An: Another chapter, lots of fun to write. Hope you all like.

Don't own, make money, or anything special.

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For a few deliciously blissful moments, Hook just looked at her. Tall and slender, that beautiful dark hair falling around her shoulders, still in the floating white dress and enormous lacy wings fluttering behind her. It was enough to make a pious priest want her, and Hook was far from a pious priest.

"How did I ever leave you?" he wondered out loud as his eyes drank in the sight of her.

"Jamie," her voice was full of disappointment and shame. "Jamie, how could you do it again?"

"I wanted to see you," Hook began, but Alivia stepped forward angrily.

"You did more than just hurt a child this time. You humiliated him, scared him, made him miserable. How could you? How could you do that to that child?" she pointed towards the crates where Peter slept soundly.

"What?" Hook sat up, annoyed. "What is he doing here? This is dream – he shouldn't be here. I have my hand back, I have you, I don't want him! Make him go away so it can be the two of us alone."

"You are completely deranged," she spat him, hands on her hips. "You beat a child, and make him cry and beg, and then you expect me to forget it entirely."

"Yes," Hook shot back. "I am crazy. I have been for years. He brought me here, I asked to leave, he said no, we fought, and I lost my hand. Any pain I give him, he deserves."

"He doesn't understand what you lost," Alivia protested, her wings beating frantically. "He's just a child, Jamie."

"And I'm a pirate," Hook snarled at her. "You can say anything you like, but the fact is you're a dream, and in the morning, I can do whatever I like to him."

"No, you can't," she whispered, her eyes tearing.

Hook knew he was going about it all wrong. He wanted to look at her and talk to her and eventually get her to bed with him, even if it were a dream. But he couldn't stop arguing with her, fighting over the brat that Hook hated.

"I can, and I will," he retorted. "I'm going to beat him again first thing in the morning and before dinner and when he goes to bed. In between times, I'm going to chain him to the deck and make him work until his fingers bleed and he begs for mercy. Then I'm going to kick him and make him work harder."

The tears spilled down her cheeks. "You're cruel," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're the cruelest man alive. This is why I didn't stay with you. This is why I'll never be with you – you're a monster."

Hook looked back at her, ignoring the pain ripping through his chest, making it hard to breathe. "My cruelty is the only reason you came back. I hurt him, and you came to me. I did it again, and you came back. What if I do it again, and again, and again? Would you still come back?"

"I would come back every night," she said through red, trembling lips. "I would never leave you if I could. But just as last time, something let me through."

"Through what?"

Alivia shook her head. "I cannot say. But I will come, Jamie, I will come to you if I can. Just don't hurt him."

Hook met her eyes, but promised nothing.

"Oh," Alivia covered her face with her slim, shaking hands, "why must you be so stubborn? I know you are angry, but why, Jamie? Why must you take it out on others? You could have been happy here – you still could be. Fairies, mermaids, golden sunsets, fountains of water – a child's perfect fantasy."

"I'm not a child," Hook said quietly.

"But you could be happy," she insisted, dropping her hands.

"Happy?" he growled. "Happy? I was happy with you! I am happy with you. You – that's all I ever wanted. You, Alivia. But I have nothing of you, nothing, nothing!"

"You have everything," her voice grew hard, filled with passion. "But it is never enough. Would you have acted this way with our children?"

Hook froze, unable to think of anything to say.

"Well, would you?" she demanded. "Would have hurt them? Would you have beaten them, yelled at them, humiliated them, scared them? Would you have been a bully to them and a monster to me? Well?"

"I would have died for you," Hook said tightly.

"But you won't live for me," Alivia cried. "You don't care about my feelings or anyone else's. You selfish brute!"

Hook got out of bed and stormed towards her. He half-expected her to disappear in a glow of light, but she stood there, resilient and proud. He was taller than she was, but Alivia did not back down even as he came closer. And he loved her more for that, her strength to stand up to him, yell at him, blame him, but never fear him.

"I would do anything to see you again," he said hoarsely. "You are me – you are my heart, and joy, and life, and anything that I would ever be. You may love me or leave me or hate me, but you are in me, now and forever."

Tears spilled down her cheeks again. "Jamie, my Jamie," she reached a hand up to touch his face.

And Hook opened his eyes to the morning light.

