Their Hearts' Desire

by Starflight1701

SEQUEL to "BATTLE FOR NEVERLAND" - (I changed the pen-name from Lywhn to Starflight). Five years after 'Battle...', an almost grownup Wendy returns to Neverland. As her suitor follows her for reasons other than 'rescuing' her, it threats Peter and his world. Hook is forced to act - not only to save the day but also 'his' storyteller for whom his heart burns. Full summary inside.

32. Disaster Has A Turn

Hi, my dear readers!

Thank you so much for the feedback. You know, we authors l-o-v-e reviews / comments, because they show that our work(s) are able to keep and even catch readers. Therefore: thank you.

And I'm sure that after THIS cliffhanger, you all are screaming bloody murder (smirk). So be warned, this chapter ends dramatically. And because of the whole drama / action I don't give any hints.

Have fun

Yours Lywhn / Starflight

Chapter 30 – Disaster Has a Turn

"We're bein' followed," Alister remarked.

He and Jackson were the stolen longboat, now nearing the beach. Ashford sat on the other thwart and held Wendy in his arms; Russell was beside him, still nursing his calf. "Some kinda large fish er dolphins are now hot on our tail," Oscar continued. He frowned as Ashford went rigid and quickly turned with a gulp.

Dalton knew what really hunted them and his eyes searched the surf behind the boat. At first, he only saw rising smoke from the direction of the pirate ship. Then his mouth went dry as a few large, silver creatures jumped out of the sea and slid back in again. They were quick, yet he had seen enough to know that they were not dolphins or fishes: long hair, white arms, the glimpse of a face. "Mermaids…" he muttered.

Russell looked at the viscount skeptically, then turned to catch a glimpse of their pursuers. The viscount was right! They were indeed being followed by those magical creatures! His father, a lifelong seaman who anchored in Crosby, spoke of them with rapture and horror in one – creatures whose images still decorated pubs along every coast, whose reputations haunted or enchanted so many tales. He saw the beautiful alien faces, the long hair, the naked "human" part – every inch enough to seduce a man. And he saw the powerful silvery flukes gracefully driving the mermaids through the water with speed; it made one dizzy just watching them!

And then they heard it: singing! Yes, singing but SO much more! Beautiful, alluring, attractive, transporting! Songs without words – a melody and harmony so sweet and heartbreaking no man could withstand its temptation. Yet, there were … exceptions. Hook was one of them – and Dalton Ashford. While James Hook had been too abhorrently bitter and too full of hate after coming to Neverland to be lured in by the mermaids' song, he later learned to ignore the sweet sounds, as did his men; for once resisted, it was easier and easier to ignore. But Dalton Ashford? We can blame it on his lack of imagination and seeming inability to grasp the language of music – or on his selfish and hardening heart.

Therefore, he heard the sirens' song, yes, but the temptation stopped somewhere between his ears and his heart, unlike that of his companions. While Russell could only stare at the waves, Alister and Jackson stopped rowing and, horrified, Ashford realized that they were about to be enchanted. Allowing Wendy to slide to the bottom of the vessel, he reached forward and slapped the two rowers. Their gazes cleared and they gasped.

"I apologize, men, but it was necessary. You were falling under the spell of the mermaids."

"Mermaids …?" Oscar asked confused.

"There!" the other said, pointing aft at the creatures gaining on them.

Ashford grimaced and yelled, "Row for your lives!" He reached for his gun and took off the safety. "Mr. Russell, ready your pistol!" he ordered, firing behind the boat.

"You want to shoot them?" Edgar asked thunderstruck. "They are women -"

"Sea creatures– sirens, you moron! Every heard that they feed on humans?" Dalton snapped. He had studied Wendy's 'diaries' and he knew that the mermaids were good friends of the Pan boy. He knew Peter Pan had sent them to stop him and the others. And he knew another detail: mermaids were dangerous – man-eaters! – and he could expect no mercy from the cold-blooded beings. He was grateful they were almost to the beach beside the cliffs on which the Black Castle remained.

The singing stopped the moment Ashford fired the first shot. One glance revealed that the sea creatures had almost caught up with them. "Mr. Russell, ready your gun! Mr. Alister, Mr. Jackson, no matter what happens: continue to row! We will only be safe on land!" He aimed where a mermaid had vanished beneath the waves and pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed, but the bullet missed.

Russell mumbled something beneath his breath, pulled out his gun and aimed the same direction, but found no target. While the two men from Bristol continued to row the boat as quickly as they could, the two other men watched for the mermaids, but the creatures didn't reveal themselves again. Yet Ashford was not reassured – and for a good reason. Suddenly they felt a strong jolt from below, making the longboat sway. Dalton and Russell clung to the gunwales, then Russell cried out in pain and snatched his hand back. There were four bloody tracks from claws on his hand. For a moment one of the mermaids broke the surface, looking at him – on her beautiful face was a furious scowl, with sharp teeth bared and enraged eyes. Russell instinctively lifted his pistol and fired, but the sea creature had submerged.

Shooting again was a mistake.

A big mistake!

Screeches and snarls filled the air as the mermaids attacked together; trying to get aboard. Lifting his pistol Ashford shot at them. One screamed in pain and went under. Then a few seconds later the boat lunged onto the sandy shore. Yet Alister and Jackson had to use the oars as cudgels as the mermaids flung themselves on the beach; two even tried to get into the boat again that was firmly stuck ashore.

"Cover me!" Ashford ordered harshly, lifting Wendy in his arms, feeling the pain from the cut on his arm from Wendy's sword. But he still needed to have his gun ready. So, having no other choice he threw the girl over his shoulder and used his free hand to hold the pistol again. Another mermaid appeared beside the boat where he wanted to climb out and hissed threateningly at him. Lifting his pistol and aiming at her, the creature stopped, then pointed at the unconscious girl and clicked.

