Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! Summer jobs and lots of real life insanity has taken our time. But here is the next chapter for your enjoyment. Leave a comment if you like and if you have Tumblr be sure to check out the blog and follow for extra scenes and other goodies! The blog is also open for questions, Hook, Abigail and Rose are more than willing to hear your queries.
Hook had just laid aside the dressing gown Rose had hastily donned that afternoon, stained with smears of blood and dirt. The garment was not worth salvaging, both it and his own shirt, ruined as he held her close, would be burned on the morrow. Carefully, he pulled the sheet up to her collar. Her cheeks were gaining their color back, her breathing growing more steady. A heavy weight had been upon him from the moment he turned around in the jungle and saw her bleeding and broken on the ground. Gently, he stroked her cheek, down her throat and rested over the reassuring beat of her heart. In her delirium she had confessed her love, not just for her beloved Abigail...but for him.
"I am sorry." The apology was low, a whisper and only uttered now when there was no one present to hear it. But that did not diminish the sentiment, he would never be able to gain the forgiveness he craved.
"Captain!"
Hook's gaze shot up to the door and wished he had not.
"What is this?" he hissed.
Mr. Cecco had shouldered his way inside for his arms were full of unconscious woman. Abigail lay unmoving in the Italian's grip, her head lolling over his arm, one frail hand hanging limply down her side.
"What have you done?" his voice rose as he stood from his vigil. Rushing forward, his right arm readied to strike, until he realized his hook still lay useless in the surgery.
"I haven't done anything, Capitano! I swear!" The man had the decency to tremble but nearly dropped the lady in the process. James had barely crossed the cabin in time to catch her. Glowering fiercely, he held her tightly to his chest. This was too much, too soon. His heart was pounding like a hammer in his chest, first one and now the other...
"Explain. Now."
"I just come top side to take my turn at the watch," Cecco said in a hurry. "But as soon as I come up I saw something on the deck, right by the main mast. I walked up and I found her there and brought her to you."
Hook examined the man, looked him right in the eye. Under his gaze, Cecco began to sweat, his fingers twitching with his nerves. But for all the fear, he could not see falsity in the man. He was almost disappointed, his blood lust was riding high and nothing soothed his rage quite like a good gutting.
"Back to your post." His man nodded and hurried from the cabin with the haste of the hounds of hell at his heels. Once the door slammed shut, James looked down at the exhausted face of his dark haired mistress. As furious as he currently was with the witch, he could not remain so when she had worked herself into unconsciousness. Sighing, he brought her to their bed, laying her down next to their lover. He also freed her of any constraining clothing and tucked her into the silk sheets. It took some time, but he was used to going about such tasks with naught but one hand. All through the process, he kept close watch on the sleeping Abigail. It would not do to have her waken and accuse him of anything untoward. However she did not wake, the healing magic had taken all her strength.
He needed air. The day had tried him to the point of collapse.
Opening one of the large bay windows, he breathed deeply of the calming sea air. A warm breeze toyed with his curls. In the distance he could hear the song of a mermaid. Peaceful, the sanctity of the night offered some respite from the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to bring a dreaded tear to his eye. Laughing bitterly, he thought of how Rose would want to keep his poisonous red tears for her magical ingredient cabinet. Or how Abigail would begin a list of those she wanted to experiment on with the substance.
His women, so perfect they were. And now they were hurt, pained, and angry. It was not clear to him how he would mend the rift between him and Abigail. Regardless, he would not tolerate the feud to last beyond the next sunrise. And Rose would not be leaving his sight for a month. Those vile children would pay and he would not be lenient in the actions of his vengeance.
Rose awakened first, the pain of her shoulder having lessened greatly since she could last remember. She had fallen asleep on the hard wood of the surgeon's table, held reverently in the arms of her sorceress love and her Captain. Now she was nestled in a feather mattress, surrounded by pillows, the sunlight filtering through the panes of the cabin's windows, and James Hook was sitting on the cushions of the window-seat, watching her.
He had re-acquired his hook from the surgeon's room during the night. He had not slept, too concerned with watching his ladies. His eyes were weary but intent upon her form and the moment he saw her stir, he straightened, clicking his hook back into place.
