ourselves if something had."
"That isn't the point when-" he suddenly stopped. They followed his gaze, which lead the the fluffy bundle clutched close to Rose's breast. "What is that?"
"A...kitten," the elder witch answered slowly. "We saved him." Little green eyes turned to the pirate, wide and curious. A little rumbling noise was coming from the small cat, he was purring quite happily. "And I'm going to keep him."
"You're what?"
"I'm taking the kitten back with me," Rose him square in the eye, as if daring him to take the feline from her protective hold.
"You can't argue this with her," Abigail folded her arms across her chest. James breathed deeply, looked to the sky, closed his eyes and regained some semblance of composure.
"Back to the ship." The men rushed to fulfill his order. "You two, walk with me. Since you were so adamant to stretch your legs, that should be to your liking." He did not bother waiting for a confirmation, but simply began walking back along the trail. Behind him the witches shared a curious look and a shrug. Together they walked in silence, the song of birds and the murmur of the men ahead were the only noises for some time. It was not until the crash of waves in the distance reached their ears that Hook spoke again. "You were lucky today."
"How so?" Abigail asked.
"That Pan was in a more frivolous mood and that I appeared when I did," he turned around, blocking the path. "Did he say anything before I arrived?"
"Several things really," Rose said.
"Explain."
"He wanted to know how we got here, not that we told him," she added the end quickly.
"And he wanted us to be mothers to him and his Lost Boys," Abigail said nonchalantly. "He always wants that."
"And now he has it in his infantile head that you've gone and left me. It won't be long until he comes crowing around my ship looking for you."
"And he will be sent back to his hideout by the fearsome Captain Hook," Rose said with a smile, her hand smoothing down his arm.
"And the Hook's sorceresses?" James pressed pointedly.
"And the wicked witches," Abigail grinned, a cruel glint to her blue eyes.
He matched her smile, trailing his fingertip down the curve of his claw. "Excellent."