"No! She is mine!" Dalton growled. "Out of my way, demon, or you'll never swim again!" The mermaid made a high, unpleasant sound in her throat and stared with fathomless dark eyes at him.

Anahita knew that she couldn't attack the human without being killed. She had seen what that little ugly black thing in his hand could do when one of the sisters was not quick enough. But she could do one thing: find out what he really intended. She saw he was here for the human girl – but not for her only. There was an almost desperate greed in his gaze.

For a moment she could sense the dragons … Not the large ones, but a little one, coming out of an egg. She knew when the younglings came from eggs there was rejoicing among the sea creatures; surely too among the dragons. Then there was a structure of unnaturally even stones, dark with age, and an old human woman, standing by something Anahita had seen when one of the pirates emptied it out of the hold of the ship, large, round, hollow, flat on top … And then she saw Peter, bound in the dark, hurting, afraid, alone …

This all happened in two blinks of an eye, then the man raised the ugly dry thing in his hand and pointed it at her, his intention clear.

Dalton felt pressure in his head as the mermaid's gaze reached into his, and he knew that she was touching his mind. For a moment he was too shocked to react, then he shook his head fiercely to break the connection, fearing she wished to hypnotize him. "Move or die!" he snarled and the creature – surprisingly enough – obeyed. Hissing and baring her sharp teeth, she pushed away on her colorful flukes, making room for him to step out of the boat.

His three companions also had trouble disembarking. They had to fight the mermaids; one had been wounded at the shoulder and her sisters seemed to be determined to avenge her. Yet the three men faced a worse problem than defending themselves. The mermaids were dangerous, but they were also looked far too much like women, which made the hunters cautious to attack them. Even the two (usually bloodthirsty) hunters from Bristol who were anything but sensitive, hesitated to strike the beautiful creatures. Here, two large eyes looked helplessly up at them, there a pout, another very frightened face – and the men couldn't bring themselves to shoot. In the end, the three hunters and Ashford simply ran off – moments before the charms of the mermaids could get the better of them.

Dalton carried Wendy, while Russell limped beside him. His makeshift bandage around his calf was wet with blood as was his left hand now. Alister (still in Indian clothes) and Jackson had been able to bring two of the packs with them, and brought up the rear. Moving quickly up the hill, the men paused near the woods, and Ashford stuck the pistol in his belt. He laid the still unconscious Wendy down to lift her properly in both of his arms. Looking back, Reuben suddenly wheezed, "Milord, we were not only followed by the mermaids." He nodded towards the cliffs they had left behind minute ago. "Pirates!"

Glancing over the waves Ashford saw two longboats passing the lines of cliffs; the tall figure of Hook balanced in the first one. The sky behind the reefs had cleared. They surmised the fires aboard had been put out.

The viscount cursed eloquently. "The pirates were able to extinguish the fires on the ship. And, of course, Shalford won't give up." His gaze moved Wendy's heart shaped creamy face that lay against his shoulder. The long dark lashes, the pouting strawberry lips, the thick long honey-brown hair with a few sun-kissed strands, the long neck … "I can certainly understand that bastard trying to get you back. You're quite beautiful, in spite of all the trouble you give him … and me …" He shook his head, turning his back to the sea. "Hurry, boys, before these cursed scallywags catch up with us."

As quick as the ill-used men were able to, they vanished into the woods toward the backside of the ruin. There was another trap to set.

*** PP ***

The pirates in the two longboats rowed as if the devil himself was on their tails. Yet it was clear that the viscount's head start would not be equaled. Seething with rage, Hook watched how his rival and the three other men escaped the mermaids and ran up the beach to vanish in the woods – and James and his men were still too far from shore.

Turning, Hook's glance took in the men laboring with all their might at the oars and Smee, who … hmm … where a certain Hobgoblin crouched at his feet, the same that had accompanied them from the beach to the ship, appearing seasick by now. Why Smee had taken the walking talking stomach on two legs with them was a constant puzzle to the captain, but he didn't ask. There was no time. If Bumblyn went with them to 'help his Wendy-friend' as he might put it, enduring seasickness, well, as long as the bogey didn't vomit into the boat, so be it. "Ready yourselves for pursuit as soon as the boats hit sand!" Hook ordered his men, ignoring the 'stowaway' for now. "We have to stop them!"

The pirates nodded grimly. They were angry, too. Not only had those four bastards tried to burn down their ship with a cruel death for their six comrades, they also stole their storyteller – their Red-Handed Jill, the captain's girl! Over the last few years, (when Hook ceased killing them off) those men had developed a friendship with each other after the long time they were already at Neverland's shores. They were also deeply loyal towards their captain and had taken a real liking to the girl. On top of that, their pride demanded revenge for their injured comrades and the pain their captain suffered now because of the strangers. The idiom 'thick as thieves' was indeed appropriate.

The moment the two longboats slid onto the sand, the pirates had already jumped out, pulling them onto dry sand to prevent them of being swept away by the rising tide. Hook's boots hit the sand but before he could begin the pursuit of Wendy's kidnappers, a cold, webbed hand took his own. Looking down he recognized the leader of the mermaids – Anahita – who had warned him and Panther a few days ago.

Hook had neither time nor patience for a chat, but he knew that it would mean trouble later if he offended the mermaids now. "Thank you for your help. Your sister is badly hurt?" he asked politely; watching his men running up the beach out of the corner of his eye. As the mermaid shook her head, he forced a quick smile; his mind on Wendy. "Good to hear. Give her my best wishes." He turned to follow his underlings, but the mermaid held him back, clicking desperately. James frowned, understanding a few of her words. His eyes widened. "What?" he asked while he resisted the urge to push her away to follow Ashford. What she had to say was clearly important. And it would be foolish to brush a mermaid's warning aside.