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He lay there for a while, watching the light fill the windows. His silent clock read half past six, but he was in no hurry to get up. He lifted his arms up, noting that his left hand was gone again. He had grown used to it being gone, but it was unsettling to have it come back in these dreams.

A whimper came from the side of the room.

Hook sat up, momentarily startled. Who was in his room?

And then he saw that the brat was awake, squirming in his bed under the covers and the ropes.

"It's not time to get up yet," Hook said sharply.

Peter whined a little, "Please, I have to – to, you know –"

Hook blinked. The boy had gone to bed by five-thirty last night. It was now six-thirty, eleven hours later . . . it made sense that he would need to relieve himself.

"Fine," Hook groused as he got off his bed. "But you better behave."

Peter nodded the least bit.

Hook walked to the crates and began untying the ropes. Peter was silent, but his eyes remained on Hook's stump, watching fearfully. The boy had never seen the bare stump before, Hook wagered, just the hook attached to the contraption. Hook also didn't have a shirt on, but he doubted that Peter felt bothered by that.

The last rope came off, and Hook yanked off the covers. Peter sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hair, still wet when he had gone to bed last night, had dried and now stuck up at odd angles. The nightshirt had twisted all around him, and Peter tried to pull it down as he got out of bed. His attempt at modesty made Hook almost smile. The boy must have forgotten that Hook had given him a bath the night before.

Hook clamped a hand on Peter's shoulder and led him to the bathroom. "Take care of your needs. Then come back out."

Hook closed the door to give the boy some privacy, but he didn't move away. Several minutes of silence passed, and then Hook heard a low pounding noise.

He opened the door to see Peter banging his fist against the locked window, trying to get to open.

"Ah, being naughty already?" Hook observed.

Peter whirled around. He was fully awake now, and no longer needing the bathroom, he turned all his attention to Hook. "Let me go. You kept me here all night, and I was sleeping very good, and now let me go."

"Did I not explain this last night?" Hook asked lightly. "You are my prisoner. You are not going anywhere. We are going to find you something to wear, and then you are getting some breakfast. If you fight me, there will be no breakfast, and I may not let you wear any clothes the whole day. Believe me, pirates are not kind, and if they see a naked boy onboard, they will mostly likely want to stripe your body with their belts or fists or ropes. Do you want to be beaten by pirates?"

Peter shook his head quickly.

"Then no arguing," Hook pointed back to the bedroom, and Peter followed miserably.

As he followed the boy, Hook realized that he not really thought this ahead. His goal had been to see Alivia again. He had seen her, and now it was morning. What now? There wasn't much point in turning the boy loose; Hook would have to catch him again to see Alivia. But if he kept Peter onboard permanently – what then? Hook didn't really want to kill him. If he kept hurting Peter, it might be fun for a while, but sooner or later Hook knew he would tire of the crying. Hearing someone suffer was grand for an hour or two, but for it to keep going and going, without end -! Maybe it would easier to kill him.

As they entered the bedroom, Hook saw that someone had brought the rabbit still in the net into his room and hung it off his door handle. Hook was not sure why. Did the pirates hope that he would kill the rabbit in front of the boy just to scare him? Hook thought he was pretty frightening without torturing a rabbit, thank you very much!

"The bunny's still alive?" Peter glanced at up him.

"Not for long," Hook said. "Stand still while I find you something to wear."

Hook began rifling through his clothes, looking for trousers that could be taken in and a shirt that was not too long. Then he heard something moved behind him, and he whirled around.

Peter was sitting on the bed of crates, his eye very wide and breathing hard. But the net hanging from the door was empty.

"Where's the rabbit?" Hook demanded.

"I don't know," Peter answered in a voice that was higher than usual.

Hook took a step towards him.

"I don't know," Peter protested.

But the covers beside him began to move, a lump underneath wiggling.

"Pull back the covers," Hook ordered.

"No," Peter said, but he looked scared.

"Do it now," Hook said, his voice like steel.

Whining a bit, Peter pulled back the covers back. The gray rabbit scooted out and began sniffed the pillows with a velvety nose.

Hook growled and pulled Peter up by the arm. He tucked the boy against his side with his maimed arm and brought his right hand down on the boy's squirming bottom.

"No – lying – to - me," Hook ordered, punctuating each word with a smack.

