Chapter 27

Hook kept the cuff locked away in his cabin until the next foray into another realm. There was no way in Hell he would dispose of it anywhere within Pan's reach; such a mistake would surely have unpleasant consequences.

In the meantime, the captain slowly recovered from the disastrous month past. It took him nearly a fortnight to fully shake off the effects of Tiger Lily's toxin; even then, his heart would flutter at the most inopportune moments for several more weeks, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

The U-shaped cut on his wrist healed without incident, just one more battle scar to add to his vast collection. The fractured bones, however, posed more of a challenge: his still-healing shoulder restricted the use of his hook, and he was forced to utilize the hand on several occasions despite the resulting pain.

Pan was predictably unsympathetic to his plight during the brutal extra liaisons Hook had agreed to in exchange for Tiger Lily's solitude. That alone probably delayed his recuperation by at least a month.

Luckily - or, more likely, due to those very same torture sessions with the little demon - the Jolly Roger crew members were left more or less to their own devices for quite awhile. The Lost Boys had given up harassing their foraging parties, and Pan was content keeping Hook in Neverland rather than off running his errands far away.

In fact, nearly six weeks had passed since Hook's return from Tiger Lily's cave. Which meant closer to ten weeks since his encounter with the spear belonging to Titus' brother. After taking the time to finally study the book - the only positive result of that blasted expedition - Hook had not yet concluded whether or not it had all been worth it. What good was knowing the dagger's appearance when he still had no clue where to find it?

Still, he did stick to the plan of tattooing the reminder on his arm. When his wrist was recovered enough to gingerly grip a pencil, Hook used the downtime to sketch a more detailed design based on the one inspired by his drugged ramblings. He copied exactly the drawing from the prized book, wanting the depiction to be as accurate as possible. The swirls of dark magic emanating from the impaled heart were artistic and menacing, as caution against reckless action should he one day meet the Crocodile unprepared.

When grimly pleased with the design, Hook showed it to Starkey, who fancied himself a bit of a tattoo artist. The bosun willingly agreed to transform the sketch into a permanent symbol; he even had new inks that were supposedly fade-resistant. He didn't say where he had acquired them, but Hook was of the opinion that their pouch and containers suspiciously resembled certain belongings of a certain cave-dweller he had recently encountered.

In any case, Starkey spent several long hours carefully pricking the ink into the skin of Hook's forearm, impressively mimicking the sketch until it was almost perfectly duplicated, then darkening lines, filling in the red heart, and even adding realistic shading where appropriate.

It was during one of these sessions that the ship finally left the confines of Neverland's seas and traversed a portal to an Enchanted Forest harbor. When the wild motion had stopped, Hook would only allow a quick rum rinse of the oozing skin before he headed up on deck to get their bearings; Starkey followed close on his heels.

The port was not a familiar one, but it was also too busy for any sort of illegal activity, especially with their recently-diminished crew. Whenever Pan was not after a specific item, their general instructions were to cause mayhem, bring the demon a share of the loot, and scout for potential Lost Boys for Pan's Shadow to collect. So Hook ordered the Jolly Roger be put out to sea in search of a suitable target.

He hadn't yet had the opportunity to scrutinize his nearly-completed tattoo in bright sunlight; as his crew efficiently set to work, Hook took the time to do just that. And it looked good. He caught Starkey watching him and sent the bosun an approving nod. Then he went back below to retrieve the cursed cuff. He was more than ready to have the blasted thing off of his ship.

They were already out of sight of land by the time he returned, small leather pouch in hand. Smee's worry - that by even touching the metal, Hook could cause it to somehow jump back around his wrist - seemed far-fetched; still, after all he had endured to be rid of it, Hook dared not take any chances. He climbed the stairs and strode to the ship's stern, where he leaned casually as he worked the pouch open. He scowled at a twinge from his still-tender wrist. Then, without ceremony, he dumped the cuff into the sea; a fitting addition to Davy Jones' locker, where it could cause no further trouble. Briefly, he considered all of the recent ways he could have been headed there, instead. But Hook didn't linger long.

Vengeance called.

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AN: Thanks so much for reading! I do have a vague idea for another story, but it will be a while :) In the meantime, I'll be lurking here and on tumblr and enjoying the wonderful fanworks all you talented people share so generously. Hooray for Hookers!