Chapter 10 - A Duo Begins

The first days following Wendy Darling's arrival on The Jolly Roger passed quickly. She spent most of her time alone in Hook's Cabin, but there were occasions that he allowed her on deck for fresh air, though never without an escort. Despite his lengthy interrogations after dinner, he never seemed satisfied with her explanation of events. Every night went the same: Hook would share dinner with her and Smee would sometimes join them. Afterwards, the captain would ask her questions about everything from her life immediately following her return from the first trip to Neverland to school to what drove her to the pirates.

She guessed he must have heard the story at least a dozen times, but something still troubled him, though what it was she could not say. In return for his frequent questions, he permitted her to ask one question of him every night, which meant she could spend the day thinking about what to ask so as not to waste the opportunity. He said he always answered truthfully, and she believed him. Through the course of a week, Wendy learned more about Neverland than she could ever have guessed. She would have liked to ask him questions about himself, but was too shy to go much further than to discover his education (he was an Eton man) and literary interests.

By her third day on board, she had acquired three separate outfits that fit her properly and were much more suitable for being on a pirate ship than her nightgown, which was beyond repair because of the blood stains and tree trunk travel wear and tear. She learned that it wasn't Smee who did most of the mending, but a pirate she'd never met called Leonard Gris. He joined the crew sometime after she'd first met most of them and was better with needle and thread than most women Wendy had met. She still lacked shoes, but Leonard made her small slippers out of scraps of leather and satin from the clothes the captain had donated.

Smee's duties were mostly on deck, despite what she'd thought initially since he seemed to do whatever Hook told him, but they all did that, of course. He oversaw the crew when neither Hook nor Starkey was available, but mostly he took care of the ropes and saw that the dinghies were well looked after. When Hook permitted her on deck, Smee showed Wendy how to properly wind ropes and explained why they had to be kept a certain way; he also explained what he could about other various tasks necessary to life at sea.

She noticed that Hook spent most of his days within an enclosed office on deck, often poring over maps or making notations in a log, but never unaware of what happened with the crew. He also watched the sea from time to time, and Wendy thought it was during those moments that he unknowingly endeared himself to her. He would lean over the railing and stare into the open ocean, miles of it spread before him like a path into the sky no matter which direction he went, and she knew the look in his eyes was the same he would have if he stared at a lover. It was all admiration and desire, and when he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, she knew he felt as close to content as he would ever allow. But it never lasted for long.

He seemed to have endless duties that got him out of the cabin before she woke up and kept him away until much later than sunset. Often, he went back on deck after sharing a meal with her, but she thought this might be his way of giving her privacy without seeming to accommodate her too much.

The other pirates were decent in their dealings with Wendy, which were not frequent. If they disliked her, they didn't show it; most of them were pleasant as pirates could be, and many of them were as pleasant as people who weren't pirates could be. As long as she stayed out of the way and earned her keep, they were content with her presence. Wendy had spurned the notion of earning her keep at first because she assumed it would involve some kind of nefarious deed that was beneath her, but it turned out to be jobs she actually enjoyed.

The first job was to help Smee maintain the ropes after the lesson she'd been given; she took to it quickly, and found herself understanding the importance of the right knot in the right place and how even a little dirt could ruin the whole process. She also swabbed the deck, when necessary, but she didn't mind the harder work because it gave her time to think. The most surprising job she'd been given was to produce copies of some of the captain's logs. After he'd discovered her pristine penmanship, he put her to work almost immediately, and while she enjoyed the work, Wendy found it more difficult than anything involving hard labor because the captain's handwriting, while distinct and very pretty, was difficult to read. His letters were over-slanted and interlocked with delicate scroll-like swirls. It was beautiful to look at, but quarrelsome to read. He didn't seem to notice that he did it.

The days turned quickly into a week, then two weeks, and Wendy began to wonder if Peter had already forgotten her. She voiced this idea to Hook, who seemed less annoyed than she expected. He took her to the poop deck and pointed out the sky and the changes in the sea, which he claimed were usually portents of Peter's emotions. "It seems unlikely that Pan has forgotten you, my beauty," he said, staring into the water. "Rather, I think you weigh quite heavily on his mind. The only question, really, is why we have yet to see him." Wendy didn't know how she felt about Peter and whether he remembered or forgot her. She hated to think that she still wanted him to want her company, but she did, and she wanted to think that knowing so provided her some small comfort, but it didn't.

Hook, for his part, was restless. Wendy guessed it was because of Pan, and she was almost right. After the first week passed, he barely questioned her about the night she arrived. Her telling of the night's events seemed to finally pass muster. She had to believe that was the case because she couldn't believe James Hook ever gave up on anything. He still questioned her thoroughly about other things, and he even opened himself up to more than one question a night, though he was careful to decide what he would answer and what he wouldn't.