"Ow, ow!" Peter cried. "Stop!"

Hook sat Peter down on the crates and reached for the rabbit.

"No," Peter objected, grabbing the rabbit and holding him tight in both arms. "No, don't kill him. You can spank me again, but don't kill him."

Hook rolled his eyes. He was surrounded by bleeding hearts. Don't hurt this, don't kill that – everyone expected him to turn soft.

"Fine, you want him to live?" Hook challenged. "Then I kill you instead. Sound fair?"

Peter's bottom lip trembled, but he stepped forward, squeezing his eyes shut as if expecting to by cut down right then and there.

"Oh, stop it," Hook said crossly. "I don't have time for your theatrics. Put the rabbit down and get dressed."

"I don't want him to be eaten," Peter said, but he put the rabbit down on the crates. The rabbit immediately began to hop around on the covers, sniffing and wriggling its little nose.

"No one wants to eat that rabbit," Hook growled as he yanked the nightshirt off the boy. Peter turned to make sure his rabbit was still all right, and Hook pressed his lips to keep from smiling. Though he had smacked the boy over the nightshirt, Hook could plainly see four handprints on that pale bottom, two on each side.

Peter watched his rabbit as Hook got him into the trousers and tied them up with a cut rope. The white shirt was almost as long as the nightshirt, but Hook told Peter to roll up the sleeves. Hook was buttoning the length of buttons in front when the rabbit, in its inquisitiveness, went too far and tumbled off the crates on the other side.

"Bunny!" Peter cried, pulling away from Hook to rescue the animal.

"Stay still," Hook caught Peter's arm and dragged him back. "It's a rabbit – he's fine. They're always tumbling abound and falling."

"Oohh," Peter complained, but he waited as Hook finished buttoning before rushing over to look behind the crates. As Hook has said, the rabbit was fine, now sniffing along the floor. Peter scooped him up and held him close.

They made an odd picture – Peter in pirate clothes that were much too big, holding a rabbit as if the animal were the most important thing in the world to him.

"He's hungry," Peter glanced down at his armful.

"Let him starve," Hook shrugged. My, but it felt good to be contrary this early in the morning! He wondered if he could make the boy cry again before breakfast.

"No, we have to feed him," Peter objected, still hugging the rabbit. "I don't want him to die."

"He's not eating. And if I see you feeding him anything, I'm going to drop him over the side of the ship."

Peter stared up at Hook, then swallowed hard. "You're so mean," he muttered.

"I know, and I'm about to get meaner if you don't shut up," Hook retorted. "But I won't let you starve. Which would you like for breakfast? Fish heads or burnt cow's tongue?"

With a whimper, Peter tried to sniff back tears. But two big tears rolled down his cheeks, and he lowered his head to rub his cheek against the rabbit for comfort.

"I am good," Hook reflected to himself. He pulled a shirt over his own head and buttoned it before he grabbed Peter by the arm and pulled him into the main cabin. A table was set up beside the desk, and Smee was setting covered dish on the table.

"Morning, Cap'n," Smee said cheerfully. "I just took the liberty of cooking some breakfast for you and the boy."

"Good," Hook shoved Peter into a chair.

"Ah, you found the bunny," Smee nodded to the rabbit. "Shall I take him and put him in the bedroom while you eat?"

"No," Peter said shortly, pulling away from Smee's waiting hands.

"Peter," Hook said sternly, "give him the rabbit."

Hook wasn't sure if it was his foreboding look or using the boy's name for the first time, but Peter reluctantly handed over the rabbit.

Hook yanked the covers off their plates. His own plate held eggs and muffins and bacon and fried potatoes, but Peter had a bowl of thick porridge with two corners of toast – child's breakfast all around. Hook had tea and ale to drink, but Peter had a cup of milk.

"Enjoy," Smee said as he left bedroom, heading for the deck.

"You didn't poison his food, did you?" Hook asked as he picked up his fork.

Peter gasped, but Smee just chuckled, "Oh, Cap'n" and left without another word.

"Is it poisoned?" Peter asked Hook anxiously.

"You'll never know unless you eat it," Hook said with a cold smirk. He began to eat his own food while Peter looked down at his food hungrily, but fearfully. The boy so desperately wanted to eat, but he couldn't make himself.