She repeated her message slower, and he nodded. "He wants something from the dragons and there is an old woman with a pot. Understood!" he said shortly; pressing his lips into a grim line while he frowned. An old woman and a pot? Wasn't that the vision the young seer from the tribe had dreamed? Maybe she was a witch – the 'magician' who opened the portal between the Mainland and Neverland? Be that as it was, the young Indian's vision related to Ashford, too. And what was that about the dragons?

Again Anahita clicked and piped, sounding even to human ears far more grave now. Hook took a deep breath as he listened the second time; then he growled quietly, "The boy is capable of fighting for himself, but I will look out for him, never fear!" Freeing himself from her grip he followed his men who already hastened toward the woods.

Smee had waited for him, Bumblyn on his shoulder clinging to the bosun's weathered green jacket. "What did th' sea-lady want?" Smee asked.

Hook scowled. "She saw glimpses of Ashford's mind. He seems to be in league with a witch and he wants something from the dragons. But Anahita gave me a further warning – one concerning Pan. She said that 'the mortal world' - or something like it - is 'reaching' for the boy."

"The mortal world?" The old man pushed his spectacles up his nose, confused. "Wha' does tha' mean?"

"It be the world from where the Wendy-Lady comes," the Hobgoblin peeped up, still somewhat nauseous. Small, swaying boats were not his cup of tea!

As James broke into a trot and Bryan followed him, he couldn't help but ask, "Why did you bring that little nuisance with you, Smee?"

"Helping my friend I must," the Hobgoblin answered instead of the bosun who was already out of breath. Of course! Hook had foreseen this answer.

"How … can th' Mainland … reach f' Pan?" Smee asked again breathlessly.

They had caught up with the other crew members and Hook passed them without stopping. "It must be some kind of metaphor. Maybe Anahita meant Ashford and his men. She thinks Pan is somehow in danger and -" He became aware of a male voice above him shouting in fear.

"Nonononononononputmedownnow—"He sounded fearful and angry in one. Looking up, between the branches, Hook recognized Peter flying straight towards the Black Castle, carrying a young man with fire-red hair. One of Ashford's men, Hook realized. This intense hair color hadn't slipped his attention, even if the young man wasn't strong enough to be a threat. And if the tracks in the sand told James anything, then it was into the same direction as their enemy's.

'The mortal world reaches for him…' the mermaid had said, and Hook began to consider what she really meant: the boy was in mortal danger because of the viscount! The pirate-captain cursed. "I told him not to confront Ashford alone! I told him to stay away from him!. And what does he do? Fly straight toward the treacherous bastard. By carbonate of soda! I swear, this time I WILL lay that blockheaded churl over my knees! Why can't he listen only one … bloody … single time!?" His face twisted with concern while he raced toward the castle.

Smee grimaced. In earlier times his captain had railed like this whenever Pan outdid him or played one of his silly pranks. Now Hook swore like a trooper because of concern for the boy. Hook's and Peter's relationship had always been special, hating each other but never being able to eliminate the other, as if some invisible power held them both back at the very last moment. Now they respected each other at a certain level, but would one of them admit it? No, of course not! The boatswain thought (and not for the first time) that he was getting too old for this.

Slapping branches aside, Hook dashed into the woods; a wheezing Smee with a protesting Bumblyn hot on his tail. But James had the feeling that, no matter how fast he went, he would still arrive too late …

*** PP ***

"Dammit, put me down, you workhouse refugee! You're absolutely and incurably mad! The viscount was right, you're not human. How can you fly without feathers or wings?" Kenly Fulsom squeaked like this continuously as Peter descended.

"Stop struggling, you stupid man! If I drop you, it will be by accident, and all your fault," the boy snapped back, unnerved by now. Grownups! Why did he even bother with them? They were too daft to accept the merest ideas which gainsaid their stupid and "practical" points of view – just like flying. Fulsom was doused with fairy dust, and Peter was carrying him, so what? If the fool would stop pinwheeling his arms there would be a lot less danger of falling!

They heard a few shots in the distance. Finally they neared the Black Castle. A brief glance to the right showed Peter the three longboats on the beach close to the cliffs. So, the viscount had reached the island, but so did Hook who just vanished with his men beneath Peter and his 'freight' in the woods. 'Hurry up, Hooky, we've to stop Ashford before he can take Wendy back to the Mainland!'

Flying down beneath the treetops, Peter still headed to the back of the ruin and dropped Fulsom two yards above the mossy floor of the woods. The young man screamed as if he were falling hundreds of feet, then he landed with an 'oof' and remained there, groaning. Peter landed beside him and looked down, hands akimbo. "Don't be such a flitterbug, Fulsom. The moss is thick and soft, it doesn't hurt."

Kenly eventually lifted his head and looked over the bare feet and legs, over the trousers made of leaves and finally up at the youth's annoyed face. Disdain and ire rose in Fulsom's eyes. "You did that on purpose, you miserable brat!" he snapped, rising to a kneeling position.

"You sound just like Hook – only when he says it, he sounds threatening. Maybe because he is a grown man and a leader. Unlike you," Peter taunted, then his attention was drawn to the ruin. "Come on now, show me which of these many holes here is the portal!"

Kenly had some really rude comments ready but suppressed them. Right now, he needed the boy to trust him, but as soon as the viscount captured the youth, Fulsom would give him his come-uppance! Flying with him through the air, despite his fear of heights – such insolence! For this alone he wanted to punch the changeling, or whatever this romp was for real.

Regaining his feet, he first dusted off his trousers and then walked towards the outer wall of the ruin, pretending to seek out the signs the viscount allegedly left to mark the portal. In truth he knew exactly where to go. Peter noticed Kenly looking at him more than at the ground but chalked it up to the redhead admiring his cleverness. (Oh, Peter!)

Meandering closer to what was left of the graveyard, he stopped and, to his relief, heard a voice whispering, "All is ready. Bring him here."

Fulsom only sighed, then he scratched his head – drat, somewhere he had lost his cap! – and looked around. The boy watched him warily and was growing impatient. "What's the matter? Can't find your own marks?"