One night, Wendy finished a piece of apple tart while Hook poured the brandy and lit a fire. The island had started to become fiercely cold at night, so much so that, aside from the fire, Hook also had to send a velvet jacket down to Leonard Gris for alteration so Wendy wouldn't freeze while she slept. He claimed this was to keep her chattering teeth from waking him in the middle of the night more than for her comfort, but she saw the smile he wore as he said it, and knew it was meant in jest. As she chewed the last bite of desert, Wendy watched Hook tend the new fire; he knelt against the fireplace, carefully adding to the kindling and poking at it. He'd tied his hair back at the base of his neck with a black silk ribbon that was only just visible through the curls gathered there. His white sleeves were rolled up to the elbow exposing clean skin lightly speckled with goose bumps despite the slowly growing fire. She marveled night after night at his ability to create a good fire that was enough to warm the cabin but not enough to make it stuffy or out of control, which was something to worry about when one lived on a ship made almost entirely out of wood.

She set her observations aside for a time and began tidying up the table. It was, perhaps, not the most exciting routine, but it was becoming hers, and she enjoyed it. She stacked the used plates in a basket along with other empty dishes, and then disposed of the waste. Food that could be saved went into another basket to be delivered to the cook. Wendy carried the baskets out of the cabin and set them next to the door, as always, before returning to Hook and the warmth of a fire that was still small, but healthy; it was most welcoming.

Hook smiled at her return and unrolled his sleeves, a feat more difficult than it ought to have been because of his hook, but he did it well. He pulled on his deep crimson jacket and sat, beckoning for Wendy to do the same. She did, and the routine continued. "Now, then," Hook said, delighting in the fire and his brandy, "What do you see happening in the near future, Wendy?"

"Whatever do you mean, Captain?" Wendy asked, pulling a fur-lined blanket over her lap and reaching for her brandy. "I don't know what will happen with Peter any more than you do, sir."

"Dear girl, I do not only mean with regards to Pan." Hook's eyes seemed to glow in the light of the fire; he reached up to tuck a stray curl behind his ear and continued, "Surely you are not so deeply under his spell that you see no more in your future than only Pan."

"Oh," Wendy said, and she wondered if it was Peter's spell or one of her own making that kept her thoughts with him. "I don't know, sir. As I have told you previously, I don't know what is in store for me either in Neverland or out of it."

"You must at least have an idea of what you would like to happen."

"I… I'm not sure I do, Captain." Wendy sighed and met Hook's eyes. "Am I no longer at your mercy?"

"You are not a prisoner, if that is what you mean."

"I'm not allowed out of the cabin on my own."

"You are not a prisoner, but I am not a fool. I cannot have you running around the ship aimlessly without purpose."

"As if I would!"

"Mightn't you? Perhaps instead you would steal a boat to return to the island."

"No!" Wendy shouted, though she had no idea why. Hook only reacted with his eyebrows, raising them slightly. "That is, I wouldn't do such a thing. I would never do such a thing to you," Wendy said.

"Flee into the night, you mean?" he asked.

"Well, yes."

"It seems to me, dear girl, that you flee into the night rather frequently. You fled from home to Pan, then you fled from Pan to me; where will you go next, I wonder?"

"Do not patronize me, Captain."

"I do no such thing," Hook said, his eyes gleaming with something, though Wendy couldn't say what. "I only said what is true."

"I won't flee from the ship" Wendy said, a calm expression on her pretty face. She looked exactly as she had when she combed her hair at Hook's dressing table her first morning on board, though she wasn't aware of it either time. Her jaw was set, but gracefully, and her back was straight. The elegance of her body language added a maturity to the simple words she had chosen.

"By all means, my dear," Hook said as he stood up, "do ignore my thoughtless musings." He bowed politely and smiled at her, and even Wendy had to admit that it was, for once, not a patronizing smile. "Forgive me for upsetting you; it was not my intention." He lingered only for a moment, but long enough to reach forward and brush a stray lock of hair from Wendy's eyes and tuck it behind her ear as he had done with his own hair not long before. His head tilted slightly and his lips parted, but he left the cabin without saying another word.

Wendy sat still in her chair for several minutes as she contemplated what Hook was calling his "thoughtless musings." They both knew he was at least partially right, but he seemed unwilling to push the issue and that in and of itself was something about which to wonder. She reluctantly moved from her place near the fire to the sofa bed that had become her own. More blankets had been brought in for her to snuggle under, but even after wrapping herself from ears to toes, she felt chilled.

