Monday morning arrived quickly. John and his family had kept her sufficiently distracted from work almost all weekend. It wasn't until she pulled into her parking spot at her building, did she suddenly remember the new hire. She kept telling herself, he was a newly hired employee, not a pirate captain.
Being the first employee to arrive for the day, Wendy opened the front door with her badge and made sure the lock clicked behind her. Although she worked on the second floor, she didn't always feel safe being the only person in the building..
The first floor contained a coffee stand, among other resources for students and faculty, alike. All of it was obviously closed until closer to the start of classes. Regardless, she leaned over the edge of the counter and grabbed a few packets of sugar before walking up the stairs to her level. In the foyer of the second floor, just around a small corner, Wendy had set up a small table with a coffee pot and a small amount of fixings to go with. Other instructors were thankful at not having to go downstairs to get a cup of caffeine and would leave a dollar in a small piggy bank on her desk, usually before and sometimes after getting a cup for themselves. She also kept a 'coffee fund' jar on the table for students to contribute, though they were not as reliable.
Trying to hum a random song to keep her mind occupied, Wendy floated through her morning routine, alone in the building for at least another thirty minutes. She unlocked her office, put her bag and purse down, turned on her computer and went to start the coffee. Letting the coffee heat and drip, she went back to her office to put her purse in the cabinet, unpack books and start checking emails. When she smelled the coffee in the air, she paused from checking emails to grab herself a cup.
"Hello, Wendy" She froze, only just about to pour her first cup of coffee. The cold voice cut the silence stopping her heart. Slowly, she replaced the carafe and turned around. "Wendy Darling. My, how you have grown." He stood a short distance from her, a hand in the pocket of his obviously expensive three piece suit, emerald today.
"You aren't real…" Wendy whispered, feeling faint. The distant slamming of a door somewhere below brought her back to the present. Hook closed the space between them in a fluid motion and Wendy felt herself pressed back against the table, overwhelmed by his sheer presence. He looked down his aristocratic nose at her, soaking in every detail about her, as a cat would watch a mouse.
"I assure you; I am very real. You, however, are almost unrecognizable, now. Who would have thought Red Handed Jill would grow into such a beautiful woman." He quickly gripped her hand with his long fingers and kissed the back of her knuckles gently. Wendy was trying to force herself to keep breathing, her brain was short circuiting. He smelled of an ocean breeze, salt, and the smallest hint of jasmine.
"Nothing to say, Ms. Darling? No words for your old friend?" He taunted, his voice low.
"You… you can't…." In a moment of panic, she placed her hands on his strong chest and shoved him away from her. She turned the corner and ran into her office, locking the door behind her. His cold laugh followed, as she sank, her back against the door. Holding her knees to her chest, she tried to catch her breath, unable to process what had happened.
Wendy wasn't sure how long she sat there, on the floor staring at nothing. What felt like hours could have easily been only ten minutes. At some point, the sound of footsteps drifted from under the closed door, breaking through the oppressive roar of panic in her ears. Students and faculty were filtering into the building for their classes, the first day of the term had begun. Slowly, Wendy came back to herself. She looked at a pile of books on the floor in the far corner of her office. Blues and yellows on the covers. She found her green plant on the far window sill. The pink in a painting on the wall and the green of the chair sitting in front of her desk. Obviously, her meds weren't working anymore. Had she even taken them this morning? Her brain had gone off on its own tangent, and she didn't appreciate it.
Forcing another slow breath before climbing to her feet, Wendy continued to remind herself that she was in control, she was in her office, and she was present. Sitting at her desk, she finally focused on the time and saw she only had about ten minutes before her first class. She had spent too much time on the floor lost. She grabbed her lecture materials, planner, and notes and stood to go to her first class. On a quick second thought, she opened the top drawer of her desk and fished out a rubber band. Placing it around her wrist, she snapped it hard on her arm. Wincing, she smiled. That was real. She was real. Work was real. There would be real students waiting for her to mold their minds.
Slowly, she opened the door and peered across the hall. The opposite office was closed, no movement inside. She exhaled hard, stepped into the hallway, and locked her office behind her. She was walking down towards her classroom, through the sparse crowd of students, when she heard her name called, again.
"Wendy!" Cried a deep voice over the dull mumbling of the students. She froze, snapped her rubber band, and turned to see the Dean of the Language department, an older African gentleman with graying hair, calling her from an open classroom. "I see you're in a hurry, I just need you for a moment!" He called, turning back into the classroom, not allowing her a chance to argue. She entered the classroom, eyeing the ten or so students already sitting in their chairs. She stopped short when she saw Hook standing there, leaning casually against the instructor's desk, his hands in his pockets,
"Wendy Darling, I'd like you to meet Mr. James Hook, our new Head of the English Department." Hook smiled, stood straight offering to shake her hand. She suppressed a shiver coming to stand in front of him.
"Actually, we've already been introduced." Wendy raised her eyebrows, her hand traveling to his by its own accord. "I'm afraid I might have been the distraction that caused you to skip your coffee this morning. I do apologize for startling you." He spoke with a cool confidence, holding her hand a moment longer than necessary. Egym was beaming broadly at the two of them, unaware of the tension.
"Well, that makes sense. Professor Darling is such a little worker bee, she's almost always here well before anyone else." Egym didn't see the look in Hook's eyes that Wendy did. He was playing a game with her, as if daring her to say something. She pulled her hand from his, still feeling the static electricity from his strong grip.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hook." She said quietly.
"James, please. I'd love an opportunity to replace your lost drink. Perhaps coffee and a moment to sit down and discuss my plans." He purred, skirting the line of appropriate.
"I'm sure that isn't necessary." His smile never faltered.