Fulsom threw him a glare. "They are not my marks, the viscount made them. Maybe we could find them sooner if you help."

"I have no clue what they look like," Peter replied sourly. For someone 'rueful' this half-man was rather rude.

"A triangle with two other lines crossing it – almost like a star." He dared to look up. There, above him on the weathered remains of the battlement, was movement. Kenly smiled inwardly. Yes, everything was prepared. "A star or something like…" He glanced to his left and began to grin. "Heigh ho, here it is!" he called and pointed to the left. He almost yelped as the boy landed on his right. Didn't this fairy-boy know how to walk?

"Where is it? Is this archway the portal?" Peter asked and Fulsom grimaced.

"See the rune there?" He pointed to the stones beside the entrance with its rusty, open hanging lattice door and Peter closed the distance to it, while Fulsom made room for him. Or rather for what happened next.

Something heavy collapsed around Peter! Shocked, he recognized that a net wrapped itself around him, dragging him to his knees. A nasty memory rose in him and with a shout he jumped up and began to pull it away. Unlike the event in the Black Castle during Wendy's first stay in Neverland, when Hook caught him like this in the flooded dungeons, there was no opportunity to free himself. Fulsom threw himself over the net and the boy and straddled him; keeping him on the ground. Peter, who now realized that his gut had been right – that Fulsom was no one to trust – began to kick and to punch. Even though smaller, his little fists landed a few good hits. "Let me go, you traitor!" he yelled angrily, and gasped as a fist landed at his chin with a sharp blow.

"This is for hauling me through the air!" Kenly growled and hit him again. "And now settle down or I'll -"

"We'll take him," a voice said from behind and then a man, wearing stolen leathers but was obviously no warrior brave, emerged from hiding, knelt down and caught Peter's wrists. A second man waited 'til Fulsom had risen, and hauled the eternal boy to his feet. Peter screamed half in pain, half in fury as his arms were forced behind his back; his face stung. The youth struggled (nearly freeing himself a time or two) and furiously demanded to be set free, but the two men who held him where simply too strong. Looking up, he saw Fulsom standing nearby; arms crossed, a nasty mocking grin plastered on his face.

Then two other figures appeared by the archway. One of them was limping and wore the clothes of Foggarty; left hand and the calf had stopped bleeding. Beside him Ashford emerged and laid an obviously unconscious Wendy gently beside the wall. All four men were still masqueraded as pirates and an Indian – just like Akeele and Esteban had said.

"Look at the little white bird caught in our net," the viscount said cynically while straightening. "A bird without feathers, but a great big mouth."

"Better a bird without feathers than a scoundrel like you!" Peter snarled. His legs were still trapped in the net, his arms were firmly held behind his back by two iron hands. For a moment he felt a touch of fear, then his full attention fell on Wendy, who looked … so awfully adult in that strange yellow dress. But what frightened him more was that she didn't move. "What did you do Wendy? Let her go, you, you PIRATE!" he yelled.

Dalton whirled on the boy. "I'm no pirate, you dolt. He hides on that wreck of a ship!"

Peter spat, "You're right about that! Hook NEVER treated Wendy so! They are friends and he respects her!"

"Shut up!" Dalton only snapped, hearing the truth behind the boy's words and knowing what he was doing was wrong. But he'd made his decisions, and the piper must be paid. Then he addressed the two men who held the boy. "Bind him -"

"Milord, the others are coming," Fulsom interrupted him and pointed to the north-west, where three figures moved hastily through the undergrowth, one carrying a bulging knapsack.

"Just in time," Ashford replied. "Did you get it?" he shouted to them, and saw with relief Anders lifting a thumb, then Dalton was distracted by the struggle nearby. If he had assumed that taking Peter Pan captive was going to be easy, he had been wrong. Even captured, the boy gave Alister and Russell a very hard time.

The moment his captors turned their eyes to the others, he used every slippery trick he knew to get loose, almost getting away twice, yet it was for naught. The grip on his arms became brutally firm until he was sure his arms would leave their sockets, bringing tears to his eyes. But when the second man took his knife and threw it away, he began to fight again. Even wriggling like an eel, it didn't produce the desired result. He was fighting two grown men who were well trained. As Alister finally had enough and slapped him hard enough to make his ear ring and the world seem to dance, he ceased the attempt – out of breath and pale with pain.

Anders, Wickham and Hutchings reached the others; out of breath, sweating. "We have it," Einar reported.

"Good! Quick now, we're about to get visitors. I'll open the portal!" Ashford had taken out a vial from one of the packs hidden behind the wall.

Archibald looked at the boy and his captors. "Good God, Milord, what're y' doin' with th' lad?" he demanded, shocked at his bruises and the harsh way the youth was held.

"Nothing he hasn't deserved," Anders replied instead of the viscount, taking the coil of rope from his shoulder and going to Alister and Jackson to tie the boy up. Again Peter tried to fight back, but to no use. Another stunning blow later, his arms were bound at his back. But as Jackson bent down to tie his legs, a terrifying screech echoed through the woods behind them.

The men stilled for a moment and looked warily around. Nature itself seemed to hold its breath – and Ashford knew what was about to happen. The boy, now grinning, expected aid from his unholy allies.

"QUICK! THE DEFENSES!" he shouted, fetching the bags Anders and Wickham had hidden on the other side of the wall. "Alister, Jackson, Wickham, Fulsom, to me! Anders, bring the brat to the portal! Hutchings, watch the dragon-egg! Russell, keep an eye on Miss Darling. Be ready to leave with her as soon as it's open!" The five men tore open two of the bags and took out Brynna's weapons with the queues of braided straw and the woven dried leaves and yellow flowers which briefly robbed most Little People of their strength. Then they took the small bottles with atomizers, containing the mixture of absinth and mugwort. "Hand them around, keep one for yourself!" Dalton told them and rose.