The cold Wendy felt under her many layers of blankets did not compare to the frosty wind sweeping across the water. Hook paced up and down the deck for a half hour before settling at his favored spot at the aft railing on the poop. His back stayed rigid as he stood with his palms flat against the carved railing. He sighed and felt the chilled air tug at his lungs, but ignored any discomfort he might have felt; he had dealt with so much worse. His thoughts turned to Wendy, a subject that was not only uncomfortable but also confusing. What did she want? What would she do? Before he could think longer, he heard the distinct and familiar whisper of dirty feet alighting on the deck. He smiled. "Pan," Hook said without turning around.

"Hook."

A long silence passed before Hook sighed again and turned to face his enemy. "We meet again. Will it be have at thee or a parley?" If he was worried about combat, it didn't show; his elbows supported him against the railing as he leaned back. He knew that if Peter had been intent on fighting, they would already be at it, but he remained alert. In truth, he suspected that Peter was more scared than anything, scared that he had made a very big mistake in letting Wendy get away from him for a second time, and that fear was something Hook was more than happy to exploit.

"Where is Wendy?" Peter asked. He narrowed his eyes but made no move to fight other than fingering the hilt of his sword. He was agitated but not afraid. "What did you do with her?"

"Do with her? Whatever do you mean, Pan?" Hook laughed as much as the cold air allowed before adding, "I have done nothing to young Miss Darling. It seems any damage done can be blamed only on you."

Peter's eyes lit up and he stomped his foot against the deck. Hook was lying; he always lied because that's what pirates did, wasn't it? "I didn't do anything!"

"As I have heard it told, Wendy was savagely attacked in her sleep." He pushed himself up from the railing and stepped forward, delighting in the expression that formed on the boy's face as he spoke. It was as close to guilt as Peter ever got, but a lot more like self pity. It impressed Hook nonetheless because an inner dialog was something he never believed Pan capable of.

Catching the momentary opening in the boy's emotional armor, Hook grinned wickedly and drew out every word as he said, "She ran away from you, Pan."

"No! She got lost in the forest!"

"But you know she is not lost now, or you would not be looking for her here."

"You… you kidnapped her again!"

"Ah," Hook snorted. "How very predictable."

"We looked everywhere and the mermaids told us Wendy is here!"

"Did the mermaids tell you that Miss Darling has been in our care willingly for two weeks?"

"They just said you had her, Hook, and you do!" Peter was on the defensive, flushed in the cheeks and bouncing from heel to toe; Hook moved closer.

"That fact is not in dispute, Pan," Hook said, raising his eyebrows in mock sympathy. "Tell me, does it upset you more that you took so long to find her or that she has not tried to find you?"

Peter's face contorted with confusion and rage; he unsheathed his sword and swung at the much taller figure in front of him. His blade was blocked effortlessly by the captain's hook. "I know you have her," Peter cried, pulling his sword away before striking again and again only to be stopped by the hook. A kick from Hook's left foot threw Peter back, but he bounced into the air and landed again, putting his sword back in its sheath. He could wait to fight Hook, at least as long as it took to find Wendy.

Hook rolled his eyes and sighed, finally replying to Peter, "And I have not denied her presence, Pan."

"Bring her to me, Hook, or I'll—"

"You'll what, Pan? You'll fight me for her?"

"Yes!" Peter floated high enough to be at eye level with his enemy, his expression as fierce as he could make it. "There will be a war and I will win Wendy back from you!"

"You are too stupid to realize this, boy, but it is not me with whom you must wage that war," Hook whispered, and for a moment he thought the boy looked afraid. Was it possible that he wasn't too stupid to understand? In a flash, the fear had vanished from Peter's face and been replaced with a vacant hatred. Hook recognized that face; it was the face he always saw when they fought. It wasn't about Wendy; it was about the game. It was always about the game. "Go back to your tree house, Pan," Hook said.

"I'll be back," Peter spat, and he flew away, leaving a bitterly cold wind in his place. Hook watched the flying speck until it broke through the canopy of trees and disappeared, and he had no doubt that Peter Pan would return soon for his surrogate mother. He tried to believe that the uneasiness he was experiencing at the thought of a fight was more for the sake of the ship and less for the outcome where Wendy was concerned, but even as he barked out orders to prepare for a possible attack, he knew it was a lie.

After triple checking the cannons and weapon supplies, Hook finally made it to his cabin. He tried to enter quietly, but saw that it didn't matter when he caught two bright eyes peering at him through the semi-darkness. "You are awake," he said.

Wendy yawned and pulled her mountain of blankets up to her face, "Only a little," she said. "I couldn't sleep." She smiled at him, "What's all the noise above?"

