A/N: Hey all! Sorry for the minor delay, I've been moving house and am very low on internet. This is the second-to-last chapter so please tell me what you think and expect the finale soon! Also, I would love to answer any questions you have on In His Grasp and my views on the world of Peter Pan so get asking! Thank you as always to my reviewers, especially wondergirl329 and luchi.

Chapter 17

Smee was lost.

Actually, to be more precise, Smee was lost on purpose. He could vaguely remember the many turns he had taken to get to where he was, but inside he knew that if he was required to exit the Black Castle at a run, it was highly likely he would take a wrong turning and become even more lost in the treacherous catacombs.

Smee Smiled: lost was good.

Some of you dear readers may be wondering precisely why Smee was getting himself lost in the depths of the Black Castle when, a few miles away, a battle was occurring in which his presence would have been highly appreciated. However, I urge you not to fear: all shall be revealed in time. For, you see, Smee had not run away nor deserted his Captain during their return voyage. Neither had he simply decided that now was a good time to go sight-seeing, and in doing so had nonchalantly chosen the most dangerous part of the island for his holiday destination.

In truth, Smee was on a mission.

During their journey, Hook had finally confided in the First Mate. He had told him everything, from the feelings he had towards Wendy (which Smee was already fully aware of) to the terrible decision he had been forced to make to protect her.

Smee had, of course, tried to interject at this point, but his protests were quickly disembowelled by the Captain. Even now, the more Smee tried to think of a plausible counter argument to Hook's words, the less convinced he became that there ever were any. The Captain was right, and therefore his mission was just as important as it had been made out to be.

All of a sudden Smee stumbled, cursing loudly as he glanced behind him to see what was to blame for the blunder. As he did, a low rumble echoed through the cavern, followed by a quiet, but clearly far away, splash. Smee paused, listening intently to see if he could fathom which of the tunnels the noise had originated from, his survival most certainly resting on the knowledge.

Of course, Hook hadn't forced Smee to risk his life in such a manner; he had even suggested Smee return to lead the battle against Pan. The First Mate, however, had insisted: battles were not quite his forte. Running, on the other hand, was something he was rather skilled at. Besides, if Hook had taken it upon himself to complete the mission, his chances of surviving long enough to fulfil the rest of the plan would have been even less that Smee's, especially as the thing being hunted had a taste for Captains of good form, or, shall we say, one particular Captain of good form.

Another rumble reached Smee's ears, this one louder and, presumably, closer than before. Smee instinctively began to inch back towards the tunnel he had come from, his eyes peeled and his listening intently for any new sounds. As he waited, he thought of what Hook had told him only a short time before. Despite the Captain being rather vague in his words, Smee had fully understood the importance of them and had even felt a touch of pride in knowing Hook had confided in him in a manner had had never done before. After all, Smee had been Hook's First Mate for as long as he could remember, which he presumed to be a very long time indeed, and for him to finally confide in Smee was a very high honour indeed. If he had had the time, Smee would have celebrated the occasion. Unfortunately, the impending battle necessitated the celebrations be put on hold for a while, much to Smee's disappointment.

"Here Croccy, Croccy," Smee called, still searching vigorously for the monster in question. If he had been paying closer attention to his surroundings he would have noticed the sudden change in temperature behind him, now cold and foreboding, and also the smell of rotting flesh that had begun to overwhelm the cavern.

Smee paused, his senses finally tuning in to their surroundings. Behind him, the crocodile, who was at least three times the size of the well rounded First Mate, looked down hungrily at his next meal, his jaw opening wide as he prepared to take a bite.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Smee jumped, realising that now would be the opportune moment to run, and began to sprint towards one of the tunnels. The crocodile watched for a moment, smirking, if that is such a thing crocodiles can do, before following his fleeing meal: he loved to play with his food.

Some distance away, the Folly Roger had found itself bombarded with a mass of fighting children, Indians and pirates. As far as the eye could see, enemies were crossing swords, releasing their pent up frustrations as they continued to share childish insults in the eternal battle between good and bad. Only one person was not fighting, not at that moment at least. Instead Wendy Darling was watching over the scene, her mouth agape at the sight before her. If her attire hadn't been so alike a pirates, or she hadn't been so noticeably positioned on the edge of the ship's rail, her astonishment might have continued for quite some time.

Alas, Wendy was forced back into reality as an arrow skimmed past her, narrowly avoiding scarring her cheek. She jumped, the shock threatening to make her lose her balance, before scanning the view in front of her to locate her mysterious attacker.