They had barely turned before the air was filled with the buzzing of uncounted little wings, jingles, high-pitched shouts and other noises. And then they came: Fairies, pixies, Will-o-the-Wisps, sheeries, even some gnomes, bogeys and leprechauns. All the folks of the Good Neighbors seemed to be present – and they attacked in unison. And leading them was Tinker Bell, her golden aura almost red with fury when she saw her beloved Peter lying at the feet of one of the strangers, tied and tangled in a net.

Peter, whose shoulders and upper arms were aching, lifted his head and grinned, seeing the little army coming to the rescue. He didn't know how they had learned of his misfortune. It seemed that while carrying the shrieking Fulsom to the castle, he had attracted a lot of attention – especially that of the unicorn. She had witnessed the dreadful occurrences that morning, and when she saw the Prince flying with one of the strangers in the same direction as the other intruder, she knew it was time to act. Things had certainly gotten out of control, faster than she could have imagined. With lightning speed, she galloped first to the Ancient Forest to alert those of the Little People not fighting the fire in the south, then set off towards the Black Castle. The White Lady was unfortunately too far away to intervene, but she determined to reach the old ruin. Luckily, fairies and pixies were far quicker.

Tinker Bell had flown ahead of Peter's gang and caught up with the other fairies, learning from them that her friend was in danger. Then she and the others raced toward the strange mortals behind the Black Castle, ready to attack. They paid no attention to the sticks, strings, and bottles the strangers held, inconsequential to their strategy of attack. The Faes were only there to free the eternal boy and the girl who had saved Neverland in so many ways.

What happened next would be told around fires for many generations, horrifying fairy adult and child alike. The moment the fairies, pixies, Will-o-the-Wisps and sheeries lunged at the mortal men, the strangers lifted those sticks and whipped the 'strings' through the air. A horrible stench spread among them and made it impossible for some of the Little People to breathe, becoming dizzy and many even blacking out. They tumbled to the ground, robbed of all strength. A few fairies and pixies were even hit and dropped to the ground as dead; nasty burning wounds on arms and legs. Those who weren't touched by the deadly reeds reeled backwards.

Then three of the men lifted the bottles, and a foul mist filled the air. Crying out in distress, the littles staggered, tumbling back, tiny hands were pressed against mouths and eyes, many more fell, others swayed away. Furious but also frightened fairy-song mixed with the angry shouts of the pixies, who had taken deep breaths to create their screams which could render a mortal insane. But as soon as the air reached their throats, they gagged and coughed. Many of them vomited, others became insensate, falling to the mossy ground. The Will-o-the-Wisps and sheeries – usually even more mischievous than the fairies and Pixies – tried to help, but learned that the mortals' strange defenses incapacitated them, too.

Horrified, Peter could only watch how his tiny friends were forced backwards or were plucked out of the air by an invisible force and dropped. Some of them tried to crawl away, others lay there moaning or didn't move anymore, some tried to help. And the worst was that Ashford and his men didn't stop. They continued to attack with those awful weapons, then tried and stomp the wee folk who had fallen. Dozens of the Faes hit the moss and soil, even the gnomes didn't get near the men. Many were barely able to dodge the heavy boots, but some could not and died crushed in the soft turf.

"Stop it!" Peter screamed. "Please stop, you're killing them!"

No one listened to him – no one except Hutchings, who watched the whole thing with rising revulsion. The dread he had felt while abducting the dragon egg only increased while his conscience shouted louder and louder: This is WRONG! DO something, Archie! Then a shadow crept over the sun. He looked up, seeing the dark clouds that seemed to appear out of nothing. He heard the boy's desperate pleas to stop, but they were ignored. Dropping his 'weapon, he stomped towards the viscount. "Milord, this is quite enough!" he said angrily.

Alister shoved him aside. "This is a fight to the death, perfessor, so shut it!"

"They only want to save their friend!" Archibald said desperately; his Gaelic soul went out to the little creatures whose fallen shapes had formed a half-circle around them. Then he saw a golden glimmer in the air and gasped, recognizing the shimmering fairy clad in green leaves, who avoided the men and raced straight to the bound figure of the boy: Tinker Bell.

Anders saw her coming. A nasty grin appeared on his face and pointing at her, he began to say: "I don't believe –"

He never finished the deadly sentence. Peter recognized the grin and her mortal danger and acted. Bound or not, he still could move. Gathering himself, he rolled against the man's legs, causing him to stumble, giving time enough for the eternal boy to shout, "TINK, FLEE! TAKE THE OTHERS AND FLEE!" A cry was torn from his lips as the Dane kicked him in the side, driving out Peter's breath.

"Mr. Anders!" Hutchings yelled, "This is a child, for God's sake!" He started towards Einar but was stopped by Fulsom.

"He's just a little demon, nothing else," Kenly snarled and sprayed another blast. Two pixies and a few sheeries backed off, gagging and coughing.

Ignoring his pains, Peter managed to sit up, still restrained by net and rope. "FLEE! NOW! THAT'S AN ORDER!"

Tinker Bell screamed in helpless fury (a pitch that hurt their ears) but realized that 'her' boy was right. They all would be killed if they did not retreat. Calling them all away, to her relief but also dismay, the others listened to her – at least those who were still able to fly or move.

"Finally!" Ashford sighed.

Too soon! A shot rang out and took Wickham's hat from his head and he dropped to the dirt.

Ashford turned around and his eyes widened as he saw almost twenty men running along the path from the cliffs and the sea below; swinging cutlasses, swords, flintlocks, battle cries on their lips. In the front ran a tall figure in a dark captain's coat and whirling black locks, the blue eyes shining with an unholy fire.

Peter felt relief surge through him, seeing that figure approaching in all his furious glory. From long-time experience, the boy knew that Hook could be a force of nature if truly challenged. As he certainly was now.

