Hey guys...So so so so sorry for the delay. I was busy being lazy (._. ) But, I didn't really know what to write and then I had a random epiphany. AND THUS, CHAPTER 2 WAS BORN.

Enjoy :3


The echoing sound of ululating came from beneath the soaring couple, barely able to lay their eyes on the keen boys who were dashing between the vegetation of the forest in order to get back to their hideout. It was slowly darkening as dusk approached, stars creeping from behind their shadowy covers of clouds to peer down at Neverland, gleaming with flickering lights.

"They are so excited to hear your story, Wendy!" Peter exclaimed, his bright blue eyes glittering in the starlight as he spoke, his wide and toothy grin creasing his young features. "Cinderella is definitely the first one you'll tell, right? Otherwise I am going to be shunned for telling them lies," He pulled a mock-hurt face, though his eyes remained happy.

"I promise you, Peter," Wendy replied calmly, dragging her hand across the air as they flew lower, avoiding dipping too steeply in case they fell too quickly, slicing through the air to the ground below. "The boys will get their story, as long as we actually get sleep tonight; they were up all night with the Indians. I expect their exhausted."

Although Wendy's words spoke truth, the boys were far too hyperactive to sleep with the excitement, especially considering Pan had been named, 'The Red Eagle.' Such a title, Peter mused with a grin; the boys will be given even more inspiration! The last few nights consisted of singing and dancing to the Indians traditional music which consisted mostly of flutes and drums; howling and ululating to show their enthusiasm towards their newly settled partnership with the Indians. But unfortunately for them, the smoke and drink they had consumed had messed with their minds, which meant sleeping wasn't a necessity for the young boys.

"They enjoyed themselves, didn't they? If they didn't sleep it was because they were having fun, and if you can't take fun then I don't know you, Wendy Darling," Peter said, bowing his head quickly before descending to the floor, balancing on his tiptoes to make a loud whistle with his fingers.

The beautiful ringing of this sound bounced off the tall trees that curved inwards slightly, a perfect and wondrous dome to contain the children of the forest. Several seconds after the sound faded away into the distance, a rumbling came beneath their feet and Wendy prepared herself through digging her heels into the softness of the earth beneath her.

"Mother and Father are back!" These are the words that erupted from the hideout, (not very secretive, Wendy noted, although Hook had no way of finding it, somehow).

"Mother…" Wendy breathed. Never had she once considered herself a mother, as her brothers were practically her children. Once again, thoughts of her parents flooded her mind. Her mother was always preoccupied as her father's job had constantly gotten in the way of things, and thus, her ever dimming relationship with her parents was slowly becoming nothing but a statement. George and Mary Darling, parents of John, Michael and Wendy Darling. These were the words she repeated in her head, for she had found a new life, with a new family.

Suddenly, like a small though powerful volcano, young boys burst from random holes in the ground, giggling and screaming boomed around the nature dome, and the boys danced around contently. They began to circle Peter and Wendy, wide grins that took up half their faces tugged at their lips, their teeth flashing in the moonlight.

"Hello, Peter!" They all said in frightening synch. The boys' bodies were painted with different colours; swirls, stripes and dots adorned their juvenile and quite lean bodies. Feathered bands circled their heads and animal coats were strung atop their shoulders, creating the perfect Indian cultured villagers.

The red-headed boy clad in green smirked, gesturing for the boys and Wendy to descend into the hideout beneath the ground. He took off up into the ground, then darting beneath the dirt, laughter echoing beneath them.

Ululating broke out once again, and this time, Wendy joined in, skipping towards the holes and waiting in a small, though short queue to wait her turn to slide down into the warmth of the underground.

"My friends!" As Wendy followed the boys into the main ring of the hideout, she saw Peter sprawled on his creatively designed throne, made from fern and twigs and nature all together, and his newly presented feather headdress from the leader of the Indians sat on one of the two posts. "Wendy has finally remembered the ending to her story. Will Cinderella ever finish her quest to get to the ball of dread?" He asked with an exceeding amount of melodrama, cocking his head as Wendy made her way to the throne. "We…shall…see!"