"Don't you want breakfast?" Hook asked gently, knowing his words were nothing but torture. "Don't you want to eat that hot porridge? Oh, look there's a little cream and honey on top. And the toast has butter and a bit of marmalade. Doesn't that look delicious? You aren't hungry, not the least bit?"

Miserable and unhappy, Peter picked up his spoon, dipped it into the porridge, and put it in his mouth. He swallowed it and waited, breathlessly.

As Hook had been certain, nothing happened.

"Stop acting like a baby, and eat," he ordered Peter. "I'm tired of watching you cry and pout. You eat up and shape up, or you're going over my knee after breakfast."

Peter did not need a second invitation. He began spooning up the porridge as fast as he could.

"Stop!" Hook thundered.

Peter jumped in his seat. "What?"

"This may be a pirate ship, but I am the captain and you will show respect while we are eating," Hook ordered. "You will have good manners, you slovenly pig."

For the rest of the meal, he picked on Peter – the way he sat, the way he held the spoon, the way he chewed, holding his napkin, drinking his milk. By the end of the meal, Peter's food was all gone, but he didn't look like he had enjoyed any of it.

Hook marched him back into the bedroom to wash his hands from water in the stone pitcher. Hook poured water in the bowl under the pitcher and reached for a folded cloth. He turned to tell the boy to hurry up when he saw Peter kneeling and feeding a piece of toast to the rabbit. The boy must have snitched some from the table when Hook had grabbed the napkin that the boy had dropped.

"What did I say about feeding that thing?" Hook bellowed.

Peter jumped up, grabbed the rabbit, and dashed for the door. They made it to the main cabin, but Hook grabbed Peter by the back of the shirt before he could make it to the next door. As he held the struggling boy, Hook toyed with the idea of tossing the rabbit overboard. He could stand on deck, dangling the animal out over the water while Peter begged him to stop. The boy would know he meant what he said then.

But Hook grabbed Peter by the ear and marched him to the corner before taking the rabbit. "You stand here," he pushed Peter's head into the corner, "and if I hear a single word, you will be a very sorry little boy."

"Please don't drown the bunny," Peter pleaded, his voice oddly muted as he stood in the corner.

Hook turned around without another word and carried rabbit away. Making sure the boy wasn't turning around, Hook stood by the table and scooped up a handful of leftover food. Holding the rabbit in his maimed arm, he raised his handful of food to let the rabbit eat. The boy was so stupid to think that a crust of bread would satisfy a rabbit for the rest of the day. Stupid, stupid boy.

Once the rabbit seemed to lose interest in the food, Hook locked the door to the deck before carrying the rabbit back to the bed cabin. He lifted up one of the crates and prodded the rabbit underneath it. It wasn't an ideal place to put a rabbit, but it would do until they found something better. The rabbit would likely be more trouble than he was worth, but it could be used to make the boy suffer. At least, that's what Hook told himself to excuse keeping a rabbit onboard his ship.

"You may come out of the corner," he told Peter as he strode back into the main cabin.

Peter did so, noticing that the rabbit was gone but saying nothing.

"Sit in the chair in front of my desk," Hook motioned to the hard little chair. "I am going to give some orders to the crew, but you better stay there or else. I will be gone for a while, but you are not to touch anything. And," he paused by the door, "Bunny is a ridiculous name for a rabbit. Name him something else."

"Floppy?" Peter asked, lifting his head towards Hook.

Hook's eyes narrowed. "No."

"Cuddles?"

"Try again," Hook ground out.

"Minty?"

"What?" Hook demanded, not sure he had heard right.

"I once had some candy, and it was minty, and I liked it," Peter explained.

"That is stupid," Hook said flatly. "You might as well name it Sugar or Chocolate or Caramel-Covered Toffee!"

Peter set his mouth stubbornly. "It Minty or Cuddles."

Hook growled, but said, "Fine. I don't have time to stand here and argue with you. Name it Minty, and leave it alone. You sit there and be quiet."

"For how long?" Peter asked, already shifting.

Hook smiled. "Not too long. When I come back, I am going to put my hook on. And then we are going to have a school lesson. It's time you learn to read."

Peter's mouth fell open in horror.

Hook grinned evilly and shut the door, locking it behind him. Then he stepped out on the deck to face his crew, feeling more powerful than he had in years.