Hook crossed the room and sat at her side on the sofa. He stared down at her, suddenly afraid to ask the question he'd been burning with for what he now realized was much longer than the last few hours. He tentatively laid his hand over Wendy's covered shoulder and asked, "Do you want to stay on the ship, Wendy?"

"Do you mean would I rather stay here than live with Peter?"

"I mean," Hook said, looking down at his hand and then back to her eyes, "I mean, would you rather stay on the ship than do anything else?"

"Oh," Wendy whispered, and she looked away from the captain's prying eyes. She understood at least a little of what he was asking, and it took her by surprise. It was strange for Wendy to realize that she was happier on the ship than she had ever been anywhere else, including England. She turned her eyes back to his face and smiled again. "I think I would like that," she said, finally.

The weight of fear lifted from Hook's shoulders as quickly as it had descended upon them. He smiled back and stood up, never taking his eyes off her. She was already snuggling back under her blankets, so he walked away and got ready for bed as quietly as possible.

Hours later, Wendy found herself awake and so cold she thought she might die of it. She was disoriented for a moment and had to sit up and take a good look around before recalling that she was in the captain's cabin on board The Jolly Roger, and it was a happy realization when it came. She could see Hook's desk and the fire, still active, but waning; to her far left, Hook lay asleep in his bed. It took her a moment to realize that the noise she heard was his breathing. Gathering several of the blankets around her, Wendy stood and walked to the window behind the desk to watch the water. The first thing she noticed was the calmness of the sea, but the brightness of the sky was what made a lasting impression. Every star was clear and defined; the mist that had obscured them for so long was gone, and the very little Wendy had learned about Neverland was more than enough to help her to the conclusion that Pan was ready for a fight. She felt much less comfort in that knowledge than she might have expected.

A sudden chill ran through her body and she pulled the blankets tighter but to no avail. She walked on the tips of her toes to Hook's bed and knelt against the side closest to him. He was lying on his stomach, face turned toward her, eyes and mouth gently closed. His left arm was raised and tucked under the pillow. Wendy noticed that his hair was still tied back and reached for the barely visible black ribbon, but when she tugged the knot loose, two blue eyes shot open and stared intently at her face as if their owner had not just been asleep.

"Captain!" she gasped.

"May I ask what you are doing, my dear?" The captain's voice was groggy, but did not lack its usual edge.

"I woke up, sir…" she said in a voice that was just above a whisper. "It's just very cold and I woke up."

"Please do advance to the point where I become involved."

Wendy blushed and looked at the floor. She was still holding the long black ribbon, winding it around her fingers. "I just thought you would be more comfortable," she said, but he was still staring at her when she raised her eyes again. "Captain?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"I know there is a fire and you have made sure there are blankets and clothing and—"

"What is it, Wendy?"

"I appreciate it all, sir, I do, only it is very cold tonight, much colder than any of the other nights, and—"

"And?"

"Do you think I could perhaps sleep in the bed with you, Captain? It's just I think it will be much warmer with all the blankets and both of us." It all came out in a jumble, but Wendy finally worked up the nerve to ask, and her face was so flushed that it showed even in the darkness.

Hook eyed her curiously, but at last sighed into his pillow before scooting himself backward and lifting the blankets. "Get in," he said.

Wendy wasted no time crawling under the covers and felt instantly warmed by the heavy blankets. She did her best to conceal her extreme embarrassment, but Hook didn't seem to care, anyway, and was already punching his new pillow into submission and closing his eyes. Wendy scooted close enough to whisper. "The sky is clear, Captain," she said. "Peter is going to come soon, isn't he?"

"Yes," Hook said, not even opening his eyes.

"And all the noise earlier, that was you preparing?"

"Yes."

"Did he come to you?"

Hook's eyes finally parted and he stared at Wendy for several minutes. "Yes," he said, "Pan came. He is insistent that you will return to him. You have told me that you will not; knowing what you know now, is that still the truth?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Then go to sleep, my dear, so that I might also find rest before defending your will."

Smiling, Wendy turned over and snuggled into the new warmth; she was asleep in minutes. Hook took more time in returning to sleep, much of it spent watching her curiously. He was not shocked by her request to join him in the bed, though it had initially surprised him. It did make a fair bit of sense, and even he had to admit that he was more comfortable with the extra warmth the arrangement provided. She had come to trust him, and of that he was glad. He couldn't tell yet if it was a good or a bad thing, but he knew he wanted her around. Hook reached across the space between them and barely touched his fingertips to the soft fabric of her jacket. Now that she was around, he didn't want to let her go.