Chapter 5

He was being stabbed. In the throat. The shock and pain quickly gave way to panic, and Hook wrenched his eyes open, flailing with his hand in an attempt to strike his attacker. The movement awakened the agony in his shoulder, which was almost enough to make him forget his burning neck. Still struggling against the grip on his arm, Hook heard an unfamiliar voice hiss,

"Hold him still!"

Then Hook recognized the voice of his first mate snapping back,

"I'm trying!"

Hook's frantic gaze found Smee, who leaned closer with a reassuring expression.

"Shhh, Captain - relax. This is for your own good; I promise."

Hook winced and stopped fighting. The stranger hovering over him firmly turned Hook's face to the left and continued jamming some sharp implement into his flesh. Hook gritted his teeth and studied his unfamiliar surroundings.

They were in a darkened room, the only light from a lantern currently being held by Smee. The first mate still had his other arm across his captain's body, gripping Hook's wrist tightly. Hook himself lay on a bed, next to which also stood Casey, looking pale and a bit anxious. Hook could make out a few more shadowy figures standing guard by the door.

The villager straightened, and Hook noted Starkey holding a blade to their prisoner's back. Smee also stood, releasing Hook's wrist. Immediately, Hook reached up to cup his hand against the sting that throbbed with every beat of his heart. Smee gave him a worried look.

"Er, better not touch it, sir."

"Smee?" croaked Hook, the question obvious in his eyes. Smee stepped aside to allow Starkey and his prisoner past.

"We're… uh… sharing our blood with you," Smee explained. Hook released his neck and moved his hand to his damaged shoulder. He watched in amazement as Casey allowed a sharp metal instrument be placed into his arm. Then his gaze darkened and returned to his first mate.

"Magic?" he snarled weakly, and Smee gulped.

"E-enchanted, sir. Yes."

"It was either that or find ourselves a new captain," added Starkey lightly, in their defense. Hook glowered, but had to admit he no longer felt himself to be at death's door. He growled at a sudden blaze in his shoulder, wincing when his throat burned in sympathy. Not-A-Pirate, whom Hook was starting to recognize as the village healer from that hazy room of torture, remarked,

"He was better off unconscious."

The man's demeanor - and lack of concern when met with Hook's glare - were somehow reminiscent of someone else, but Hook couldn't be bothered to make the connection. Softly, Smee advised,

"Best lie still, sir, and try not to talk."

The first mate turned to Casey, who sat on a stool by the head of Hook's bed, now calm.

"How do you feel, Casey?" asked Smee.

The young man nodded. "Fine, sir."

Starkey prodded his captive with the flat of his blade. "'Ere, he's awake now; that mean the cap'n's out of danger?"

"It's a good sign, though I'd hardly call any of you 'out of danger.'"

The healer glanced meaningfully toward the doorway. Starkey rolled his eyes.

"Then, we don't need another volunteer?" clarified Smee. "He's had enough blood?"

"You'll find out when you have to run from the soldiers, now won't you?"

Starkey grabbed his hair and spat,

"You're fast outliving your usefulness, matey. Enchantment's already underway; I 'ave no qualms 'gainst killing you."

"I thought I was your 'shield.'"

"We'd move faster without you."

"Well, in that case…"

There was a blood-red cloud, and the healer suddenly stood on the other side of the room. Instantly, all of Hook's men were on their feet, weapons drawn - even Casey, though he blinked and swayed for a moment before steadying.

"Thought you didn't 'ave magic!" exclaimed Starkey in accusation.

"I can't possibly be the first person to ever lie to you."

With a feeling of foreboding, Hook grasped the protruding metal and yanked it free of his neck, wincing slightly and feeling a rivulet of blood welling out of the puncture wound. No one seemed to notice apart from the healer, who only smirked.

The damage was likely already done, and Hook scowled fiercely, determined not to show fear. Beside Hook, Casey flinched and glanced down at his arm, where the healer's instrument had inexplicably disappeared.

"But… but you could have escaped at any time! And you still helped us!" protested Smee. "Why?"

The magical healer looked very self-satisfied as he replied,

"I wanted to be sure your captain survived."

"For what purpose?" Hook gritted out, his voice like steel being drawn across a whetstone. Titus calmly pushed the sleeve of his robes up, revealing a glowing metal cuff around his wrist.

"To protect my village."

Smee and Starkey glanced at each other, and Hook got the feeling they knew something he didn't.

"Somebody bloody well explain!"