"Rose."
His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, and Rose blinked blearily, pushing herself up on her hands. Her head was surprisingly clear considering the events of yesterday but James rose at once with concern anyway. She glanced down at the bandages on her shoulder, remembering the arrow, the surgeon, the healing touch of her Abigail, and the rage in both of her lover's eyes - one fiery and one icy. As she shifted, she felt the weight of another body beside her and she twisted to see Abigail lying beside her, dark curls spreading across the red brocade of the bedspread.
"What happened?" Rose whispered to the Hook, careful not to wake her pale lover.
"She over-exerted herself healing you with her magic." His voice was crisp and rough, but still soft enough to be stealthy as he padded closer to his bed. "The foolish girl. She sent me away to take you to bed and was found collapsed on the deck by one of the crew. She did not tell me she was weak…"
"Of course she didn't," Rose whispered, reaching down to brush curls from Abigail's face.
"She's too proud."
"It will be the death of her," he growled.
"I could say the same of you, James," Rose said quietly, glancing up at him. He subsided into silence, pressing his lips together. The tiniest furrow of concern was wrinkling his brow and Rose saw it at once. She reached for his hand. To his credit, he did not jerk his hand away. Her fingers brushed his and he released the angry breath he was holding.
"I've been thinking…" he said, fighting his instinct to silence himself and stop talking about feelings.
"Don't hurt yourself," Rose grinned. James scowled half-heartedly.
"I was thinking," he said again, "that she….might have been right….about me."
"Don't let her hear you say that," Rose smiled before her grip on his hand tightened slightly and she frowned, "What exactly did she say?"
"Your childish obsession with the Boy has brought pain upon yourself and now upon one whom we love." He quoted drily, "You are more a child than he."
"She didn't," Rose gasped, eyes widening.
"Aye," he growled, "she did. And there might be….merit to what she says."
"James," Rose began, but Hook's face instantly closed off as Abigail stirred.
She rolled onto her back, arm stretching above her head as her back arched with a groan. Her dark lashes fluttered open and she blinked up confusedly at the red canopy of the captain's bed. She turned to Rose, the confusion in her eyes quickly being replaced with concern at the sight of her lover upright and awake. She sat up quickly, dark curls tossing.
"Rose!" She exclaimed, "Rose, you shouldn't be up! You should be resting!"
"I doubt that," Rose smiled, cupping Abigail's cheek gently, "Your healing worked wonders yesterday."
"I...what?"
Rose began unwinding the bandages around her shoulder and between her breasts. As she worked, Abigail and James' eyes met for the briefest of moments. Remembering her anger at him, Abigail looked away. James scowled. Rose's breasts were bared and the bandages fell away to show a slight jagged line marring her creamy skin.
Abigail's eyes widened slightly and she reached out to brush the healing mark with her fingertip.
"Tis a marvel," James said quietly, looking down at his women.
"It is," Abigail agreed, unthinkingly. A heartbeat later, her eyes hardened and she turned away from him, making a show of combing through her hair with her fingers and stretching after her sleep. "Should I even ask how it is I find myself in your bed, Captain? After all, this was not where I fell asleep last night."
James hid a grimace at the sharp accusation in her voice. His spine stiffened in remembered anger from the previous night and he growled in response, "Should I have let Mister Cecco keep you to himself after he found you sprawled upon the deck, then?"
Her head whipped around at that, dark curls flying. "A man as possessive, jealous, and childish as you would never let someone else play with your toys."
His hook twitched. This was not going as planned.
"Abigail!" Rose snapped, "I was shot in the shoulder yesterday! If you want me to heal quickly, then stop fighting and play nicely."
Abigail subsided into silence but James' arms wound themselves around Rose's torso as he seated himself on the edge of the mattress, gathering her lovingly to his chest. "If you neglect to be kind to our Rose, then perhaps I shall?"
Abigail fairly crackled with rage. "How dare you! Rose and I were in love long before you were ever in our lives or our dreams!"
"And see how you've treated her!" James fired back, "She is weak and healing and you can do naught but pick fights."
