AN: For those who may have skipped Chapter 11, we learned that Pan cured Hook's infection but otherwise left the injury alone. He also confirmed that the cuff constantly monitors Hook's heartbeat, and the faster it gets, the more the enchantment interferes with the nerves in his hand. Fast enough, and he loses feeling and control completely. It is reversible, though; when Hook is at rest, there is only the slightest tingle in his fingers.

Chapter 12

Hook was either dead by now, or spared by Pan. Smee couldn't think of any other possible outcome. By their haphazard time-keeping aboard the Jolly Roger, it had been at least forty-eight hours since their arrival back in Neverland. The ship was in good condition, the pirates all well-rested and recovered from the Enchanted Forest excursion; now it was back to the monotony of everlasting night. At least there was rum. And someone had pilfered a mandolin, which Mason put to surprisingly good use.

Huddled against the hatch that covered the ladder to Hook's cabin, Smee cocked his head; he thought he had heard a muffled thump from below. But a bawdy joke and raucous laughter near the helm distracted the first mate, and he gave the incident no further thought. Until a quarter of an hour later, when who should come stalking up the steps but Hook himself, looking tired but alert. He had on a loose black shirt, with even more buttons undone than usual, and no vest or coat. Smee noticed that he had found his old brace; the one where the straps only came up to just above the elbow and didn't go near his shoulder. He had his hook tucked into his belt, looking casual, but also serving to immobilize the arm.

Scrambling to his feet, Smee took a step toward the captain, but he wasn't the only one to have noticed his appearance.

"Cap'n's back!" someone called, and there was a rousing cheer. Hook flashed a grin.

"Ahoy, mates! Miss me?"

Several of the crew crowded around him, wishing him well and expressing their relief to have him back. Smee inched closer until finally, he caught Hook's notice.

"Welcome back, sir," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Bloody famished," Hook growled. "Did you save any rations for me, or scoff them all yourself?"

"I'll see what I can scrounge for you, Captain," Smee promised, not even bothered by the jibe. Hook was much better if he could once again concern himself with his image. As Smee sidled past in the direction of the galley, Starkey clapped Hook on his good shoulder and offered a stein of rum, which Hook accepted but held off consuming. The bosun and the first mate shared a look: the captain's hand was indeed better.

Hook listened as carefully as he was able while Starkey gave a report on the status of ship and crew. As successfully as he hid his exhaustion and pain, the truth was, he couldn't wait to retreat to his quarters. He had quickly assured himself of everyone's well-being, and trusted Starkey to manage the details. But he also wanted to reassure his worried crew of his own recovery; for morale, and to put a halt to any rumors or plots circulating. Mutiny was highly unlikely, with the overall success of their last voyage and the unusual loyalty born of so many decades together; still, it was best to be cautious. After a few more polite smiles and teasing comments to good-natured sailors, Hook casually took his leave.

Already in the Captain's Quarters, Smee put the finishing touches on a plate for Hook just as the pirate entered. Smee pulled his chair back and nodded encouragingly; Hook sauntered over and sank into it with a long, careful exhale. Wincing slightly, he shifted his arm to rest as comfortably as possible, then began to eat, forcing himself to take it slowly. Pan had not allowed much in the way of sustenance, and he knew he could make himself sick if he weren't careful.

Smee busied himself turning down the bed and making sure everything else was shipshape for the captain. He had done so already, of course, while at loose ends the past few days, but he couldn't resist his habits. Finally, he returned to Hook's side.

"You're looking so much better," Smee commented. Hook smirked ruefully.

"Near-Death does tend to mitigate the handsome a bit."

"And… the hand?" Smee cringed. Hook sat back with a sigh, throwing down his fork and flexing his fingers.

"Bit of a problem, that," he admitted. "Pan so very kindly expounded upon the nature of the enchantment. So long as I avoid any excitement, there's no cause for concern."

"Oh. Heh. That shouldn't be an issue." Smee's sarcasm matched the captain's own. Hook furrowed his brow.

"Indeed."

"And he can't do anything about it?"

Hook scoffed. "I did ask. Little bastard only laughed. But apparently, he saved my life, so now I'm eternally indebted to him."

The bitterness was evident in his tone. Smee swallowed uncomfortably, then mumbled,

"Sorry, sir. We… we did our best for you."

"Aye. So you did."

Taken aback by the quiet admission, Smee scratched his beard. "Uh… So… what else can I do for you, Captain? Is your shoulder okay; need me to make a sling? Or take a look at it?"

Hook grimaced, drained. "Later, Smee. For now, just see to it that I'm not disturbed while I attempt to get my bloody strength back."

"Aye-aye, sir. That sounds like an excellent idea. You can sleep for days, if you want, and I'll bring you your meals. Don't worry; I won't let a single soul in."

A slight twitch of an eyebrow betrayed Hook's amusement at Smee's enthusiasm. "See that you don't."

Smee nodded and left Hook to his own devices.

Sometimes, his first mate could be the perfect mixture of helpful and amiable; just what Hook needed to lift his spirits. But he would never tell him that.