It was one of the boys. He was no older than Michael had been when they had first come to Neverland, but instead of the teddy bear her brother, still now, adorned, the boy held a bow protectively at his side. Wendy's heart panged: he was far too young to be involved in Neverland's turmoil. Then again, weren't they all?

This time Wendy easily avoided the boy's arrow, jumping down onto the deck and losing herself amongst the throng of people. Before she knew it a blade had found its way into Wendy's hands and she was brawling with the enemy, the play-fighting skills she had perfect the last time quickly resurfacing. In a flash, the man had fallen to his knees, a deep wound cutting into his chest. Wendy paused, the severity of her actions shooting through her in a way it had never done before. Had she just made her first kill?

A cry suddenly rose above the crowd, quickly joined by a chorus of cheers from the pirates. Hook had Peter cornered by the sounds of it, but only for a second before the boy had ducked and dived through the Captain's legs, yanking him to the ground in one swift movement. Wendy sighed: of course not, she had killed before. Only it had been a game before, nothing more, nothing less. She turned back to the man before her, only hesitating briefly before moving on: now was no time to dwell.

"Wendy!"

Wendy's ears twitched at the sound of Michael's voice. She had barely finished turning towards the sound before Michael had reached her, his arms wrapping around her torso in a brotherly embrace. Wendy laughed, hugging him back, their moment of happiness otherwise lost amongst the sea of fighting.

"How ever did you… Wendy, why are you so wet?"

"The brig is… never mind. I found my own way out, Michael. Did you find James?"

"Why are you dressed like a pirate?"

"It doesn't matter. Where's James?"

"Wendy, are you a pirate?"

"No!" she finally snapped, "it would have been silly of me to remain in my nightgown all this time. Now, where's James?"

"Who?"

Wendy sighed, instead of replying simply clambering back onto the rigging and looking for herself. Michael gasped, pulling at his sister's ankle.

"Come on Wendy, we have to go back to the…"

"No," Wendy interjected, looking down to her brother and catching his concerned gaze, "I know you will not understand Michael, but I am staying with James. I may have been his hostage once, but that is no longer the case. I am to remain here and that is final."

Michael, above all, was flabbergasted, his mouth having fallen open at Wendy's words and his expression now resembling that of an alarmed goldfish.

"But…"

"Michael."

Another voice joined the conversation, roaring loudly above the sounds of the battle. John looked sternly towards his siblings, his figure cutting a striking image as he stood, sword in hand, fresh blood dripping off its tip. Wendy shuddered.

"Michael, get back to the longboat."

As obedient as ever, Michael was gone in a flash. John looked up, lowering his sword as he met Wendy's gaze.

"I know you want to stay Wendy, but I'm afraid I can't let you."

Wendy angrily climbed down from her position.

"You are not father, John. I am to stay here."

"In father's absence it is my job to protect you." John replied, reaching forward to take surprisingly strong hold of his sister's wrist. Wendy winced.

"John, that hurts! James will protect me. Besides, I do not need protecting; I am no longer a little girl, I can look after myself."

John stiffened, looking Wendy squarely in the eye, his gaze strong and cold. "No Wendy, you can't."

Wendy gasped, struggling with all her might as John began to pull her through the sword-filled commotion. If she had been feeling rational, she would have recognised the look in John's eyes: the same one she had seen in her father's on the night he had banished Nana from the house; the night he had almost lost the three things most precious to him forever. John, however, was not about to lose those he loved, and neither would he allow his softness, and Wendy's lack of understanding, to be the reason for his parent's suffering if none of the children ever returned home. Sometimes, he reasoned, it was acceptable to be cruel to be kind.

In no time at all they were at the longboat and Wendy found herself gazing down at the last group of people she had ever expected to find upon the island. The boys greeted her in unison and with an overwhelming sense of relief, as if her presence was to signal the end of a rather harrowing series of events. They failed, however, to notice Wendy's desire to be elsewhere, instead ignoring her protests as they surrounded her, questions as to her capture flying through the air. It was only afer a few minutes of stuttering and attempting to explain that Wendy was able to rise her voice above the others.

"Where's Tootles?"

John, who, until that point, had been looking rather smug, pursed his lips as his eyes searched through the group of boys before him.

"What?"

"Did he not want to come back?"

"Nibs, where's Tootles?"

Nibs shifted his gaze towards the ruckus on board the ship. After a moment's pause, and a quick glance to the sky above, John followed Nibs' eye line, scanning the mass of people, to no avail.

Suddenly Wendy gasped, not even pausing to think before hurling herself into the crowd. John lurched after her.

"Wendy, come back!"

His words fell on deaf ears however, as Wendy continued to duck and dodge her way through the crowd, diving under swords as they crashed together, at one point, narrowly missing being stuck on the head by a handle as the weapon's owner misjudged his move.