"I healed her!" Abigail shouted, leaping to her feet, "What did you do? You were too focused on Pan and his brats that you could not protect her! It is your fault she was ever wounded in the first place!"
One of Rose's arms wrapped around his waist and the other reached for her lover. "Please, stop fighting," Rose pleaded. "There is no one to blame but Pan! It is his fault, no one else's! There is no need to be unkind to each other."
"No, if he had been paying attention to the women he loves instead of pursuing his childish vendetta against a boy, then you wouldn't have been hurt!" Abigail snarled, "He needs to learn how to pick on people his own size and how to let things go."
"But the crocodile!" Rose argued.
"The fact that he is brought to terrified, trembling stillness by a reptile speaks to his deficiency as a man."
Forget-me-not eyes flamed red.
Both women saw this. Rose gasped. Abigail smiled coldly.
Rose's arms entwined around the captain's waist, "James! James, she didn't mean it."
"Oh yes I did," Abigail sneered. "He knows I did. I meant it and what I said yesterday. And he's so affected by it because he knows it's true."
Hook moved to lunge for her throat but Rose threw herself against him with a cry, "No! James, please!"
"See?" Abigail bared her teeth in a vindictive smile, "He's trying to compensate."
"Witch!" He roared, trying valiantly to keep his anger in check to avoid harming Rose who clung to him desperately as he leapt to his feet.
"Why yes, I am," Abigail curtsied as best and as gracefully as she could in the long shirt which covered her body. "Though I do believe the word you actually mean begins with the letter B instead. Someone who studied Latin at Oxford ought to have a better command of the English language. But, then again, you never did complete your degree, did you?"
"Out!" He bellowed, bloodlust in his veins, his hook twitching. "Get OUT!"
Silence filled the cabin and Abigail's eyes turned to ice.
"As you command, Captain."
The door slammed behind her.
The only sound in the cabin was James' heavy breathing. Rose's nails dug into his skin as she gaped after the way Abigail had left, at what James had almost done. He permitted her to cling to him, his chest rising and falling as his anger coursed through his veins.
At last, Rose dared to break the silence.
"James?" Her voice was soft and cautious, her green-tinted eyes looking up at him, wide and worried.
His jaw clenched, a muscle tightening in his cheek. He said nothing, but his good arm wrapped over her shoulders and resting against her back, pulled her tighter against him. It was as comforting a gesture as any. The red was slowly fading from his eyes as his pulse returned to normal.
"James?" Rose tried again. He looked down at her, taking in the worry in her eyes and the concern tightening her lips. He eased himself back onto the mattress beside her. She pressed her face against his neck, breathing in the comforting scent of smoke and salt. "She'll cool off eventually."
"She's more likely to freeze entirely."
"Stop that!" Rose scolded him, "She may have picked the fight, but you responded to it and antagonized her. I swear, the two of you are so similar sometimes…"
"Darling," he cooed, his voice turning terribly beautiful as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "Much as I am loath to begin the day with conflict, I am very pleased to be able to spend time with you in my arms. You must take the day to rest, laze about in bed, and I shall wait upon you, my lady love."
Rose, realizing the way he had turned the conversation away from the uncomfortable tension of the morning, scowled but nevertheless allowed him to pull her back against the pillows. She snuggled upon his chest, pressing against his warm body and taking comfort from the security of his presence.
"Apologies will have to be made," she whispered against his shoulder.
"There is not enough rum on the Island for that to happen," was his growled response.
The cabin door slammed behind her and Abigail stood on the quarter-deck of the ship, breathing in the ocean air and fuming silently to herself. The breeze fluttered the hem of the long shirt she wore, tickling at her thighs but Abigail paid no attention to the playful wind, turning stubbornly away to slam a hand down against the ship's side railing.
The last thing she remembered from the night before had been stumbling, weak and drained, from the surgeon's cabin after healing Rose. Nothing more. Then she had awoken in his bed, exhausted and disoriented, and now she found herself seething with rage after a shouting match with the man she loved. All in all, a very bad morning.
King James II wound between her ankles, meowing loudly, and Abigail bent down to scoop him into her arms. He pressed his black-and-white face against her cheek and she cuddled him close.
