Chapter 7 - Riddles

Smee set himself to the task of cleaning up the first aid once he was sure Wendy was soundly asleep and couldn't easily be disturbed. He hummed softly as he cleaned and gathered the needle and thread back into the silver box, double checking its contents before stowing it on a shelf near the captain's desk. The bloody cloth and pillowcase went in with other dirty things, and he saw that the bowl of alcohol was poured out and cleaned. The captain watched intently, idly tracing his hook and only lifting his gaze to occasionally glare at the girl sleeping on his sofa. Smee saw this as he brought a tea tray and asked, "Are you going to kill 'er, sir?"

"I don't think so, Smee," Hook said before asking, "Did she say anything about why she is here? Or, perhaps, did she mention how she came to be in such a state?"

"No, cap'n," Smee shrugged. "All's she said was that she was needin' some help, and seein' as I knew who she was and all, I brought 'er 'ere, thinkin' as you might have a preference of what to do with 'er." He handed the Captain a prepared cup of tea and took a seat on the right side of the desk that was generally regarded as his own. "'Sides," he continued, "maybe my old heart is gettin' soft, but I hated seein' 'er in such a fit." To Hook's amusement, the boatswain actually looked embarrassed by this revelation.

"Come now, Smee," he said. "There is nothing shameful about helping a young lady in distress." Even if she did chant for your death, he thought, but did not share with his companion. "Certainly, we are pirates, but we are not barbarians. It would be acting in bad form to not properly attend to her wounds not only because it was humane, but also because we now have the excellent choice before us of what to do with her." Hook inspected his fingernails, took a sip of tea, and continued, "I applaud you, sir, for your quick action."

The boatswain nearly glowed with pride, but he managed a gracious thank you. The two sat in silence as they drank their tea, listening to the waves lazily tumble against the ship. They both watched Wendy sleep for some time, each noticing the worried creases etched into her forehead as she occasionally made quiet sounds of distress and seemed to be clawing at something. Her cries grew distant, then sharp, and then disappeared for a time before one strangled yelp would wake her up for a few seconds. She almost immediately returned to sleep, but it all started over soon enough.

"Damn it all, Smee, I'll never sleep tonight with this racket," Hook said, breaking their silent voyeurism. He paused, took a sip of tea, then muttered, "We ought to have given her more whiskey."

"You'd be more'n welcome to me own cabin for the night, cap'n, if it pleases you, sir."

Hook smiled and raised his teacup to Smee. "You are too kind, good Smee, but I will remain here. 'Tis my own cabin and I will not be frightened out of it by a mere girl."

"Surely not, cap'n."

"Anyhow, I do not think it wise to leave her unattended."

"No, sir? Mightn't she think it…ah… untoward of you to sleep in the same room with her, cap'n, and raise a fit?"

"No," Hook said, glaring at Wendy again over the rim of his cup, "it seems strange that she has arrived, even setting aside her present condition, and I would hear the tale that will explain it all before making any effort to accommodate her with privacy." He turned his eyes to Smee and said, "If she does throw a fit, I will personally escort her overboard."

Smee shrugged, but a thought nagged at him. "Are you thinkin' it's a trap, sir?" Smee set his cup down and gripped the arms of his chair as he leaned forward.

Hook waited some time before answering, but finally said, "No. Pan is too thick to plan a scheme such as this." It was true; Pan was stupid, and he almost never planned attacks in advance. Since nearly everything he did was based on pretend, it was all made up as it happened. The real riddle was not to do with Pan specifically, but rather why Miss Darling was back on the island, why she chose to seek out pirates for aid, and why she needed it in the first place. Smee did not seem preoccupied by these questions, and Hook did not see any reason to trouble his companion. He easily resisted the urge to plan a trap of his own because, knowing Pan as he did, Hook was aware that once the forever-child realized where Wendy was, he would more than likely come looking for her on his own.

Of course, none of it was really worth considering when he didn't know where it was that the girl fit in. Curiosity itched beneath his skull. What was she doing back in Neverland? He could easily see that she was much more than a child, though still young, maybe young enough to fall for Pan's malarkey again. He hated to think such a thing of her; she'd always seemed so clever. Even the clever ones run away, he thought. What was she running from this time?

"It seems 'er nightmares are subsidin', Cap'n, whispered Smee. He had gingerly moved to the girl's side to tuck another blanket over her prone form. "I got 'er tucked in tight enough that she oughtn't to be botherin' you, sir."

Hook joined him and leaned over the sleeping girl to stare at her face. A crystal tear resting in the safety of her eyelashes had just started to slip through and fall down her cheek. Whatever brought her to them was more than a wound to the flesh; her pain ran deeper. He watched further tears escape through her closed eyes as Smee helped him out of his many tailored layers. When the day clothes were replaced with night clothes and the iron hook and harness forsaken for the comfort of soft cotton sheets, the boatswain was dismissed and there was only James Hook left to witness Wendy Darling's troubled dreams. He was more than acquainted with pain beyond measure, and he knew what it meant to find it inescapable even in sleep. It surprised him to realize he would not have wished it on her.