The girl laughed, sitting upon the throne as Peter leapt off and sat before her with the other boys, their eyes wide in awe and expectation. Her brothers were sat there too, painted like the others and wondered as the rest. They had not changed since they left London. She suddenly wondered if they had forgotten their real mother and father, or if they chose to hide their loss with ignorance. She had no idea.

"Prepare yourselves," She struck her hand on the arm of the throne, causing many of the boys to flinch. "My story has not yet been told…!"


Hook was stood on the bow of the Jolly Roger, his arms circled behind him, his fingers intertwined. The feather on his hat blew silently in the wind, as the pirate flag above him. Long had he been stood there, long had he been thinking, ever thinking. His mind was fixed on a solution to his pest of a problem, Pan.

He seethed; even the very mention of the name caused the older captain to think hostile thoughts about his child of a rival.

"Are you not the captain?" Hook suddenly asked himself, unaware that he was speaking aloud. "Are you not older? Tougher, stronger and wiser?" The salty water beneath licked at the sides of the brig as it crashed against it. He thought this an answer, and continued. "What am I to do with this…this…harpy?"

What do you feel, Hook? Is it anger…?

He gave a faint smile. His conscience had finally made an appearance. The voice continued to list emotions.

Sorrow? Pity? Lust? Revenge? Love?

He froze. Love?

Ah, yes. I can see it within you, James. You know what Pan desires. You have seen the gentle glances towards his fair maiden, Wendy.

Wendy, he repeated within himself. He smirked as the voice crooned to him further

Pan knows no love. He fears no man. He needs no age. He is but a child, James. This boy knows nothing of love. Leaving his parents all alone, for him to stay young. Quite a selfish wish, don't you think?

"He doesn't deserve it…" he answered, almost irritably. Damn, he thought himself smart to have such a useful conscience.

Deal with it, Captain, the voice had changed suddenly, and Hook regretted his previous statement. The voice was Peter talking. I know no love, I fear no man, and I need no age. But you, you're getting fragile, old man. You're weak and inferior to me.

Hook put his hands to his ears, muttering something incomprehensible.

You're crazy! You're listening to yourself for advice! How pathetic. You just want to end me now and you know the only way out is to put a gun to your own head. That would rid the world of the biggest pain in Neverland! Boy, you're killing yourself anyway, aren't you? The voice became louder. With me inside your head, you're finding rather hard to keep yourself from going insane…in fact, you're the lunatic.

These words echoed in his mind, screaming, laughing, and mocking his very existence. He was going insane. Having the voice of his enemy inside him made his blood boil and heart pound, his fists clench and his teeth bared.

You know you want to end it, James. His conscience and Pan's voice had become one dreaded mental weapon, morphed together. Pick up the gun and end the many years of suffering!

"No…" He groaned, hesitantly drawing his gun from the holster behind his coat. Hook shakily lifted it to his head, ragged breaths escaping his lips. "I can't…" He shook his head violently, slamming his eyes shut. The voice clawed at his mind, draining the sanity from it.

"S-sir?" A crew member had noticed his troubled captain's odd behaviour and walked behind him, calling for his attention. "Is everything alright, sir?"

"No…" He whimpered. The voices were still there. All he had to do was pull the trigger and end everything.

Finally, he cracked. "QUIET!" He span around and aimed the pistol between the shorter man's eyes, without a moment's hesitation, jerking the trigger.

BANG!

Hook's eyes were still closed, trembling in anger.

You really went and blew that idea, didn't you?

Several long moments later, he opened his eyes. More of the crew had gathered around the body of the deceased pirate, staring at their captain in confusion.

"What the bloody hell are you staring at?!" He snarled with his eyes wide and pupils small. "Toss the body overboard and set sail to shore, you damned disobedient dogs!"

None of the men relented. Scampering away at their master's command, the dragged the body away, blood spilling from the man's head and splattering on the stairs and deck.

Hook turned around, facing back towards the sea. He truly was turning insane, but somehow, he liked it. Something to give him more motivation to tear the boy's throat out. This bloodthirsty attitude would get him progress, and work towards his revenge.