"You know," she said to the cat, "you are much more affectionate than the other James on this ship."
James II meowed and flicked his tail.
She carried him down the stairs to the main-deck whereupon he squirmed free and dropped to the planks to go chasing after a particularly bold rat. She watched him go with a sigh and a half smile and turned around to nearly collide with a concerned looking Smee.
"Mister Smee!" She exclaimed in surprise, "I beg your pardon."
"Not at all, Miss," he said, straightening his glasses upon his nose. He took a moment to look carefully at Abigail's face before saying kindly, "Is everything alright, Miss?"
"What do you mean?" Abigail asked sharply, her eyes narrowing.
"We could hear the shouting, Miss," Smee said quietly. Abigail glanced quickly around the deck to where some of the crew lingered, watching her cautiously.
"Could you, now?" Abigail said, raising her voice to address the entire crew, eyes flashing sharp as steel. "Did you hear anything of interest, gentlemen?"
"No, Ma'am," they chorused hastily.
"Back to work, then."
"Yes, Ma'am!"
They vanished below-decks and to the rigging and the crow's nest, leaving the sorceress alone on the main-deck with the bo'sun. Mister Smee fixed her with a kind if stern look over his spectacles and Abigail pointedly avoided looking at him.
"Would you like to talk about it, Miss?"
"No," Abigail answered a little too vigorously.
"Would you like some rum, then, Miss?"
Abigail paused, considering.
"Yes."
"It so happens I have some right here," the Irishman produced a glass bottle from behind his back.
"You, sir, are a saint." She took a long drought, savoring the burn and the warmth that filled her. "I needed that."
"I could tell, Miss." He followed her as she walked the length of the railing, one hand trailing along the balustrade. "If ye don't mind my saying, Mistress Abigail, that was a horrific quarrel."
"I cannot deny that," she sighed. "I've never felt so angry before."
"Ye were scared, Mistress Rose being injured like that. It's almost to be expected, when someone ye love is hurt." Abigail nodded but stiffly, taking another drink. "And please do not take this in in any adverse way," she looked at him out of the corner of her eye and seemed to give him permission to continue. "I have never seen the captain so distraught, not in all the years I've served." She scoffed, ceasing her pacing and looking out to sea.
"He had an odd way of showing it."
"I never said he went about it right." A little smirk graced her fair face. "But ye were not of the waking world late last night. Cecco found ye collapsed on the deck, he rushed ye to the captain. And from what the Italian said he was all a panic over ye." The sorceress sighed deeply, taking in his words.
"That does not excuse the fact that this entire situation was his fault. Sure, Rose and I were not averse to helping him catch Peter Pan, the boy was nothing to us and all the cause of grief for him," she offered the bottle to Smee who took a quick sip of his own. "But...he is obsessed with him. When he is not with us, he is plotting the downfall of a prepubescent boy. He rules his every waking moment, until he is crippled by the sight of that monster in the water while Pan carries off our Rose!" Her hands clutched the railing so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
"The dear lady has all our sympathies," he laid one wrinkled hand atop hers. "For those with a strong constitution amongst us, we admire ye." A curious expression faced him. "Oh aye, putting that rogue Scourie in his place earned a fair weight of respect in the brutes." A dark laugh fell from her lips, the older man chuckled with her.
"He deserved it."
"That he did, he weren't much liked anyway." Between them a comfortable silence fell. Together they watched the dolphins playing in the waves, sharing the bottle between them. Neverbirds flew through the air, their lyrical calls filled the air like music.
"Mr. Smee," she called to him quietly, "what should I do?"
"Is a hard question to answer, Miss." Beside her Smee clasped his hands behind his back. "There's been some drastic changes in the captain, all thanks to ye two ladies."
"He won't apologize."
"Never said he would. But that black heart of his is different, everyone can see it," he gave her a grateful smile. "I remember him from the years before we all got trapped here. I've never seen a speck of true happiness in him until ye two arrived. As much as it galls ye, that first step to fixing this will have to come from ye and Mistress Rose."
Abigail finished the last of the rum.