Hook found himself up on his good elbow; his opposite shoulder protested loudly, and he hissed in pain, but his irritation and the drive to find out what was going on kept him steady. Smee noticed his captain's struggles and quickly folded the pillow so he could lie more upright. Hook did so with a grunt of pain, then pierced the first mate with his stare. Smee winced and then lifted Hook's wrist to point out the matching - although not glowing - golden cuff. Hook made a fist and jostled the accessory as he studied it.

"They're connected, I take it?"

Titus nodded confirmation. Starkey looked from one to the other.

"Lemme guess," the bosun snarled. "They 'ave nothing to do with the enchantment."

"That's right. Well, not the blood transfer, at any rate. This is entirely different."

Hook allowed his arm to drop back to his side, wearily asking,

"What does it do, exactly? Since you appear so eager to tell us…"

"It's an early warning. Any time you come within two days' journey of this…" He held up his own wrist again. "It begins to glow, and we have plenty of time to post watch, call in reinforcements, sharpen our blades… you get the idea."

"All that… for a bloody alarm?" asked Starkey. "You're mad."

"It works, doesn't it? You won't come here without your captain. And now you know we'll be lying in wait, you won't come at all."

"Who says we won't leave 'im behind? 'Specially now we know 'e's a liability."

"I think not," Titus retorted haughtily. "You've proven your loyalty tonight, by the risks you've taken to save his life."

"Perhaps I'll send them here alone to enact revenge," Hook spat.

"And risk never seeing your ship and its crew again? Doubtful."

"But why all the bother?" Smee broke in. "Why not just heal him with your magic, and sneak the cuff on then?"

Titus winked. "The backup plan. Keep you here longer and hope the king's navy gets here in time to finish you all off."

"And when I get this bloody thing off and send it to Davy Jones? What happens to your 'perfect' scheme then?"

With a snort, Titus dismissed the concern. "Good luck with that, friend. I sealed it magically - there's no longer a hinge or opening. And you don't even have the terrible option that most people would… unless you fancy a second hook."

The pirate captain restrained his fury at the taunt, instead giving a casual, one-shouldered shrug. "All you've done is condemn other villages to the fate you're attempting to avoid. Isn't that a bit… selfish, for a man on the side of good?"

"I never claimed to be that." Titus waved his hand and retrieved his enchanted spikes. "And your crew may savage, pillage, and pilfer far away from here, but I think you'll encounter difficulty joining in."

Hook narrowed his eyes, itching to demand an explanation, but Titus waved cheerily and continued,

"Have fun with that cuff, Captain."

His smoke filled the room, and when it had cleared, he was gone. Starkey spewed vitriol at the empty space, while Hook just closed his eyes, battling pain and fatigue. And the night was far from over.

Casey stalked to the door to join the other two as lookouts. Smee sat carefully next to Hook and dabbed at the sluggish trickle of blood on his neck. The first mate began a timid apology.

"Sir, we didn't…"

Then Starkey stormed over. "We need to get a move on." In a more gentle tone, he addressed their captain. "Think you can walk, sir? Ship's maybe ten blocks from 'ere, and the streets are already crawling with soldiers."

Hook kept his eyes closed as he nodded. He would have to - but he didn't actually know if he'd make it that far.

"I'll stick close, just in case," Smee assured them both.

"With the five of us as escort, we oughta be able to 'old our own against small squads," Starkey mused. "We can send Jukes ahead to act as scout."

Hook reluctantly opened his eyes to nod his approval. As Starkey went to pass along the strategy to the other men, Smee unrolled a bandage he'd taken from Titus' stock and tied it in a knot behind Hook's neck, then gingerly tucked the loop around the captain's brace, forming a makeshift sling. Then he held out his hand.

"Ready, sir?"

With a groan, Hook grasped the offered hand and allowed Smee to assist him with sitting and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The room spun for several moments, but Hook managed to resist the pull of unconsciousness. Smee waited, watching with concern. Finally, Hook borrowed Smee's strength and rose to his feet, releasing a slow, controlled breath that would otherwise have come out as a cry. The first mate kept his grip until he was sure Hook wouldn't collapse, then took a step back. From the arm of a nearby chair, Smee lifted the waiting leather coat and gingerly draped it over Hook's shoulders, fastening one button to keep it in place. His captain continued to breathe through the pain before grimacing,

"My cutlass?"

Smee didn't question Hook's ability to use said weapon, knowing it was more for peace of mind than anything. He quickly located Hook's belt and fastened it around his waist. Hook took an experimental step and winced: even that small amount of jostling sent unbearable waves of torment through his chest and shoulder.