Finally, despite the fact that very little time had passed, Wendy found the boy she had been searching for. Tootles was cornered, the piece of wood he had been using to defend himself laying at his feet, his hands raised in surrender as he cast his gaze worriedly between his three attackers. John, having just about caught up with his sister, froze in his tracks at the image before them. For, you see, it was not pirates that were slowly inching their way towards the terrified boy, nor was is the Indians having finally grown tired of Peter's games. It was the Lost Boys, and Wendy recognised all three of them: they were the boys she had witnessed fly away with Peter on the night her latest adventure had begun. Although they were no longer homeless, it appeared their survival instincts had morphed into something Wendy could never have anticipated from the sweet street urchins she had known before. If she were to let them continue, it was clear their actions would culminate in the demise of her adopted sibling.

"Stop!"

Wendy cried, once more pulling away from John's grasp as she attempted to take a hold of her.

"Leave him alone."

The oldest boy turned, a manic grin stretched across his otherwise youthful face.

"Why?"

"He is a Lost Boy, just like you!"

"Peter said not to harm us." John chided, watching closely as the youngest boy began to prod Tootles with the tip of his sword.

"So?"

Wendy exhaled a whine, "so let him go! What would Peter say if he saw this?"

After a moment in which Wendy found herself being harshly stared at by all three of the former street urchins, the eldest bravely took a step towards the would-be pirate, his sword resting against her breast. With eyes full of contempt, glowing with the pain of memories past in a surprisingly similar way to the manner that Wendy supposed Hook's did when confronted by Peter, the boy glared up at Wendy, his teeth gritted.

"Peter taught us to hate grownups, and now they have tricked him! You are the reason Neverland is breaking apart: you grownups and your foolish rules."

With a yell the boy raised his sword, the world seeming to slow as Wendy and John looked on in fear as the blade swung towards Tootles, the poor boy unable to inch away from the sharp and painful demise he was about to suffer.

All of a sudden, a shrill wind rushed past the group, throwing off the Lost Boys' aim, his blade wedging firmly in the wooden railing behind Tootles' head. He let out a frustrated yell as Wendy leapt forward, pulling a rather relieved Tootles from the fray, the other boys too busy helping the third to notice their captive's escape. Wendy turned to John, instructing him to return Tootles to the longboat. Her brother hesitated before turning away in obedience, but only after reminding Wendy that she too would have to join them and return to London.

"I know." She replied, "and I will."

As John turned away, Wendy pondered her promise, unsure of whether she had truly meant the words she had spoken. Although she had vowed only minutes earlier that she would remain with Hook on the island for all eternity, seeing her brothers, and the danger they had put themselves in for her, had reminded Wendy just how much she loved and missed her family, even Aunt Millicent and her ever-prying ways. As she pondered, Wendy found herself staring into the carnage before her, her mind adrift from the violence as it surrounded her, focusing instead on memories of happier times: reasons to stay, reasons to leave; decisions to be made.

"Kill her!"

Even if Wendy had heard the shout, any attempts to duck or run would have still been too late. The blade cut through the back of her shirt with ease, only stopping to lightly scratch Wendy's skin as its owner was suddenly pushed backwards at full force by an unknown object. Indeed, it was only as Wendy heard the thud of bone hitting wood that she realised anything had happened at all. She spun back to see the two younger boys, their mouths agape and their eyes glued to the eldest, who was held at his throat against the cabin's exterior, his attacker still hovering horizontally as he continued his assault.

"Disobey me again and I will hand you to the pirates." Peter snarled, letting the boy drop to the floor and then easily taking down a foolhardy pirate as he attempted to slay the boy who never grew up. He cast a quick glance to Wendy, his face expressionless and his eyes lacking their usually childish vigour, before shooting back into the air. Watching him go, Wendy shuddered: it had been less than a minute since Tootles and John had left her, and already somebody had attempted to take her life. Perhaps Neverland was too dangerous for her after all.

Moving away from the still-cowering boys, Wendy decided to find James. As she turned, a bumbling Smee hurtled into her, sending them both to the deck with a crash.

"Smee!"

"Wendy ma'am!"

"Where have you been?"

Smee paused, helping Wendy from the floor as he thought of a reasonable excuse to not answer and depart Wendy's presence as soon as possible. Before he could however, an excuse befitting both of Smee's needs presented itself in the form of a large reptile, hastily making its way towards the Jolly Roger, the loud ticking emanating from it signalling that it was indeed a monster to be feared above all others.

"Is that…?" Wendy gasped, her question quickly cut off by a higher, more terrified, scream.

"Crocodile!"