"I'm not going to be the first to speak."
"Never said ye had to be, Mistress Rose can mediate as she always does."
"That will most likely end in another fight."
"Understood, Miss."
"When it occurs I shall tell you beforehand so you can take cover."
"Much obliged, Miss."
James had been reading aloud to Rose for some time throughout the morning. She knew that he was attempting to calm his mind from the earlier ordeal, reading had long been his refuge. But she would be a fool to say that she was not feeling in a similar way. Occasionally he would ask her questions that had nothing to do with the story, his mind must be in many places at once just as hers was.
"How did you and Abigail meet?" That one startled her the most but she answered him none the less.
"At university," she said. "We had similar interests and attended the same events, religion, theater and the like. For a time we were friends but I always kept my attraction to myself."
"Did you wait until she took charge and pursued you?"
"Not exactly," she smiled a little with the memory. "We just seemed to fit, we'll have to tell you the entire story sometime. Though I'll never forget the very first time I met her, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. All fiery words and cool eyes that gave me shivers. I was actually speechless." He did not answer, out loud at least. There was something in his face however that told his true thoughts, that he knew the sentiment well. And then he returned to reading, as though no interruption had occurred. More than once, as she listened to his deep voice retell the story of King Arthur, her thoughts had wandered to her Abigail. Her heart went out to both her lovers but she did not know what move to make next. Abigail needed time to be alone, James needed her at his side. She was effectively trapped in the middle. One thing at a time, she kept repeated in her mind, one foot slowly in front of the other.
"Then he looked by him, and was ware of a damosel that came riding full fast as the horse might ride, on a fair palfrey. And when she espied that Lanceor was slain, she made sorrow out of measure, and said, 'O Balin, two bodies thou hast slain and one heart, and two hearts in one body, and two souls thou hast lost.' And therewith she took the sword from her love that lay dead, and fell to the ground in a swoon. And when she arose she made great dole out of measure, the which sorrow grieved Balin passingly sore, and he went unto her for to have taken the sword out of her hand, but she held it so fast he might not take it out of her hand unless he should have hurt her, and suddenly she set the pommel to the ground, and rove herself through the body. When Balin espied her deeds, he was passing heavy in his heart, and ashamed that so fair a damosel had destroyed herself for the love of his death." Beside her, James paused in his narration. She heard him breathe heavily and she looked up from her perch on the pillows.
"Why did you stop?"
He placed a red ribbon between the pages and gently shut the book. His gaze was far away, staring off into the distance.
"James?"
"I have read this book since I was a child," he turned his pale eyes down to the leather bound volume. "Over and over, I must have relived the story over a hundred times. As a boy, I used to command my younger brothers as Arthur and they were knights." A faded smile pulled at his lips. She knew what had become of his siblings, how after their mother's sudden death their relationship would only become more strained until finally they might as well have gone to war. But she could not allow him to dwell on sad memories, no good would come from that now.
"It was always a favorite of mine as well," she said softly. He set his book down and reached for her hand.
"And yet, for all the times I read the tales of Camelot and chivalry, the stories like this…" He looked as though he were searching for the correct words, or perhaps the courage to say them. "They passed by like whispers on the wind, always heard but ever out of reach."
"How so?" Her brows drew together in confusion. But before he could utter the first syllable of his answer, the cabin door creaked open. Abigail walked in, holding King James to her breast. While there was no outright anger on her face, her expression was wan and guarded. Rose sat up instantly and winced as she pulled the tender muscles at her shoulder. The younger witch saw this, quickly and carefully set down their pet and hurried to her side.
"Why do you always strain yourself?" she sat down next to her and examined the fading wound.
"You're worth more than just a little discomfort," Rose covered her hand with her own. "Are you alright?" For a long moment her lover said nothing, merely clutching her hand tight and biting her full lower lip.
"I will be," she said slowly. "But I don't want to talk about it," she paused and glanced at the open space on the bed. "I just want lay down, with you, for a little bit in peace."
"Of course!" Rose pulled back the blankets and scooted to the center of the massive bed. Her back hit James' warm body, his hand was hot as he caught her hip and held her steady. Abigail settled into place, curling into Rose's arms and closing her eyes. "We've been reading Le Mort d'Arthur," she told her love as she ran her fingers through the sable curls she adored.
