Next chapter is finally up! Thanks again to my beta! you're awesome. Hope you all like this next chappie. Please tell me what you all think :D

Chapter Thirteen: Loose Lips Sink Ships

Wendy's POV

I reached out and picked up the two pieces of jewellery as Hook watched me with unnerving focus. His cold and calculating eyes seemed to be judging my expression. I fought to keep my face as neutral as possible, because on the inside, I was screaming at the mere sight of the keys I so desperately wanted in my possession. Keys that were once again buried in to depths of Hook's pocket. I was positive that one of them would open the lock on Peter's cell. Why else would Hook be keeping them so close? The only problem was that I now had to somehow get them off of him.

The jewellery was cold to the touch, and looked so fragile sitting in my open palm. My thumb brushed over the face of the locket, right over the engraved initials of M.C. It really was a beautiful piece. They all were. "Why are you giving these to me?" I asked, confused, as I looked back up at Hook.

He stared back at me coolly, a purposeful blank expression settled onto his features, concealing any would-be emotions from surfacing. It was a skill of his that I had quickly noticed. "I don't want them anymore," he stated simply. His words carried finality, as though he thought this short, clipped reply was enough to answer all of my unspoken questions.

I picked up the ring and brought it closer to my face. The small, singular diamond set in the middle of the golden band was a princess cut and shone brightly, glittering even in the dull lighting. Despite its simplicity, it was lovely. It had obviously sat on the hand of the woman who I was pretending was my mother. It was weird holding pieces of her jewellery that had been given to me. It felt as though I was stealing from her. In a way, I guess I was.

Not wanting to give Hook a reason to doubt my identity, I threaded the ring onto the chain of the locket and fastened it around my neck. My stumpy fingers and lack of long nails made it quite difficult, but after a moment, the locket settled against the base of my throat. My hand came up to clasp the cool surface as I directed my gaze back to Hook's stony face. "Why did you have these?"

His expression didn't change at my question, clearly expecting it. "I took these when I left." Hook's tone was that of a doctor: unemotional and detached. It completely masked the pain that had peeked through the cracks of his facade during our last conversation about his family. His arms rested in front of him on the table. It was obvious that he was trying to look at ease, but his locked jaw and tense shoulders diminished his efforts. Right now, Hook was wound tighter than a spring. I was half expecting him to snap at any moment. I couldn't help but eye the hook protruding from his left hand warily.

"I'm guess that your father gave these to our mother," I stated, rather than asked.

Hook gave a sharp nod, although I wasn't looking for an answer.

"Why did you take then, then?" I asked, despite knowing that he wanted nothing more than to discontinue the conversation. But, I wasn't going to let him. For some reason, I wanted to know more about the man in front of me, and understand what possessed him to do the things that he had done.

Hook released a breath of air as he thought about my question. By the look on his face, it was obvious that no one had asked him before. "I…I don't know," he finally said, sounding just as perplexed as I felt. "I was young, I guess."

"Did you want to take something of hers with you?" I could never possibly imagine leaving my mother behind, so I had no idea what Hook must have been going through. I could only try to imagine what must have been passing through his young mind.

His good hand reached up to rub the side of his face as his eyes zeroed in on the locket hanging around my neck. His eyes flickered to my face before darting away quickly. "I took the things because I was angry," he admitted softly. The words were hesitant, as if they were just being spoken aloud for the first time now. "I thought that she didn't deserve them anymore…at least not the wedding ring."

He lowered his eyes to the table, his got gaze burning holes into the polished finish. He almost looked ashamed. Pity formed in my chest as I looked at him. After years, Hooks was still deeply affected by the hurt his mother had caused him. I knew it must be absolutely awful to have your family literally torn in half at such a young age. At any age, really.

In some way, I understood where Hook was coming from. His parents' marriage had ended terribly because of an affair. Of course Hook would have felt betrayed by his mother. He had every right to. I guess it was only natural for him to feel as though his mother is not worthy of wearing a wedding ring.

Hook let out a short, sharp laugh that held no trace of humour whatsoever. "I guess I was a thief even back then." His words were full of anger and betrayal, although I couldn't tell whether they were directed at himself or his mother.

"It wasn't stealing," I said. "You gave them back…kind of." My mouth twitched up into a forced smile. For some reason, I wanted to try ease some of Hook's pain, which was absurd. I was on his ship for one reason, and one reason alone: to save my friends. I wasn't here to ease his conscious.

But, still…I couldn't stop myself from wanting to.

Hook lifted his head and his eyes met mine. "I guess." He tried to return my small smile but looked to be in pain more than anything.

We lapsed into a natural silence, neither of us having anything more to say. I took it as an opportunity to pick up my fork and finish my plate of tinned spaghetti. Hook, on the other hand, chewed on the inside of his lip as his eyes scanned around the room, returning regularly to settle on me. He appeared to be waging an internal battle. I only hoped that whatever was bothering him didn't involve something horrible.