"Now, Wendy," Mr. Egym gripped her arm and stepped further in between Hook and herself, speaking in a lowered tone. "I know you applied for the position, and you have always been a most excellent employee; however, there were many highly qualified applicants." Wendy felt her cheeks redden. "Mr. Hook is a highly sought after instructor and an asset to this school. I expect you will continue your high caliber work ethic. After all, we all strive towards the same goal." Wendy refused to feed into the feelings of shame at being spoken down to like a child. Instead, she glanced over Egym's shoulder. He continued to grin at her, his cold blue eyes dancing with a secret knowledge she was sure she didn't want to know.
"I'm sorry, I'm late for class." She didn't wait for a dismissal, which was uncharacteristic of her. Egym raised his eyebrows in surprise as she quickly turned on her heel and hurried from the classroom.
"I'll be seeing you, Wendy Darling." Hook called after her as she quickly departed, headed for her own class.
Wendy made it through her two classes, on complete auto-pilot that day. Thankfully, they were in succession separated only by a twenty-minute break. The almost solid six hours of teaching allowed Wendy to push Hook from her mind. It was a nice reprieve. As the students filtered out of her room, she sat at the instructor's desk, staring blankly at the dark computer screen. She should call John. He didn't want to hear it last time. It's not as if she had new information. Would John believe her based on her own confirmations? She had stood there and spoken to him, he called her by her pirate name. There is no way this wasn't Captain James Hook. And yet, she could feel John blowing her off without even calling him.. So, what to do…
First thing, she needed to know why he was here. Second, how. She took a deep breath in, gathered her materials, and locked the classroom behind her. A quick glance into the hall told her Hook was still in class. Once safely inside her office, she leaned back against the locked door. Does she wait for him to finish class? Confront him in his office? Does she simply ignore him and continue with her life?
It was a moment into her internal dialogue that Wendy made a realization, she wasn't afraid of him. She was afraid of the repercussions of him standing before her. What it really means that the man she spent twenty years convincing herself was a figment of her imagination was now her coworker, her boss. When she was a child, she had feared him. He was a villain, in the most basic of childish understanding of good and evil. Peter had told her that he was a pirate and all pirates were bad, old codfish. Was he still? It didn't matter. Wendy was an adult. She was his equal, or mostly. Making the decision, she hurried over to her desk.
If you want to replace the coffee you robbed me of, tomorrow morning would be fine. Before my classes.
She hit send, watching the instant message pop up in a new chat box composed of her and him. She looked at that in wonder for a moment. Who would have thought she would be instant messaging Captain Hook? She wondered if he even knew how to use the instant messaging service, or turn on the computer, for that matter. Deciding not to dwell, she turned off the computer, packed her things, and once again left the building in a hurry, her head down. She was prepared to call John when she got home, force him to listen. She saw the new IM when she went to put her cell on the charger in the kitchen.
Dinner. Tonight. Her breath caught; he wasn't going to wait. Wendy took a moment, then responded.
Drinks. No dinner. Two could play at this game, and she refused to let him lead the dance. His response was almost immediate.
I'll be there at seven. She stared at her phone for a moment. Be where?
Be where? No response.
Where should I meet you? The messages remained unread. Wendy's heart began to pound in her chest. She told herself that he must have become busy and put his phone down. If he wanted to see her, he would have to give her at least an idea of where to meet. He wasn't an idiot, she told herself. Glancing at the clock on her stove top, she had a couple hours. There was time for him to rectify his mistake.
Leaving her cell to charge, Wendy went upstairs and drew herself a hot bath. A soak in Epsom salts was the easiest and honestly, best way to get her to calm down. Laying in the bath, the warm water up to her shoulders, she began to force herself to process the information of the day.
Hook was real. He was a very real person. She had touched him on several occasions, now. But it wasn't all him. He had two very real, warm hands. He seemed to remember her, seemed to have memories of her. Some past that he shared with her. Several physicians have explained Peter and Neverland as a game to fill voids in her childhood. She tried to see the events of her day through a lens more aligned with John. John was always her reason, her explanations. He would explain something in a way that made her feel silly for not having thought of it, first. John would calmly listen to her explain the events and easily come up with a reason behind all of her fears. He would tell her that she was stressed out. That a stranger appeared to look too similar to her memories, who spoke with the right accent, who had the same name and Wendy had projected all of her anxieties onto that poor stranger. And oftentimes, Wendy would nod her head and completely agree. John was always correct, could always tear through the fabrications of the stories her brain liked to make up.
Except, not this time. She remembered; she had been there. Climbing the trees with the lost boys, playing pirates with Peter, telling stories to the crew on board Hook's ship. She knew in her soul that man was Captain Hook. That opened a whole world of other questions. Most importantly, 'why' followed by a very close 'how'.
She closed her eyes, sinking lower into the warm tub. Peter Pan, was he here, too? Would he also be exactly as she remembered him so many years ago? She tried to picture him, but it was harder. She could remember the feeling of being near Peter. He was energy and excitement, the picture of adventure all wrapped up inside a little boy who could fly. Coaching herself through a few calming breaths, she decided she was determined to be an adult. She was going to get some answers, and proof, and do everything she could to be open to the answers. She was not going to freak out. There was an answer to this. There had to be. She drained the tub and dressed in jeans and a thin sweater over a camisole. Brushing her hair and teeth, she turned her thoughts back to the matter at hand. How and why. How and why. She left her long brown hair damp and hanging loosely down her back.
Feeling satisfied with herself, Wendy went back downstairs to check her cell, expecting at least some sort of information about where to meet Hook. There were no messages. She was beginning to feel irritated, at this point. Yes, he had time, only just barely. And she hated being late to anywhere. A stand-off with her childhood villain was no exception.