"How far?"
"Book Two, where a lady has died for the loss of her knight and the men of Britain are just beginning to congregate to Arthur," Rose explained.
"I hard a little of conversation before I opened the door," her voice was unapologetic in admitting her spying but it was a trait both her lovers admired in her. "You had just asked James why certain stories escaped his understanding. Don't let my arrival put a stopper in your talk." She said this entirely with her eyes lightly closed, her face resting in the crook of her girlfriend's throat. Rose looked to James over her shoulder, he appeared surprised that she would even want to hear his voice at the moment. But still he nodded his assent.
"So she had," he acquiesced. Abigail gave no reaction and he assumed that he might continue. "The romance of knights and their ladies, sweet and tragic alike, their heart always elluded me. And I often caught myself wondering, just what power could drive one to make such a sacrifice for another." A pale hand reached for the book, flipping open the cover and tired blue eyes quickly read the marked passage.
"Though dramatic, such is the power of love," Abigail said softly. "Love makes us do things we never thought ourselves capable of. Like how I will not rest until I avenge the harm done to our beloved, it matters not to me who is guilty. I will have vengeance because the woman I love was hurt, it's that simple." Silence filled the cabin for a long, ponderous moment.
"I had never felt emotions so acutely before," was his quiet repy. "I lived a life of hatred and despair, never thinking myself worthy or even capable of love. And yet, when I saw you, Rose, with the arrow in your shoulder, lying so still on the grass in Abigail's arms...yes, it was then, when I saw before my very eyes a picture of the very love I had read about all my life...it was then I realized the power of the love you bear for each other. It is the strongest bond I have seen and somehow you share it with me? I...I have been selfish. And, yes, childish."
He glanced over at where Abigail lay and found blue eyes looking back at him, listening carefully.
"Unworthy as I am, all I can do is ask your forgiveness. For I know it is through my obsession that Rose was wounded. And when I saw you hurt and when I saw you, Abigail, caring for her...I realized the depth of my...affection for you both. And it is far greater than I ever dreamed I could feel for anyone. Much as I loathe the thought," he paused to crack a small smile, "I fear I may have caught...feelings for you."
"Perish the thought." Abigail's face was mostly hidden behind Rose's body but her tone betrayed the smile around her lips.
"Aye," his smile widened, "tis a horrid and awful fate. Curse you, witches, for bewitching me so. And curse me as well. I have not made this easy for you. You are my ladies, and as such you deserve only the best. I am afraid my impeccable good form does not permit this to continue. Creatures such as yourselves deserve the life of luxury. Which is why I will instruct Mister Starkey to set a course away from Neverland."
"Away from Neverland?" Rose sat up at once and hissed at the pain. Abigail clicked her tongue reprovingly but Rose ignored her, "What do you mean? We're leaving?"
"At ease, my lady," he said, using his good hand to ease her back down onto the pillows, "There is a pirate port nearby and I keep a house there. As my ladies, you should feel welcome to keep house there. Provided you forgive me and still wish to be my ladies after this fiasco that I have brought upon us?"
Rose and Abigail glanced at each other and he watched an entire conversation happen in their eyes before Rose looked back at him and nodded with a smile. He looked down at Abigail who was examining her nails. He took her hand and brought it to his lips.
"My lady sorceress?"
"Just so everyone's on the same page," she said carefully, "You admit, sir, that you are selfish and childish and an idiot?"
"Yes." he ground out.
"And that you have feelings for us?"
"...yes."
"That you might even, perhaps, love us?"
His eyes twitched and Rose hurried to say, "One thing at a time, love. He doesn't have to admit that yet. That's a big step."
"I'm aware," Abigail smirked, "I just wanted to see how he'd react to the L word."
Rose giggled and James sighed.
Abigail slid across Rose's body to catch James' chin in her grip and press a kiss to his mouth.
"Forgiven. Not forgotten, but forgiven."
"So, this house," Rose began, her eyes lighting with excitement. "Tell us about it."