The youth was roughly pushed to the ground by the Dane, while Dalton shouted: "Down!" Every one of his companions obeyed. The bullets whistled over their heads, while they dropped the repellants and grabbed for their own pistols.

Maybe it would have come to a messy shootout. Maybe the pirates would have won by simply outnumbering their enemies. Maybe the viscount and his men would have won because of their modern weapons. It never came to a gunfight – because of Einar Anders' ruthless mind. He'd pulled out his Bowie-knife when the pirates stopped shooting before they could reload. He took Peter around the waist with an iron arm and stood up with him, holding the boy like a shield in front of him, pressing the blade against the youth's throat.

"HOOK, tell your men to stay where they are and drop your weapons, or the boy dies!"

And indeed, the pirates did slow and stop, while Hook looked as if he'd run against an invisible wall, panting, a soundless snarl on his face. Then he made a sharp gesture with his right arm and his men went into cover behind bushes. Warily they glanced at their leader who had crouched together with Smee down behind one of a few pieces of the castles' outer wall, fallen eons ago, covered with moss. Bumblyn had fallen off Smee's shoulder and vanished into the undergrowth, ignored by everyone.

"What now, Cap'n?" Smee whispered and watched his superior, whose clenched teeth and pale face revealed a contained fury.

"Reload your guns – but quietly," he ordered with a hushed voice. "No one fires without my order."

His gaze found Peter. The lad was bruised and shaken. For once he looked truly scared; no surprise. The razor-sharp knife pressed against his throat was drawing beads of blood. Then he located the slender figure in the yellow dress lying beside the ruins; unmoving. He felt nausea washing over him as he saw Wendy's closed eyes and the unhealthy grey beneath her skin. If not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he might have thought she was dead, not just helpless. James' heart went out to the girl who had lain in his arms only a few hours ago, giving herself to him. Everything in him screamed to run to her – to fight to free her – but even that thought was denied as the stranger, who held Peter, shouted, "Throw your weapons away! I won't repeat myself again!"

Hook thought fast. He saw the many, many fallen fairies, pixies, and Little People between his men and the viscount's. James knew that he and his crew couldn't attack without killing even more of the tiny creatures.

No! He wouldn't do this. In earlier times he wouldn't have cared, but he cared now! For a moment he wished for his old carefree cruelty, when everything had been easier. Neverland had been a pretty prison, but a prison no less; Peter Pan had been his enemy and the boy who took his hand; and the Little People had been nothing more than nuisances. But no more. The battle against the warlock had changed everything – mostly for the better, yet because they now actually cared, things had become more complicated.

Like now. Option one: open hand-to-hand combat would kill many of the Faes lying between them, and it would mean Peter's death and the doom of Neverland and its habitants. Option two: Ashford escaped and took Wendy with him, and Hook was sure that she would be lost to him forever. Option three: rescue her from the devil's spawn but sacrifice not only dozens of fairies but also Peter's life, he would surely lose her respect and affection. So, what to do? There was no real escape way open, and he hated the dead end with a passion.

"Stay here – all of you!" he said firmly. Handing Smee his pistol, he rose slowly – both arms spread to show that he was not armed. Instantly several guns were aimed at him, but he stepped away from cover. The sword was useless at that distance.

"If Peter dies, you die, too!" he told them with deathly calmness. He heard the quick flutter of fairy-wings before Tinker Bell landed on his shoulder. Uh, this was a new one. But he had not time for the star-fairy. "Kill him and you won't have time to finish your last prayer before I have your head. Literally." His voice sounded so cold, so final, it sent chills down the hunters' backs, and even Tink looked at him with something like awe.

"That wouldn't bring him back," Einar answered equally cold-blooded. It was poker game – a deadly one with the highest stakes of all.

"Yes, but it would mean your death, Ashford! I really do owe you that." Hook replied softly, matter-of-factly. He heard the fairy tinkling softly on his shoulder, and he ignored her. She wasn't the only one who worried about the little prince, mind you! His gaze flickered to Peter, while several fairies, pixies and sheeries dared to approach their downed comrades to pull them to safety. The boy gulped. He loathed being defenseless, at the mercy of an enemy. But he felt the sting of the blade at his throat, and reckless or not, he knew when he was in real danger; danger he hadn't only brought on himself, but also all the others, including the man he had come to respect.

The boy's crystal-colored eyes met first Tink's large ones, then Hook's. The situation was indeed grave if those two were acting together. "I'm sorry, Captain," he said hoarsely; painfully aware of the fact that the dire situation resulted from his impulsiveness; his own fault! He should have listened to Hook. "I'm sorry!" His eyes seemed preternaturally large and dark.

"I told you Ashford was a treacherous bastard. And you flew straight to them and into their trap," James growled the rebuke, a deep crease between his brows. The boy didn't seem to have an answer ready, but tears welled in his eyes. Peter was afraid – truly afraid – and it touched Hook more than he would have admitted.

Wickham had sidled to Ashford and whispered: "The bottle with the girl's blood – give it to me. I'll open the portal."

Dalton hated being put in this position – he was not one who threatened children, for pity's sake – but he had no other choice. But by holding the boy hostage he accomplished two necessary moves: getting the boy for Lunette and holding Hook at bay. Here was a chance to get away. He was no fool. He knew that he and his men were outnumbered and that the pirates were dangerous opponents, old-fashioned weapons or not. He took a deep breath. "It's in my pack next to the wall," he murmured, before he moved toward Einar to draw attention away from Wickham.

At the same moment Anders raised his voice. "For the very last time: Drop. Your. Weapons!" he repeated with force, and buried his fingers in Peter's sandy curls to force his head back. The knife's blade now showed rivulets of blood, which drew a whimper from the boy.

"Mr. Anders!" Ashford wasn't the only one who gasped the Dane's name, but Einar didn't react. He was only fixed on the pirate captain twenty yards away.

