This chapter is dedicated to my beta: travellerslover. She is truly incredible and has helped me improve this chapter greatly! I was quiye hesitant about getting a beta but now I realise that it was one of the best decisions I could ever make involving this story. Thank you so much, Rach!

P.S. You all should go check out her stories. They are really great! ;D

Chapter Twelve: Home Hearts Hurting

John's POV

I opened the door of the bedroom and stepped inside, clutching Mother's dinner plate in one hand. She didn't even look up from her position on the bed as I shut the door and walked across the room to stand beside her. All of the bedroom lights were on; they had been ever since Wendy had left with Peter. I think that it was Mother's way of making sure Wendy would be able to find the house again when she returned, twinkling little lamps that could, much like the lights lining the runway for an airplane landing, could illuminate the path that led her safely home.

She stared out the window vacantly. A novel rested beside her, clearly forgotten. Mother looked older than she had previously - even worse than she did when Wendy was slowly dying in her bed. Once unnoticeable grey hairs had become so prominent that they shown almost incandescent against her dull, chestnut hair. Her face was constantly pinched tight, causing the lines of her face to deepen around her mouth and forehead. Mother's eyes were what killed me. The bright blue of her irises had been reduced to a dull, lifeless grey. Their depths held signs of a deep, heartbreaking pain only a mother could feel, the pain of having lost a child.

It had always been like that. When one of us was hurt, Mother was hurt. When one of us was happy, Mother was happy. She had always felt everything that Michael, Wendy and I had felt. Whatever one of us was going through, Mother was right there next to us, experiencing the exact same thing. I guess one could chalk it up to it being the unconditional love of a mother, but it somehow went deeper than love and became more meaningful than her irrevocable empathy.

"Dinner's ready," I said, my voice breaking the silence harshly, causing even myself to wince.

Mother only nodded, still not taking her eyes off the window. It was a starry night out and the wind was blowing, flicking the curtains back and forth. The noises from the light, evening traffic below made its way into the second-story room, creating a soft white noise that made the silence between them all the more deafening. Wordlessly, I walked over and sat the plate on the side table next to the bed where it would be left untouched, just like her other meals.

"Thank you, John," she said quietly, looking at me for the first time since I had entered the room.

I nodded, taking a seat next to her on the bed, reaching out to grip one of her hands tightly. Her fingers trembled slightly in the palm of my hand and I found myself wanting to say something, anything, that could ease Mother's pain, but the words escaped me. Instead, we sat in a tense, but natural silence.

After a few moments, Mother inhaled deeply, her breath ragged, shoulders shaking. "What is it like?" she asked, a somber tremor lining her words. Her hand tightened around mine, gripping it like a lifeline.

I knew instantly what she was referring to: Neverland.

Since Wendy had left and our parents learnt the truth about Peter, we hadn't brought up the subject again. It had become taboo within the household. Even Michael didn't bring up Peter. Mother avoided it like the plague. I guess it was hard for her to face the fact that her sick daughter had been taken away from her to some strange island, even if it was for her wellbeing.

Now, there was a desperation in Mother's face that hadn't been there before, or at least that she hadn't revealed before. She needed to know.

I thought for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "It's unlike anything that you could ever imagine." Mother's eyes were fixed on my face, and I knew that I had her full, undivided attention for the first time in months. "The sand on the beach is white and the water is so clear that you can see the bottom of the ocean. The island is covered in thick forest with trees that are over thirty meters tall. There are Indians and mermaids and even fairies," I said, deciding to leave out the pirates. I doubt that knowledge would ease Mother's worry. "The whole place is crazy and beautiful at the same time."

Mother nodded, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to imagine the place I was describing. "And this Peter boy? What is he like?"

"Oh, he's quite possibly insane," I answered. I couldn't stop my lips from turning up slightly in a dry smile as I thought of all the wild situations that he had gotten into during his younger years. Mother, on the other hand, stilled. Her expression instantly clouded over with worry.

"What?!" she exclaimed. Her hand tightened on mine until I was sure that she was cutting off the circulation. Her nails bit into my skin painfully, no doubt leaving tiny crescent moons imprinted on my hand.

"Not literally," I rushed on to say. "He just has a knack for getting in and out of some pretty crazy situations. He's not nuts, I promise." My words did little to calm my mother, and I felt like kicking myself. I was trying to calm her, not send her into a state of panic.

Mother studied my expression for a long, hard moment, checking for my sincerity. Slowly, she nodded, looking anything but convinced. "And he will look after her?"

"Nothing will happen to Wendy," I reassured her with utmost sincerity.

Mother looked away from me to stare out the window once more. "How do you know that?" she whispered, her throat closing up. My heart broke as a tear leaked from her eye and rolled down her cheek. There was nothing that hurt me more than seeing this woman cry.

"Because," I sighed softly, "he's in love with her. He always has been. Peter won't let anything touch her."

She sniffled loudly. "I'm not sure I like this," Mother chocked out. She tried to sound like she was joking but failed miserably. "Wendy being stuck on an island by herself with a boy who likes her."

"Just don't tell Dad," I said, my mouth curling up into a sad smile. "He'll freak."