Once my stomach was full and my plate was clear, I stood from the table and walked over to the small sink. I placed my saucer down beside the drying plates and frypan, and turned around as I heard Hook's chair scrape loudly along the timber floorboards. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets as he took long, slow strides towards me. The action only reminded me of the dreaded set of keys hidden against his thigh.

He came to a stop about a few meters away from me, and let out a heavy sigh. The weight of the world resting on his shoulders could be heard in that sigh. "How is she?" he asked, his voice nothing above a whisper. I knew who he was referring to instantly: his mother…my supposed mother.

My eyes widened. It wasn't so much that I didn't expect the question, as to the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about his mother. For all I was aware of, she could be halfway to China. So, unable to answer his question truthfully, I did the next best thing.

I lied.

"She's fine," I said, not knowing whether that was true or not. Hook gave a small nod, his expression clouded. "She misses you though." I risked giving him a pointed look, hoping that my words wouldn't anger him like they had in our first encounter.

Instead, Hook seemed genuinely surprised. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. "Why?" he asked, his words brimming with curiosity.

My heart seized at his simple response. It was sad to think that he expected his mother not to miss him after he left. He had grown up thinking that his mother did not care for him or miss him in the slightest. In this moment, I felt only overwhelming pity for the man in front of me. His life had been marred by betrayal, heartbreak and loss.

"You're still her son, Jonathan. It is only natural for her to miss you." Something told me that this was true, despite never having met the woman.

He looked away and shrugged slightly, unsure of what make of my words. Blowing out a gust of air, he ran his remaining fingers through his black hair. I couldn't stop myself from staring at the hook that now sat in place of his left hand.

"How did that happen?" The words slipped out before I could stop myself, curiosity once again getting the better of me. I instantly chided myself for my lack of tact, just as Mother would have done.

Hook looked over at me, confusion clearly written on his face. It quickly changed into understanding as he followed my line of sight. Instinctively, his other hands reached out to touch the curved metal. "Some bastard cut it off," he said, bitterness lacing his words.

"Who?" I asked. Hook's hand had been severed off well before I had first met him, over five years ago. Despite this, I had never been told how, although I had my hunches. In my mind's eye, I pictured an auburn-haired boy wielding a dagger and fighting the man in front on me.

"He's just some feral who lives on the island." My eyes widened on their own accord as Hook confirmed my suspicion. "Don't worry," he rushed on to say, mistaking my surprise for fear. "You don't need to be concerned over him. He and his friends will be gone in a matter of days."

Gone, as in dead.

A cold feeling slid down my spine as he so dismissively regarded their lives, as if they were nothing more than rabid animals in need of being put down. His words immediately washed away all sympathetic feelings that I had held towards him only moments before. And that was my wake-up call.

Hook eyed me carefully, monitoring my expression. It was almost comical that he thought I would be scared of Peter when it was he who was the real monster.

Peter didn't blow up homes; he didn't injure innocents; he certainly didn't kidnap young children. He may have thieved, but only ever just enough to survive. No, I could never be scared of Peter. Ever.

"Is that why you are constantly after Peter? Is this some sort of revenge?"

Hook stilled and his eyes widened slightly in shock before narrowing. He regarded me with a suspicious expression, his face hardening. My breath caught in my throat as I realised my slip all too late.

"I never mentioned his name," Hook said slowly, his gaze focusing on mine.

He took a step towards me and I instantly took one backwards. My backside hit the kitchen bench in front of the drying rack, stopping me. My heart rate spiked as I began to panic.

"I…I know," I said, scrambling to find words. "I've just heard stories…tales, really, about this never-ending rivalry between your crew and a group of boys that lived here."

Hook didn't look convinced - not in the least. He took another large step forward, placing him directly in front of me. I, on the other hand, had nowhere to go. I was trapped between a hard place and a distrustful pirate. It wasn't a good position to be in.

"Really?" he drawled, raising a dark eyebrow in a gesture that was almost sardonic.

I nodded quickly and tried to fight down the lump that was forming in my throat. "Yes. Men on the ship that dropped me just offshore of the island were talking about it, sharing what they had heard over the years." The skin on my forehead broke out in a cold sweat under his unyielding gaze. I prayed that he couldn't see it in the less-than-perfect lighting.

He studied me quietly for a moment. His eyes were both calculating and severe, and yet his face gave away nothing. "Well, Harper," he finally said. The way he mordantly pronounced the name had my stomach dropping to my feet and my entire body tensing. Hook took one final step forward and lowered his head. His lips were next to my ear and I could feel his hot breath fanning my face as he whispered, "I don't believe you."

I gulped loudly as complete and utter fear coursed through my veins, freezing me in place.

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