"Coast is clear," reported Jukes.

"Ready, Cap'n?"

Hook gave a grim confirmation to Starkey, and the three others with him exited without a word. Taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw, Hook made his way to the door. The throbbing in his injured shoulder was difficult to ignore. Smee stayed close to Hook's side, ready to catch him should he lose his balance. Starkey waited until the duo exited, then brought up the rear.

The cool night air was still thick with smoke, and it carried faint but ominous sounds: shouted orders, rattling armor, booted feet. Hook flexed oddly tingling fingers before resting his hand on the hilt of his cutlass.

Up ahead, Jukes stood alert, peering around the corner for any sign of life. As the others neared, he beckoned them onward, then trotted forward himself. Casey and Ed had their weapons at the ready; they stopped at either end of the crossroads until the rest of their comrades had passed safely. Then they overtook and went back into the lead.

Hook traveled in a disconnected daze, for while he felt marginally stronger as a result of the magical blood transfusion, the pain and shock of his wound still took their toll on his stamina. It was the worst he'd had in a long while - perhaps even since the loss of his hand. He knew it could still prove fatal: infection was almost certainly inevitable, with no real proven way to prevent it, or cure it once it set in. If he managed to survive that, then there would be the difficult and painful process of regaining the use of and strength in the shoulder, providing it wasn't damaged beyond repair. It was a small blessing, he supposed, that the spear had struck his bad side, leaving him the use of his only hand… although he had come to rely on the hook for many things, not least of which was his own defense. Its loss would be a serious blow to his self-sufficiency.

With careful scouting and vigilance, the pirates were able to avoid detection for a good percentage of the distance, only having to hide once when a large group of soldiers crossed their path a few blocks from the harbor. Ducking down behind a merchant's stall stoked the fire in Hook's shoulder, and he clutched his elbow, cursing under his breath. Fortunately, the troops marched past, oblivious. Hook paused a moment on his knees, gathering his breath and the strength to push back to his feet. His men waited, anxious but understanding. Eventually, the thought of collapsing on his bunk with more rum to dull his pain gave him the motivation to continue on. Smee helped pull him up, and they resumed the journey.

Not long afterward, Jukes trudged back around the corner he'd rounded moments before, his demeanor somber. Casey and Ed caught up to him, and their body language also changed in response to his report: bad news. The trio retraced their steps; Hook found himself wishing they would wait where they were, if only to delay confirmation of what he suspected.

"Ship's gone," Jukes announced quietly. Hook released a slow, trembling breath. Gone, not destroyed. "I could make out sails in the distance: they probably saw the naval ships approaching and had to flee."

"Bloody hell," sighed Hook, accompanied by more colorful invective by Starkey.

"What now, Captain?"

Hook squeezed his eyes shut as he answered. "We need to leave the village. Put as much distance as possible between us and that bloody healer."

Starkey continued for him. "When the soldiers see the Jolly Roger gone, they'll assume we went with 'er. The only way they could know we're still about would be that enchanted cuff of Titus'."

With a dejected nod, Hook confirmed his bosun's reasoning. Jukes shuffled his feet uneasily.

"But how are we to find where they've gone? And catch them up on foot?"

"We'll be reunited when Pan recalls us to Neverland," Hook reminded him, repressing a shudder at the thought. There was a moment of gloomy silence as the pirates contemplated surviving weeks or months apart from the comforts of their ship. Then Smee spoke up.

"Does anyone know the best way out of the village?"

"There's a southbound road not far from here," Casey answered. "Provided you don't think we ought to stick to the forest."

Hook didn't answer immediately; he swayed slightly on his feet, eyes still closed, looking as if he were moments from collapse. Starkey inched closer before speaking for him.

"So long as there aren't soldiers guarding the road, I think we ought to take it. It'll be easier travel, and less need to cover our trail."

"But more time out in the open," objected Jukes.

"So we travel by darkness and 'ide by day."

"Can we head in that direction?" whined Smee. "Get an idea of what we're facing; if it's even possible to take the road?"

"I'll take point this time," Casey volunteered, and began making his way down the street. Ed fell into step with Jukes.

"Come on, Captain," Smee urged gently. Hook gave a weak nod, opened his eyes, and forced himself to follow. No comfortable bunk to look forward to; no rum; just weeks of travel, scrounging for food, dodging the king's men. Endless pain. Probably fever. And his hand was still tingling.