Mother let out a laugh that quickly turned into a broken sob. Tears began to stream down her face as she cried out in absolute agony. The sound sent a rush of indescribable pain splintering though my chest. Her face contorted into a mask of anguish. Mother threw herself into my arms and I did the only thing that I could: I hugged her tightly as fell even more apart.

"I want my daughter back," she choked out, gripping the front of my shirt tightly. Her entire body shook as sob after sob wracked her chest. I shut my eyes when I felt the prickling sensation of unshed tears, but I refused to cry in front of Mother; she needed me to be the strong one.

"I know," I replied quietly. "I know."

Once again, that feeling of hopelessness I had done a good job suppressing was starting to creep back in. I had thought that once Peter had taken Wendy, I would start to feel some relief…feel like we were finally accomplishing something. I had been wrong. Just like before, I felt completely and utterly useless. I couldn't help Wendy's condition; it was out of my hands. It was now up to her and Peter.

The only thing that I could do was sit back and pray; pray that she was okay; pray that they found a cure; pray that I saw my sister again.

Wendy's POV

As I creeped noiselessly below the ship's deck, I couldn't help but wonder if any other girls my age had ever realised just how terrifying the entire ordeal truly was. Crawling around a pirate-invested ship in the dead of night with nothing but your wits to protect you...

I padded down the abandoned hallway softly but quickly, my entire body on edge. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, and not from my illness, but from pure, unadulterated fear.

My heart seemed to be allowing me to move more without getting winded as easily. It felt as though my condition was improving somehow, if that was even possible. I wasn't sure if it was actually happening or just wishful thinking and the adrenaline burning through my blood.

Scattered lamps that had been screwed roughly into the walls were the only source of light. The sound of a floorboard creaking under pressure resonated loudly in the silence of the hall, and the noise had not been caused by me. I whirled around, staring back down the way I had come. My body flushed cold with terror. No one was standing behind me, and I was able to let out a relieved breath, although my body was still coiled tightly and the speed of my breaths had quickened drastically.

I turned back around and let out a scream and jumped about a foot into the air. In front of me stood a person who had not been there seconds before. A hand clamped down on my mouth, muffling the noise. Panicked, I bit down on their hand, causing the person to cry out in pain.

"Jesus!" someone exclaimed loudly, stumbling back. The voice belonged to none other than Captain Johnathon Callington. He shook the hand that I had just bit, looking at me with a taken aback expression. Strands of his hair were stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and the front of his shirt was plastered to his chest. Droplets of water rolled down his arms. He was completely soaked.

"Nope," I somehow managed to gasp out once I started to recover from the shock.

"What are you doing wandering around my ship?" Hook asked, an almost angry edge to his tone. He pushed the hair on his forehead back, causing it stand up at the front. Some of the disdain that he felt toward me was missing in his eyes as he stared down at me. It seemed to have been replaced by confusion… or was it mild concern? Whatever emotion it was, it was gone in an instant as his face transformed into a smooth mask of careful indifference.

"I…I was looking for you," I lied.

"Why?" He asked, raising a thin, black eyebrow.

Good question. "I'm starved," I said. It wasn't a lie. I hadn't eaten anything in over a day and I was completely famished. To punctuate my point, my stomach growled loudly.

Hook's eyes scanned over me quickly. "You sure look it." He turned, and without looking back, started walking down the hallway. "Come on."

I followed after him, having to walk quickly to keep up with his long-legged strides. His wet clothes left a trail of water on the floor behind him, but he didn't seem to care. Hook led me down to the end of the corridor and turned left into yet another passage. The ship was starting to feel like a labyrinth. This time, doors lined the hallway, most likely leading to rooms for the rest of the crew.

"You know," Hook said after a few minutes of walking in silence. "It's not smart to be walking around here by yourself. You're lucky you ran into me and not one of the other men."

"I know," I replied, meaning it.

God only knows what could have happened if I had ran into another member of the crew, like one of the men who were shouting to send me off the plank. One thing was for sure though: it wouldn't have ended well. This only reminded me of why Peter had been so adamant about me not going.

"Why are you dripping wet?" I asked, my own curiosity getting the better of me.

Hook looked down at his clothes then back at me. "I went for a swim," he said, appearing surprised at my sudden question.

"A swim? In the ocean?" I asked stupidly before I could stop myself. Personally, I hated the ocean. Its endless black depths scared the crap out of me. I couldn't stand the fact that, while swimming, I was oblivious to what was lurking only meters below.

The corner of his lips tipped upwards, making his face appear friendlier. "No, in the pool out back," he replied sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes, mainly at my stupid question. "But aren't sharks out at night?" I continued. "Aren't you scared of being attacked?"

"Sharks are out at all times of the day. They aren't nocturnal," he said, looking mildly amused. "As for being scared, I've been swimming in the ocean my entire life and haven't been attacked by a shark. I have a better chance of dying by accidentally stabbing myself with a knife while in the kitchen."

