Hello, dearies. Can you believe it? I'm updating! And it's a decent length! Rather proud of myself, I might add. In fact I just did add. So there you go.

School is starting up again in a couple weeks. I want to get at least one more chapter up by that time, but if I'm being honest, it's not likely. My updating schedule will be sporadic at best once school is back in session. I will try, truly I will, and I am dead-set on finishing this here whatchamacallit. But please hang in there!

Goodbye for now, and enjoy!

Wendy gazed out towards the shoreline. Dawn was just breaking, and the slightest amount of light had been cast on the island. Wendy sighed. Even in this dim morning light the island was still the most beautifully exotic thing to behold. Brilliant colors danced over the foliage, while the surrounding surf shimmered beneath the rising sun. Everything seemed to have the subtlest touch of magic. It was ever so slight, but easily recognizable if you were looking for it.

The island was alive; from the peak of the highest mountain to the very last grain of soft, white sand. It spoke to you, whispered really. In this early morning silence, Wendy listened to the sweetest, most profound nothings she had ever heard. She felt enlightened, invigorated. It was as if the world had slowed ever so slightly just so she could experience this moment a tiny while longer. So she basked in it, and she listened.

Now, when I say the island whispered, I do not mean it made coherent statements with the power to solve world issues. It spoke in the most obscure tongue. It did not use words, truly, but feelings. The island could indeed feel, and the island made you feel as well. And perhaps these feelings translated into some comprehensible language as it reached your ears. And perhaps it didn't. Every person interprets these whisperings in their own particular way. It does not necessarily have to make sense, so long as you understand its meaning.

While Wendy listened to the island's musings in her mind, with eyes shut in the usual way, she heard the most insightful advice anything had ever offered her: stop. Stop everything. Stop thinking and wondering and bothering. Close your eyes, your ears, if you know how. Everything is Nothing, and Nothing matters little. Care not about the suitors your father has lined up for you, or the lessons your teachers have taught on "how to be a lady". Your mother will not mind if you sit a while in order to get Nothing done, for she knows as well as anyone that this is sometimes necessary for survival.

Between the confines of her mind, Wendy found her Nothing, her No Matter, her Neverland. And for that token moment in time, Wendy was simply there. And that was more than enough.

Wendy inhaled deeply, searching for that salty sent of the ocean. Instead, she was met with the striking odor of rich, warm spices and—

Rum. That pungent, vile stench of alcohol settled in her nostrils. The putrid smell was all around her, as if she had been dipped in it herself. Taken quite suddenly from her meditations, she opened her eyes.

"Good morning, my lady."

Wendy froze. There was no mistaking that voice. The sound of it used to frighten her out of her skin as a child. But she was no longer a child. Of course, there was still the fear. Her blood was pumping at an alarming rate; her breathing was slightly out of control. But even though the hair on the back of her neck was on end and adrenalin coursed through her, she was filled with a feeling unusual to the current situation. She felt anxious, fearful, and somehow…

Excited. After being cooped up in her boring normal life for so long, she was thrilled to be terrified again. She didn't even stop to wonder what that meant for her mental health. She just took a deep breath, took it all in.

"Good morning, Captain," Wendy replied smoothly, and she turned to face the man. Taking in his appearance, she noted how ruggedly elegant the captain still was. He was everything she remembered, and somehow, he was something more. She couldn't quite put her finger on it; she was too busy living the moment.

Hook was unprepared for her cool response, and the corner of his lips quirked up in an inquisitive smirk. Pluck. This one had pluck.

"Indeed. And to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss…"

This caught the girl off guard for a moment before regaining her previous composure. So it's a game he wants? Well, I will not grant him that satisfaction so easily.

"My dear captain, let us be frank."

"By all means," Hook allowed. He was alone with a scantily clad young woman aboard his very own ship, and she wants to be frank? He chuckled internally. I had not expected this so early in the morning, but please do enlighten me, my lady.

"I thank you. It is much simpler this way, you see. You cannot possibly pretend that you do not know who I am or how I've come here; that is for me to ponder."

At this, Hook scowled. What was the impudent girl getting at? His scowl deepened as she continued.

"I think it much more proper and mature that you give me the explanation directly. That way there can be no confusion in my role here."

Hook's expression morphed into one of amusement. Ah, that's better.

"My dear, your candor is most refreshing."

At first, Wendy swelled with satisfaction, thinking she had beat him at his own game. Then, Hook's eyes raked over her body before finally settling on her gaze once more. He slipped his hand around her waist, gently tugging her towards him as she gasped.

"Of course, I shall be happy to oblige you. Step into my quarters and I shall make it quite clear to you." The man chuckled wickedly, and Wendy saw a look she'd never seen before permeate his eyes.

Though she had little experience with the matter, she realized his intentions. With full force, Wendy wedged her arms against Hook's chest and propelled herself from his body. Usually, Hook would have no issue holding the girl, but at the time he was unprepared for such a sudden movement from the supposedly willing girl. He stood in bewilderment as she snapped out her next words.

"Well! It is obvious there has been an extraordinary misunderstanding here! Do you lack any sense of propriety? I suppose I should have expected as much from a pirate!"

The captain sunk to sit on a nearby crate, his expression one of extreme puzzlement. He blinked at the lass.

"Yes, it would appear so," he mused. His meek words were lost in her rant.

"Astonishing indecency, if I've ever seen it. All I asked was that you tell me goal in bringing me here—"

"Bringing you—"

"—And I expected just the slightest bit of gentlemanly civility. I found myself here, completely disoriented, and you haven't offered the feeblest explanation for it!" Wendy stopped to breathe for a moment and Hook mulled over her words. "Well, Captain? What have you to say?"

"Woman," he began, grasping for words. "I do not know how you arrived aboard my vessel, and you are mistaken if you believe it was my doing. I had no hand in it. I do not know your identity or where you have come from, but—"

"Oh, enough with the games, Hook! You know full well who I am, do not deny it any further!"

"And who is that, may I ask?"

"Fine! I'll play, if it is what you so wish for. My name is Wendy Moira Angela Darling and I am from a world entirely apart from this."

"Wendy Darling?" Hook searched the girl's features and found this to be true. Her hair was a shade darker now and her face had matured significantly, but she was indeed the Darling girl. How had he missed that? "Why, yes! But you've grown up! And still I see it is you. How extraordinary! But how did you arrive here?" Hook ended his ponderings, spoken aloud but they were more for his benefit than anything else. Wendy took in his face, wondering at his ramblings.

"Do you mean to say you were truly unaware of my presence aboard the Jolly Roger?" Wendy inquired of the man. But Hook was quiet still, wrapped up in his own thoughts.

A whispered curse hissed through the air and broke the stillness between the pair, and their heads swiveled to the right. There they found Smee, frozen except for his mouth, which opened and closed silently, unable to find the words. His eyes were as big as saucers and he did not seem to be breathing.

Hook stood now, his puzzled expression replaced with one of extreme distaste. His eyes were locked on Smee, boring holes into the gaping man. He spoke with an eerie calmness that did not soothe his audience in the slightest.

"Mr. Smee… a word, if you will."

Doodle-oo, please review! And stuff.