For a moment James could only stare at the cruel sight. Is this what he looked like during Wendy's first stay? When he had Peter in his clutches aboard the Jolly Roger and his metal claw at the child's throat? Yes, certainly! And something that would have been unthinkable was now happening. An invisible fist gripped Hook's stomach and squeezed it in an unfamiliar fear. He could deny it all he wanted, but he did truly care for the boy. "STOP!" he snarled and looked over his shoulder. "Men, throw your pistols down!"

He could almost hear the scowling behind him, then a dozen flintlock-guns landed on the mossy area, clearly visible to the viscount and the hunters.

*** PP ***

Wickham got the bottle from the viscount's luggage; unaware of a small bogey creeping from the undergrowth along the wall, and who was now watching him with narrowed eyes out of the shadows. Bumblyn waited until the mortal returned, then his gaze found the backpack placed between Wendy and one of the strangers. With his fine senses he knew what was in it and he shook his head in disgust. How foolish did mortals have to be to abduct a dragon-egg? And one that was about to hatch? Yet it had to be very important for those men, otherwise they wouldn't have risked their lives to get it. So … they wouldn't leave the bag behind … and here was his chance to accompany the strangers and his Wendy-friend.

Bogeys did not possess the foresight that many of the other Good Neighbors had, but Bumblyn had a bad feeling that things would not go well.

Then he heard a soft noise above him and looking up he saw a few of his clan who had been alerted by the racket outside. They had needed some time to come from the habitable parts of the Black Castle to the battlements at the rear, but now they were here. And the elder knew instantly what Bumblyn was up to. He forcefully shook his head to signal his most reckless clan member to STOP, but the tiny hero shook his head. This was his choice; he had no other. He was a small Hobgoblin, not made for big adventures, but he had proven his bravery in the battle against the dark magician. Wendy was his friend, and if it meant that he had to leave Neverland to help her in her world, so be it. And even if she remained in Neverland, the hatchling would need special care until it was returned home.

Casting aside hesitation and collecting all his bravery into his big heart, Bumblyn dashed to the backpack that held the egg and slipped inside it, wondering if he would live through this.

*** PP ***

"Now retreat!" Anders ordered the buccaneers as the last of their weapons dropped in the clearing.

Hook had placed his free hand over the hilt of his sword. His men followed his example, taking firm grips on their cutlasses and swords.

"No, I won't!" James answered firmly. "You attacked the Indians – people I have come to respect. You attacked my ship, sentencing six of my men to die an agonizing death! You kidnapped my girl – and you hold Peter hostage. The boy is mine! All these reasons are sufficient cause to execute you without mercy." He tilted his head and remained still as a few of the enemy's pistols were readied. "But seeing that you have two people with you that I care about, I'll offer you a deal. I'll allow you an unhindered departure in exchange for Wendy and Peter. Return to the Mainland and never come back – or your lives are forfeit!"

It was this moment that the Lost Boys seemed to drop from the skies in front of the pirates, John and Michael in the lead. John quickly assessed the situation and stepped forward, stopping outside the semi-circle of injured fairies, pixies and other Little People. His face was red with anger.

"Is this how you handle things, Viscount?" he snarled. "Killing? Destroying everyone and everything around you to get your way?"

"We-" Ashford began but got no further.

"Have you given one puny thought as to what a panicking herd of large beasts would do to a peaceful village full of families? How many were injured or killed? Old people, little children, young women!"

Hutchings paled. "Oh God – no! You didn't do that, did you?" he asked Fulsom, who only shrugged.

John ignored him and pointed southwards, hand shaking with rage. "You set Neverland on fire, never considering what catastrophe that would create for all habitants of this island! You didn't care what would become of the men on the Jolly Roger you cruelly delivered to a horrible death! You kidnapped my sister! My SISTER, you fiend! Sedated her – just like you did while she was a guest at the manor your family stole from the Shalfords!" (Hook's glance darted to John. How many knew of his past?) "And worst of all, you willingly use a boy to bargain with and you ENDANGERED MY GIRLFRIEND'S LIFE!"

Ashford was too thunderstruck for a moment to react at all. How John reminded him of Mr. Darling, even if Dalton had never seen the banker angry. And the accusations sounded … well … serious. Far too serious for the viscount's taste. He wasn't the fiend here, but the one who had come to rescue this gang of ungrateful pint-sized twerps and the young woman. He took a deep breath. "This would not have happened if you'd just come with me from the start!"

"So, obey or watch your friends die? That's how you play it? Well, then you're not a fragment better than Hook was at his worst!" John snarled.

"Thanks for the comparison," James murmured sarcastically.

"It's the truth," John shot back over his shoulder.

Michael had balled his hands into fists. "Hand over my sister!" he demanded.

Slightly stepped forward. "And unhand my brother!" he snarled, pointing at Peter, who felt grateful for the boy's undying loyalty. "Now!" Slightly added sharply.

"You're far too young and beef-witted to demand anything from grownups, boy" Anders snapped.

"Grownups – or criminals? If you had done in our world the things you did here, you'd be hanged for murder, noble-title or not! So, understand that none of us have any respect for you!" Nibs replied with a deep frown.

Jackson watched Wickham out of the corner of his eye, who was now sprinkling the vial's contents along the wall of the archway. 'He is preparing to open the portal – very good. Well, another distraction couldn't hurt.'

"And what about these pirates?" he challenged the half-grown boy. "If they pillage, plunder and murder you call it an adventure. When we come to rescue you, we find we have to defend ourselves against-"

"There was no need for you to defend yourselves if you'd just returned to England like the chief told you," John said harshly. "And, by the way, Hook and his men are pirates. What's your excuse?"

"Our 'excuse' is that I promised your parents to get you home!" Ashford said loudly, hoping that Morton had used the bottle on the portal. "So you, young man, and your brothers come with us, now."

"No, we shall not!" John answered in a manly voice as he straightened.