I couldn't stop myself from snorting at the ridiculous, anticlimactic way to die. Hook looked over at me and his lips spread into a full grin, flashing a view of his pearly white teeth. When he smiled, it made him look younger, more human; he didn't look like the ruthless pirate who had a list of sins as long as I was tall. The thought sobered me, reminding me of who he really was. My laughter died off instantly. He wasn't a young man who swam in the ocean and made funny, stupid comments. He was a savage who had my friends held captive in a cell only a few corridors away. Hook sensed my change in mood and, in turn, his smile faded. He looked away from me, his focus fixed ahead. We fell into a heavy silence, the soft tapping of incongruent footsteps the only sounds between them.

"Why'd you go for a swim?" I asked after a moment, wanting to end the crushing quietness.

Hook gave me a heavy, sidelong glance. I could just barely make out the contemplative look in his eyes beneath dim lighting. "It helps me clear my head," he said, looking away from me. It was obvious that he was thinking about our first encounter some hours ago. So was I. In fact, it had been in the back of my mind since I had ran into him.

Hook reached up and rubbed a hand along his lightly stubbled jaw in what appeared to be a slightly nervous gesture. The fact that he was nervous around me was astounding. I was just a sick, tiny young girl. He, on the other hand, had power over a whole crew of men and would no doubt be able to kill me with his bare hands. His apprehension only served as a reminder that Hook was indeed very much human. I wasn't sure if the knowledge scared or empowered me.

Thankfully, the hallway ended, meaning that I didn't have to come up with a response for this completely puzzling pirate. Hook walked through a wide doorframe, leading us into a large room. Unlike the hallway, the room was well lit, having multiple bright lamps positioned strategically around the space. A heavy, wooden table sat in the middle room. It was an impossibly long table, able to seat over thirty people easily. Each steel chair at the table was neatly tucked away. Down one end of the room sat a kitchen with wide benches, multiple cupboards, and a small sink. No dirty pots and pans littered the bench tops, and all equipment was packed away and out of sight. Even the dishes and a frying pan were washed and drying on the rack next to the sink. Everything about the room was neat and tidy, complete contradicting the stereotype of a typical pirate.

Hook walked directly to the kitchen and opened one of the top cabinet's doors. High towers of plates were stacked in neat piles. He pulled out a small china saucer and placed it down on the bench. Walking over to the other side of the kitchen, he stopped in front of a cupboard that stretched from floor to ceiling. Opening the door to reveal shelves full of packeted and canned food, Hook looked over his shoulder back at me.

"What do you feel like?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Umm…I dunno."

Feeling a bit taken aback by his manners, I walked over to peer into the cupboard. He stepped back, allowing me more room. Feeling his eyes on me, I nervously began sorting through the contents in front on me. There were tins of beans and fruit, and other long-life products, such as canned meats. I was shocked to see such normal food.

"Pirates drink orange juice?" I inquired as I pulled out the warm, unopened carton.

"Among other things," Hook replied as I turned over to look at him, my eyebrows raised. He was leaning casually against the bench. He would have looked a picture of ease if I didn't notice how his hands tightly gripped the edge, his knuckles turning white. "Why? What did you think we drank?"

I shrugged as I turned to return the juice to its place on one of the shelves. "I don't know. Rum. The blood of virgins."

Hook let out a scoff. "We're pirates, not cannibals."

I didn't reply as my hand landed on a tin of spaghetti. Deciding to go with it, I grabbed it and walked back over to the plate the Hook had taken out of the cupboard. I pulled back the lid and dumped the contents out.

"Thank you," I said as Hook stepped forward, took the tin from my hands, and threw it away into a bin that was located in the cabinet under the sink. He opened the top drawer to his right and pulled out a fork, handing it to me. Silently, Hook walked over to the table and grasped one of the many chairs, pulling it out with a loud scrape before seating himself comfortably. I wasn't sure whether to stay put or walk forward, but the decision was made for me when he looked up gestured to the seat across from him.

I walked over nervously and sat my plate down on the table. As I pulled out the chair opposite to Hook, out of habit, I made sure not to scrape the floor. It was something that my mother would have undoubtedly chided me for doing. For as long as I could remember, she had drilled it into us to avoid making such racket at the table. I picked up my fork and slowly stabbed it into my pile of tinned spaghetti. Hook watched me as I took a bite, and I felt myself grow nervous beneath his scrutiny. He looked away quickly when I met his gaze.

Clearing his throat, he reached into one of the pockets on his pants. "I have something for you," he said hesitantly, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Hook withdrew his hand and dropped the contents on the table in front of him. A heart-shaped golden locket was among the items deposited. It was attached to a thin, delicate chain. On top of the locket, engraved in a small, cursive script, were the initials M.C. A wedding ring also accompanied first piece of jewellery. It was of simple design. One large diamond rested in the band. It reflected the light from around the room, seeming to shine with an ethereal, orange glow.

"They were our mother's," Hook said quietly. He refused to look at me as he pushed the two items of jewellery towards me.

I barely heard Hook speak. My eyes stared fixedly at the third and final item that had been removed from his pocket. Less than a foot away from me sat a metal key-ring that held no less than five rusty keys.

Thank you also to everyone who reads/review/ follows this story. You positive feedback had been amazing and I absolutely love reading your reviews and heating what you think about each chapter!