"This is our home here," Runner yelled back. "No one called you!" Curley nodded grimly. "Go back to where you belong and leave us alone!" Jump-Jump demanded firmly.

"You should be grateful that we're staying. Or what do you think our parents would do if they learned of your true methods – attacking this island like mad-men, kidnapping and killing to get your way?" Michael cried furiously.

Before Ashford could reply, a deafening roar tore the air, making everyone's hackles stand up. Another roar echoed around the mountains, even more terrifying than the first one. There was no doubt of the source. "The dragons!" Tootles gasped.

"Something caused some offense!" John guessed.

"They know," Hutchings squeaked. "They found out about th' missin' egg!"

"Missing egg?" Hook repeated, and he finally understood the other reason Ashford had come to Neverland. But before he could voice another question, the roar repeated, sounding much closer.

"They're coming!" Alister gasped and whirled around. "Hurry, Morton!"

Wickham proved that he had nerves steel. Quickly he splashed the potion made of Wendy's blood on the rest of the archway's wall and the floor. The liquid began to shimmer and burst into brilliant light that filled the archway.

"A portal!" Michael screamed.

"It's open!" Nibs cried.

"Quick now!" Ashford yelled. "Anders, take the boy! Russell, take Miss Darling-"

"NO!" Hook's shout was almost louder than the approaching dragons. Leaping past John, he unsheathed his sword. John reached for him but his fingers closed around air. Leaping over the rest of the Good Neighbors not yet removed from the clearing, Hook ran towards Ashford and the others, his gaze fixed on Wendy whom one of the strangers lifted in his arms. He didn't consider the threat he brought on himself, he didn't think of the modern weapons – guns, which would have been just as deadly at that range if they were flintlocks. He didn't think twice at all. All he saw was how his Wendy was being carried to the portal – a threshold he couldn't cross! He wouldn't allow his storyteller, his Red-Handed Jill, the girl he loved with all his heart and soul to be taken away. He'd rather die!

His and Ashford's eyes met – one pair turning red, one pair icy grey.

And another pair of eyes was drawn to the approaching pirate captain – crystal blue at the rim, but black in the center with fear.

What Peter later described would decades later be called 'slow motion'. He saw Hook racing toward him, his kidnappers and Wendy, sword raised for a killing blow – and he saw Ashford step forward, aiming his pistol. And the boy knew what was going to happen in that blink of an eye before it took place. The frantic desire to protect the pirate rose up in him, and he tried to yell at Hook to stay back, but his throat was constricted. Unable to utter a sound, he heard John, Nibs, Runner and a few pirates shouting that warning, while Tink tried to reach the captain, then the shot echoed through the air, its sound muffled as though Peter's ears were filled with absorbent cotton.

He saw Hook struck in the middle of the chest – stopping the buccaneer's advance like an invisible wall. Time paused a moment, while Hook's gaze found his; shock on the man's features. Then the proud, strong captain of the Jolly Roger fell backward, long black curls whirling around his face and broad shoulders. His knees buckled, no longer supporting him, the deadly sword still in his hand while he fell to the ground to move no more – arms spread, eyes closed, the metal claw shimmering in the last ray of the sun that broke through the branches above …

For a moment there was only deafening silence.

Then Peter shrieked.

He hadn't screamed like this since he thought Tink to be dead – since he thought Hook was about to be murdered by the trolls – since he thought Neverland about to fall prey to the dark warlock's magic …

A strong, cruel arm picked him up and he was thrown over a shoulder like a sack of flour – just like he had been carried away by one of the goblins up the rest of the way of the Mount-of-No-Return at the end of 'the Battle'. Back then he had been forced to watch how Hook had been taken away by three trolls, facing death. A death that had been prevented by Wendy's bravery. Now James lay there – murdered in cold blood by the viscount who turned around to flee with the others.

Peter saw how his boys paused in their pursuit, looking with horror at the fallen pirate. He watched Smee coming nearer and falling on his knees beside his captain; old face full of pain, keening in an unknown language. He saw the other buccaneers running to their fallen leader, horror and grief on their weathered faces. The fairies, pixies and other Little People came flying and running – some to the fallen man, some to the portal; Tink at the fore. But it didn't matter to Peter if they reached him in time or not. What did matter was the man he'd learned to value – a man who had been a constant in his life. The eternal boy screamed again, this time his former enemy's given name; his voice expressing all his terror, hurt and shock.

Around him, the intruders used the momentary 'distraction' to flee into the bright light that filled the archway behind them – the passage to the Outer World, carrying their weapons and some of the baggage. One of the strange men behind Anders slapped Pan, bawling at him to "shut the hell up!" But Peter couldn't. The pain in his chest was too new, too searing, as if a burning blade had been driven into his heart and twisted. He screamed until his throat felt like his captor's knife really had cut it. He realized only now how much James Hook had meant to him – now, after he lost him. Deep in his boyish heart something broke.

As his captor reached the portal, all Peter could see was the fallen shape of James Hook, surrounded by his crew and most of the Lost Boys while the skies darkened. A chill wind had started, then the anguish overwhelmed Peter. The world skipped aside the moment the man who carried him crossed the threshold between the two realms…

TBC…

Yes, I know. It's worse than thought – even if I did warn you. So, please put away all swords, pistols, cutlasses and further weapons, and try to calm down. Yes, Ashford pulled the trigger and hit directly. Peter is losing it because now he realizes how much 'the codfish' mean(t) to him, and he and Wendy are brought to the Mainland. Neverland is a mess, Ashford and his cronies left a wake of devastation and death behind, the boys are still on the island and even all the fairies, pixies and other Good Neighbors couldn't prevent the disaster that happened…

You certainly understand that I won't give you a preview of the next chapter this time. Suspense has to remain now (I know, I'm wicked, *grin*). Yet I hope you liked the chapter despite the horrible things which took place, and I'm soooo looking forward to your reactions.

Have a nice weekend (yes, alone this wish is mean now),

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight